Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Draco loved his job.

Yep. Loved everything about it.

Especially that nothing ever went wrong. There were never any issues in the field and everyone always knew what they should be doing.

The trainees they sent out would never screw up so badly that it could cause a failed mission.

Oh no. Because none of them were stupid enough to not secure a scene before charging in, causing half of their targets to be able to get away.

A group would never enter an unidentified room without checking it first, needing Draco to run in to save their arses, resulting in him getting sprayed with an unknown potion.

Or have another group not perform a scan for dangerous items which would cause a room — and all of its valuable experiment information — to explode.

Nope. Nothing like that ever happens.

So as Draco was being hosed down, stark bollock naked in St Mungos, by some ancient mediwitch, who looked like she would rather be in Azkaban than here.

A humbling realisation.

He had to remind himself that he definitely loved his job.

What a shit day.

~

“Malfoy! Get in here!”

Believing that this day could actually get worse after his impromptu nurse shower session — not the fun kind — which, turns out, wasn’t even needed, since they discovered he had only been doused with a doxycide which is harmless to humans — he started to head towards the voice coming from the Head Auror’s office.

He had always felt an element of dumb luck, especially after the battle. Maybe it was finally running out.

Following the war his family had all been arrested initially, although Lucius was the only one taken to Azkaban. He and his mother were held in the Manor.

His mother’s trial was conducted first and she quickly received a full pardon on the fact that Harry himself had testified on her deceit against the Dark Lord and how that had ultimately been his downfall.

Lucius’ was next. Indisputably, he had been found guilty of all charges due to his active nature within the war and for the torture of Ollivander whilst imprisoned at the Manor, not that Draco was too upset with his sentencing. He was to spend the rest of his life behind bars.

As a child Draco had idolised his father, as any other young boy would, but after he returned from Azkaban after attempting to procure the prophecy, he was different.

Azkaban itself was known to break even the strongest wizards but after the Dark Lord had insisted on the Cruciatus curse every day for a week as punishment, it was like something snapped. Lucius was no longer the father Draco once knew and all that did was show how weak he really was. The way he would quiver at his masters feet for the smallest chance of redemption, to gain that power he once had.

Lucius didn’t even flinch when his mother had once been subjected to punishment for his failures. He just thanked the Dark Lord for his forgiving nature. It was then that all illusions of this strong, respected man faded, and all Draco saw before him was a brainwashed coward. He swore then he would never be like him.

Draco’s trial had taken the longest. Although he wasn’t as active as his father, he had participated in some raids and taken hostages for interrogation. He honestly thought that even being present in the astronomy tower the night Dumbledore was killed would’ve signed his prison sentence. But if life has taught him anything it is to never expect the straight forward.

Especially when it comes to Hermione Granger.

Harry had made the decision to testify on his behalf, which had already astounded him, stating that his choice of not identifying them allowed them the chance to escape and eventually win the war. Not that Draco had seen it that way.

Weasel had not voiced his support, but he honestly cared more about flobberworms than his opinion.

What sealed his eventual pardon was Granger.

On the third day of questioning she walked in, Gryffindor courage proudly on show, looked each of the Wizengamot in the eye and proceeded to talk for fifteen minutes straight about his character, the fact he was a child like the rest of them but without a choice, how he hadn’t actually killed Dumbledore and how he helped protect her whilst being tortured by Bellatrix.

That had been his saving grace.

The thing is Draco didn't remember doing it but she was adamant, he could tell, and there was normally no room for argument with Granger once she had made up her mind. So he stayed quiet and thought he would bring it up with her at some point.

But he never did.

Even though they had interacted many times since then and he had already apologised to her for all his wrong-doings at school and in the war, as well as Potter and many others, he just couldn’t face that part.

Because the only thing worse than continuing to allow someone to believe, that in a time of torture and pain, he had helped them was finally admitting to them that he hadn’t. He had just stood there.

After the trial his life seemed to move faster than it had before. He was put on house arrest for six months — to show his support to the ministry by allowing them access to his father’s study and making sure there were no dark artefacts left in the Manor.

He had then made the decision to move to America and join the two year Auror program in MACUSA so he would be away whilst society was rebuilt in England. Then, on his superior’s recommendation, he studied an intensive eight month training course in France to provide him with more specialised training in dark curses and locations.

Feeling it would finally be a good time to come home, he applied to transfer to the DMLE as an Auror for the Ministry.

That is what had led him here. Facing a bollocking over a completely ruined mission.

Draco decided to cast a silencing spell as he closed the door to the office, not wanting the entire floor to hear.

“What in Merlin’s name was that shit show of a mission!” Harry very rarely swore at work, but judging by the state of his hair, his red face and his frantic pacing, Draco guessed his meeting with the incident report teams had not gone well.

“Why don’t you ask the useless trainees they decided to chuck in.” Draco said. “They couldn’t even cast a simple anti-apparition spell outside the building before charging in. Honestly, are these the new recruits they’re going to give us? My dead grandmother could’ve done a better job”

He was also pacing now.

“We had a simple plan Harry, we should’ve been in and out in 15 minutes. All exits were covered. We got in no problem but after realising there were no wards placed, I had to cover Macmillan while he tried to cast them. He took a stinger to the arm before I could shield but he managed to activate it” With a sigh Draco sat. “Have they salvaged anything from the experimentation room?”

“Not yet,” Harry said. “They only found a couple of charred drawings, so they’re hoping there is something on them. With the few captures we did get, hopefully we can get more information out of them. Although, those three seem to only have a single brain cell combined, so I’m not too confident. The four in St Mungos are still unconscious, so no questioning as of yet.”

Harry finally calmed down and, with a heavy sigh, took a seat himself. 

“I take it there were no adverse effects of whatever they got you with,” he said.

Draco shook his head.

“Good. Well at least there was one positive.”

Harry raked his hands down his face. He looked like shit.

“You look like shit.” Draco stated.

Harry scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah, well, if you’d have the meeting from hell that I just did, you would too. Let’s call it a day Malfoy, there’s nothing more we can do now. Go and get changed into something less… whatever that is.” He gestured to the ripped trousers and old baggy T-shirt St Mungos had given him after burning his previous outfit for ‘decontamination’.

As Draco made his way to leave, Harry asked “You still coming to Monty’s tonight?”

“Yeah, last time I bailed and Theo sent me a howler of his drunk singing at 3am. You?”

“I have some trainees to fire first, but I’ll be there.”

~

The ‘Monty Meet Ups’ (the name was Theo’s doing) started about eight months ago just before the school year started as a way to celebrate Longbottom officially starting as a Hogwarts Professor.

Every other Friday, for whoever was free, they would all meet up at Monty’s for a drink. The bar was opened about a year ago, not far from the Leaky Cauldron, by Graham Montague. It offered them a bit more privacy as it was smaller and they were basically the only regulars. Graham always kept a curtained off section at the back for them every week.

The usual lot were Potter, Theo, Blaise, Pansy, Lovegood, Abbott and Granger. Longbottom had only attended a couple of times during the holidays. Other than that he couldn’t get the time off to come down to London.

As much as he loathed to admit it, Draco looked forward to these nights. Sure they usually ended up annoying him after having too many Ogden’s, but it was a good group of friends they had all found.

Draco arrived around 7:30 and found Pansy, Harry, Theo, Blaise, Abbott and Lovegood already occupying their area. Grabbing a drink from the bar, he made his way to one of the last seats around the table, focused more on who wasn’t present.

“Granger not joining tonight?”

Why they all decided to look at him like they were in on something he wasn’t, he didn’t know but Theo spoke up “She’ll be a little late, got caught up at work”

Draco just nodded in reply.

After a small while of catching up over the weeks dramas, naturally Draco had zoned out, until he heard Pansy shout out “Ah here’s our golden girl, gracing us with her late presence.”

Draco looked up to see Granger taking off her jacket and placing it on the chair next to him.

“Ha. Ha.” Granger said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “You know Pansy, some of us have real jobs which can cause delays in our plans. Dressing people up for a living doesn’t really count does it?”

The looks on everyone’s faces were priceless.

Blaise was the first to break, his deep laugh echoing around the table “Well she’s got you there, Pans.” Everyone else joined in.

“Actually Hermione, if you had to see some of the people I had to work with you would understand the struggle of my work.”

Granger rolled her eyes, but smiled at Pansy “Ah yes, looking at beautiful people all day must be tiring.” Draco had a ghost of a smile on his own.

“Exactly, you see the hardship,” Pansy countered. “Now, if I’d have known I’d be personally attacked tonight, I’d have bought the whole bottle, so Hermione be a dear and grab the red behind the counter. It’s the least you could do.”

The rest of the evening went on as usual, but then Potter decided to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

“Hey, Malfoy, I could’ve sworn you were hosed down naked by Bertha today. Were you not? Maybe I was given the wrong transcripts.”

His smirk got bigger by the second. Apparently Theo found this to be the most hilarious thing he’d heard all week.

Prick.

“No I’m sure that didn’t happen, Potter, but it does remind me whilst I was there the mediwitch you saw last week asked me how your testicle issue was doing. She said if you need more cream you can owl her.”

The table exploded into laughter. Harry’s face turned the most vibrant scarlet he’d ever seen.

Theo was wiping tears from his eyes, Pansy was asking far too many questions, Luna was attempting to reassure Harry that there was nothing to be embarrassed about, whilst simultaneously trying not to laugh, and Blaise was hunched over holding his side seemingly in pain from laughing too hard.

All blissfully unaware of what would happen next, the ever unpredictable Hermione Granger spoke up. “Oh, Harry, you should’ve said I know Bertha personally from work and I’m sure she could show you the best technique to apply it. She’s always very thorough.” 

Draco spat out his drink. 

With a bright smile on her face and the table now descending into chaos, Potter then decided to call it a night. After promptly telling them all to ‘fuck off’, he put his money on the bar and left.

Leaning a little closer, Draco whispered “Thanks” in Granger’s ear. Oblivious to a slight pause in her posture, she slowly looked around to him “Anytime, Malfoy.” This girl should’ve been in fucking Slytherin

~

Draco woke at a ridiculous hour Monday morning. He doesn’t sleep very well anyway, too many years spent on the edge of sleep, ready to get up at a moment’s call.

He thought he could head in a little early.

Since he had extra time this morning he had his elf prepare breakfast whilst he showered and changed. After eating and taking one last look in the mirror, assuring his hair was quaffed perfectly and his tie was immaculately straight, he headed to the floo.

Clearly he was not the only early riser today, because as soon as he entered his office, a memo flew in from Harry asking him to come and see him. Making his way across the department, he noticed that Seamus and Dean were also just arriving.

Odd. They never come in early.

Two short raps on the door and Draco entered Harry’s office. He was already occupied with a report on his desk.

“Malfoy, take a seat we need to talk.”

Slapping the report down in front of Draco, he looked over the top page. “They recovered some information from the wreckage?”

Harry gave a small nod. “They believe some of the pages contain drawings of various artefacts, we don’t know what they all are yet. But these pages,” he gestured to the burnt bits of paper on his desk, “were deliberately thrown into the flames. Dawlish saw one of them throw them in before they fled. He tried to salvage as much as he could. I think whatever is on here, was the purpose of that group's orders.

“Okay, so what do you want me to do next?” Draco asked, placing the file back down. “The last intel I had said she was travelling to France which is why we felt safe to raid in the first place.”

“Nothing yet,” Harry replied “We don’t know enough about this yet to move on. I’ve called Seamus and Dean early today to brief them, so they can take a lead on more cases if you are called elsewhere.”

Looking back at the folder in front of him Harry pushed his glasses up slightly on the bridge of his nose. That was his tell. He was nervous about what he had to say next.

“You know more about this than anyone but there are limits to what even you know. Which is why I’ve decided we need an expert. I want you to have a partner, someone who will help us but I know we can trust one hundred percent.”

“I can handle it!”

“I know you can, Malfoy, I don’t doubt your ability. But with the introduction of these unknown objects, I think there may be more at play than either of us understands.”

A small knock at the door interrupted what he was about to say next.

“Come in,” Harry called.

Draco resumed looking down at the parchment to see if he could figure out what this box could contain. The door creaked open.

“Hi Harry. You wanted to see me?”

No. No way. There is no reason at all why Harry would suggest this partnership, this would be one of the stupidest ideas Potter had ever had. Pulling his eyes away, he looked at the now occupied space next to him.

Harry didn’t truly think this would work, did he? Not after last time.

“Yes Hermione, please take a seat. There is something I wish to discuss with you. Both of you.”

Well shit.

Hermione was having a great day so far.

She had arrived at the office at precisely 8:00 - right on time for the weekly Ministry newsletter to be delivered - she had managed to walk into her favourite cafe on her way to work, and with no queue, walked out within five minutes with her usual coffee order and one of their signature lemon drizzle muffins. Her lift was already there ready to take her to her department floor, there were little to no immediate letters to answer and her initial research for her new project had only taken two hours.

As much as she liked the odd quiet day, one of the things she loved most about her job was how busy she could get. Everyday brought a new challenge.

Although she'd studied more in the last few years than most people would in their lifetimes, she had still managed to learn so much here. 

Hermione was an Unspeakable. Well, her version of.

She originally wanted to be a healer. Training initially for a year in St Mungos in their intensive care and emergency care units and then travelling for two years to experience field healing, curse healing and potion making.

She had moved around between England, Norway, Romania and Germany. Along her travels she had met so many amazing professors who had specialties outside of healing that she decided to take on extra courses in both artefacts and runes alongside her main study.

They had said that they were both at least two year courses and that she would delay her career in taking them on.

So naturally she'd completed both by the end of the final year of healer studies.

Shacklebolt had approached her pretty quickly after she returned to ask her to join the Ministry. She was originally going to decline since this wasn’t her original plan, but he implied, through subtext, that they had essentially created this role for her.

Someone as knowledgeable as her was an asset to the Ministry and they knew it. Plus having two out of the three Golden Trio members was another win for them. She had access to almost anything you would want to know about present and past magical history. But that came with a certain level of secrecy.

Thus her classification of Unspeakable. It meant people assumed not to ask her about her work as they didn’t want to risk potential information leaks.

It could be a little isolating depending on what she was working on.

Not that she minded too much, it allowed her to learn even more than she thought possible, as well as to assist various departments or external connections whenever needed.

She was a researcher mostly, but she loved it. One condition of her employment was for her to keep her job at St Mungos in their emergency department, so she was almost always on call in case of any major disasters.

Since extra time like this was a rare occurrence normally, Hermione decided to go to lunch a little early.

Checking the clock and seeing it was 11:58, she decided to see if Theo was free to join her for lunch. Originally, she meant to have lunch with Harry, but he had hastily cancelled via patronus earlier for some unknown reason, placing the last of her files in her drawer, she set off for Theo’s lab.

He only worked down the corridor from her in the CEC (Committee of Experimental Charms). Apparently growing up in the household of an insane Death Eater made him privy to various spells invented by his father, thus having a good understanding on how to defend against. Or create more like them. But for the ministry of course.

Knocking on Theo’s door, she slowly pushed it open. She’d learned her lesson about waking straight in one of her first days here. Her hair was bright purple for a week afterwards. Although she had gotten off lightly though as unfortunately, the poor gentleman with her had his eyebrows and moustache burnt off.

Theo smiled brightly at Hermione.

“Ah there she is! The light of my life, my one true love, the lady who has it all. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Theo, you truly know how to woo a girl.” Hermione said with a smile “I was wondering if you would like to accompany me for lunch, or are you too busy with work?”

“For you, never.” Theo’s signature smile never ceased to warm Hermione, he had such a kind energy that you couldn’t help but love him.

He had become a great friend to her since starting last year. He had been the one to show her around the ninth floor and they had hit it off instantly. She had never met someone who seemed to crave knowledge like she did. Even though she had known of him being very close to her score in school, he was not what she expected.

They had maybe become slightly closer than originally planned when Hermione flooed to Theo’s flat for their movie night and promptly found him with his trousers down by his ankles with his date on the sofa. She quickly left and awoke to a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers on her kitchen side the following morning in apology.

Arriving down in the cafeteria, and thanking the deities it was lasagne day, Hermione chose the table in the far back. These were her favourite spots as the fake windows were charmed to show the view of the streets above. She enjoyed watching the unknowing Muggles go about their days.

“How is everything going with your new creation? Made any Aurors cry yet?” she asked, taking her first huge bit of lasagne.

Mmm, this really is the best thing they do.

“Ah, unfortunately not. We haven’t been cleared for trials yet. I was due to discuss it today with HotPot but he had to cancel.”

Hermione rolled her eyes “Theo you really need to stop calling Harry ‘HotPot’”

“Why? His name is Potter and he’s hot” Theo replied as if stating the obvious.

“Well I guess that is a matter of opinion as I do not find him…hot.” She wrinkled her nose. “Although I also view him as a brother so I guess there is that.”

Taking another bite she added, “Actually, I was supposed to see him today also, but he cancelled on me as well. Do you know why?”

“Yeah, probably because the newbies fucked up so bad on their raid.”

“The Norfolk raid? Why, what happened? Was anyone hurt?”

“Let me think,” he was tapping his chin as if deep in thought, “Potter and Abbott were at the ministry, Dawlish and Thomas are fine and Finnegan got hit with a knockback jinx but is all good now.” Then he quickly added “Oh, I almost forgot Johnson and MacMillan got bruised up a bit but have been given the all clear.”

She took another bite.

“And what about Malfoy? He was the raid lead, right?”

“Oh, yes. How could I forget about him?” Theo had a slight smirk.

“He’s fine, he got taken to Mungos for ‘unknown substance’ exposure but is being discharged soon.”

He quickly glanced at his watch and jumped up. “Ah shit, sorry to cut this short darling, but I’ve just remembered I need to head back, we have got tests in five minutes.”

He sent his rubbish flying to the bin.

“Are you coming to Monty's tonight?”

Just as she was about to reply, a memo flew at her so fast she had to duck. A small stack of what looked like burnt papers in a plastic sleeve floated down with a note saying it required immediate attention.

“Well,” she sighed softly, “I was going to say yes but we’ll have to see now. Hopefully It’ll be fine, it depends how long it takes me to figure this out. I might be a little late though. See you later.”

With the excitement of new work, she quickly finished her lunch and made her way back up to her office for the afternoon clutching the curious folder.

She had managed to form an initial report by 6:30 and, knowing she would be a little late to their get together tonight, she decided to go home quickly for some food. Monty’s wasn’t exactly known for its top food, a bag of crisps was pretty much all you’d get. She grabbed her bag along with her coat and set off for the closest apparition point.

~

She collected her glass of wine from the bar then settled down into the last available seat at Monty’s.

Next to Malfoy, great.

Although, he didn’t seem to have any permanent issues from what Theo had mentioned earlier about him being at the hospital.

“Ah, here’s our golden girl, gracing us with her late presence” Pansy said as she placed her jacket on the back of the seat.

“Ha. Ha. You know Pansy, some of us have real jobs which can cause delays in our plans. Dressing people up for a living doesn’t really count does it?”

After returning with princess Pansy’s wine, which she had decided Hermione must get as an apology for her ‘behaviour’, the night had been nice. It was always good to catch up with everyone.

Sandwiched in between Harry and Malfoy, she decided to quietly ask Harry a bit more about what happened today. He looked tired.

“I heard Malfoy got hit with an unknown substance. Was it anything serious?”

Harry shook his head “Nah, nothing bad just some doxycide. Although that does remind me — Hey, Malfoy,” he spoke up so that the whole table could hear, “I could’ve sworn you were hosed down naked by Bertha today. Were you not? Maybe I was given the wrong transcripts”

Oh, no.

The table erupted, and Hermione felt a pang of guilt. But Malfoy could always give as good as he got, right?

“No, I’m sure that didn’t happen, Potter,” Malfoy drawled as if on cue. “But it does remind me: whilst I was there, the mediwitch you saw last week asked me how your testicle was doing. She said if you need more cream you can owl her.”

Their group turned into a raucous mess and Hermione bit back a smile. There he was.

But for some reason her mouth ran to his support without her say on the matter. “Oh, Harry you should’ve said! I know Bertha personally and I’m sure she could show you the best technique to apply it. She’s always very thorough.”

The feeling of guilt was stronger than she’d thought, clearly. At least that was what she would say if people asked.

It had caught Malfoy so off guard that he had actually spat his drink out over Blaise, not that he minded as he had pretty much fallen off his chair laughing by that point.

Harry was now looking at her as though she had committed the ultimate betrayal, but even that couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

I’ll send an apology tomorrow.

Deciding he’d had enough after that Harry stood up, promptly told them all to ‘fuck off’, paid and left.

The barely audible ‘thanks’ whispered in her ear had made her jump slightly. Turning to face the direction of the voice, she caught Malfoy looking down at her with a light smirk tugging the corner of his mouth.

Her mind suddenly went blank.

She looked him in the eye and said the only thing that came to mind,  “Anytime, Malfoy.”

His eyes seemed to flash briefly with something but it was gone and he had already turned away and taken another drink before she could figure it out.

~

Having sent off her initial findings report Friday evening explaining her thoughts on the mystery papers, Hermione was surprised to have a memo waiting on her desk for when she got in.

Harry was requesting her presence in his office about an immediate start on assisting on a new case. 

Quickly changing into her work appropriate shoes — which she kept in her desk due to it being easier to travel to work in flats — she then placed her coffee under a stasis charm before heading to his office.

Knocking twice on his door, she heard him call her in. Noting Malfoy was also inside.

Interesting.

“Hi, Harry. You wanted to see me?”

Only then did Malfoy look up, she noted that he had a report in his hands.

“Yes Hermione, please take a seat. There is something I wish to discuss with you. Both of You.”

Very interesting.

Chapter Text

It was odd for Hermione to see Harry tense. Of course he could get flustered occasionally when things went wrong but he would try not to show it for the sake of his team.

“I have called you in, Hermione, to discuss the report you sent me on your initial findings of the paperwork found in our Norfolk raid on Friday.” 

She saw Malfoy’s eyebrows raise slightly, clearly unaware it had been her who analysed them. 

“What we discuss in this room at the moment is private and cannot be spoken about with anyone yet, not until we have more information,” Harry continues. “Which is why I specifically asked for you, Mione.”

“Of course, Harry, would you like me to talk through what I theorised first?”

Harry shook his head. “Not yet. I think it’s best if Draco explains what this is all about first, it will give you some context.” Hermione nodded, turning her attention to a surprised blonde who was clearly not prepared for his impromptu briefing. 

Malfoy took as second to compose himself, readjusting his position to appear more formal just like he would when he was addressing everyone during a DMLE inter-departmental meeting.

“Before I returned home to the UK, I had heard some rumours of a Death Eater meeting whilst in New York. Now we all know not everyone was captured in the years following the battle, but I honestly didn’t believe any of them would be stupid enough to attempt to come out of hiding.” 

Hermione gave a slight nod. He continued, 

“That was until I managed to overhear a conversation between two wizards I was tracking in the city. They spoke of  a meeting with a few other ‘like-minded people’ so I decided to attend in hopes of seeing if it was a genuine threat. I had first assumed it was either Dolohov or Macnair. Only they seemed stupid enough to try something like this. But

all the attendees spoke of a woman.”

Hermione couldn’t help it. As if by instinct her hand moved ever so slightly toward her left arm. It was minute but she could tell Malfoy had seen.

“It was Alecto Carrow,” he told her.

Out of all the possibilities as to who it could’ve been, Hermione certainly wasn’t expecting it to be her. Amycus had been killed in the battle, so when Alecto disappeared, everyone just assumed she would stay hidden for the rest of her life to avoid capture.

“What was she doing there?” Hermione asked. “I mean, she never struck me as foolish, surely holding a Death Eater meeting in public was a risk. She was bound to get caught.” 

Malfoy nodded. “Well, yes, but no other law enforcement knew and I was on my own. As there was no definitive proof beforehand, I couldn’t ask for Aurors to be pulled off other duties. There was no point trying to subdue her, it would’ve been a suicide mission. As I made my way out of the building with the crowd afterwards, I noticed Dolohov hiding in the back.”

“Do you think they recognised you?”

“Give me some credit, Granger, I was in disguise.” The disdain in his voice was evident, she fought to not roll her eyes. “I notified my superior as soon as I got back but it didn’t matter, we didn’t have the resources to do anything. Especially not after only a singular meeting. So I started tracking her on my own. When I transferred back over here, I told Harry about it but again there wasn’t enough to move on.”

Harry took over. “When Malfoy approached me I was apprehensive. But, we started getting more movement. First in Washington, then back in the UK and then to Germany. We now believe her to be in France. After the Norfolk mess-up though, she may stay underground for a while. We assume she left people here to do some locating for her.” 

He picked up her report. 

“It seems like she is searching for something. For exactly what we don’t know, but that is where you come in. Based on your already ridiculous knowledge of basically everything, and your guesses as to what these objects may be, I figured your expertise on artefacts may come in handy, as well as your access to some really old archives.”

Hermione hadn’t realised how still she had become. She had arrived thinking he might ask about the report and then go to lunch but instead had told her that Death Eater activity may be on the rise after all these years. 

Her brain was working overtime to try and comprehend all of it. Sensing she was still processing it, Harry decided to throw the final curve ball. 

“That is why I have assigned you and Malfoy to be partners and try to gather as much information as you can and hopefully bring her to justice.”

Hermione nearly had whiplash from looking at Harry so fast. 

“What! What do you mean partners? Harry, this is really not my area, I am sure Malfoy would prefer someone more…um…well, just more.” 

She looked over at the quiet man sitting next to her expecting him to agree with her. He simply pulled his suit together to fasten it at the front. Hermione thought it may be an attempt to comfort himself from the realisation that he would have to work with her, a shield he was used to wearing perhaps.

“A tailored suit can hide a multitude of sins, Granger.” — Pansy had once told her. Not that thinking about Malfoy hiding things under his suit was what she needed right now.

He finally spoke. “Actually Granger, it would be helpful to have another person on this case with me.”

Her eyebrows, somehow, raised up higher and her jaw began to ache from being open so wide. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “And as much as I loathe to admit it, you are good at what you do and have access to almost anything we need. If we have any chance of capturing her, we’ll need that. You know as well as I do Alecto is smart, always has been. It’s how she and her brother climbed ranks so fast and if she is looking for something powerful there is every chance she will find it. Not to mention Dolohov was one of the top researchers in the Death Eater regime. I think you’re going to be needed in this case.”

“See, Mione, Malfoy has just said he needed you” Harry said with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“I didn’t actually say I needed her Potter. I said the case does”

“Back to ‘Potter’, now. Okay.”

Their argument was getting drowned out by the avalanche of thoughts barrelling through her mind. Was she really thinking about committing herself to a case with Draco Malfoy? 

And in secret?

At least if he gets on my nerves too much and I murder him, Harry will help me cover it up.

She took a deep breath.

“Fine.”

Both men looked at her, cutting their bickering contest short.

Harry sighed with relief “Thank you, Her—”

“On one condition. Malfoy and I must discuss everything first.” She turned to look at him face on. “In your office, we talk about all of your findings, all of my theories as to this artefact, and any ground rules. Agree?”

She could see the slight blue hue in his eyes flicker as he considered. His eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, becoming duller in colour showing that signature grey she was accustomed to. 

He simply replied, “Fine”

“Great!” Harry said. “Now that that’s sorted, Malfoy, you can head back to your office to get anything prepped for your update. Hermione, if I could keep you for another couple of minutes please.” 

Malfoy made his way out and, after the door closed, Hermione felt like she took her first breath in twenty minutes.

Harry was studying her. “How are you feeling?” 

She scoffed a laugh at this.

“How do you think I’m feeling, Harry? I have just been told that one of the high ranking Death Eaters from our childhood has come back to what, potentially finish what her master started? On top of all that, it’s bloody Malfoy who wants to capture her and apparently that means that I’m needed as well. What if this doesn’t work? You know what happened the last time I tried to help Malfoy and this is much more serious. I don’t want to ruin the common ground we have managed to get to and I really don’t want to let you down.”

“Hey,” Harry’s signature comforting voice cut her off “You know you could never let me down. You know that, right?” He paused to take a long look at her. “Are you doubting yourself? Do I need to list your accomplishments again?”

“Ugh, Merlin, No!”

“Too late, I’m doing it.” Standing from his desk, he walked around it and grasped both of Hermione’s shoulders forcing her to look at him. 

“You are Hermione Granger, Brightest witch of your age, a third of the Golden Trio, Unspeakable, left Hogwarts with eight NEWTS, a doctorate in both muggle and magical medicine. You have masters in ancient artefacts and ancient runes. On top of all that, you are an amazing person, friend and a ‘boss ass bitch’.”

Having heard this talk a lot — even though she appreciated Harry’s support — she had partially zoned out until that new addition at the end. Seeing confusion on her face, Harry flashed a sheepish grin and quickly added, “That last part was Ginny’s idea.”

She smiled up at him. 

Even though they had split two years ago, Ginny and Harry had remained close friends. It had happened mostly due to realising how young they were when they got together and how, as adults, they wanted different things. There were no hard feelings, just support for each other, and Hermione loved that.

It hadn’t been the same for her and Ron.

“Thanks, Harry, I’m all pep talked up.” Hermione stood from her chair, giving Harry a hug in thanks. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Harry brushed his hand through his hair, “Look, I know this isn’t the most ideal situation, and I knew you would have your concerns. So I just wanted to say that, honestly, yes, he drives me insane, and I have no idea what he’s talking about most of the time, he compares strategies to arithmetic, and I swear he makes up long words just to confuse everyone. But if you gave him a chance you might actually find you have more in common then you think. Plus, he’s actually a good guy. A pain in my arse. But, a good guy.”

Hermione could see the truth in his eyes.

“Thanks Harry. I better head off as he’ll be waiting for me.” With a parting nod, she headed for the door. Glancing back, she added, “Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need it.”

She stepped out. Making her way towards Malfoy’s office, she pushed down the butterflies in her stomach.

Professional. Be professional. This is a job, just ignore the fact it’s with Malfoy.

Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, she came face to face with his door.

After a gentle knock, came a deep call. “Come in, Granger.”

Of course she wants to go over the rules.

Not that Draco could entirely disagree. Their track record wasn’t clean.

The last time they had worked together — or attempted to — was about 6 months ago. Granger had offered him some help tracking down an old book with transcripts of an arrest made over a century ago. He needed it to prove that a ridiculously random law could be their way to detain their suspect whilst still trying to locate more evidence.

Not only did it take ages to find; it was located up on the twelfth floor of the archives and she had insisted on explaining the importance of wearing gloves to handle it the whole walk up.

Completely insulted at her insinuation that he was an imbecile, he had promptly started an argument over the actual most efficient way to handle old documents, which launched Granger into a full blown rant and resulted in them actually fighting over the book.

One of them — Granger — had accidentally let out sparks due to being so frustrated and had caught the edge of one the pages. Luckily, it was immediately put out and she could spell it back to normal.

She had kicked him out after that and sent him copies of the pages instead.

He had found what he had needed but it had set any potential friendship back about two years. 

The Meet Ups at Monty’s had been a bit tense after that. 

One night, Draco bought her a glass of wine one night as an apology — even though it was only partially his fault. She pretty much downed it, so he gathered she had accepted.

Despite this, he felt as though the need for set rules was pointless. If he stayed in his area and she stayed in hers, they could begrudgingly co-exist fine.

Now, Draco trudged into his office with the anticipation and chagrin behind him. He pulled out the relevant files needed for this ‘catch-up’ whilst he waited for her to arrive. 

She’s probably telling Potter her many reasons as to why this assignment is a bad idea.

A short while later there was a gentle knock on his door. “Come in, Granger.”

As she pushed her way in he could tell she was back to normal. He was currently looking at the Granger who could confidently address a room of fifty or more wizards, not the woman who had looked ready to keel over from a shock induced heart attack about half an hour ago.

“Look, what’s this really about Granger?” Draco asked. “This meeting doesn't need to happen. We could send each other copies of our notes as you do in many cases. So what exactly are you hoping to gain here?”

He could see he’d already struck a nerve. 

Good. I don’t want her to get too comfortable.

She was still hovering by the door — most likely wanting a quick exit — but her fidgeting was becoming annoying. “Well, Malfoy. What I actually wanted to do was to try and get to know you better.” 

He wasn’t expecting that answer. 

He went to reply but she cut back in, finally taking the seat opposite. “I know what you are going to say. We already know each other, we see each other a fair amount. And while yes, we do, I also believe that we don’t really know much about each other’s work and we both know this case will take a while, and after our last attempt at working together didn’t quite go how it should’ve, I feel it will be best to get some semblance of routine and normalcy between us. Now would you like to start or shall I?

He couldn’t quite put his finger on why he was suddenly feeling so irked, but he knew he wasn’t in the mood for it.

“I already know all I need to, Granger. You left Hogwarts with a lot of NEWTS, probably went on to study at a really high level and now you know a lot about a bunch of random things. Things that will help my case. That’s it, right?”

Her annoyance was palpable now.

“No Malfoy, that's not it. But fine, if you want to play this game, let’s diminish your work. Let me guess you didn’t bother taking the catch up exams over the summer after the war, you left to go to America instead. Trained with some guys. Went to France, trained with some more guys. Came back to England to be a prat and now we’re here. That’s it, right?” She added in a mimicking tone to the one Draco had used.

Matching her irritation, Draco stood from his chair “I knew this wouldn’t work. Potter is out of his mind if he thinks I’ll work with you.”

“I’m a delight to work with. The issue is you!” She was also now standing, matching his stance, leaning forward on his desk. “Your problem is you can’t admit that you don’t know everything, I am here to help because I have a wider knowledge on artefacts — which is one of my ‘high level studies’ thank you very much — and you don’t.”

“Ha. Bit rich coming from you Granger. Your brain would probably give out before you admitted there was something you don’t know”

“Oh, lay off, Malfoy. I’m very realistic about what I do and don’t know. And what I do know is your complete denial and lack of regard for any other opinion will screw you right up”

They were practically nose to nose at this point, having each drifted closer in their attempt to get their point across.

“Ah, well, thank Merlin that the Golden Girl decided to bless me with her almighty knowledge.”

“You’re a real shit, you know. And for your information, I actually already have a meeting regarding information on your case. Might be useful for you to know, but since you don’t need my help I’ll just keep it to myself and wait for you to figure it out. When do you think that will be? Next Year?” 

Granger pushed herself off the desk and whipped towards the door with a scoff. Just before leaving she glanced back, because of course she did. “You know Malfoy, after helping to catch another dark wizard  they may give me a second of something else you missed off my accolades. An Order of Merlin. And what do you have?” And with a sadistic grin she slammed the door behind her.

Draco hurried after her, because hell if she was going to have the last word in this, but when he flung the door open she had vanished. Instead, he was greeted by Harry, who stood in his own doorway with a mug of tea in hand. 

“Well, Malfoy, that sounded like a good start.”

“Fuck off, Harry.”

“Ah, back to Harry again,” The git said with a smirk.

Slamming his door, Draco made his way back to his desk and attempted to continue on with his location searches. But he couldn't concentrate on anything other than Granger’s whiny voice yelling about her stupid analysis of his personality, pounding headache blooming behind his brow. So Draco decided to head home.

I’ll just tell Potter I’m doing paperwork

What an arse

Hermione knew this would happen. He couldn’t even be professional for one conversation. 

After she had left his office, she had just wanted to get out of there. She had dashed to the floo in Harry’s office for a quick, secret escape. Now safely back in her own office, she decided to look over her notes before her floo call.

Hermione had become acquainted with a Norwegian professor of artefacts whilst studying her masters. He was the most knowledgeable man she had ever met on the subject so, when she received the forms on Friday, she had reached out knowing he would be able to identify anything she had missed. Luckily, he had an opening this afternoon for a quick floo call. Hermione had made sure to send him a copy of her notes prior to the meeting, to save time.

At exactly 14:00 her floo flashed green indicating a call waiting. Heading over she could see his distinctive large rimmed glasses within the flames.

“Hello, Professor Hansen.”

“Hallo, Hermione.” The professor said, with a smile. “I have looked over the notes you sent me and I must say it seems an interesting case. I agree with your initial thoughts that the small partial drawing could be the Hufflepuff cup. But I would argue that this picture seems to be more of a chalice than a small goblet.”

“Okay.” Hermione muttered as she took notes on the discussion “I had first thought about the objects that were being used for horcruxes, which is what led me to the cup.”

Professor Hansen hummed. “A good train of thought, but it wouldn’t match because of, and this leads me to the biggest mystery, the box illustrated in the bottom corner. It doesn’t exist”

The scratching of her quill paused as Hermione let it sink in. “Doesn’t exist? Do you think this is a new creation instead?”

“Possibly. As you know I have studied artefacts of all types for a long time and this could be something new to hold something of extreme power.” Hermione heard a rustle of papers from his side “I do have an idea, although it is a little out there. If you’d like to hear it?”

“Of course, any help is appreciated.”

“Though the box seems to be a mix of cultural influences, one mark which stuck out to me was the etching towards the bottom which seems to read ‘excal’. Alongside the fact this is a long box and there are two runes on top reading gebō and laguz. Both of Proto-Germanic origin meaning ‘gift’ and ‘lake’. Which I’m sure you’d noticed already.” He paused, seemingly unsure as to whether to continue. “I believe this box to have contained the sword Excalibur.”

Hermione stilled. Her brain froze. Had she heard right? After a few moments of silence, she found her voice again, “I’m sorry, are you saying that the people we’re looking for have King Arthur's legendary sword?” " 

“No. I’m saying that they may have an idea of a box which contained Excalibur. Highly unlikely, as no one has ever actually seen it since the 6th century.” Removing his glasses briefly to wipe them on his sleeve, he continued “This is of course theoretical, there are other markings I didn’t have enough time to analyse, and they don’t lend themselves to that idea. I can send you my notes through, but unfortunately I must go, I have a class due to start in five minutes.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your help Professor. I would like to owl you with any other questions I may have, if that’s okay with you?”

“Ja. I shall eagerly await your updates. And please, Hermione, we have already covered this, call me Fredrik. Ha det.”

Hermione smiled. “Goodbye, Fredrik”

As the floo call ended his notes flew through the flames, and settled in front of her. 

Well, this was an unexpected turn of events.

Chapter Text

Reflecting back, Hermione’s day had started so well, but one interaction with Malfoy turned it upside down. 

She’d ‘lost’ the key to one of the archive boxes and, sure she had left it on her desk, she searched for twenty minutes before realising it was already in the lock. A cursed book was sent to her and Theo to examine in the late afternoon and after the initial wards were removed, the book suddenly grew teeth and made a leap for Hermione’s arm. Luckily Theo managed to pull her out of the way and secure it in a containment ward before it could do any serious damage.

Then, towards the end of her day, Hermione was due to have a meeting with the head of the transport department. But as she was stepping into the lift, her heel caught in the gap and snapped off.

Hermione returned to her office to change shoes, but decided that today would have to be a write off, so she sent a memo to apologise and cancel the appointment, heading home to hopefully put the day behind her.

~

Hermione drew a bath with her favourite oils, and attempted to read some more of her current book in hopes of calming her mind. However, after spending ten minutes reading the same two lines over and over, that idea was abandoned.

She’d accepted defeat after blankly staring at her bedroom wall for fifteen minutes still wrapped in her towel. 

Hermione sent an owl to Ginny for a floo call after her Quidditch practise.

“Honestly, Gin, he’s an utter prat. We didn’t even get to talk about the case because his ego took up the whole of the room and conversation.”

Ginny’s flaming head laughed from the floo. “Do you not think he manages to get under your skin a little more than others? I mean, he wasn’t actually that mean to you.”

“That’s not the point! How am I supposed to work with someone who doesn’t seem to respect me enough to listen to me? Being an Auror isn’t hard to grasp, you get all the glory of running into dangerous situations to save people, while someone like me who does the rest of the work gets nothing.” Hermione sighed. “And no, I know that isn't the point, I don’t want glory, Merlin knows I’ve had enough of people knowing my business. I just want to have respect for the work I do.”

“You are respected, Mione. Trust me. Even here in Italy they all know who you are, and not because you’re Harry Potter’s friend or a war heroine. They know of you because of your work with medical studies and how many people you helped after that international floo incident a couple of years ago.”

Letting out a tired breath, Hermione conceded. “Thanks Gin, I know. I guess I just needed to hear it. He just makes my brain hurt, and not in a good way.”

“Is there ever a ‘good way’?” Ginny asked. “What are you both working on anyway?”

“I can’t tell you I’m afraid. Not yet. Hopefully soon, depending on if Malfoy can take his head out of his arse.”

“Okay, well if he ever steps out of line too bad, just bat-bogey hex him.”

Hermione chuckled at the thought. “I don’t think I could do that. Although that would be an enjoyable sight.”

“Maybe he’s just pent up. You could just shag him. It might do you both well.”

“GINNY!”

Ginny let out a delighted cackle. “I’m just saying, you’ve said it’s been a while.”

“Well, don’t!” Hermione huffed. “Honestly, I mention once — whilst very, very drunk — that he isn’t unattractive and you just run with it.”

“Hey, allow me some fun whilst I’m away. Anyway, I have to head. It’s getting late here and we have a super early morning training tomorrow.”

Her sentence was punctuated by a large yawn.

“You have faced some of the world’s worst wizards,” Ginny explained, “I’m sure Malfoy will be a breeze. Love ya, Mione.”

“Yeah, I guess. Love you too.”

Ginny pulled away from her grate and the floo flames died.

It was hard having her away for such long periods of time. But as the season was due to start up again soon, her Quidditch training had become more intense. 

Ginny hadn’t even had to try out for the Holyhead Harpies. Somehow they found out about a Ministry department match that she was covering Katie for and hired her on the spot. Hermione loved how happy Quidditch made her, and occasionally Hermione would get to visit her, so it was a bit like getting free holidays.

As only two of three Gryffindor girls who returned to Hogwarts for a replacement seventh year, they shared a dorm between the two of them. Both girls had become closer and were practically like sisters now. Parvati and Lavender were in the dorm next door but Hermione never understood why the two of them returned — they both wanted to write for a gossip column, and that doesn’t exactly require NEWTS.

After Hogwarts, they moved into a small flat near Diagon Alley together. After getting signed though, Ginny found it easier to rent out short term contracts due to he work taking her abroad quite a lot. This allowed Hermione to move out and find her home in the countryside.

Her cottage was everything she needed.

From the outside, it was rather small, but her skill in extension charms allowed her to expand on the kitchen, add an extra room upstairs for guests and books, and a small conservatory for hosting guests in summer. It was the perfect match of comfort and eclectic. Each space was filled with memories and trinkets from her life and travels. The garden was one of her favourite places; it offered the most beautiful view of the sunset and overlooked the rolling hills in the distance.

Hermione stood from the grate and wandered into the kitchen, her stomach groaning in hunger. Finding no food in her cupboards or fridge, Hermione did what any reasonable woman in her position would do. Call Pansy and see if she wanted to come round for take away and wine.

~

Pansy was round in five minutes. She was in her pyjamas but she still looked like she was about to model for a magazine. The way this woman’s hair was never out of place was a skill that Hermione, unfortunately, never learned. Her sleek, blunt, jet black bob fell at the perfect length just below her chin and was pin straight. Her fringe sat perfectly atop her slightly arched eyebrows.

Whereas, Hermione’s currently looked like she had a bird nesting in hers, with it propped on top of her head in a bun held up by her wand. Her pyjamas had little rubber ducks on the trousers and her shirt was two sizes too big.

Tucking into her Pad Thai, Pansy began questioning her on the impromptu invite.

“So, I know you love me and all, but I can’t quite figure out why I’m here on a Monday night.”

“You’re here because you wanted wine and Thai food.” Hermione stated like it was obvious.

“Well, yes, I love both of those things,” Pansy acquiesced, “but I’m also not an idiot, and know that isn’t the only reason.”

Hermione let out a gentle sigh. “Malfoy and I got paired on a new case today, and it didn’t start off well. The only upside is we didn’t actually hex each other. But after our last attempt to work together, I don’t have high hopes.”

There was a faint glint in Pansy’s eyes, accentuated by the smug smirk now plastered on her face. 

“I see. So I’m here as a what? A confident, a mediator, or something else entirely?”

“I guess I just wanted to rant and well,” she paused, “ask for your help. You’ve known Malfoy much longer than I have, and if anyone knows how to understand him, it’s you.”

“Hmmm. Well, I'm flattered if you think anyone understands him, especially me.” Pansy shrugged. “Start at the beginning and I’ll try to help in whatever way I can. But know this Granger, I am friends with you both, so I will play devil’s advocate.”

“I know.”

Pansy listened intently whilst Hermione filled her in on the details of the day, her face not changing to indicate any thoughts on the matter. When Hermione was finished, Pansy took the last bite of her food, and looked as though she was considering the right words to say.

Pansy then stood abruptly, placed her plate on the coffee table, walked to the kitchen and returned with the rest of the bottle of wine.

Pouring Hermione another, quite large, glass, she sat back down and took a breath.

“Take a drink before I say anything because you’ll inevitably argue and the wine will help.”

She waited for Hermione to drink. The warm, fruity red wine was not the best quality they could’ve chosen, but Hermione’s wine was depleting faster and faster being friends with Pansy. Whenever they would get together, Ginny as well, the would easily go through to bottles.

Pansy looked satisfied and started her analysis. “I think you might’ve made the situation worse.”

Hermione immediately went to start arguing but Pansy just raised her hand and gestured for her to drink again.

She did.

“I know it didn’t go well last time you both tried to work together, and yes, Draco may have spurred you on for an argument, but the main problem was you assuming he was not at a competent level to know how to handle the archives. Forgetting that he does actually deal with other archivists and was more than aware of the proper protocol.”

Pansy took a sip of her own drink.

“He isn’t an idiot, Hermione. Draco never would’ve made it this far in his training if he was, you just expect him to not be as attentive as you.”

Feeling slightly more embarrassed now than angry, Hermione gulped another mouthful of wine.

“He will work harder than anyone you know and if you going in wands blazing that you want rules put in place is only going to put him on edge. And what does Draco do when on edge? Bite back.”  Soft smirk ghosted across Pansy’s mouth. “Trust me, if you are looking for an attentive partner, Draco is it.”

Hermione downed the rest of her wine, pointedly ignoring Pansy’s insinuation at the end.

Guilt began to pool in her stomach at her behaviour earlier in the day.

“You’re right.” She sighed.

Pansy’s eyebrows shot up. “What! Say that again. I want to commit it to memory, I’m sure Theo has a pensieve at his flat.”

“Piss off, I’m not saying it again.” She refilled her glass. “But you are. I should’ve given him the benefit of the doubt. I know he’s a competent Auror, otherwise Harry wouldn’t have worked with him, but…”

“Do you not trust him? Are you still holding onto resentment from school?”

“No!”

“Then what is it?”

“I just… I feel as though he doesn’t respect me. I don’t know how I can do my job if I feel like my partner is waiting for me to mess up at every step.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re scared of feeling the way you make Draco feel.” Not a question.

Pansy knew exactly the accusation she was making.

“Shit.” Hermione breathed. “I’ve been a horrible person, haven’t I?”

Pansy chuckled.

“Merlin, Hermione, if you are a horrible person then we have no hope for the world. You’re just being a bit too in your head about it all. A classic Granger move if I’ve ever seen one.”

“You’re right, Pans. I’ll apologise tomorrow and hopefully we can move forward. Harry practically sang his praises to me earlier.”

Pansy tapped her glass thoughtfully. “You actually have a few things in common, I think you could be good friends after this.”

“Well, good friends might be a stretch, but I’ll happily settle for just friends.” Hermione smiled.

“I don’t know,” she weighed, “I mean if I had it my way, you could both just sleep together and get all the pent up sexual tension out of your systems. Then you’d be fine.”

“For Merlin’s sake! What is it with you and Ginny suggesting we just have sex. There is no sexual tension between us whatsoever.”

Hermione downed her third glass of wine. Even if it was probably not a good idea.

“Well, we do know what’s best for you.” Pansy ignored the exaggerated eye roll Hermione gave her. “Plus, you said he was fit”

“No I didn’t”

“My mistake. You said, and I quote, ‘He has grown rather tall and he isn’t unattractive’, which in Granger language, means fit”

Pansy’s smugness was nauseating.

“Why did he even choose to become an Auror anyway?”

“He didn’t plan to be, he always wanted to be a potioneer. But he didn’t finish school and, since he had no desire to return to Hogwarts after everything, he went a different route.”

“Oh, I see.”

After having enough Malfoy talk for one day, Hermione asked about Pansy’s week. Pansy had been working non stop getting everything ready for her clothing launch in a few months. But with both of them now practically falling asleep on the sofa, the evening ended in making plans to meet for tea on Saturday. Pansy flooed home after making Hermione promise to speak to Malfoy in the morning.

Attempting to calm her curls before bed, she stared at her slightly blurred reflection of herself in her bathroom mirror and realised she didn’t have a sober up potion, not thinking she’d need it on a Monday night. Instead she abandoned her mess of hair, and went straight to bed.

Here’s to tomorrow I guess.

~

Hermione woke with a headache the following morning, silently cursing Pansy.

Rolling out of bed, she dragged her feet to her bathroom to retrieve a pepper-up potion for her cupboard. Feeling the fatigue roll off of her muscles and her headache subside slightly, she went to make her first coffee of the day. And forty minutes later, she was stepping out of her door to head to the closest apparition point. 

To face this day, I will need another coffee

She entered her office another twenty minutes later, with another coffee — and a muffin, obviously

Hermione had some time before her follow-up meeting with Harry and Malfoy. So she practised running through an apology. It was hard to acknowledge she was in the wrong, especially to someone like Malfoy who would probably lord it over her for ages. But it needed to be said.

At 8:20, Hermione gathered the three research files she’d made for them all, and set off for Harry’s office.

Malfoy was already seated when she arrived, so Hermione closed the door behind her and cast a silencing charm.

“Morning Harry. Malfoy.” She said with a small nod in greeting. “Thank you for meeting with me, I have an update on the paperwork I received on Friday and believed it to be important. I didn’t want to wait too long to discuss it with you.” 

Passing out the copied folders to each of them, she began by talking them through her initial report details. Malfoy seemed occupied looking at her hair.

“Is something wrong, Malfoy?”

“You have a small piece of, what looks like, red string in your hair.” Pointing to the right side of her head.

“Ah I see. Thank you.”

She quickly conjured a small mirror to remove it, while both men started reading her report, hiding the small blush that kissed her cheeks.

“As you can see from page one, I first believed these to potentially be objects which could hold a horcrux. Due to the partial sketch of a cup base in the top corner, I thought it was the Hufflepuff cup.”

“You think they are tracking previous horcrux items to figure out a potential link to this box and if it would be capable of the same thing?” Harry enquired.

“Initially, yes. But I was unsure as to the origins of this box. I couldn’t find anything similar in my archives so I reached out to a friend.”

Malfoy flinched slightly at this, and opened his mouth.

Hermione put a hand up and quickly added, “He doesn’t know anything about the case, he was just providing counsel. Plus, I also didn’t know the circumstances when I reached out to him.”

Taking his silence as enough consent to carry on, she instructed them to turn to the next page. 

“He is far more knowledgeable than me as he has been in this field for nearly fifty years, so I took his theories as slightly more viable options. He thought that it was not in fact a cup, but a chalice, which would discredit my previous horcrux theory. But he believes the box doesn't actually exist.”

Both men seemed confused by this.

“Are you sure he just hasn’t heard of it?” Malfoy asked.

“It’s possible, I mean he can’t know everything. I doubt it, though. It would be like asking Madam Pince if there was a book she didn’t know about in the Hogwarts library. Besides, his theory made sense. If you turn over you can read through it in the next section.”

Hermione waited for them to read on, noting their facial expressions as they read through each part. The box, the shape of the runes, the supposed era of make. Malfoy was a considerably faster reader than Harry, and she watched his face at the exact moment he reached the bottom.

“This is insane! He thinks they’ve found bloody Excalibur?”

Clearly not having reached that part Harry looked up seeming both confused and a little frustrated, like Malfoy had ruined the ending of his book. 

“No, not exactly. He believes they may have knowledge of the box it was transported in. There are no known reports of Excalibur being found since King Arthur’s time. If you even believe the myths. And, as you can also see, there are details which don’t align with this theory as pointed out below.” She pointed towards a notes paragraph at the bottom of the page. “But I do believe it to be a good theory.”

“So what do we do with that?” Enquired Harry, still reading along with the Professor’s notes.

“I am not hunting for a potentially make-believe sword.” Malfoy groaned.

“Obviously not,” Hermione said deadpanned. “but now that I have this information, I may be able to do some more digging and figure out some motive behind this document. Even identifying the objects doesn’t show us their purpose.”

Harry decided to stand and pace. Hermione hated when he did this. It put her on edge.

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” Harry said. “Malfoy continues to track Alecto’s movements. I want to know where she is and what she is doing. If you need to reach out to some friends with the French Auror department then alright, but make sure it is only a few and that they can be trusted.” 

Malfoy nodded.

“Hermione, you try to figure out a more solid reasoning for this box. If it seems like it is for transportation of an ancient sword, then try to discover why they would be interested in it and if anything else could be of use to them. This is a bit out of our time so you’ll have to look quite far back. If this Professor can help, then you can continue correspondence.”

“Yes, Harry.”

“I want as much information as we can get from both of you. I can’t sanction more raids or pull Aurors based on a hunch of a mythical sword.”

Harry sat. 

Finally. 

“Thanks for this, Mione. Keep us updated by sending copies to each of us. Go on, get to work. Both of you.”

“Oh, well, I actually charmed the spare pages I placed in the back of the folder. So if any of us write information on them, it automatically copies onto the other versions. It saves us having to constantly update each other.”

Harry looked at her as if he could still be surprised by how amazing a witch she was.

“Of course you did. Smart thinking, Mione.”

As Hermione and Malfoy stepped out of Harry’s office, Malfoy immediately went to walk to his own. 

“Malfoy?”

Caught by surprise, he froze, slowly turning to face her.

“Would you mind if we had a quick chat in your office? Only if you have time of course.”

Hermione fidgeted with the sleeve of her blouse, whilst Malfoy seemed to be assessing her. His focused gaze unnerved her, feeling warm under his observation.  

“Depends. Are you going to yell about how I don’t listen to others opinions, and how it will — what did you say, ‘Screw me right up’?”

She shook her head, feeling slightly admonished.

“Come on, then.”

Malfoy held his door open for her, allowing her to enter first. A reminder of his upbringing and manners.

As he followed her in, he removed his outer jacket and placed it on the hanger by the door. He’d worn his navy blue suit today which, in Hermione’s opinion, was one of the best colours on him. The contrast of his almost white hair and the slight blue tint to his eyes, made him feel warmer and more approachable.

Not to say he wasn’t a looming presence. She could see it now how broad he was. He was almost a foot taller than her. It was obvious how he could scare suspects into confessing in interrogation rooms.

Malfoy sat in his chair. Had it been spelled larger for him to sit in? Hers definitely wasn’t that large.

“What did you want to say Granger?”

She took a steadying breath. Here goes nothing.

“I wanted to say, I’m sorry.”

That was unexpected.

Draco actually thought she might double down on their match from yesterday.

“What for?”

“For yesterday. For the first time we worked together.” She sighed. “I guess for everything.”

“Granger, I don’t really know what you’re getting at.”

She clearly struggled with admitting fault. It was quite amusing to watch.

“Okay. Look, I'm sorry for assuming that you can’t do things. I know you can but I get —  passionate about things I care about, and when we first worked together it wasn’t that I assumed you didn’t know how to handle documents, it was that I got carried away as I was a little nervous to work with you, and all you did was further feed into the situation until I lost it.”

She was playing with her sleeve again and nervously tried to tuck the non-existent curl behind her ear.

“So, when we were put on this case together, which is evidently more serious, I guess I just wanted to assure myself that we could find some level of mutual ground. Though I may have come on a bit too strong.”

Draco knew he should probably intervene at this point but— 

“Then Pansy came over and I got a little too drunk on wine, not a smart move on my part, I know. And, actually you didn’t need to know that. But she basically implied it was my fault that it blew up yesterday as I came in with an outcome already in mind. Which, obviously, I didn’t mean to and I didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot, so I thought if I came to apologise we could—

“Good gods, Granger. Do you ever take a breath, or have you learned to survive without oxygen?”

A small flush topped both her cheeks.

“To stop you having a heart attack, I accept your apology.”

She released a small sigh and relaxed her shoulders which had been pulled right up to her ears.

“I guess you could also say I am partially to blame. I didn’t help matters by pushing you further.”

Draco clasped his hand on the desk in front of him.

“So, How would you like to proceed from here?” he asked.

“I think we should get to know each other.” He scoffed. “I know I said that yesterday, but it is true that we don’t really know each other enough to trust each other yet.”

Draco felt like a repeat of yesterday was incoming.

Maybe she’ll suggest a drink, I’ll need it after this.

“I think we should go to lunch together.” 

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Taking a controlled breath, trying not to look as shocked as he was. He peered down at his watch. 9:08

“Granger, it's far too early for lunch.”

She tried hard to fight an eye roll. And failed.

“I know, Malfoy. I meant later. We can go at a time that suits us both and we can have a normal chat over food.” She paused. “In a nice public place where we won’t be tempted to hex each other.”

A small smile played on her lips. 

Draco couldn’t help but do the same.

He took a second to consider her offer. It made some sense of course. You need a certain level of knowledge and trust in your partner to know you could handle things together.

“I see. Well, in that case, I’ll make sure to bring my protection vest. How does 12:30 sound?”

Granger lit up with a full smile. Her eyes seemed brighter somehow.

“Sounds great! I’ll meet you there. I have a meeting on level six just before, so I can grab a table for us.”

She stood from her seat and headed to the door.

Draco took a few minutes to fully understand what had happened after she left.

Granger apologised. She’d then continued to say that she wanted to get to know him, and then proceeded to invite him for lunch. Good thing Draco knew her well enough to know that this was all business. If not, someone may have misunderstood this arrangement as a date.

He let out a small shiver.

Fuck no.

Pansy would find this hilarious.

A short knock at his door interrupted any further thoughts of this topic.

“Yeah”, he called in response.

Harry opened the door and came in to take up space on the small sofa Draco had in the corner.

“I didn’t hear any yelling and, as only one of you walked out, I came to check she hadn’t killed you.” He said casually, sipping his tea.

“Would you have done anything if she had?”

He shook his head with a small frown. “Oh no. She’s my best friend. I’d have hidden your body and told everyone you went missing on duty.”

Harry took another drink, attempting to hide the smile that crossed his face at Draco’s surprise. “What did she want anyway?”

“She wants to get to know me, so has invited me to lunch so we can talk.”

Harry paused with his mug just below his mouth, then let out a cackle. “She asked you on a date before you start working together?!”

Draco curled his lip. “It’s not a date, Potter. She explicitly said it would be better to have a conversation in public where we couldn’t hex each other.”

Harry slowly finished laughing. “Hah, I guess it makes sense. Hermione doesn’t do anything by half, she probably felt it was your best option to talk it all out.”

“I already know enough to work with her. I’m still unsure as to why it needs to be personal. But I agreed so—” Draco shrugged.

“Look, Malfoy. Hermione is fiercely passionate about what she loves. She will never enter an agreement lightly, and if you can actually open up a bit and not be a dick to her — like you did with me — she will stop at nothing to help you. She just needs to see that first.”

“What if she still doesn’t want to work with me?”

“She’s already said she would. That’s it. Choice made. She just needs to figure out now if you will accept her as your partner. Give her a reason to know you appreciate her work, and that you respect her, and you’ll be all good.”

Draco considered what he was saying.

Sensing the conversation was over, Harry made his way out. Draco decided to put this problem away for now, he still had to finish his report of the hag attack in Devon.

The clock on his mantle chimed. Three hours until lunch remaining.

It didn’t feel long enough.

Chapter Text

It had taken quite a while to finish the paperwork on the hag case. While he was reviewing the transcripts from the Aurors on duty, Draco found a few discrepancies in their timeline of events.

Whilst questioning them on it, it turns out one of them had only seen the back of her and assumed it was a witch with whom they could have a flirt. Bit of a nasty shock when he found out. They had both omitted it from their reports, due to them thinking it was embarrassing. For fuck’s sake. It ended up nearing 12:20 when Draco finally put the last notes onto the report and sent it to Harry for approval.

Checking his watch for the fifth time, Draco thought better about going too early or else Granger may think him too eager to have lunch with her. He decided to sit at his desk for a few more minutes.

At exactly 12:30, he made his way to the atrium.

Turning into the cafeteria, he scanned the room to see if she was here. 

Draco noticed Granger in the far back of the room by the windows, given away by her hair pulled tightly into the low chignon she always wore at work. He bought himself a sandwich and a coffee and made his way over to her table.

If I turned around now and left she wouldn’t have seen me. 

Almost as if she had heard his inner thoughts, Granger turned. When she spotted him, she gave him a small wave to call him over.

Ah, shit. No turning back now.

As he reached the table, he realised she’d already finished eating, which confirmed he would also not eat whilst there. Draco was many things, but never not a gentleman.

‘One does not eat alone at a table, especially in the company of a lady.’ The words echoed in his head.

He didn’t know if Granger counted as a lady but his etiquette teacher would never agree with eating in front of her.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting, Granger. I was filling out the last of my paperwork,” he said, taking the seat opposite her at the table.

“Oh no, don’t worry.” She waved her hand in dismissal “I actually got here earlier than planned as my meeting didn’t take too long. Was it a hard case you just closed?”

She took a sip of her coffee.

“No. Well, not for me. I was just signing off on the reports of two Aurors who caught a hag in Devon.”

Draco noticed her hands remained wrapped firmly around her coffee cup. A comfort tactic. He’d seen it a lot in interviews with witnesses.

“Oh! Are they both okay?” she asked.

“They’re fine. They’re egos are more bruised than their bodies. They clearly misread the situation and, from the back, decided to start a bet as to whether they could impress a pretty witch. They are currently nicknamed ‘the hag lovers’ until someone else messes up worse than they did.”

Granger let out a gentle chuckle. “Well, hopefully they’ve learned their lesson.”

A silence fell on the table.

“Would you like me to start?” Granger asked gently.

“I don’t really know how this is supposed to go, so it might be best.”

“Nor do I,” she acquiesced, “but I’m sure I can give you a brief summary of the last few years.” She took another sip. “I returned to Hogwarts the summer after the war for catch up tests. There weren’t many of us, as you can imagine, but I left with eight NEWTS and from there went on to study in both muggle and magical medicine. This allowed me to travel for two years whilst studying. During this time I took on an additional two fast track master courses in Ancient Artefacts and Ancient Runes, mostly elder and younger futhark, but I explored Anglo-Saxon futhark briefly as they obviously coincide slightly.” 

“Obviously.” He replied, having no idea what she was talking about.

Granger cast a brief glance around and continued with a slightly lower voice, “After my studies, Kingsley told me of a new position within the DOM which would allow the employee to work alongside other departments providing information in the old archives. It connected with my artefact and runic knowledge and allowed me to still pick up shifts at St Mungos.”

“When do you rest?” Draco asked, almost impulsively.

She was startled at this question. “I guess, I rest when the work is done.”

“So if this case takes three years, you will work everyday until it is finished?”

“No, obviously not. But I rest when I can. I don’t work at Mungos all the time when I’m not working here. I work on an on-call basis. If there is a serious incident, they call me in. Or I attend talks abroad so they don’t have to spare extra staff.”

“I see.”

Draco was unsurprised that she took on so much work. She always seemed to have stories to tell or new plans coming up whenever he would overhear parts of conversations at Monty’s.

“Do you want to know a bit about my background now?” he asked her.

She looked hesitant. “Um. No, that’s not necessary.”

“But I thought you said…”

“I already know your history,” she blurted out. “I was involved — well, not involved per se, more like included in the conversations with Harry when you were transferring over from MACUSA.”

That explains why she knew I had worked in France when she yelled at me yesterday.

“If you already knew that, then why ask for this lunch?”

“I guess I wanted to know what you were actually like. Not just qualifications on paper.”

Draco wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He felt slightly blindsided by the fact she had actually known more about him than he had her, but she apparently had wanted to get to know him personally.

If he was feeling more himself he would probably turn this back around and ask for her opinion of him but he knew that wouldn’t create the desired result of this lunch. Debating on how much to divulge, Draco felt it best start with safe territory of work and common acquaintances. 

“I found my work to be a good outlet for me, it allows me to channel skills which I most enjoyed at school. I dedicate a lot of my time to my work and don’t appreciate people who waste my time. I moved out about a year ago to be closer to the ministry.”

She seemed slightly taken aback at the comment, but didn’t push further.

“I meet up with our annoying bunch of friends every other Friday and some Tuesdays we have ‘snake pit nights’, once again an amazing name from Theodore Nott; with myself, Theo, Pansy and Blaise. But I’m sure you’ve heard about those from Pans.” Hermione nodded. “That’s mostly it.”

“Well, that can’t be mostly it, you’ve barely told me anything. Unless you want me to believe other than work and potentially two nights a week you are a hermit.”

“I believe the term is home-body.”

“Right… Well, at least it’s something, so thank you. I know it was an odd request for us doing this.” She fell silent.

Draco could almost see the gears turning until she settled on a question, her mouth slightly quirked into a small smirk.

“Okay, truth time. How much do you love our Friday meetups?”

A soft chuckle left his lips. “I actually enjoy them more than I thought I would when Potter dragged me along to the first one. That reminds me, did he send you a howler on Saturday about what you said?”

She grimaced. “Not a howler, but a very pissed off Patronus woke me at eight o’clock. I don’t really know why I even said it, I guess because…” She looked up at him, waving her hand in disregard. “Oh nevermind, it doesn’t matter now.”

Draco eyed her a moment, but didn’t push further. Leaning forward on the table, he said, “Okay, my turn to ask a question. Why do you feel like you need to defend your work?”

He knew it was a strong question, but he needed to know.

She grabbed her coffee cup again to shield herself. “I don’t do that.”

“Don’t lie, Granger. Our argument yesterday came from that, and you know it.” He quirked his brow. “Plus, you’re also a really bad liar.”

Granger delayed by taking a sip. Then another. And another.

But he waited. Draco could be patient when he needed to be. 

Finally realising she was going to lose this battle of wills, she sighed with resignation. 

“It’s not necessarily defending my work. It’s that my whole life I have been a label. Harry Potter’s best friend, Golden Girl, part of the Golden Trio. A — a Mudblood.” 

Draco flinched as she said it, he never heard it much any more. It was only the occasional dark wizard who would use the term now.

“I never got to be Hermione Granger. So I guess, with the work I do now, I want people to recognise me for me. I don’t want fame or fortune, I’ve never wanted that. I just want to be me and have people respect me for it. That’s why I love what I do, I get to help as many people as I can. So it’s less defending my work and more the need to defend myself.”

Granger’s honesty was new to Draco.

He spent so much time around liars and pretenders that it was a stark contrast to the pure soul sitting in front of him. How she had retained any of that through a war was beyond him.

But, he could see it now. That passion that burned underneath everything. As much as she felt vulnerable at the moment it was like her eyes were sparkling, they were a deep brown almost like melted chocolate but they had flecks of — what could only be described as — pure gold. 

They sparkled when she spoke, enveloping you in warmth. 

“You forgot a title,” he said. She raised a brow. “Brightest witch of her age. That is about you. Not Potter or Weasel, it’s nothing to do with the war, it is a title purely based on your talent.”

“You really still call Ron, ‘Weasel’?” she scoffed. “It’s a bit childish.”

“Hey, he still acts like a child when he comes and visits Harry at work. So until he can grow up, I refuse to.” Draco crossed his arms for finality.

“Fine. Whatever you want.” She let it be. “I suppose you’re right, Malfoy. I never really thought of it that way. Probably because I hated it. It made me feel like I was being so pretentious when people said it.” Her face screwed up. “Do you speak to anyone from your house, or is it just Pansy, Blaise and Theo?”

“Not really.” Draco said, sitting back. “We see Graham at the bar, obviously. Daphne stayed in touch when she first moved out to the states with her husband; though we don’t see her much now, none of us really travel often and she doesn’t really like coming back to England after everything. But other than that, not really. How about you? I know about Potter and the others but what about Weasel?”

Granger seemed uncomfortable with the question, fidgeting under it’s weight. So naturally Draco made a mental note of it and pushed further.

“Come on, now, honesty and trust.” Draco smiled, enjoying the slight grimace cross Granger’s face as he used her own words against her.

“We just don’t get to speak to Ron much anymore. He is quite busy with Quidditch, so our schedules never really align. He visits home when he can, but it’s mostly just Harry and I now.”

She glanced up at the clock absently and started.

“Oh, crap! Sorry, Malfoy, I didn’t realise the time. I need to head back to my office I have a visitor due in ten minutes! Um, thank you again for coming, really. I’ll let you know if I make any new developments.”

With that she stood and hastily walked off in search of an available lift. Taking a glance at his watch, Draco was surprised to see it was now 13:20. Well time flies when you’re having fun, I guess.

Draco had a scheduled floo to speak to the Head Auror in the Paris division in twenty minutes. They were attempting to see if there was any way they could track Alecto’s movements. Finally giving in to his grumbling stomach, Draco unwrapped his sandwich and dug in.

Hermione’s visitor was actually Pansy, but she didn’t feel the need to tell Malfoy that.

Pansy arrived at her office perfectly on time, and immediately took it upon herself to criticise Hermione’s outfit.

“No. Why Hermione?” she moaned. “Why do you close off your amazing figure? If I had curves like you, everyone would know about it. What even is that skirt?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s comfortable, Pansy, I already have to be here for hours in heels, I don’t want my whole body to feel cramped into a tight item of clothing.”

“Let me style you for work. Please. With my line coming out soon, I’ll have extra time. We don’t even have to buy you a whole new wardrobe, we can use what you already have. I can just pair it better.”

Knowing better than to argue with Pansy, Hermione shrugged her off with a non-committal maybe but it seemed to do the trick.

“So,” Pansy said, “how did the apology go?”

Honestly, it had gone better than Hermione thought it would. Malfoy didn’t blow her off at lunch, which she was almost expecting him to do. She’d ended up sitting there for so long, she thought a memo would fly over explaining his reason to cancel. 

Although it was true that her meeting had finished early, she hadn’t been entirely honest that her meeting was due to finish at twelve. Hermione was so nervous during those thirty minutes, that she’d downed two cups of coffee before he showed up and held onto her third cup the whole time to try not to show how jittery her hands had become from the caffeine overload. 

It was nice to talk to him without everyone else there. Hermione never normally felt comfortable at the group meetups on Friday’s so would leave Harry, Pansy or Theo to include him. Although, she could tell he was holding back slightly, but that was to be expected, it was only day one. Hopefully overtime he could feel more comfortable.

“It went fine, Pans. I apologised to him in his office after the meeting and invited him to lunch so we could talk more without the office setting.”

“What? Like a date?”

“No! Not like a date.” Hermione thought for a second and blanched “Oh my… Do you think he thought it was a date? I wanted it to still be professional but in a more relaxed setting. Oh no. He’ll never talk to me again!”

“Woah, slow down there, stress head. I’m sure he doesn’t think it was a date. I was just messing with you. I’m sure it was fine. How did lunch go then?”

Hermione took a calming breath and settled into her chair.

“Very well, actually. I was waiting for a little while so when I saw him actually turn up, I was relieved. I thought he might bail, to be honest. I saw him looking over and wanted to make sure he knew where I was so I—” She paled again before burying her face in her hands. “Oh my gods, I gave him a stupid little wave.”

Pansy was speechless. A rare occasion.

“What do you mean?” she said slowly, as if trying to figure out a problem. “What kind of wave?”

Hermione demonstrated what she’d done earlier and Pansy paused for a moment, then burst into laughter. 

“Hermione, that was one of the most awkward things I’ve ever seen. It looks like you’ve just seen your ex at a family gathering.”

Hermione was hiding her face in her hands whilst Pansy’s laugh rang out. A knock at the door startled her. Pansy opened it to see Harry waiting on the other side.

“Parkinson?”

“Hi, Potter,” she got out in between trying to regulate her breathing.

“I can come back later if you are busy? I just wanted to ask about lunch.”

That set Pansy off again. She had to sit down through fear of toppling over in her heels.

“Ooh, that good, huh.” Harry’s face lit up like a child about to open a huge present at Christmas.

“Show him,” Pansy said, wheezing. “Show him your wave — Hah, Potter you need to see this.”

“What wave? Hermione, is she okay? Have you cursed her?” 

Hermione rose to escort him out “Yes, Harry, she is completely fine. I can come by and see you in a little while.”

He was actively pushing back against her attempts to forcibly remove him from her office.

“But what is she laughing at? Is there a secret wave I am unaware of?”

“No”
“Yes”

Hermione and Pansy answered simultaneously. 

Hermione shot a glare hoping it might just murder her ex-friend currently still chuckling in the chair, but it didn’t make a difference.

“Show him,” Pansy insisted.

Great, just how I wanted this day to go.

“Fine!” She gave a tired sigh and turned to face Harry. “For context, this was the wave I gave Malfoy earlier at lunch to indicate to come over to the table.”

Once again she re-enacted her closed lipped smile wave.

Pansy apparently thought it was funnier the second time around and much to Hermione’s annoyance, Harry also found it just as amusing. He was now sitting in the other available chair laughing at her.

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione. I’ve never seen you look so awkward and I was there during your bushy hair phase of first year.”

“Yeah, thanks, Harry. Now I have work to do, so could you both kindly leave me alone and piss off.”

With great effort and much reluctance, Harry pushed himself out of the chair and headed to the door. As he reached it, he added, wiping the corner of his eyes, “Good thing I made sure to say that it wasn’t a date when I saw Malfoy earlier. Wouldn’t have wanted him to get the wrong idea.”

“WHAT!”

That was the last thing needed to send Pansy off cackling through her doorway. 

Hermione could feel her fingertips sparking in frustration and embarrassment.

I hate my friends sometimes.

The rest of Draco’s day had been pretty uneventful after his lunch with Granger.

He had spoken to his ex-colleague in France and they assured him they would keep an eye out for any movement of Carrow or Dolohov, and with nothing immediate that needed doing, he left work at a reasonable time.

Plenty of time to prepare for tonight.

Tonight was a ‘snake pit’ night. The others were due to arrive at Draco’s around six o’clock for dinner and drinks. 

Draco returned home and was greeted by the scents of their upcoming meal. It smelt amazing and he was starving, considering that sandwich hadn’t really filled him up earlier.

He stepped into the kitchen to see what was being made.

Emmeline, his house-elf, was currently cooking chicken, stirring cake mix and preparing his cup of tea at the same time. Judging by the strong garlic aroma in the air and the subtle hints of lemon and tarragon softly lingering behind, he guessed that she was making his favourite dish for tonight.

“Good evening, Master Draco. Did you have a nice day at work?” She asked, interrupting his thoughts

“Yes, Emmeline, thank you.” As he perched on a stool his tea plopped down in front of him 

“How was yours?”

“Very good sir, Emmeline managed to finish her book! You were right, it did make Emmeline cry. Emmeline cleaned this morning, then spent the afternoon shopping for dinner and crafting a new dress for my evening with Belrod. Emmeline is very happy he will be here tonight, and now Emmeline is making dinner.”

Emmeline had been freed from Draco’s service after the war and entered into his employment, travelling with him to both MACUSA and France. She struggled with the idea at first due to her longstanding link to the family — having been with Draco from the moment he was born, attending to him and his mother after her hard birth.

His mother was Emmeline’s original owner but when Draco proposed the idea of freeing their elves, she suggested he employ Emmeline and she work for him instead. She already had more elves in her employment in their French Manor. Emmeline had been like a second mother whilst his own travelled away for her various charity events and galas.

Not long after she was freed, Theo had freed his personal elf, Belrod, entering a similar arrangement. He and Emmeline became closer once Draco returned home as they interacted a lot more due to Theo and Draco’s visits to each others homes. Due to the severance of the household itself, both elves were free to travel between both apartments to see each other.

Relations worked differently within the elf community. They weren’t, what wizards would refer to as, boyfriend and girlfriend. But they had been dating for one year at this point, which was close to a life match. If Belrod could pluck up the courage to ask. He was such an anxious elf at times.

“It smells amazing as always.”

“Thank you, Master Draco. It will be ready for your guests at six-thirty promptly.”

Giving her the space to finish cooking, Draco moved upstairs to get showered and changed out of his work suit. He knew it was always appropriate to look one’s best. Not that he knew why he bothered, judging by what Harry seemed to view as business casual.

The only thing worse than a suit were their Auror uniforms. The braces around their chests made it quite uncomfortable to sit in and the boots were the worst part, his feet had bled once after being in them for twelve hours straight. The spell work on them to make them grip whatever the environment or weather also meant there was very little movement in them.

~

Feeling fresher after his shower, Draco returned to the lounge just in time for him to hear the floo sound.

Blaise entered first holding a couple bottles of his signature wines for dinner. Theo and Pansy were not far behind him and they were seated immediately by Emmeline at the table.

She had outdone herself this time. 

Their starter was roasted red pepper soup, their main was Draco’s favourite — roasted chicken with lemon and tarragon sauce, which linked perfectly into their dessert of lemon drizzle cake. Another favourite of his. 

Clearly she’d missed cooking for them all. The last time they all met up, they decided to order takeaway for the night. Emmeline hadn’t spoken to him for three days after, making small comments about how he must not enjoy her food anymore. 

“This is delicious, Emmeline. You have outdone yourself,” Theo gushed, shoving another large bite of chicken into his mouth.

“Clearly,” Pansy said disapprovingly. “You seem to have forgotten all forms of etiquette.” 

Theo tsk-ed. “Sod off, Pans. I don’t have anyone here I need to impress. Besides, I missed lunch so I’m starving.” He stuck out his tongue, covered in food, and grinned at her disgust.

Fucking children.

Taking a swig of their wine pairing Draco looked up towards Blaise “This is a lovely wine, mate. How did you know it would pair with dinner?”

“I visited during my lunch break earlier to ask what was going to be on the menu.”

Draco paused, his glass at his lips. “You broke into my house to ask about dinner?”

“Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Blaise leisurely took a sip from his own glass and shrugged.

After dessert, they all migrated into the lounge. Pansy took the rest of the wine and Draco fetched his 1983 Macallan from his personal collection for the boys.

They were all sprawled across the top of velvet chaises and armchairs when Pansy purred. “A little birdie told me that you had lunch with a certain Gryffindor Princess today, Draco.”

Of course she knows about that.

“Really?” Theo said, dangling almost upside down on the chaise opposite Draco. His whiskey glass precariously close to toppling out of his hand. “After what I heard about an argument yesterday, I thought you’d have been kept separate from now on.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, we did have lunch. Granger felt it best we talk in the open about the project we have been put on together.”

“What’s Hermione got to help you on?” Blaise asked from beside him.

“I can’t say at the moment,” Draco said, taking a sip. “But it might be a weird one.”

“Oooh, is it naughty?” Theo asked as he flipped himself right side up, now interested in conversation. “I have a place in the archives where you can look. Let me tell you, that thing is a treasure trove for the perv—”

“You are like a dog in heat.” Pansy said.

Theo shrugged, completely unaffected. “What? He might have been embarrassed about it! Don’t worry about Granger, mate, she’s seen it all being a healer. Given me some tips, as well. She knows her stuff” 

He took a swig of whiskey, completely oblivious to the horror all over Draco and Blaise’s faces. Pansy nodded along with him in agreement.

“Okay, no, It’s nothing like that.” Draco said, trying to drag the conversation out of the horrific hole. “It’s classified at the moment. Only Granger, Potter and I know.”

“Ugh, boring!”
“No fair”
“Come on, just tell us!”

Draco remained unwavering. “No. End of story.”

Conversation then shifted to other topics. Theo spoke about how the new tracker spell would work and when they were due to start trials, although Draco had been aware of this since he had chosen the Aurors for the testing process. This new spell would allow them to see a glow around their fellow Aurors indicating what state they were in. Purple meant all good, Red meant that they needed immediate care and should be apparated out, etc. It didn’t fade no matter how far you were from each other, so you could see the light through walls and were able to locate your team members at all times. It was ingenious really and would be a massive help in field combat.

Pansy had finished the initial photo shoots for her first collection. She was launching in two months, releasing a mix of regular clothing and swimwear in time for summer. There would be a launch party in which she would have retailers attend to request potential stock as well as, and this was Theo’s favourite part, models. With all of this nearly done, she was already starting on her next line, which was elegant evening wear.

She had initially asked Draco to model but he couldn’t imagine anything worse than being on the front of a magazine in nothing but tiny shorts.

Blaise was the only one not that busy at the moment. That would change once the Quidditch season started up again, but at the moment it was mostly meetings with coaches and potential players. He worked as a Quidditch agent in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and had been for four years now. 

Alongside that, he ran a vineyard at his villa in Italy. Not a huge one, but large enough that it could supply the wine for local restaurants nearby and meant he always had the good wine to pair with dinner, as well as a nice backdrop for his wedding. His very hasty wedding. Not that Draco thought his wife was a bad choice, just that they could’ve known each other longer. But then, being half Italian, it did make Blaise passionate, and he tended to jump in feet first.

As conversation hummed around him, Draco found his mind wandering, thinking back over his lunch with Granger. He thought about how she had asked if there were any other old school friends he still saw. It had never occurred to him, really, to reach out to anyone other than his immediate friends. She was probably friendly with most people and could never actually cut anyone off.

Well no one other than Weasel, it would seem.

“You’ve gone awfully quiet, Draco.” Pansy said once the conversation came to a lull.

He should probably keep to himself, but he was overcome with curiosity at the moment and the drinks had loosen him up.

Draco looked at her inquisitively. “Do you know why Granger doesn’t really speak to Weasel anymore? Potter, too. She mentioned it briefly, but I could tell she was hiding something.”

Pansy hesitated.

“I don’t think it’s my place to say, really,” she said, casting a glance at Theo and Blaise which was not as covert as she would have hoped. This would not do.

Draco huffed. “Well, it seems I might be the only one who doesn’t know, so it’s clearly not that big of a secret.” 

Pansy looked conflicted for a moment, exchanging looks with the others, then waved her hand and sighed.

“Fine! But do not tell her I told you, or I swear to Merlin you will be unable to walk or sit properly for a month, do you hear me?”

Draco nodded quickly. He liked walking and sitting properly.

Pansy took a sip of her wine and started. “When they split a few years ago, she chose to state publicly that they were better off as friends, that they found they weren’t compatible as a couple, blah, blah, blah. That was only half true. What ultimately led to the break up… was that Weasley cheated whilst away for training in Spain.” 

“That fucker!” Draco said.

Pansy nodded. “It was bad enough that he’d done it at all, but whilst ‘coming clean’ to Hermione he admitted that it had been with Lavender Brown. Apparently, it happened when she went out there to interview him for the upcoming season. She works for Witch Weekly, I think? Not sure, don’t care.”

“Well, she was always a bitch.” Theo added. “Even at school.”

“So, what, he just used his Quidditch travels as a way to fuck around?” Draco was growing more and more frustrated.  

Pansy made a skeptical face. “He told Hermione it was just the once, but I think he was lying. He said it happened during the first week Lavender Brown was there, but she did go back out there again afterwards, so…”

“Piece of shit.”

Everyone else hummed in agreement.

The rest of the evening was pleasant enough. The other three flooed home around half ten and Draco was left alone, nursing his last firewhiskey, his thoughts never truly straying too far from his new partner.

No wonder Granger was worried about her partner not respecting her, one of her best friends had betrayed her! At least Potter had sided with her.

At some point, Emmeline popped into the room.

“Do you need anything else for this evening, Master Draco?”

“No, thank you, Emmeline. Have you had a pleasant evening with Belrod?”

Her wrinkled face lit up with a beaming smile, her ears buzzing with exhilaration. “Oh, yes, sir! We had a wonderful night, talking, eating dinner and he told Emmeline he liked Emmeline’s dress.”

Draco smiled. “Good, I’m glad.”

He stood from his armchair and placed his empty glass on the side table.

“I think I’m going to retire for the evening, Emmeline. Goodnight to you.”

“Goodnight, sir.” Emmeline vanished his glass and he left the room.

Lying in bed, staring up at his ceiling, Draco thought over everything again. Working with both Harry and Granger would be an interesting experience.

Chapter Text

The rest of May moved along without too much excitement.

Carrow, as they expected, had stayed hidden, most likely trying to figure out what she lost within the safe house and how much the Ministry knew about her plans. 

Which was nothing.

Granger had sent Draco a few different theories on what the box could be, but had ultimately sided with the Professor in the belief that this box was linked to Excalibur. She sent various archival parchments on King Arthur and his connection to Merlin but there was no breakthrough yet.

They couldn’t seem to figure out what Carrow would want with the sword. Aside from it being a gift for Arthur, there were no special properties to it unlike the sword of Gryffindor. It was always stated that only the true king of Camelot could wield it, and Draco doubted that it was her.

As the season changed entering June, summer felt in full swing and the increase in heat made it essential for cooling charms. Especially since Draco was still working in a three piece suit. 

The humidity of his office only increased the feeling of pressure; as though Draco were stuck in a pot waiting to bubble over from the heat. Something was coming, he just couldn’t figure out what. Draco had always felt on edge, all thanks to a certain snake lord, but ever since returning to London it became more apparent. He mostly chalked it up to the unknown threat Alecto Carrow currently posed.

Draco was just finishing up his last report of the day when a memo flew in and hit him on the head. 

URGENT!, it said, Auror Malfoy needed in the squad room immediately!

Draco jumped up from his desk and sprinted down the corridor to the room at the end of the hallway. Just as he reached the door, it was flung open.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DRACO!”

Clutching his wand in his hand, he took in the scene in front of him. The room was filled with the rest of the department as well as his friends surrounding the table with a cake in the middle.

“For the love of Merlin.” Draco took a deep breath, attempting to steady his heart rate back to normal. “I was ready to hex you all!”

“Yeah, sorry about that, mate, but it was the only way to get you here before the candle blew out.” Harry said, rubbing the back of his head looking slightly embarrassed. 

“Come on, then, blow it out and make a wish and all that nonsense. We want to eat,” Finnegan called from somewhere in the back with everyone humming their agreement.

Draco didn’t make wishes on birthday cakes. He didn’t believe in them. Well, he used to, but then he’d grown up and realised that no matter what you ask for, it wouldn’t make any difference.

He stepped up to the table and looked down at his cake. A simple white frosting covered the cake with some extra piping design around the edges. On top was piped ‘Happy Birthday Diego.’ His eyebrows raised and Granger spoke up from Harry’s side. 

“Sorry about that. I got the cake from this bakery near me as they make the best cakes but, I don’t think they caught your name right and must've assumed I said Diego.” The tops of her cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment.

With a soft chuckle he blew out the candle.

Then the fucking vultures descended. 

He’d never seen people charge so fast just for a slice of cake. In his moment of disorientation Draco was barged out of the way by Harry who hastily passed him the first slice, just to be polite, before handing out slices to everyone else.

With cake now splattered across his face, he turned to face Draco. “Sorry mate, but this is the best cake ever. Hermione gets something from the bakery for all of our birthdays and it’s the worst waiting for celebrations just to get another.”

“How pathetic, Potter.” Draco sneered. “Why don’t you just buy yourself a cake instead of leeching off someone's birthday?”

“I would but they only make larger cakes for events, not individual servings.” He said, seeming downhearted.

“Then just claim it is for a birthday party and keep it at home for yourself.” Draco proposed his face twisting as if to point of the obvious. He finally took a bite of his cake. 

It was one of the best cakes he had ever tasted, it was a simple lemon cake with a blueberry coulis and buttercream frosting flavoured with a subtle hint of lavender. Not too sweet, which he preferred, and the freshness from the blueberry allowed each bite to feel slightly new. The lavender was very mild, it left more of a lavender smell which lingered and mixed well with the smell of the fruit.

Harry’s face lit up at the suggestion “That's a great idea! Yeah, I’ll do that, thanks, Malfoy.”

After his cake was finished, Draco mingled slowly around the room thanking everyone for being there and for signing his card, which, as Potter put lovingly ‘has no money in here as you’re a rich twat already’ so instead they got him a new mug for his office as he constantly used the coffee machine in the break room. It was Slytherin green.

He’d spoken to half of the room before he spotted Granger towards the back with Pansy. 

Pansy decided to excuse herself as he approached. Draco noticed that she made her way over to where Harry was lurking — guarding the rest of the cake.

“Thank you for my cake, Granger. It was very nice and I’d have probably had a larger slice had I not been conned out of my own birthday cake by Potter.”

She chuckled.

“Yes, I should’ve had the foresight to get a larger one, really, knowing how well they normally goes down. But divination never was one of my strong points.” As far as he could tell, she hadn’t even had a slice yet. “You liked the flavour then? I wasn’t too sure what to order but Pansy mentioned you tended not to like desserts that were overly sweet. This is one of my favourites as it is very well balanced in my opinion. The fruit really gives it a freshness and…”

Wow this woman can really talk when uncomfortable.

As if hearing his inner thoughts she paused “I’m babbling again aren’t I? It seems to happen a lot with you.”

“I’m honoured that only I can muddle a brain like yours so much that you feel the need to endlessly talk at me.” He smirked and she blushed, the familiar pink tint blossoming across her cheeks and faintly across the top of her chest, exposed slightly under her blouse.

What are you doing?

Catching himself quickly he decided to move on to safer topics. “Granger, why do you have a piece of red string tied around your finger?”

“I use it to connect ideas on my board in which I am still unsure of their connection. I must have tied it whilst thinking about something but it is slightly too tight and I couldn’t get it off and have lost my scissors.”

“You could use magic.”

“I could but I didn’t want to risk cutting my finger in my haste to get here.”

“I see. Would you like some assistance then?” Draco pulled a small swiss army knife from his pocket. “It always helps to be prepared for string related offences.”

This earned a small laugh from her. She held her finger up so he could slide the knife between the string and her finger, with a quick slice he cut through.

“Thank you.”

Placing the string in her open palm and suddenly feeling slightly too close for comfort, he excused himself to continue the rounds spotting Pansy in the opposite corner but was intercepted by Harry, who asked if he wanted a coffee in his new mug; he was abnormally eager in Draco’s opinion. He accepted anyway, enjoying being waited on for his birthday.

“You looked a little cosy there Draco. If I didn’t know you better I would assume you were flirting.” A glint in her eye.

“Me? Flirting with Granger? No. Of course not Pans, I merely thanked her for the cake. Thanks for helping by the way, I don’t think I could take another pure sugar chocolate cake like Potter got me last year.”

“What help?”

“You don’t need to hide it, she already admitted you gave her guidance as to my preference of flavour.”

“She did?” Pansy’s eyebrows had ridden higher up under her fringe.

“Why do you seem so confused?”

“No reason,” she brushed him off, “I guess I just wasn’t expecting her to have told you that. Nevermind, the secret’s out now.” She turned to Granger and yelled. “You’re welcome, Hermione!”

Granger, who now seemed slightly chagrined, decided to use Theo to hide slightly from view. 

Strange.

Harry returned with his coffee, and an attempt at concealing a smile. “Here you go, mate. Enjoy.”

Draco was off put by this strange interaction, but with a quick sniff of the drink, nothing seemed amiss. But, as soon as the mug touched his lips, the Slytherin green morphed into Gryffindor red with a large lions head on the side. “Potter. What the fuck is wrong with my mug?”

Potter, as well as the other Gryffindors in the room, were chuckling over Draco’s confusion and their attempt at a decent prank.

“What do you mean?”

“Well it was green and now it’s obviously red.” Draco was not amused.

Harry shrugged, the attempt to play coy was honestly shit. He should never attempt acting.

Draco sighed. He tried a spell to reverse the jinx, but to no avail. After a plethora of spells were cast, Harry spoke up again, “Good luck, mate. But George said it’s not reversible.” The Gryffindors laughed louder at this.

Resigned to the fact he would have to be a dick. Draco threw the mug to the floor in an attempt to break it, because Merlin be damned if he was going to keep a mug with a stupid lion on it. The mug bounced by his feet, like a ball.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry added. “It’s also unbreakable.” The room broke out into cackles as Draco’s face morphed into loathing.

Well, fuck.

Friday afternoon, Harry called both Hermione and Draco into his office. 

She’d only just returned from lunch when she saw the memo on her desk so left immediately to head down to the DMLE. Upon arriving in their main office she saw Malfoy only just arriving himself.

They reached Harry’s door at the same time and she went to gesture him through first but instead he opened the door for her. “Oh, you didn’t need to.”

“Granger, I’m nothing if not a gentleman, and what gentleman wouldn’t open the door for a lady?”

“Well, ladies can open their own doors, Malfoy.” Hermione stated, maybe a little more combative than she intended.

He just chuckled in response.

“Of course, Granger. But you see, sometimes we get a kick out of opening doors for them. Especially ones as stubborn as you.”

“Why?”

He leaned closer, now almost whispering in her ear. “Because sometimes it gives us a kick to see how worked up a witch can get. Then naturally, it’s our job to help out a frustrated witch in need.” 

As he pulled back, she could see his signature smirk firmly in place.

Maybe it was the shock of the double meaning, or that he had gotten so close to her in public — Merlin knows what they looked like to anyone else — but she couldn’t quite find the words to fight back so just slowly entered Harry’s office. But pointedly did not thank him.

From behind, she could hear Malfoy mumbling 'Stubborn witch'. Though he didn’t sound annoyed, almost excited.

Hermione was unsure if Harry had heard their exchange and was choosing to ignore it, but he was rummaging in his filing cabinet when they sat. When he had found what he was looking for he turned back to face both of them, placing a map of the UK and Europe on the table.

“We have movement.” Harry exclaimed

“We do?” Hermione and Malfoy asked.

He nodded “There has been a sighting of her in Wales.” He placed a small yellow dot with his wand in a region of Wales on the map. “She was near the mountains. We don’t know if that was where she was hiding, but it’s where she is now. Any ideas as to why, Hermione?”

She shook her head. “There are stories which could have tracked Arthur through Wales for battles and she could think his sword was lost there.” Hermione said.

“Either way, what do you want us to do?” Malfoy interjected.

“I want you both on this full time. If she’s moving again, we can’t afford to lose her. We can’t act on so little information, so we need to gather as much as possible to cut her off.” Harry placed another yellow dot in Norfolk where the previous raid had been. “Malfoy, I’m pulling you from other cases, and Hermione, I have put in a request for you to be used in only absolutely necessary assistance in the archives. The other researcher can handle it.”

“Harry, that isn’t feasible. She’s still new. I am more than capable of handling this alongside my other work. I can split other cases between the two of us so she won’t find anything out and if I have a breakthrough I will change to full time.”

Harry didn’t seem happy about that. He looked at her moment, displeased, then relented.

“Fine. But if you feel there could be a link between this box, Arthur and Wales, I’m not taking any chances of her slipping away again and us still having nothing. Did your contact give you any information Draco?”

Harry was now conjuring a board in his office to hang the map on as well as the paperwork Hermione had compiled initially on the artefacts. 

“Not yet, but we haven’t spoken since after the raid,” Malfoy said. “I will contact him after this.”

“I think we should let it out that she is a person of interest. It might rattle her enough for her to mess up.” Harry suggested.

Hermione could tell Malfoy didn’t like this idea and probably had some choice words to use. So to keep the peace, she decided to speak up first.

“I don't know about that, Harry, it may have the opposite effect. We don’t know if there is a time limit on what she is searching for and, if not, she may be able to be patient enough to wait us out. Eventually we will lose funding and support and will have to give up the case.”

“I agree with Granger. This is too premature; she knows that we are onto her from the raid. Announcing it now makes her a safety risk to the public as well.”

Harry seemed to consider this for a moment.

“Fine, but I need to make this official internally. So, as of right now,”— He stood from his chair and summoned a piece of parchment similar to a contract —“Auror Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby assigned to the investigation and proposed capture of Death Eater Alecto Carrow.”

His name appeared in bold at the bottom of the parchment.

Harry then turned to face her. “Hermione Jean Granger, you are hereby assigned to assist Auror Draco Lucius Malfoy in the capture of Death Eater Alecto Carrow.” 

Her name joined his, but with a wave of Harry’s hand it transformed into the text 'Unnamed Partner’. 

“That way it shouldn't affect other cases you are working on, or your assistance in St Mungos.”

“I understand. Thank you. Now that it is official, can we disclose it to our friends? I am sick of Theo’s guesses as to what it could possibly be. He is currently on idea number 105: a secret vampire sex club in the middle of London.” 

Both Harry and Malfoy laughed at that.

“Yes, Mione, you can tell them.”

As they were making their way out of the office after the meeting, Malfoy stopped and turned to her. “Your middle name is Jean?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

With that he turned and walked away back to his office.

~

The work day was nearly over and, with the intention of starting full force on Monday morning, Hermione stopped off briefly at Theo’s office on the way back to her own to fill him in on their mission because she dread to think of what he would come up with next.

As Hermione sat at her desk, she couldn’t help but think back to the battle. They had been so sure that they could catch all remaining followers of Voldemort after the Order assumed power back in the Ministry. Carrow and Dolohov were the remaining two out of the five top ranking Death Eaters who had evaded capture. 

Carrow, Dolohov, Macnair, Rowle and Yaxley. 

Monsters in people’s nightmares.

They were all believed to have left Hogwarts as soon as Voldemort was killed.

Fled, in shock; maybe fear. Rowle was caught a few months later in Germany, with Yaxley and Macnair not long after. They were attempting an illegal international portkey to Spain. Clearly they hadn’t done their due diligence and, once their supplier had discovered who they were, she’d sold them out due to her niece being killed in the battle.

Alecto and Antonin were the only two left.

We will catch them. Hermione promised herself. 

She knew how dangerous those two could be and whatever they were planning was surely not going to be good. The lives people had built after the war were not going to be put into jeopardy. 

~

Saturday was Malfoy’s birthday party for immediate friends, and Pansy had gone through a lot of trouble arranging it all. It was due to start at 15:00 precisely and, according to Pansy, there would be no exceptions for being late. 

As she stepped out of the floo, Hermione looked around Pansy’s waiting room. She’d been here many times before and knew her way around with her eyes closed at this point. Pansy had moved into a ‘small flat’, as she had put it, which to Hermione was still a very large flat, after she had completed her fashion school studies. She had lived here for nearly three years now and it was recently completely renovated.

In her complete indecisiveness, Pansy had changed the waiting room four times, the dining room twice and each guest bedroom had a different colour theme — so it had taken her a while to be happy with all of those as well. But it was well worth it, her house was utterly stunning.

Pansy really was very good at creating something beautiful. If it wasn't through fashion it was through her interior design. She had neutral tones throughout but hints of colour accentuating her twist on the combination of modern and traditional elements. The theme for the current room was cashmere and muted pink which fit perfectly with the large bouquets of seasonal pink roses she had placed around the room.

“Granger. Welcome.”

A clipped tone broke through her thoughts, she turned to face Malfoy stood in the doorway, his manners bringing him to greet his arriving guest. He was in an expected outfit of black trousers, a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and his usual dragonhide shoes. 

A casual elegance he always radiated was something she had come to both expect and admire about him, even if sometimes it seemed slightly pretentious to be so overdressed for certain occasions. When she first met him, after the war, he always wore a long sleeve shirt adorned with cuff links whenever he was around others, but at some point in the last few years, he’d managed to find a tattoo he liked to cover his dark mark.

As much as it had slowly faded over the years, the mark would never disappear completely and it had the intended effect of creating a noticeable way to connect wizards to their previous choices. He had been ashamed of it, from what Hermione could guess, and discovering a way to cover it had seemed to instil a new confidence in him — as if he needed more of that — and from then on he always had his tattoo on show. Horrible really.

It was a mixture of flowers, some overlapping others, some entwined between vines. Hermione didn’t know what they all were and she also suspected he had another one somewhere from what Pansy had said, but had never seen it.

The only new addition to his attire today, was a silver ring located on his index finger. She wasn’t able to make out the engraving on top from this far away but was sure she had never seen him wear it at work.

“Malfoy, I appreciate the greeting but I do know my way around. You should’ve stayed with everyone.” 

“It is polite of the guest of honour to greet all their guests.”

“I see, more gentlemanly behaviour?”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly in response.

Hermione paused slightly, remembering she was holding a bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“For you. Happy Birthday.”

He accepted tentatively, “Thank you. Everyone is in the next room.”

Following him through, they entered the large open plan living and dining room. Luna, Hannah and Pansy were discussing something near the fireplace, and Theo was sitting on the sofa enjoying the nibbles set out on the coffee table.  Malfoy moved to join Theo and Hermione carried on over to the girls.

“Hi, everyone.”

“Oh, hello, Hermione. You look lovely today, that dress really suits you.” Luna welcomed her in her usual pleasant tone.

“Yes, Granger, you look lovely. I do recall seeing you in a similar colour before. Let me think.” Hermione couldn’t quite understand why Pansy had a scheming look on her face. “Oh I know! This is periwinkle, wouldn't you say Draco?”

Malfoy looked up at her with a deathly glare in his eyes and Theo choked slightly on the crisps he was eating.

“Whatever you say, Pans.”

Hermione was very confused by the whole interaction but Pansy seemed as though she was happy with the outcome. 

“You’ve done a lovely job with the waiting room, Pansy. The pink is lovely this time of year with the roses.”

“Oh, good you like it. Do you think it’s better than the yellow? I am thinking of changing my room to have a plum instead of a lilac.”

“Sounds good. I like purple, but I wasn’t allowed to decorate my room that colour when I stayed with Harry for a month as he apparently doesn’t really like it and didn’t want to have to re-decorate when I moved out.” Hermione explained. “We settled on blue. Even though, if you think about it, it would’ve only taken an hour to change it back after I left.”

Pansy stilled slightly.

“Actually maybe purple isn’t the way to go. I was also considering cobalt so I might try that instead.” Pansy hastily excused herself, exclaiming she needed to send a revision to her designers.

Hermione, Luna and Hannah stood silent for a second.

“Did she just agree to change her bedroom colour because Harry doesn’t like purple?” Hannah seemed completely astonished at the notion.

“I believe she did,” Hermione said. The three of them laughed at the blatant reasoning. “I have had an inkling for a while that she fancies him but I think this proves it. Guess I’ll have to try harder at setting them up. How are both of you doing?” Hermione asked. “Isn’t your anniversary coming up soon?” 

Hannah and Luna shared a loving look.

“Yeah, four years on Wednesday,” Hannah said.

“Wow! Already?" Hermione said. "You three must have the longest relationship of the group. Aside from Dean and Seamus, maybe.”

Hannah smiled. “Well, Luna and Neville were together a year before I joined.”

Luna placed a hand on Hannah's arm. “But we don’t count that, as we both admit that our love only seemed to feel complete when we found Hannah.” 

“Ah Luna, that's lovely.” Hermione crooned. “Do you have anything special planned?”

“Neville has been allowed the day off to come and visit and — don’t mention it to anyone else yet — but we are meeting with a warlock who specialises in bond connections. A triad bond is one of the strongest magically you can have and for our fifth anniversary we want to have a bonding ceremony.”

Hermione couldn’t contain her happiness for her friends. She knew how much they all loved each other and she knew that Luna had always wanted a bond marriage after her parents had been bonded when they were younger. It was one of the few things her father had always spoken about after her mother had passed away. Their magic would become stronger as a result and it would allow them to feel closer to Neville whilst he was away for work. It would feel like he was right at home with them.

“Oh my — I’m so happy for you all. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” Her eyes were becoming misty as she drew them both in for a hug.

When Pansy returned to finish their previous discussion, Hermione left to find Harry.

She rounded the corner to the kitchen and saw Harry Blaise discussing something with Blaise.

“Ah, hello, Granger. I was just asking Harry if you have thought this hunt for Alecto through completely. Wouldn’t want either you or Draco in harm's way now, would we?”

“Thank you for your concern, but Draco has been tracking her for a while and I do feel like you might be underestimating our skills slightly.” Harry’s eyebrows raised, something had surprised him, though she couldn’t think what. “How did you find out anyway? I didn’t think Malfoy had mentioned it yet and I have only told Theo.”

“Exactly, so naturally everyone knows. It was very kind of you to inform all of your friends about this dangerous task you have taken on. But I wonder if you may have missed someone.” 

Blaise took a slow sip of his whiskey, maintaining eye contact with her as he did so.

“I don’t think so.” Harry added “Everyone here knows now. I told Luna and Hannah when they arrived.”

“Hmm that is true. Everyone here does know. Anyone not here who doesn’t?”

Hermione gasped. “Shit!”

Blaise smirked. “Let’s see how long it takes you, Potter.”

Not seeming to have any better an idea of what is going on, Harry looked at Hermione for help.

Blaise butt in. “You see, I was just wondering about what my lovely wife will say when she arrives. I mean, I dread to think how she would feel if she had to hear about you tracking a highly ranked Death Eater and potentially entering into a life or death situation from someone else. You’ve surely told her?”

Harry paled.

“Obviously not.” Blaise began to pour another measure of whiskey, “Don’t worry, I had assumed something like this might happen and I informed her this morning, so there are no issues. I can’t wait until she gets here, I’m sure she’ll be fine having heard it from me first.” 

“She’s coming back today?” Hermione was starting to sweat slightly. Is it warm in here all of a sudden?

“Mmm” He hummed in affirmation.

Blaise sipped his whiskey and started to make his way towards the living room. As he reached the corner they could hear the floo roar to life in the other room.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE THEY?”

Hermione and Harry looked at each other in fear. She grabbed one of the champagne flutes beside her on the counter and downed its contents. Harry followed suit with his whiskey.

Blaise turned back to face them with a grin reaching from ear to ear.

“Ah! My wife.”

Chapter Text

Ginny stormed into the kitchen, flames seemingly flicking off of the ends of her bright red hair. Hermione didn’t think she had seen her this riled up since the harpies lost the World Cup last year due to a ‘missed’ penalty for an attack from the opposing team's beater.

“And when were either of you going to tell me you were tracking one of the most dangerous dark wizards around huh?” She stood directly in front of them with crossed arms and tapping her foot in a very Molly Weasley-esque manner. “Before or after Blaise has to floo call me to let me know you’ve died?”

“Ginny, I didn’t realise you’d be here. It’s so lovely to see you,” Harry muttered, attempting to diffuse the situation.

“Cut the bullshit, Potter, I know what you’re trying to do.”

Hermione looked around at Blaise to see if he would intervene, but from the smirk etched across his face, he was clearly enjoying the show. Hermione thought she should give it a go.

“Look, Ginny, we were going to tell you in person but someone,” she said, pointedly staring at Blaise and hoping her stare would burn, “beat us to it.” Hermione’s hands were out in front of her, akin to how someone would attempt to calm a wild animal. “I know you have concerns, but trust me, nothing bad will happen. We have thought through this as thoroughly as possible. Plus, we’ve really only just started anyway.” 

Ginny was still staring daggers at them, but it seemed like she was finally listening to reason. 

“We were going to tell you, promise. There was no way we would’ve hidden this from you on purpose. Besides, I’m more there for research and Harry just comes up with plans in his office. Malfoy is the one who has to do all of the heavy lifting. So, really, I’m not in any danger at all.” Hermione added with an upbeat tone, attempting to make the situation lighter than it was.

She could sense she was making headway, whilst Harry was just nodding along. He looked like a child who was using their parents to hide behind, to avoid being told off.

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, just have a drink first.” Hermione pushed a glass of champagne along the counter top for Ginny. “Also, saying you expect us to die is seriously questioning our abilities and, quite frankly, that might be the most hurtful thing you’ve ever said.” She feigned indignance.

Ginny huffed a small laugh then picked up the champagne, gulping down half of the glass.

“Fine. But you will answer ALL of my questions, and provide me with good wine for the evening. I know you have some hidden here for when you visit” She claimed with an accusatory tone and a pointed finger at Hermione. “I’m talking expensive and older than me, not the boxed shit Harry picks up from that muggle off-licence.” 

Hermione laughed. “Sure, Gin, I’ll get you a glass right now.”

Satisfied the situation was dealt with, Hermione went to fetch the drinks, Harry made his way to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water — since he’d turned bright red throughout the conversation — and Ginny made her way over to Blaise who had moved into the armchair in the living room.

He seemed more than happy to help calm her down further, by what can only be described as borderline illegal PDA.

“You are so sexy when you’re angry.” Blaise whispered — a little too loud.

“Well get me drunk on the good stuff and see how sexy I am later.” Ginny replied. 

Hermione passed the glass of wine over as Pansy made a gagging noise. “Ew, really. You’ve just arrived and you’re already planning to sully my furniture. I know you’ve been away, Red, but keep your knickers on for a little longer.”

Ginny laughed. “I knew you missed me, Parkinson. Don’t worry, what I’ve got planned wouldn’t work on here anyway.” winking in Pansy’s direction.

Harry had chosen that particular moment to enter the living room again, but decided he clearly didn’t want to be a part of this conversation either, so went back into the kitchen for another drink.

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Whatever. And don’t get me started on the fact that you were late. International portkey does not excuse you from punctuality.” 

Hermione took a seat on the chaise opposite Ginny’s.

If you had told Hermione, or Ginny, that she would end up marrying Blaise Zabini after school they would’ve laughed in your face until they had collapsed from a lack of oxygen. But watching them now, cuddled close in the armchair, looking at each other as though no one else in the room existed, Hermione knew this love was only for them.

Ginny had dated another quidditch player after the breakup with Harry — but it was most definitely a rebound and did not last long. So he decided to swear off of men after that, until Blaise had apparently made her reconsider. They had met again at an end of season party, thrown for the quidditch department and its players. They had hit it off immediately and were inseparable for the first few months. When her training was due to start up again in the spring, Blaise decided he didn’t want anyone else thinking they had a chance with her, so he proposed at the ‘Narcissa Malfoy’s New Years Gala’ and they were married in June just before her first away game.

Pansy had set the food out shortly after Ginny had arrived. It was a buffet but they were seated at the formal dinner table. This was the most casual option Pansy could manage. 

As Hermione entered the dining room she noticed that she was placed between Harry and Pansy. This was an appropriate time to start meddling. Hermione felt as though Harry had developed a small crush on Pansy, and what sort of friend would she be if she didn’t help him out.

“Harry I’m really sorry but the sun is in my eyes here. Would you mind swapping with me? You are a little taller so it shouldn’t affect you.” She asked, a small smile on her lips.

“Yeah of course Mione.” Harry picked up his plate and moved over.

But she failed to realise that Harry had been placed between her and Malfoy. As she took her new seat smiling to herself, she looked to her left to see a very confused blonde — who seemed to know she was lying about the sunlight — to realise that it looked as though she had moved in order to sit next to him.

“Is that better, Hermione?” Harry asked genuinely.

“Yes, Harry. Thank you.”

Ugh, kill me now.

Draco looked down at Granger, watching the realisation that her entirely obvious plan at getting Pansy and Harry together had backfired slightly, the panic crossing her face. Draco could’ve reassured her that he knew what her true intentions were. He thought he would mess with her instead.

Keeping his voice low so that the others wouldn’t hear, “Granger, if you were eager to keep me company before work on Monday you could’ve just said so.” He enjoyed the slight flush blooming on the tops of her cheeks.

“No, Malfoy. My intention was to—”

Holding his hand up to stop her, “No need to clarify your intentions yet. We are still getting to know each other.”

She huffed in annoyance and took the best course of action, which was to attempt to completely ignore him instead.

1-0 Draco.

Everyone ate in comfortable silence for a while before Pansy decided to open the second bottle of wine and provided firewhiskey for those who preferred something stronger. As much as he had appreciated the thought behind today, Draco was never bothered about celebrating his birthday. Ever since the Dark Lord had returned, the day had always felt sour. His sixteenth birthday had been his last, alone with his mother, in their home before the dark regime had taken over. 

It was exactly as he had wanted. A late start, breakfast in the conservatory and the whole day spent in the pleasant company of his mother in the gardens. She had said his gifts were from her and his father, but Draco knew that Lucius had no idea. The only correspondence Draco received from Lucius was a letter from Azkaban, explaining that they would be providing their home to the needs of the Dark Lord and that ‘the honour’ had been given to Draco to receive the Dark Mark. His mother had retired early that evening. Draco knew it was so he didn’t see her upset. 

His friends had always tried to make up for that when they came out the other side of the war and, although he did appreciate it, he would much rather drink alone at home. 

Today. the conversation ebbed and flowed as people slowly indulged in more alcohol and became slightly loose-lipped. Surprisingly, Theo wasn’t the worst for once, that title went to Mrs Zabini today, who was clearly enjoying her time off before the season started up.

“I mean, honestly, I’m just glad I’m married and don’t have to worry about dating anymore. Some of these men, the audacity! I mean, Theo, they make you look like an angel.” Ginny said, with a slight slur to her words.

“Hey!” Theo protested. The others all chuckled knowing she was completely correct. “I’m not that bad, I don’t mess around with people. I only engage in relations in which we are both in complete agreement about where we stand.”

“Yes, and that’s why I’ve already seen your bare arse one too many times.” Hermione quipped a slight chuckle in her voice.

“I apologised for that profusely.” Theo rushed. “Anyway, like you haven’t done anything.”

Granger shook her head, a nonchalant look on her face.

“Oh, please, don’t act too innocent, Hermione. I distinctly remember a time when you couldn’t look me in the eyes for a week when we lived together because I found those fluffy handcuffs in your laundry basket.” Ginny exclaimed.

Granger’s eyes widened.

“Oooh, Granger.” Blaise cooed.

“Don’t be silly, Ginny, we both know they were yours.” She was trying to deflect.

“Yes.” Ginny stated, unashamed. “But I kept them in my bedside table, not in your laundry basket. So how did they get there hmm?”

“Nope. No, don’t want to listen about Hermione and handcuffs.” Harry placed his hands over his ears and started la-la-la-ing.

“Feeling left out? Don’t worry, Harry, I can discuss your bedroom preferences, if you would like?” Ginny added.

Pansy and Theo felt that this was a much better conversation topic and were urging for her to continue. Draco, on the other hand, felt that he had not yet gathered enough information on Granger’s story. It was — of course — of the utmost importance to ask her more.

She had welcomed the conversation change by pouring herself another glass of wine, the familiar pink blush — a wine flush, if you will — returning to her face and her sundress showed the colour reaching down to kiss the top of her chest, before fading into the gentle smattering of freckles, scattered across the tops of her shoulders.

Looking at her now, the sunlight forming a halo glow on top of her head, he would never guess that ‘angel Granger’ would partake in such sordid bedroom activities.

Draco leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low, as to not allow anyone else in their conversation. “I didn’t have you pegged as someone who likes to be tied up in the bedroom, Granger. If those are the ‘intentions’ you spoke of earlier, then I’m not sure we should go any further. It would definitely not help our working relationship.”

He really did try to keep from smirking. Honest.

“You know exactly what I was attempting to do earlier when I swapped seats, and I know you are just trying to get a rise out of me in my slightly altered state. But I won’t fall for it.” She took another sip and, surprisingly, leaned in closer. “And anyway, what makes you think they were for me.”

She looked him in the eye and the world paused. The glimmer of amusement made her eyes sparkle. It was almost as intoxicating as the whiskey.

Draco didn’t want this to end just yet, so did what he does best. Investigate. “Because I think you like giving up control to someone who you know can take the pressure off.” He asked, testing the waters.

“Well, there’s the issue, Malfoy, I’ve found most men to be all talk.” She raised her glass up to her red stained lips.

“Do I seem like most men to you Granger? I’m wounded to be so generic to you”

Looking up at him through her lashes, a small smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, she said, “Maybe, I guess we’ll see when we start working together whether you can do as you’re told.”

1-1 Granger.

She eventually got pulled back into conversation with Luna and Hannah about her next talk in Denmark, but Draco couldn’t help but be impressed by this more relaxed Granger. The soft warmth radiating off of her skin from the alcohol, the gentle smile she had whilst comfortable with friends and the confidence in which she gave back her retorts. He looked forward to testing her limits more.

~

Evening settled, and the sunset was drowning the drawing room in hues of pink and orange. Draco sat finishing off his final drink while a slightly inebriated Pansy began to tidy up. Ginny and Blaise had decided they had been apart too long, and left not long after dinner to rectify that. Granger explained that she had an early volunteer shift at St Mungos and was escorted home by Harry. Then, Luna and Hannah had gone home to finish their anniversary gift for Neville, and Theo, having far too much whiskey, had been told to go home to bed.

“I had a lovely day, Pans, thanks for organising it,” Draco said, honestly.

“You’re welcome. Although, I do wonder if your pleasant day was to do at all with my party planning or due to the company.” Pansy replied.

His eyebrow raised in question.

“You seemed very cosy with Hermione at dinner.” Not a question. She just simply spelled the empty glasses to the sink.

He rolled his eyes. “Not this again, Pans. We are working together, Merlin forbid I try to find some common ground to not go insane over the next however many months. Plus, we were only sat next to each other because Granger is ridiculous. She only asked Potter to swap so he would be next to you.” 

“Yeah, she really is incredibly obvious.” Pansy was now re-fluffing her pillows, “But also blind.”

“So she doesn’t know you and Harry have already slept together?” 

“No.” Pansy paused, “Wait! How do you know? Did Harry tell, honestly he is rubbish at keeping secrets.” She crossed her arms in annoyance.

“He didn’t tell me, you did.”

“No, I didn’t— ” 

He just smirked at her in response.

“You prick. You didn’t know for sure.” Pansy poured herself another drink before joining him on the sofa.

“No, but I had a hunch. I was sure I heard you saying something about dinner whilst making the rounds at the office on my birthday. I’m guessing it went well, so won’t bother asking.”

“It was great, and he was great.” Draco grimaced at the thought of Potter in bed. “We are keeping it secret for now, just to figure it out.” She turned to him, pointing. “So don’t tell Hermione.”

“Yeah, no shit, Pans, I don’t really fancy getting my balls hexed off. But you have my word, I’ll only tell if it benefits me. Other than that, I will not disclose for any reason.”

“Prick,” Pansy muttered beneath her breath as she finished her glass. “Did your mother owl you this morning?” 

“She did. To send her love and a new tie from this French designer she’s discovered. She wanted to come home but I told her there was no point, I’d rather know she was safe there, away from the shit that may erupt here.” Setting his glass down onto the table he stood, ready to excuse himself for the night.

Pansy stood as well, and gave him a farewell kiss on both cheeks, “She’ll come home eventually, you can’t just make her stay in France.”

Draco was just about to step into the floo she called his attention, “Draco.”

He turned and her expression had turned serious.

“I just want to clarify that I love Hermione deeply. She has become one of my best friends, and as I know you better than you may know yourself, a word of warning: hurt her, and it’ll be me you deal with. Then, Ginny, may join in for fun.” Back to her usual light-hearted tone, she added, “Enjoy the rest of your evening. Goodnight, Draco.” 

With that, Pansy turned and left.

Draco couldn’t understand the need for the warning Pansy had, quite scarily, given him. Yes, he wasn’t the kindest person in the world but he couldn’t see how he would hurt Granger. If Pansy was worried about the tiny bit flirting to annoy her at the table, then she had nothing to worry about. It was most definitely not a regular occurrence.

Besides, Granger could definitely hold her own.

~

When he entered his office Monday morning, there was a meeting with Granger already scheduled in his planner. An hour until it was due to start, but there was a note scribbled underneath the slot. 

“I hope this time is good for you, let me know if not. Also if you are in a suit, which I’m guessing you are, you may want to leave your jacket in your office. Hermione.”

With nothing else planned for the day, other than lunch with Blaise, Draco felt no need to reschedule. The message about the removal of his suit jacket was intriguing though. He settled on simply removing his tie and placed it in his desk drawer. 

I’m sure I’ll be fine.

Just before the clock struck the hour of his meeting he began making his way down to level 9. Something was slightly different. He could tell as soon as the lift door opened, it was warmer than usual down here. Apparently, no one was working on the desks this morning either. The floor felt eerily quiet with a lack of people posted outside each room.

Continuing down to the last office on the right he could feel the heat radiating through the door. It was warmer down this end then it had been at the lifts. With a sharp knock, he barely had time to knock again before Granger had opened the door and pulled him inside, quite roughly.

“Merlin Granger, what’s the rush? Why is your office so hot?”

“That’s why I said to leave your jacket. Did you not read my note?” Why does she look different? “Theo was given a few frost salamanders, to investigate how their bodies change in cold temperatures, but they somehow got loose. The only way to keep them slow enough to catch, without harming them, is to keep the area really warm. We are all hiding in our offices to narrow the search area — plus, the little bastards sneak up behind you and bite your ankles.”

Hermione took a seat back at her desk and began fanning herself with some files she had sprawled across her desk. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were red and her hair was pulled into a low bun, although, her incessant fanning had blown loose a few strands around her face, they were now swaying in the slight breeze. She was in a form fitting skirt with a white blouse tucked into the waistband. The sleeves had been rolled up and she had undone an extra button in an attempt to try and provide solace from the heat.

There was a slight sheen on her skin from the sweat on the top of her chest. He should probably stop staring at her chest. And, most definitely, ignore the light blue strap peeking from the collar of her shirt. Heeding her advice, Draco removed his jacket and placed it on the back of his chair. Taking a seat, he started the meeting.

“So, what am I here for?” Malfoy asked.

“You are here so we can choose a plan of action. There is a lot to research, and knowing where to start is the hard part. So I wanted to discuss different theories and they will tell me the order of priority to go in. Right there is a brief list I already thought of for you.” She opened her eyes and gestured to a piece of parchment to Malfoy’s right.

Draco picked it up. Hermione quickly realised that he had removed his jacket. Today, he had worn a mid tone grey suit which perfectly echoed the grey of his eyes. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his top button undone, he had forgone a tie. Or maybe he had removed that as well? She couldn’t remember. This heat had fogged her brain entirely.

His wand holster was in its usual place. The leather strapping wove around his chest and over his right shoulder, keeping his wand at the perfect height to grab with his left when needed. Hermione could tell that he’d pulled the chest strap slightly tighter than it needed to be, not sure if this was for safety or his ego, but the subtle difference allowed his pectoral muscle to seem more defined.
 
The heat was starting to get to him. His forehead was gleaming slightly under her office light as a small bead of sweat gathered on the edge of his brow. It slowly began its descent along his cheekbone. If she was quick enough she could reach out and catch it with the tip of her finger before it— 

“Which of these is your favourite?” Draco enquired, pulling her from her trance.

“Huh?”

A small smirk lifted at the edge of his mouth, an indicator he had caught her staring.

Stupid heat.

“Which theory do you think is the best?” He repeated, gesturing to the parchment.

“Oh, well, I think our best order is to start with any battles associated with Arthur. If Alecto is looking for a weapon, it could be hidden at one of these locations. I also like the idea of trying to locate his resting place, not to disturb it, but to ward it so she can’t access it.”

Draco nodded. “That makes sense. Maybe also look into items associated with both Merlin and Arthur. Although Merlin didn’t physically give Excalibur to Arthur, it is rumoured that he was the giver of the prophecy and started the quest to find it. There may be something magical disguised as a muggle item for Arthur’s use.”

“Yes, good suggestion. Did you want to start on some research together? Or did you have somewhere else you needed to be?” Hermione asked, not holding out hope. But this could be a good starting point for them.

Just as Draco was about to answer, Theo pushed open the door. “Hermione… Oh, sorry to interrupt. Just thought you’d like to know that we’ve caught them all. You can cast cooling charms to your heart’s content.” As the door closed, relief flooded over her.

“Thank Merlin.” Barely muttering the spell, she realised that Malfoy had already cast his own. She chuckled “Don’t like the heat?”

“Well, I can’t remember that muggle saying about heat in a kitchen but I definitely don’t like heat in the office.”

There was a small smile on his lips matching hers but, as he caught himself, his usual mask was back in place quite quickly. Standing to redress in his jacket, Draco re-addressed her previous question. “I have lunch plans in an hour and won’t be out until one.”

She nodded, “Of course, no worries I can—”

“But I am free all afternoon.”

Stunned, she froze slightly. The last thing she had expected was for him to not only take up her offer of researching, but to offer his whole afternoon.

“I’ll take your silence as acceptance then?” He smirked again.

“Yes.” She rushed before composing herself and continuing, “I mean, of course you can join after lunch. It’s good that you have some time, as it can take a while. When you return later, explain to Sally at the desk you are here to see me in the archives, and she can allow you through. I’ll set up a table and board for us to put anything useful on.”

“Sounds great. See you later, Granger.” Draco left, leaving her with the knowledge that in a couple of hours, she would be back in the archives, alone, with Draco Malfoy.

Get it together. You knew you were going to have to spend time with him at some point.

Needing food herself, Hermione took an early lunch to visit her favourite cafe, but before she made her way back, bought herself and Malfoy a coffee to take up to their research session. Upon her return, she settled onto a table, in the corner near the aisles they would need, conjured a chalkboard, some blank parchment and summoned the first of many books and boxes they would be reading through. 

She also cast a warming charm on Malfoy’s drink. But that was just being polite.

~

Hermione had been reading through an old notebook belonging to Sir Percival, one of King Arthur’s knights, when she heard a distinct clack from a pair of dragonhide shoes coming from the corridor. As Draco rounded the corner, she noticed he was in back his full suit — a  tie now in place. He was also carrying a report file with him. 

“Afternoon, Granger.” Draco chimed.

“Good afternoon, I hope you had a nice lunch. There is a coffee for you on the table, I am just going to collect one more item, and then we can get started.

Scanning over the table — which had now become two — his brows lifted in amazement. “Really, this isn’t everything?”

Hermione chuckled. “I could see how someone not used to the size of the archives might think this was a lot.” Taking a step towards the aisle, Hermione hesitated a moment before asking, “Would you like a tour? I would have to accompany you through but it can be interesting to see how much is down here.”

“Hmm, a chance to see the endless amount of knowledge that you could occupy your brain with, how could I refuse?” Draco said with no real sense of excitement, but he seemed interested nonetheless.

The tour started out slightly stilted, with Hermione only finding the courage to talk about what each section held as they walked past. She needed a way to break the awkwardness. So she decided to turn right, and hopefully find something to discuss.

“This is our potion and alchemy section.”

The light in Malfoy’s eyes grew brighter in amazement at the size of it. It was beautiful. Hermione was most used to the dull grey that seemed to be a permanent fixture whilst at work. Not to say he didn’t enjoy the work he did, but she assumed it was a result of his guard being up a lot of the time, perks of being an Auror.

Although, since being around him more, she realised there were various shades of grey that could show in Malfoy’s eyes. They were cooler when regarding someone he disliked, they seemed ablaze on the day of his birthday when he stormed into the debrief room, clearly ready for a fight, and she noticed a slight blue tint when he would relax around friends. Hermione would deny it to anyone who asked, but she had been watching him whilst at dinner with their friends, enjoying how at ease he became whenever talking to Blaise, Theo or Pansy. The only look she couldn’t seem to figure out was how Draco regarded her sometimes. There was no blue, so they weren’t friends, not too cool or fiery, so he didn’t hate her or want to fight her — which she appreciated. But, he wasn’t shut off either. It was as if he was still deciding where to categorise her. The only change had been when he’d baited her at the dinner table, it seemed the more he teased the darker his eyes became.

Obviously, it only felt that way since he moved closer, thus providing less sunlight to reach his face. That was her conclusion, not that his eyes actually darkened. That would be ridiculous.

After five minutes of wordlessly walking along the rows of potion books, Malfoy paused, finding a tome he had an interest in. He raised his hand slowly as if to grab it, but caught himself and dropped his hand. 

“You can touch them,” Hermione said. “Whenever you are signed in, it allows you use of the archives for whichever items you see fit. It’s only certain things that need extra permission.” Hermione told him, happy that he seemed to find something worth reading.

Draco hadn’t moved, but she could tell he was listening. His hand raised again, tentatively brushing the spine before committing to pull it down.

“I used to have a rewrite of this in the Manor. It was always one of my favourites, but I lost it when the Ministry raided after Voldemort’s downfall.”

She froze again. Surprised that he had used the name so casually, as he would any other Draco turned to check if she was still there.

“You don’t think that is— ”

“No. Mine was much smaller and, as I said it, was a rewrite, so they didn’t include a lot of original text due to the old language. This is most likely the original.” Draco stopped for a second, observing the cover. “May I?”

Hermione nodded.

Draco carefully peeled open the cover to reveal the first page. A preface of sorts. Not that Hermione had a clue what it said, this book dated back to the 1st century. She moved closer, to inspect the book, “Is it in Latin? That word says deer but I don’t recognise anything else.”

“Sort of. It is mostly written in what we now call Common Brittonic, but since this was towards the latter part of the 1st century, there are some Latin words. The Romans brought their language as they invaded parts of the UK.” He ran his fingers delicately along the paper. “This bit essentially says he first found a love for flora studies after tending to an injured female deer whilst foraging for food. He couldn’t save her, but he noticed certain reactions to plants he used on her wound. This led him to experiment with mixing different herbs and flowers together to see what would happen if he imbued them with magic.”

Mouth open from shock, Hermione’s brain had seemed to short circuit for a minute. There was no way she was internally swooning from something Malfoy had just said.

“Did you just translate that on the spot? It is a dead language. Well, in fact it’s more like a dead, dead, dead language. There is no way that you, Draco Malfoy, are fluent in a mixture of languages from the first century.”

“Granger, you flatter me, but no, I didn’t translate this on the spot. That was one of the few things included in the book I had.” He chuckled slightly as he slid the book back onto it’s shelf. “I do speak multiple languages, unfortunately Common Brittonic is not one of them. It’s not even a useful book.”

He started walking back towards the direction of their table. It was a nice change to actually learn something for once, more often than not most of the information came from her.

“Why was it so important to you, then? The book.”

He stopped briefly to look back at her. She could almost see the wheels turning in his brain as to whether to be honest or not. Clearly, the interest of partnership won out.

“Although mostly all of his experiments were failures — due to parameters he just wouldn’t have known of at the time — this is the first recorded information in medical potioneering; of someone trying something new and inventing something which would go on to be studied and finessed. Something which would serve as the foundation for potions as we know them today. We can heal through plants and potions because of his experiments. It is a legacy which started as a man who simply wanted to help.”

Malfoy turned away and disappeared, leaving Hermione in silence for a few minutes.

Her brain was reeling. This peek into Malfoy’s psyche had been so minute, yet so informative. As she started to return towards the desk, her mind kept going back to what Pansy had said all those weeks ago when they first started working together.

“He always wanted to be a potioneer.”

Chapter Text

The afternoon had gone smoother than Draco thought it would. After his brief tour around some of the archives, they had started working out possible motives, uses for the supposed ‘Excalibur’ and any locations Carrow may visit next. With the use of some old documents and journals, they had mapped out a few routes in which Arthur and his men would’ve taken to battle.

Before he headed home for the day, Draco stopped by his office to collect a copy of the research notes. It was rather helpful having a charm which could duplicate notes from one parchment to another.

Granger has some good ideas.

Not that he’d tell her that.

“Not gonna lie, I’m a bit disappointed I haven’t got a welcome back party waiting for me and the only one still here when I get back is you.”

Draco turned to face the deep, gruff voice behind him, his face brightening on sight of his fellow Auror.

“John! I didn’t know you were back today.” He greeted cheerily.

John Dawlish was a Senior Auror and Draco’s first partner when he joined DMLE. He had been stationed in Belgium for the last three months searching for an illegal smuggling group and had left shortly after the Norfolk raid. Draco hadn’t managed a chance to say goodbye before he went.

“No, well, no one actually knew,” John said. “We got a last minute tip off this morning and managed to capture the bastards this afternoon. So I get to come home early. Not that anyone is here to make a fuss of me.” He gestured to the empty office floor.

“Most people clock out at six now. It’s been quiet for a while so we’re making the most of it.”

“Yet, you’re still here at”— he glanced at his watch —“eight o’clock.”

“You know me, not one to follow the crowd.” Draco said.

“True. But I also know that means you aren’t taking a break from work and, judging by the files in your hands, I’m guessing you’re taking it home with you tonight.” John gave Draco a disapproving look. “So how about instead, you leave those here,” Holding his hand up before Draco could protest. “they will still be there in the morning, and we go for a drink. Merlin knows I’ve needed one this past month.”

Draco looked at the files back in his hand. There was no point arguing when it came to John. Draco chucked the papers back onto his desk with a surrendered sigh. “Alright, but just one.”

~

Whilst he waited for John to return with their drinks, Draco realised he missed this. They used to come for drinks fairly regularly in this small, muggle bar, not far from Diagon. It was always easier when people didn’t know who they were.

When Draco started with the DMLE, Harry had paired them up together, unsure of how the others would react. If he could get the veteran of the group on Draco’s side then the others would fall in line. They ended up being sent straight out on a two month mission, and became close in the process. John had lost his daughter in the battle of Hogwarts, but he was one of the first who truly forgave Draco for his part in it. He acknowledged how young Draco was, and that if situations were different, children wouldn’t have been asked to fight in the first place.

Draco often wondered what it would’ve been like to grow up with someone like John as his father. As much as he learned from Lucius, it could’ve been different to have a father who would have fought to save his son, not condemn him.

After that mission, as a way to separate from work, and because Draco didn’t want John to be on his own all the time, they visited this pub. Not only had John lost his daughter, his wife had died in childbirth — so now it was just him. 

Returning with the drinks, John took no time to start his questioning. “So, what’s been going on? I heard that Finnegan’s been given your cases and you're on the Carrow case. With a certain, Miss Hermione Granger.”

“Ah, subtlety is not your forte.” Draco took a sip of his drink. “Yes, I am assigned to work with Granger. We needed an expert, and she’s pretty much an expert in everything at this point.”

“And how’s that working out for you? She is an incredibly intelligent and dedicated woman. Any time I’ve asked for her assistance, it’s usually done within the day.”

Draco made a face. “It’s going . . . okay. Didn’t start the best, but I think we are finding an understanding of how each other works. I like to focus on the smaller details, and she works a bit like a hurricane is sweeping through the office.”

John laughed.

“Well, I can imagine it is hard for you to give up some of that control you seem to want to hold onto at every point. She might be good for you.” John took a drink “You know, I think you two are a lot alike, in your own ways.”

Draco scoffed. “Oh yeah, I’m also a bossy, know-it-all who regurgitates knowledge at an alarming rate, not allowing anyone else to get an idea or opinion in.”

“Sometimes.” John smiled. “No, what I mean is that you are both strong, independent people who had to fight through others’ assumptions of you to become the people you are today. You both enjoy learning that which you do not yet know, and have pride in the work that you do. Plus, you are both very loyal and protective over those you call your friends and family.” John took another sip. “If it was me, I’d love a partner like that; someone who not only challenges me but brings out the best in me. I just got stuck with Ernie’s snoring for two months.”

Draco had never thought of Hermione in that way before, it was probably the way most people saw her. Not once had he thought that was how someone would view him, though.

“I don’t know, Dawlish. I think you’re giving me too much credit there, mate.”

“No, Draco, I think I’m just stating the obvious. And unfortunately, I think you’ve just been blind to it. She’s changing you and definitely for the better. You may change her too. When I saw you in your office just now, gone was the tired eyed man stuck in his office too late. A new refreshed you was there. Someone who has found a way to lessen the load and share the struggle with another. Maybe this partnership will do you well.” John finished the last of his pint. “Plus, she’s not an unattractive lady, now is she?”

Rolling his eyes Draco downed the last of his beer, “Okay, that is where I’m calling it. Thank you for the drink. I will see you tomorrow.”

He turned and made his way out to the closest apparition point, ignoring Dawlish’s chuckles from behind him.

I wonder if that’s how she sees me.

The irony was that it was exactly what Draco thought of her when he used to see her at work; constantly looking overworked and strained from carrying different people’s baggage. But now, she seemed more relaxed, more of the typical Granger. And no, maybe she wasn’t completely unattractive, but that would never be said out loud or used in any professional setting.

He remembered saying something once about how she looked to Pansy, and he had never lived that one down.

They were both unable to meet again for a few days. 

Malfoy had been called away to meet with the French Auror department, to examine their progress so far, and bring back any relevant information regarding Carrow, and Hermione had been pulled into assisting an urgent case with the Department of Magical Creatures, on an old centaur law mishap. As well as having to provide emergency assistance at St Mungos after some teenagers thought it would be funny to mess around with a portkey.

Luckily, no one in the surrounding area of the transport site was harmed. Two of the boys sustained serious injuries, but were stabilised fairly quickly and would heal with no long term effects. The other one was accidentally thrown into a storage room causing his foot to become stuck in a bucket. As in his foot was a part of the bucket. Suffice to say, his surgery took quite a while, but at least he was going to be able to regain complete use of his foot. Hermione didn’t think they would be messing around with portkey travel again any time soon.

Friday afternoon, a memo flew into Hermione’s office asking her to visit the DMLE level. With her other work completed for the week, and being suitably bored of waiting around for Malfoy to return, she eagerly grabbed her wand off of the table and made her way to their floor. As she arrived she could see some of her friends changing into their official uniforms; which either meant trouble, or they were being sent out on mission.

They were moving far too leisurely for it to be the former. Or at least she hoped this wasn’t how slow they were in an emergency.

Harry wasn’t in his office as she walked past, so she assumed he was in their briefing room down the hall. Rounding the corner, she saw both Harry and Malfoy — so he was back — standing by the geo-board having a heated discussion. On the board beside them, Hermione could see small lights indicating different locations in England, Wales and France. Neither man paid her any attention as she approached. Great job Head Auror, very attentive.

“How come there is only one light in France?” She asked, bringing her to the attention of the bickering men, making Harry jump slightly.

“These are the places frequented by Carrow over the last two weeks,” Malfoy explained without greeting her. “There is only one in France because it turns out she only visited one location, the home of a well renowned collector. He specialises in antiques of the mythological.” He tapped the light with his wand to reveal a larger image of an old chateau in the region of Normandy. 

Hermione had no idea who invented this spell for their boards, but she knew it had been a huge advantage to the DMLE when they were planning a raid. It could be used to track the known movements of their suspect, and would provide an external look at the location if this information was known to the DMLE. In this case, a mansion of a well known collector would be easy to find information on.

“I see. So she was collecting something and went on a grand tour of England for two weeks.”

“Not exactly.” Harry added. “She visited the collector three times in the first week, the rest of the locations have been in the last seven days. Aside from Norfolk, but we placed it down in case of a link.”

“Well, she has been busy then,” Hermione said, crossing her arms. “Any idea what she collected or is looking for? And why is everyone out there getting ready?”

Harry looked around and went to close the door. It made Hermione’s hackles rise in anticipation. When they were properly enclosed, he turned to her.

“Malfoy’s connection managed to pick up our collector but, as it is all legal, the best they could do was ask nicely. Of course, the entrepreneur he is, said he would exchange his information for a price. We don’t know what they agreed on, but he finally disclosed that he’d traded her for his inveniometer.”

“A device used to find things.” Hermione said casually. “So what was she looking for?”

Malfoy scoffed slightly beside her. “Of course you already know what it is. He said he didn’t know what she was looking for, but she took a liking to an old map of his showing old burial and battle grounds in England and Wales.”

“Well that fits with what we had theorised so far. But that doesn’t explain where you are all going.”

“My contact also said that once they were aware of her magical signature, they could see it sometimes at the edge of their borders.” Malfoy traced along the country border to demonstrate. “We thought she was staying in France but living in another country without any paper trail is hard. So, when I got there this week I went on a bit of a field trip and found out she has been setting up a base in Guernsey.”

“Interesting choice of location.” Hermione pondered.

“She’s been close enough to the border that we thought she’d been in France, but hasn’t needed any extra paperwork since she is still in UK territory. That is where we are all planning to go currently.” Malfoy gestured to the plans on the table. “The only problem is Potter and I can’t agree on how to approach.”

Hermione made her way to the table, which had the breakdown of the location, wards and entry points. There were two routes mapped out, one in red, and one in black. With no annotations, names or markings she could clearly tell who had provided each route. Their personalities were as clear as day on the paper in front of her, and she also knew both of them well enough to know that if they stopped being so stubborn and worked together, the perfect solution would have come to them ages ago.

If they moved their entry point to the opposite side it would allow them to remove some of the warding and the guard situated outside faster and more quietly, allowing them to have all exits covered before they barge their way in, creating a higher chance of capture and a lower chance of Auror injury.

She grabbed the green marker and proceeded to draw her own version of events on the map, reworking areas of both plans and interconnecting the black of Draco’s slow strategic approach with the red of Harry’s all wands blazing one.

Satisfied with her completed plan, she moved away slightly allowing the men to see the idea. Hermione did often pay attention when Harry spoke strategy, it was only the once she had actually fallen asleep.

Malfoy analysed her diagram and hummed. “Not bad, Granger. It might work.”

“Well, if you two actually looked at it together instead of having a dick measuring contest, you would’ve easily seen this outcome and could’ve left ages ago.” She stood with her hands on her hips, a disapproving look on her face.

Harry didn’t seem to like her choice of words, but Malfoy did; an impressed and amused smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

With a quick nod at them both, Harry opened the door to brief the rest of the team on their plan. Malfoy was about to follow when Hermione touched his arm, to pull him back.

Turning with surprise, Malfoy slowly pulled his arm away. She hadn’t actually touched him before. “Sorry, Malfoy. I, um. Well I just wanted to… er.”

“Get on with it, Granger.” He responded, although lacking any real harshness.

“I just wondered if I could come with you. All of you, that is.” Noting the immediate shock and disapproval on his face, she rushed to add, “Not to fight. But, there may be some artefacts there that need someone trained to look at them. We don’t know what it is she has been looking for and there may be some very dangerous items in the house. We don’t want a repeat of the last mission do we?”

His face curled in disgust at the memory, and Hermione knew she had him.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you stay well clear of the house until Potter or I come and collect you. Is that clear?”

Hermione quickly nodded in acknowledgement.

“You must clearly be bored, you never seemed the type to want to be on the field.”

“Actually, I have always wanted to see a raid in person, it’s interesting to know what happens before an object makes its way to my office. But, I am also a little bored so I thought I’d try and be of some help. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. I’m sure it was you that said it, when we first got assigned this case, that you wanted a partner with dirty hands.”

Malfoy’s brows shot up into his hairline.

Mortified heat licked down her spine.

“Oh, that’s not — That’s not what I meant.”

“Look, Granger, I’ve told you before, mixing personal and professional lives does not work out.”

She glared at him. “Prick.”

He had a hint of a smile on his face as he turned to join the others. “Oh, and, Granger? You’re telling Potter.”

Then he left.

This isn’t going to be fun.

~

They arrived in the designated apparition point twenty minutes later. Harry had not liked her idea, but the time to leave was drawing too near and he couldn’t continue to fight Hermione on it. His compromise was the tracker spell of Theo’s design, which would show him exactly where she was at all moments. Meaning she would have to remain in their safe zone near the entry point. His precise words were, ‘don’t move’.

The team broke into their smaller groups, spreading out to their designated zones. Malfoy and Harry stayed near Hermione as they were the only two who would engage first. Once Malfoy had removed the wards, Harry would enter disillusioned to detain the single guard at the front of the property, then apparate him back to where they were currently stood before casting anti-apparition wards around the property to avoid runaways. Hermione had offered to give Malfoy some help, but he said the wards were lazily cast and wouldn’t take too long. So she could just sit back and watch.

Once he started the charmwork, the ward lines illuminated around them, marking each layer as a slightly different colour. Malfoy was lying. These wards weren’t lazily cast, they were very well cast and were quite complex spells. But he was moving through each one as though sliding a hot knife through butter.

Draco was an excellent spellman. Of course she knew he had always done well at school and that he was an amazing strategist and Auror — as Harry had begrudgingly admitted — but to see him in action was something else. His magic was flowing with such an ease it almost made Hermione jealous. Almost. She still knew she could do it in the same time as him, but she had severely underestimated his skill. 

Harry leaned over slightly to whisper in her ear. “You know staring is rude, and you might want to close your mouth whilst you’re at It.”

Hermione scowled at his grin, but the flush came over her cheeks nonetheless.

“You’re not being very secretive about it either,” Harry whispered, “should I fill out a form for HR?” He snickered.

“It’s quite easy to be secretive, Harry; but, then again, you never were any good at keeping secrets from me.”

Her friend narrowed his eyes in suspicion but, before he could say anything, Malfoy stood back from the boundary line and informed Harry that it was done, but cautioning him to cast a detection spell as he got closer to the house in case there were others. Harry disillusioned himself and disappeared. An uncomfortable silence descended among her and Malfoy in anticipation, and Hermione felt the need to fill it.

“What is it, Granger?” Malfoy asked. He was standing a couple feet away, wand in hand, ready for action. “You won’t stop fidgeting, and I can hear the cogs turning in that oversized brain of yours. Not regretting your choice to come, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” She huffed. “I was just wondering why you didn’t bother to explain that they were some serious wards you just worked on. They weren’t lazily cast at all, and that final ward I’ve only seen once around some of the highly dangerous artefacts in the archives.”

Malfoy turned to her fully. “I didn’t say anything because they weren’t that difficult. The last one was the closest to something I would put on my own house, and even then it wouldn’t be strong enough. You didn’t mention the need for such wards the other day on my tour. Who takes them down for you?”

“I do. One of the tests on my interview was to see how long it took me to take it down. Clearly they were happy with my time as I got the job.” Hermione said, maybe too smugly.

Malfoy scoffed. “I’m doubtful that it would’ve lost you the job. Come on, you’re Hermione Granger, that job was made for you. They probably just felt less inclined to hire a ward breaker for your assistance.” He took a quick drink of water before putting his bottle in a hidden, extended pocket of his trousers. “How long did it take you then?” Draco asked, with a quirk of his brow.

Before she could answer, Harry appeared back at their sides.

“Okay, he is unconscious and should be for a while, so no need to worry, Mione.” He said dropping the body of the guard at their feet. “Draco, set the anti-apparition wards and then I will send the signal for us to enter.” He ordered.

Malfoy stood to set the wards, his jacket removed for ease of movement. Like a switch, he was in Auror mode. No smirks, no quips just focus on the task ahead. It was still odd seeing him in uniform. Well his version anyway. The shirt was technically not ministry standard, they were supposed to wear polo shirts as they allowed for more movement. Hermione recalled the time Harry told her about how Malfoy had insisted he could move just fine in a button down. Harry had chosen to pick his battles after that.

His wand holster was once again tied tightly around his chest and shoulder. Maybe it is for safety. Hermione couldn’t believe he would worry about how his muscles looked whilst on a raid, although, this was Draco Malfoy — anything was possible.

Once the spell was complete, Harry tapped his badge to signal for the other teams to make their entrance. They weren’t taking any chances, it was a cast first and speak later situation — nothing too harmful, just to capture as many people as they could. The first few spells blew the windows and door out, then the defence started from inside the house.

A few men exited the house attempting to subdue whoever was attempting to attack the safe house. Unlucky for them, they were very much outnumbered and were restrained quickly. From her vantage point, Hermione could see the front and right side of the building. Two teams entered the front, whilst the others covered the back, with Malfoy and Harry heading in first to try and find Carrow.

There was a movement from one of the top windows which caught her eye. Antonin Dolohov was making his way out of the second floor window, casting a cushion charm and jumping onto the grass below. He was trying to use the fight as cover to run past the anti-apparition line. Hermione couldn’t let that happen.

Using the trees as cover, Hermione ran along the border of the wards to cut him off before he reached it. She stepped over the invisible line, and stood directly in front of Dolohov.

The initial shock of her arrival melted into a horrible satisfaction on his face.

“Well, well. The golden girl herself, what a pleasure it is to see you again,” Dolohov oozed in a way that made Hermione’s skin crawl.

Hermione remained still, but on the inside she felt nauseated. A phantom pain echoed along her chest in reminder of when she had last faced him in the Department of Mysteries. She willed herself to remain unmoved as his eyes took her in. Dolohov’s teeth showed through his sick smile, a mix of yellowed and blackened teeth rotted away from years of hiding on display.

“I really must be going,” he started, “but it will be a pleasure to finally finish what I started all those years ago.”

The curse came with a swift movement. Hermione reacted quick with a Protego, saving her from his next attacks.

Dolohov was relentless. He threw a slicing hex, a stunner and an acid curse in rapid succession. He wasn’t going for injuries, he was going for the kill. Hermione’s reflexes were decent, but she wasn’t a fighter; her occasional practises in the DMLE training room were no match for his ruthless violence.

So she focused her energy on analysis. Holding the defence, Hermione watched as he attacked. One, two, three, four, break. One, two three, four, break. The pattern became clear. Dolohov relied heavily on his right leg — could it be due to an injury to his left?

One, two, three, four…

“Diffindo! Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus!”

The slice to his left ankle destabilised him for just the second she needed. His wand flew to her hand, and he dropped to the ground.

Hermione stepped toward him.

“You see, Dolohov,” she said, “you always did talk too much. What was it I cast all those years ago to stop you?” Hermione tapped her chin in mock thought. “Oh, yes, Silencio.”

A flick of her wand and he was silenced — it may have been overkill from him already being petrified, but it felt good. Dolohov could be arrested along with the others now, hopefully leading to better knowledge of Alecto’s plans.

Hermione stared a little longer. It was odd seeing him again after all these years. Life on the run had not been kind. To think back on how she’d fought him before. Remembering the fight at the DOM, after she silenced him, and the look on his face as he realised that her, a mudblood of all people, had foiled his attack. After that was a blur, whatever curse he hit her with sent her flying into the side of a prophecy cabinet. 

A burning pain had risen in her side and a throbbing in her head overtook her sight. As Tonks came to help her, she fell unconscious. It wasn’t until she woke that someone had told her the hex had nearly eaten through her ribs. If Tonks hadn’t been there, she would have been dead.

“I don’t know what is more surprising,” Malfoy drawled from behind her. “That you managed to find yourself, once again, in trouble, or that for a minute I believed you would follow Potter’s orders and stay put.”

She made a face at him. “What do you mean, ‘once again’? I’m never in trouble. Oh, and thanks for the help by the way. Really appreciate it.”

He gave her a skeptical look as he stepped closer. “You know, Harry has told me all about your escapades whilst at school. I meant what I said. Anyway, you didn’t need help, I saw you, maybe a little slow on your feet but otherwise you were pretty good. I see you also picked up on his little pattern of hexes.”

“Wow, a compliment. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Not really a compliment because you could’ve done much better and had it been someone less predictable, you would be dead.”

It was good while it lasted.

“Come on, leave him.” Malfoy nodded towards the house. “We have some things for you to look at.”

As they walked into the house, Hermione could see the line of bound suspects all sat in various stages of unconsciousness along the wall. There were six inside, two outside, the guard back at the initial apparition point and Dolohov near the boarder.

“Where is Alecto, was she not here?” Hermione asked.

Malfoy’s jaw clicked and he huffed. “She was, but she had a portkey. As Harry and I entered, we saw her grab something off of the table, touch the mirror on the wall and vanish.”

The sense of frustration was evident, but it didn’t negate the fact that with Dolohov and others in custody, they had massively cut down the people Alecto could trust.

Silently, Malfoy led Hermione into a back room where they had moved various objects onto the large table. Harry turned to them, his typical big brother disappointment face on. 

“You moved.”

“Well, it was necessary in order to capture Dolohov, so I think that’s a good enough reason for not following orders.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

He was now walking back over to the table to show Hermione what they had found. She started with the largest one and worked down the line casting various charms to detect any hidden hexes or traps.

“This is just a basic chest, it is big enough to hold the detector so she probably just left it when she ran. These two items are charmed to blow the hand off of anyone who touches them without the trigger word so you better send them to the curse department. This potion doesn’t seem malicious but I can’t test that here.” Marking which items she deemed dangerous with a cataloguing spell, Hermione walked over to the end of the table where a few documents were remaining.

Reading through them quickly Hermione noted one was a map of Wales, with a few marks on it near Mount Snowdon, one was information on how to locate the collector in France, but the other was a list of locations. Some she recognised: Glastonbury, Guernsey, London, Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon) and further down was Camelot. It was obviously linked to their initial King Arthur theories. But right at the bottom something intrigued her. It was as handwritten note about using the inveniometer to find this location. Under it, it said.

‘An seo gheibh thu do ghreal’

Hermione rushed through all of her previous run-ins with old languages to try and translate. It had to be either Celtic, or Gaelic, but she only had a brief knowledge of both. Both Harry and Malfoy were just watching her silently. She probably looked slightly mad whispering to herself in different languages.

“Ghreal? Ghreal. Where have I heard that?” It took her two more passes of the phrase before something clicked.

She paused.

“Oh my God!”

She double checked the location. ‘Enez-Aval or Ile d’Aval’

“Oh my God!”

“What?” Harry said.

“What did you find?” Malfoy asked.

Hermione’s limbs buzzed with excitement. She looked up at the two men.

“This is— We might— I need to call Fredrik!”

She grabbed the papers and ran as fast as she could out of the house, toward the apparition line.

Well that was incredibly helpful.

Draco thought.

~

It took another hour to fully clean the scene and contain any items which Hermione had deemed dangerous and needed tending to back at the ministry. Draco had returned alongside some of the prisoners to escort them to the Ministry holding cells. He was just about to go back to the DMLE when something stopped him.

Faint wording glittered above one of the cells towards the end of the corridor, spelling out ‘Antonin Dolohov.’

It was not as dreary as Azkaban, but the holding cells were most definitely not for suspect comfort. The corridors were kept dark, only illuminated by a few candles. There was a moist, rotting smell permeating some of the cells and the bars were spelled to cause a stinging effect to a prisoner’s hands if they grabbed the metal. 

As Draco arrived at the intended cell, he looked down at the man who had once resided in his house and had, on more than one occasion, been a sparring partner for the Dark Lord’s entertainment.

Dolohov leaned against the back wall of the cell, his feet bound by the ankles with shackles that tied to a central chain. His wrists were shackled, but his arms free to raise up and down. The years on the run had led to a decay of the man Draco once knew. His hair was long and unruly, tangled in knots which clung to various debris from his travels. The snarl with which he had greeted Draco revealed crooked, blackened teeth, ready to fall out at any moment; and he really fucking stank.

“Hello, Antonin.”

Releasing the silencing charm, Draco waited until Dolohov had decided to speak.

Dolohov didn’t seem to care about where he currently was. He still held the arrogant demeanour Draco was accustomed to. “Draco Malfoy. You really were one of the slipperiest snakes in all of Slytherin. How you managed to come out of a war, from the dark side, and somehow end up a model citizen is beyond me. If only they knew some of the things you did, eh? I wouldn’t mind revisiting some old stories.”

“You’re threats won’t work,” Draco said, exasperated already. “They know. My memories were turned over by force for my hearing. What I did, which by the way was only ever in front of the Dark Lord, was only ever inflicted among Death Eaters. Nothing compared to you.”

Dolohov scoffed. “So they just forgot it was you who let us in that night to kill old Dumbledore. hmm? Or telling us who to search for when we hunted for Potter and his friends. You would have loved joining us on our hunt for that Mudblood.”

Malfoy flinched in the dark.

“That’s the difference between you and I,” he told the man. “I never hunt for fun. Besides, if today was anything to go by, she would’ve had you on your arse. Then you would’ve been punished and it would have been amazing to watch.” A chilling smile etched onto Draco’s face at the thought.

“You’re a real bastard, Malfoy.”

Draco shrugged. “I’m well aware. Now, let’s stop with the pleasantries and why don’t you tell me where Carrow has gone.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

Draco remained silent. More often than not, the silence acted a truth vacuum; suspects needed to fill the tense air and would end up revealing more than intended.

Dolohov pushed off of the wall. “She knows what you did by the way.” Dolohov said, satisfaction seeped into every word. A glint shining off of the broken teeth from his own demented smile.

“I see.” His jaw clicked.

A sick scoff echoed in the cell. “Draco Malfoy, you are the worst of us all. Too dark and damaged to play among the light with the saviours, but too weak and cowardly to walk with your old comrades. You have unfortunately inherited a lot more from your father than you think. He was weak as well.” Dolohov grabbed the bars to further punctuate his point; pained from the stinging hex placed on them.

Draco wanted to keep his job, so decided on the best action. Replace the silencing charm. 

“Well, Dolohov, this has been fun, but I’m out here, free and you’re in there, silenced and bound and most definitely heading to Azkaban for the rest of your days.” He leaned closer so as to lower his voice from any other listeners. “I happen to know of a lovely cell right at the bottom, which may still have a sole dementor as guard. I would hate for it to accidentally find its way into the room.”

Dolohov’s eyes opened in horror and he started his silent protest, but Draco just turned and walked away, heading back to the DMLE.

~

A few hours passed, and after all debriefs had taken place and paperwork signed, Draco finally finished for the day. He glanced at his watch —  it was now 9:30 pm — and decided to check if Harry was still in his office. About to knock on the door, Harry pulled it open from inside.

“Ah! Malfoy, you scared the shit out of me.” Harry clutched his chest. “Why are you right outside my door?” An eyebrow raised in question.

“I was just about to knock for you. Everyone should still be at Monty’s if you wanted to grab a drink. I feel like we’ve deserved it.” Draco added.

“Oh, I forgot that it was today. Yeah, I could do, I’ll only have one though. I might actually pass out at the bar from exhaustion. All this paperwork has fried my brain.” Harry closed his door and locked it. They both head to the main floo system.

“Have you seen Mione, at all?” Harry asked. “I went to her office earlier but the receptionist said she had left pretty much as soon as she got back earlier.”

“No. It would’ve been helpful if she’d actually told us what she had found.” Draco pressed the lift button to take them to the designated floor.

“Yeah. She does that often. That reminds me, I need to call a few people in to work tomorrow.”

Draco groaned.

“I know it’s a weekend, Malfoy, don’t give me that face. But I need to talk to the team about keeping any information gathered today internal until all statements have been checked.”

Draco understood, but didn’t like the idea. Harry sent a patronus — which was common for him as he could never be arsed to write anything down — instructed to go to Finnegan, Thomas, Dawlish and Granger. Wherever she may be. 

~

Only Theo, Blaise and Pansy were there when they arrived at the bar and everyone had only stayed for one more drink. Draco didn’t think Harry or Pansy went to their respective homes but he couldn’t be too sure, they had chosen the moment when Theo had started talking about Granger to sneak away.

“What was that about Granger?”

“You know, you really should call her ‘Hermione’ now that you work together.” Theo said.

“I’m fine with ‘Granger’.” Draco shrugged and took a drink.

Theo shook his head. “I meant for you to show her some respect, you twat.” Theo rolled his eyes. “Anyway, she ran past me earlier so fast she nearly knocked me over. When I followed to her office to see if anything was wrong, she was grabbing handfuls of files and books to put in her bag. I asked about it, but she just said everything was great and if anyone asked she was doing a quick one night travel to Norway and would be back tomorrow.”

“Norway?”

She hasn’t gone to find Carrow on her own has she. 

No. That was ridiculous.

Draco guessed he would just have to wait to see what all the fuss was about.

~

Draco awoke in the same temperament he’d gone to bed with last night.

Pissed off.

There had been no word from Granger since her little disappearing stunt and, yes technically if there was an issue Harry’s patronus would’ve returned with the message of failed delivery, he couldn’t help but worry.

Harry asked him for a full written report of yesterday’s mission and it took nearly three hours of going back and forth as to what to include for Granger’s fight with Dolohov. She wasn’t technically an Auror and had no business being at the raid and subduing a suspect; however, it needed to be filed. Her anonymity on their case was already causing issues.

Frustration still churning his stomach, Draco forwent breakfast; in favour of heading into work earlier and persuading Harry to let him be the one to interrogate Dolohov.

At eight, a rush of curls flashed by his office door.

Granger.

Draco stood abruptly and followed her down to Harry’s office. Her apologies sounded through the open door.

“I know, sorry Harry, but it was urgent. I went to see my friend Professor Hansen, the man I said helped me a couple months ago with the box. I just wanted his confirmation of my theory before I said anything.”

“Well, come on, then, Granger, what is this big surprise?” Draco was growing impatient having already waited for her to return from yesterday.

He shut the door behind him, casting a muffliato.

“Okay. I am sure that Carrow is searching for Avalon. She is looking for the Holy Grail.”

Chapter Text

The amount of time it took to get an emergency portkey to Norway was infuriatingly illogical.

As soon as she landed at the Ministry from the hideout, Hermione sent an owl to Professor Hansen and a formal request to the Department of Magical Transportation for a portkey. A little premature to do the latter without a response for the former, maybe, but she wanted to expedite the process.

She then channelled the excited energy buzzing inside her to gather all the files she would need—which would be all of them; best to be safe than sorry. Hermione started shrinking all the files and notes into her tote bag. How was it that the one day she decided against bringing her large extended bag, was the one day it was needed?

“Everything alright, Hermione?” 

Hermione turned to find Theo at her door, staring at her wide-eyed as one does at a deer with rabies.

“How did the mission go?” he asked cautiously.

“Yes, everything’s great, I’m just grabbing some things. I’ll be heading off now.” Hermione picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder and began towards the door.

“Are you sure?” Theo outstretched his arm to block her exit. “Maybe take a seat and rest for a bit, you seem a bit worked up. Is it something serious?”

“Yes and no.” Hermione replied, attempting to duck under his arm. “It is serious but there’s nothing wrong.”

Theo assessed her for a moment longer, before he lowered his arm. “If you’re sure?”

“Positive, Theo. Thanks for checking on me though.” She smiled. Just as she stepped out into the corridor, she turned, “Oh, and if anyone asks where I am, tell them I’m heading to Norway but will be back tomorrow.”

She rounded the corner towards the lifts, and made her way to the main floo network to collect a few things from home.

~

Hermione hadn’t been home long before her owl returned with a reply from Hansen. Luckily for her, tomorrow was a weekend so he didn’t mind the late visit. Ordinarily, he would’ve declined due to his teaching schedule. She had to wait another two hours until her portkey finally arrived with instructions for departure in ten minutes, so she gathered all her items and waited.

One. Two. Three…

Hermione felt that familiar pull behind her bellybutton, which always made her feel slightly nauseous. It felt like someone had tied a rope around your middle, attached the other end to a dragon and told it to take flight. Apparating had always been her preferred method of travel.

With an ungracious flop to the floor, Hermione looked up to find herself directly in front of the gates at Universitetet for magiske vesener — the University for magical beings. One thing she loved about the school was how progressive they were. It acknowledged more than just witches and wizards as magical beings capable of study and education and the gates were decorated as such. Twisted within the cast iron bars were creatures of all kinds, gilded in gold. A proud symbol of what they stood for.

The gates opened as she approached as though she was already expected, and she walked up to the main doors. A large oak door swung open to her left.

“Hallo, Hermione.” The older man said.

“Hello, Fredrik. Thank you so much for seeing me tonight,” Hermione said, pulling her bag higher on her shoulder. “I know it was very last minute but I needed your professional opinion on something important.”

Fredrik gestured for her to enter and began to lead her down the old corridors.

“No problem,” he said. “I don’t tend to do much on the weekend, so maybe this will add some excitement. You seemed passionate in your letter. Normally, you are more relaxed and professional but the one I received today was someone who was inspired by the thought of adventure and discovery. How could I turn that down?” He smiled gently.

“Yes, I guess you could say I’m excited for discovery. If what I think is correct, it could change how we view magic and muggle history.”

“Well, now I’m very glad I accepted. Please, follow me to your room, you can drop off your things then we shall eat dinner.”

He led her along a corridor overlooking the courtyard, filled with various students enjoying the sun on the grass. “I doubt you’ve eaten since your big ‘aha’ moment, as you young ones would say.”

She chuckled at his outdated term. “No, I haven’t, thank you Professor.”

He led her down a few more corridors, not too unlike Hogwarts, to a small bedroom hidden behind a tapestry. It was a modestly sized room and, due to the lack of personal touches, Hermione assumed this was a visitors room.

Fredrik gestured for Hermione to enter as he held the door open for her. “Anyone staying for a short period stays here as it is away from the student rooms. Once we have eaten we will return for your files and then we can discuss everything in my classroom.”

“Sounds good.”

~

Professor Hansen’s classroom looked exactly like it did when Hermione would visit for her studies. None of the decor had changed; including the trail of dust along the books.

“It’s like being back in class,” Hermione said wistfully.

His eyes crinkled with his soft chuckle. “Yes, well, I imagine it feels quite similar. Although we did have the windows changed about a year ago now.” Fredrik took a seat at his desk.

Well, they were the exact same design as the old ones, so Hermione didn’t think it counted.

“Right, okay. I’ll just lay everything out, conjure a notice board for the map and we can begin.” Hermione said excitedly.

Two hours later, and an entire ball of string used, they had finally finished going through possibilities for Alecto’s travels. As knowledgeable as ever, Professor Hansen had managed to come up with a total of five other possibilities than her initial thought for the items and locations. Which, as much as Hermione appreciated, she also hated.

At one point, Professor Hansen nearly convinced Hermione that, if read in reverse, you could misconstrue the runes as meaning lake. The man was actively convincing her that they may have been searching for the Loch Ness Monster.

They took a well deserved tea break, at half past midnight, but Hermione couldn’t help but feel slightly defeated. She slumped into her chair. “Do you think I’m wrong? After everything we’ve discussed it seems like I jumped to conclusions and may have been well off base.”

“In truth,” her mentor said, placing his mug on the desk in front of him, “no, I don’t think you are wrong.”

A small glimmer of hope.

“But you have come up with so many other explanations,” she said.

Fredrik smiled. “Ah, but what kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t challenge you. I may have had good reasoning, but at every option you provided evidence for why that couldn’t be. That is why I think you are correct. You just needed to work through it with another person. Get it out of your head, so to speak.”

“Then we’ve done it. I can’t believe it all this time and we have an actual path to follow.” Hermione was practically buzzing.

“I cannot take any credit for this. This was all your brilliant brain. You really were one of my best students,” he said fondly.

“Thank you, Professor.” As she placed her mug down on the table, a familiar stag galloped through the window and informed her that Harry was calling a few people into work tomorrow morning to go over their statements. “I guess that’s my cue. I should really get back home so I can let them know.”

Standing, and with a quick flick of his wand, Professor Hansen sent all of their work into a drawer and locked it, before rounding his desk towards her; his gentle teacher face was on, the one she had seen him use to comfort many a struggling student.

“Hermione, it is far too late to return home and, honestly, I don’t trust that you will sleep. You will merely continue with work.” Hermione felt slightly told off. “I will keep it all locked in my desk until you can collect it after breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh, no, that isn’t necessary. I will be fine, honestly it’s easier to head back now and—”

He held up a hand to cut her off. “Hermione, you are like me, and I know myself very well after all these years, which means I know for a fact you won’t rest. Because I wouldn’t rest. Now, I will show you back to your room and collect you at seven o’clock sharp for breakfast. Only then, after you’ve eaten, shall you return home. No discussions on the matter.”

The most annoying part was that she knew he was right. There was no way she could sleep knowing all of this. She would sit in her living room all night surrounded by as many books as she could find. Hermione sighed in resignation, “Fine. I’ll stay.”

“Very good.”

~

Hermione rushed through the Ministry as she headed for the DMLE. She’d returned home barely thirty minutes ago and had cast a few freshening charms before throwing on clean clothes and setting off for the offices.

Her wand vibrated with the eight o’clock alarm as she stepped foot on the main DMLE floor.

As she reached Harry’s office, Malfoy was following close behind so she motioned for him to join. Harry opened the door and was muttering his protests, not that she was truly listening.

“I know, sorry Harry, but it was urgent,” she threw out. “I went to see my friend Professor Hansen, the man I said helped me a couple months ago with the box. I just wanted his confirmation of my theory before I said anything.”

“Well, come on, then, Granger, what is this big surprise?”

“Okay. I am sure that Carrow is searching for Avalon. She is looking for the Holy Grail.”

For once in his life, Draco had nothing to say. Seemingly, neither did Harry. They stared in confusion as Granger pulled various papers out of her bag, as well as her signature ball of red string.

“What do you mean Avalon?” Draco started. “As in the supposed place in which King Arthur died? Hate to break it to you Granger, but these are just myths. There is no evidence for this place existing.”

“I know, Malfoy, but there are always some truths to myths. That’s how they start in the beginning. A myth is just truth twisted by time, made to be more creative and spectacular as it passes further down the generations.”

She wasn’t even looking at him, she just thrust the ball of string into his hands.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Draco was completely confused by this chaotic situation.

“Use a sticking charm to attach it to each point of the map we know she has visited,” Granger stated as though it was entirely obvious what he would do with a random ball of string.

“Mione, do you not think this may be a bit far-fetched? I mean, even for wizards there is no one who has been documented to have found any of these places associated with Merlin and Arthur.”

“I don’t and I am going to prove it to you.” She finally turned to face them both then. “Look, I know how it sounds. But think about it. Muggles don’t believe Merlin existed, they think he was just some wizard in these fairy tales of a historic King tasked with bringing together the land of Albion. We obviously know he did, so who’s to say there aren’t more truths. These legends mark a time in which magic and muggle could cohabit and work together.” She took a breath. “Can you honestly not think of anyone in our history who would want to bury that fact?”

Harry and Draco shared a look of understanding. She was right. Of course. 

“Just trust me and I’ll go through it all.”

“Okay, Mione. We’re listening.”

So she began. She talked them through her line of thought, from the first spark of the idea to the evidence that sustained it; every alternative her professor friend had posed, and every counter-argument she had offered in return, connecting everything on the board with her red string.

An hour passed before Granger finally stopped for air. Draco’s head was hurting trying to take it all in, so Merlin knows how Harry was taking it. He wasn’t as adept at learning.

Granger had this strange look on her face. Staring; waiting for someone to break the silence. She looked as though any doubts would crush her, she had obviously spent a long time working through all of this. Although she did seem insane, it seemed like Draco and Harry would have to join her, as in some strange way it made perfect sense.

Draco broke the silence. “I don’t believe it.”

Her face fell slightly, the passion in her eyes dimmed in defeat.

“I don’t believe how you can look at a scribbled piece of old text and work all of this out from it. It’s brilliant, Granger.”

Her eyes lit up, radiating light from within. and as much as she tried, Granger couldn’t stop the smile from blooming on her face.

She was amazing.

“I agree, Mione. You are incredible. As much as we could hope to track her down, we would never have gone down this route of thought,” Harry’s face fell slightly. “How do you suppose we capture her, though?”

“This is the only problem I keep coming up against. I don’t know what the Grail looks like. It has been depicted as a few different items, so I can’t be certain what one Alecto is looking for, but I do fear she is closer than she thinks.” Gesturing to the geo-board, now covered in red sting tendrils. She started with one point in Wales. “This is Snowdonia. It was a location on that parchment we found in the house. It seems as though Alecto frequents here quite a lot so we could assume there is a base there.” Granger began to sort through the parchment on the desk. “It is linked to a battle believed to be fought between Arthur and Rhitta Gawr. It could be where she believes Excalibur to be, but my guess is she hasn’t found it yet as there is no evidence she has the sword.”

Locating her desired papers, she collected them up and passed them to each of the men. She explained that these were the locations listed on the initial parchment found in the safe house.

France - home of a collector, item gathered inveniometer
Glastonbury - Potential Avalon site
Guernsey - Safe house location
London - supposed site of Camelot, and King Arthur’s castle
Yr Wyddfa - also known as Snowdon, proposed battle site
Camelot - Home of King Arthur
Enez-Aval or Ile d’Aval - translates to Isle of Avalon

“What do you think she missed?”

Draco couldn’t see where there was anything hard to figure out. One of the locations was literally called Isle of Avalon. Simple.

“I think Alecto was close to finding Avalon but there is another step before she can reach it. I remember when we first found out about Excalibur that I read something about how Arthur seemingly came upon this sword. Some stories mention a stone in which it was stuck, but others say that Merlin sent him on the quest to find a weapon stronger than any other.”

“Wait, I remember that one.” Draco thought back to their day in the archives. “Yes, it said something about a sacrifice at a lake. It was also where the weapon was supposedly buried after he died.”

“This lake might be the key to finding Avalon,” Granger added. “I mean, if I was trying to hide an island with immense magical power embedded in the very earth, I would want to hide it pretty well too.”

Harry nodded along throughout their exchange. “Makes sense. Do you think you and Malfoy can find it?”

“Yes. And I think Alecto might be able to help us. She’s already done a lot of the leg work.”

Harry took a second and flicked between pages. “Okay, you two find out where this lake could be, but we’ll keep this quiet again. The raid is sure to have thrown Carrow and we need to make sure she doesn’t realise we know what she’s up to.”

Both Draco and Granger nodded their agreement. Harry went on.

“We start first thing Monday. I doubt she will do anything this weekend after a blow like that. I’ve already briefed the others about keeping any information on the raid yesterday under wraps. The only thing we are going to release is that Dolohov has been captured. It might knock Carrow further and give the public some good news for once.” Harry cast a quick scourgify on his mug and stood from his desk. “Okay you two, head home, we’re done here.”

Granger spelled all of the paperwork back into her bag, before saying goodbye and headed to the lifts.

“Potter.”

“Yup.” Harry replied.

“I’m going to mark Monday as an out of office day. I have an idea I need to run through with Granger.” Draco explained.

“Really?” Harry’s raised his eyebrows. “Sure.” He added, “Just don’t get into trouble.”

“When would I do that?” Draco said innocently, remembering all of the times Harry had saved his arse.

“Ha. Ha. Good one. See you Tuesday.”

Using his long legs to his advantage, Draco rushed after Granger, hoping that she would not have caught a lift straight away. Luck would seem to be in his favour; she was stepping in as he rounded the corner, and he called out for her to hold the door.

“Sorry, Malfoy. I didn’t realise you were behind me,” Granger said, apologetically.

“Not a problem. I wasn’t planning on leaving yet, but I just had an idea for someplace we could look on Monday.”

Her face lit up. “Oh, amazing. Where did you have in mind?”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.” He smiled, “Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at 9 am.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That seems awfully suspicious, Malfoy. We’re not doing anything illegal are we?”

“What? No.” He waited a second before asking, “Why, did you want to do something illegal?”

They stared at each other for a moment, his smirk meeting her quirked brow. Draco realised then how close they were in this small lift. Although, it wasn’t that small; their proximity couldn’t be blamed fully on that.

Her response pulled him from his thoughts. “Not particularly, but as long as I can warn Harry, he can cover for us.”

“Would Potter always cover for you in your illegal activities?” Draco quirked his brow.” Or is there a limit, do you think?”

She thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think there is. He may even let me get away with murder.” The smile on her face was slightly scary.

The lift doors opened, and they made their way towards the fireplaces.

“Yes, well that is something I believe to be true,” Draco said as he walked to the closest floo. “Especially because he has already told me he would.”

She turned, shocked. “What!”

He just smirked and stepped into the flames. “See you Monday, Granger.”

~

Draco woke to the smell of coffee on Monday morning. It was 8:15. He couldn’t remember the last time he had managed to have a lie in on a weekday. Emmeline had placed the cup on his bedside table under a warming charm.

Having planned his outfit last night, he finally rolled out of bed at the, still acceptable, time of 8:40, leaving just enough time to get ready and meet Granger for his surprise day trip. It wasn’t really anything special but Draco knew she would appreciate where he was taking her. After a brief shower and dressing in his usual ensemble, although he chose a lighter cornflower blue shirt today — he made his way past the kitchen, grabbed a slice of toast and apparated at exactly nine o’clock.

Ever the eager overachiever, Granger was already waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron. Her usual low bun sat at the nape of her neck, she was dressed in satin red blouse which tapered slightly to a cuffed, 3/4 length sleeve and had a satin bow below the neckline. She also had a dark grey pencil skirt on which accentuated the curve of her hip, but still showed the dip of her waist. All finished off with a small black stiletto.

She looked stunning.

Nope. It’s just Granger. She definitely doesn’t look stunning.

“Good morning, Granger. You look nice. Although, I’m afraid to tell you that you might feel slightly overdressed today.”

“Well, if I had any idea of where we were going, I would’ve known to dress more appropriately.” She replied, slightly haughty. “You look exactly the same as usual, so how is my outfit wrong?”

“Ah, you see, this is a thinner material.” He gestured to his shirt. “Much more casual.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, of course. How could I not tell? How completely disastrous of me to assume all of your shirts look the same.”

“Exactly.” He smirked and could see a smile on her threatening to break free. “We are in fact not staying in Diagon Alley. We are visiting muggle London today.”

“Really!”

“Yes. I recall you mentioning something about muggle mythology and how they have more insight than we do because no one tried to completely erase our history of working together.” Draco led them both towards the brick wall which separated Diagon Alley from Muggle London. “I assume the books they have, however far-fetched they seem, may hold more answers for us.”

Just before they exited into Muggle London, Granger transfigured her skirt and heels into a pair of grey tapered trousers and black flats. “I wouldn’t necessarily look out of place, but I definitely feel more comfortable now so you were right about me changing.” She smiled. “Whereabouts are we heading then?”

They began their walk along the busy roads, weaving in and out of the commuters. “Could you say that again for me, Granger? I don’t think you’ve ever admitted to me being right to anything.”

“No.” There was no hesitation in her voice. She twisted to avoid a collision with a cyclist. “Now answer my question please. I do believe I should know our end destination.”

“We, my very dear friend and colleague, are going to one of your favourite places. A library.”

~

It had been a few hours since they arrived at the British Library. They had decided to sit at a table hidden further in the back, closest to the section on Arthurian legend, and had been engrossed in reading ever since. It was nice to not have to fill awkward silences, not just because you were supposed to be quiet in a library, but because Draco didn’t think Granger would have any ability to talk. She was reading so fast.

Draco could finish a book quickly if he was enjoying the subject matter or story, but Granger seemed to tear through the books. Every so often, she would read something which could help their investigation. He could tell because instead of holding the book, she would place it on the table, get really close to the book to re-read that sentence, as if being closer made any difference, then copy it out in her notebook. It was a habit he assumed she had developed in Hogwarts during their exam period.

“How do you not have a headache?”

Granger looked up from the book currently placed on the table, the tip of her nose brushing the page. 

“Sorry, what did you just say? There is a good thing here about offerings to certain witches.” She pointed to a paragraph towards the bottom of the page. “It is fascinating really, because these all perfectly demonstrate how myth becomes morphed over time. I have read a few different variations of Morgan Le Fay already. I’m at three.”

“Four,” Draco added. “I read one about an hour ago.”

He glanced at his watch. It was well past lunch and the sole slice of toast he’d had was long gone. “Would you like to have some food? We can always come back afterwards if you don’t feel as though you have enough research.”

As if on cue, her stomach made a gurgling noise.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He smirked.

“Yes, we probably should. I’d sit here all day without food and wouldn’t realise it, I used to do it all the time at Hogwarts. Madam Pince would come by to tell me she was closing the library and I’d realise that I had missed dinner. Eventually, Harry caught on and would bring bread and meat back to the dorm for my late night snack.”

“Out of everything I’ve ever learned about you Granger, that does not surprise me in the slightest.”

She smiled at this.

They gathered all of the books from the table and returned them all to their assigned places. As he made his way back to the table, out of the corner of his eye, Granger was struggling to return one to its high shelf. She balanced on the very tips of her toes, failing massively.

Draco walked up behind with the intention to help her out but, as he slid the book from her hand, brushing over her fingers slightly in the process, he realised that this may not have been the best idea. Sliding the book back onto its designated shelf, he found himself pressed up close behind her and could feel how warm she was. 

Granger turned, slowly, in the space between his arms and looked up at him with both confusion and slight discomfort. The flush atop her collarbone, just like at his birthday meal, the smell of her shampoo mixing with her perfume. There was something warm and sweet yet floral about the scent. 

“Um, thanks Malfoy.” Her voice, breathier than usual.

Draco realised he hadn’t actually moved away yet, and backed up to the opposite shelf, clearing his throat as it had run dry. “You’re welcome. We don’t want you to knock over a shelf now do we.”

She simply hummed in response, his attempt at a joke falling flat.

It seemed as though Draco was not the only one slightly tongue tied, for once Hermione had nothing to say.

“Hermione”? No, “Granger”, still “Granger”.

They walked in silence back towards their table before Granger asked meekly, “If you want to, I know a nice café near here.”

“Lead the way.”

~

The silence dissipated once they were seated at this small, quirky, little café not far from the library. It was a vibrant teal, adorned with velvet seats and golden trim around the room. It had a 1920’s art deco feel mixed with more modern elements.

Pansy would approve.

The waitress brought over their menus and Granger offered a few recommendations. “The chicken and pesto panini is very good if you want a lighter lunch, or the chorizo and tomato pasta is amazing as well.”

After a few minutes of deliberating back and forth, the waitress returned to take their order. “What can I get for you both?”

“Ladies first.” Draco gestured towards Granger for her to start. 

“Could I have the chicken and pesto panini please and a cup of earl grey please.”

“We only make tea by the pot I’m afraid.” The waitress, whose name tag had a smudged ‘Laura’ written on it, said.

“Ah yes, I forgot about that,” she looked at Draco, “I’ll just have a coffee then, please.”

“Actually, a pot of earl grey is fine, thank you. And I’ll have the same as her, please.”

“No problem. I’ll bring your tea over in a minute.”

They both handed their menus over to Laura, who in Draco’s opinion was looking at them quite peculiarly. He couldn’t understand why, they weren’t dressed oddly as he had specifically chosen a muggle suit for today’s trip and Granger looked like many of the female office workers he had seen. Maybe she thought she recognised them from somewhere.

“I didn’t realise you drank earl grey. I only ever see you with coffee.” Granger started.

“It is the only tea I drink. Although I do prefer coffee, I try to limit how much I have each day.” Draco replied. “Only occasionally do I wish to be awake all night.”

Granger ignored his slight innuendo. “I do prefer tea to coffee, but I agree it isn’t best to drink too late.”

A pleasant conversation started up again before Laura came over to enquire if either of them wanted sugar.

“I’m sorry, do you have honey?”
“Do you have any honey please?”

Stunned by their in-sync responses, they both missed the server confirming she would bring them some.

As she placed it on the table, Granger offered a small thank you as she left. Draco waited for her to make her drink first, as to be polite, and noted she added one spoon of honey and a small splash of milk — which further enhanced the grey colour of the tea. He only added a single spoon of honey to his.

“How many times have you been here before?” Draco enquired. “You seem to know the menu quite well.”

“I’m not sure exactly. I used to come quite a lot with my mum when we visited London at the weekends.”

“I see.” He took a sip of his tea. “You don’t visit with her as much now?”

She paused. Her cup held slightly in front of her mouth, lips slightly pursed as to take a sip. Instead, she placed her cup back on its saucer.

“No, I don’t come here with her now. She, er, no longer lives in England.”

Draco had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to ask that.

“I didn’t mean to press Granger, I apologise if it made you uncomfortable.”

Hermione hesitated slightly, before taking a steadying breath. “I should tell you. It will come up at some point, probably.” She looked into his eyes, a sheen in her own. “My parents both live in Australia under new identities. We knew there was a war coming and I knew they would be prime targets for Voldemort, so I did what I felt was necessary. I obliviated them and removed myself from their memories.”

There was nothing he could say. After everything she had been through with the war. The guilt and shame Draco felt in that moment was overwhelming. How had someone like him, who had been on the wrong side during the war, got off lightly with his sentence? Was a member of society again, with a job, his flat, his friends and his mother. How had life been so cruel to see him with such luxuries after all he had done, yet continue to take so much from someone so good.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry that it came to that, that you felt it was your only option at the time. Can it not be reversed?”

She solemnly shook her head. “Unfortunately not. I took too much, it would’ve been nearly impossible to restore them all. Even if I did, they may have hated me for it anyway. I appreciate your apology but I’m fine. I accepted my choice a long time ago and it isn’t like I’m alone. I have all of my friends and Molly was always like a mother to me.”

“Still, you don’t deserve the hand life dealt you and for that I can only apologise for any cards played by me.”

They sat in silence once again.

Chapter Text

June moved along. They all continued their research, trying to gather as much intel on Carrow as possible. Attempting to figure out who could be helping her move around the UK under the radar, especially with Dolohov in Azkaban.

The trial had been exceptionally short. Harry had spoken to Kingsley about the appeal of keeping it small and in-house, which luckily for Draco had meant that none of the crap Dolohov usually spewed was released to the public.

Dolohov had started the trial by insulting everyone, tried to bring up Draco’s past — which was shut down — then he tried to bargain, then became silent when they denied any chance of leniency. 

The outcome was as expected. Dolohov was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. 

Their first assumption was that Carrow may attempt to break him out, or have him killed. He knew a lot about her plans and it would be foolish to let him talk. But there were no attempts made. Dolohov, apparently, was someone she could afford to lose.

The early morning session in the briefing room had been going smoothly. Draco had drifted between various ideas whilst Hermione was explaining the final touches of their plans for July. Just as she finished discussing her idea, a deafening high pitched squeal broke out in the room. Draco and Harry jumped up, wands raised.

Hermione rushed to her bag and pulled out a small object from the inside, revealing where the sound was coming from. It looked like a name tag and it was flashing bright red.

“Shit!” She said. “It’s Mungos. Sorry, but I need to go.” Hermione collected her cardigan and rushed out towards Harry’s office floo. It connected to St Mungos in case an Auror was needed in an emergency.

“What do you mean, it’s St Mungos?” Harry said, following her along the corridor. “Why haven’t we been notified?”

“I don’t know! I’ll send word when I can,” she shouted before disappearing in green flames.

Harry turned to Draco. “I think we should see what’s happening.” Draco nodded and they set off for the Minister’s office. 

As they made their way to Kingsley’s office, they could see, through the small rectangular window, he wasn’t alone. The Minister was sitting at his desk opposite two other men; something about their demeanour said they didn’t want to be disturbed.

Harry knocked on the door anyway.

Not waiting for an invitation, he pushed it open.

“Sorry, Minister,” he said, “but I think there is an emergency situation at St Mungos. Hermione has just had an alarm but the Auror department hasn’t been—”

Kingsley held up his hand to silence him.

“Come in and close the door please, Harry. Yes, there is a situation but not at St Mungos. These are agents Nilsen and Beck from the Norwegian DMLE.” Kingsley gestured to the men sitting before him. “There has been an attack at a university and they have called some extra help from our medi-staff to assist.” He rose from his chair and stood by Draco. “Agents, this is our Head Auror Harry Potter and his second in command, Auror Draco Malfoy.

Norwegian DMLE?

The agents stood before shaking hands in greeting. 

“So,” Draco said, “how does this situation relate to us?”

The one introduced as Agent Nilsen spoke first. “Someone has been taken in the attack. Someone connected to your department.”

And before he could continue, Draco understood.

“Let me guess,” he said, “Professor Fredrik Hansen.”

As soon as Hermione landed, she was ushered in the direction of the head nurse’s office.

Melinda Whitworth was a seventy-something year old witch who had been at St Mungos for the last forty-four years. Kind and caring, yet commanding and strict when necessary, the woman had personally mentored Hermione once she officially began her work here. Her soft grey hair was pulled into a bun with small tendrils framing the edges of her face. She seemed hesitant when she stood to welcome Hermione.

“What’s going on?” Hermione said. “I received an emergency alarm, but it all seems fine.”

“Thank you for coming, Hermione. We are fine here, we have been called to assist in a medical emergency abroad. I know you have been there before and I thought it might be a good idea to send you. They will explain more when you arrive. Three other medi-witches have been sent already, so hopefully there has been some containment to the situation.”

“Is everything okay, Melinda?” Hermione asked, concerned as she placed her arm on the medi-witch’s arm. “Is there anything else I should know?” 

“I’m not entirely aware of the situation, but I have heard that someone has been taken.”

Panic flooded through Hermione. “Who?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to prepare you slightly. This was also why I decided to send you as I know your connection to the Auror department may help with the investigation.”

Melinda checked the clock on her mantle and pulled a cloth from her apron. She held out a small key, remaining careful not to touch anything but its wrappings.

“Your portkey.” Hermione reached out, but Melinda quickly pulled the key out of reach, “Good luck, Hermione.” She extended the key once more and Hermione felt the sickening pull behind her navel once more.

She hit the floor on landing and as she stood up to look around, scattered around were bricks and debris encircling a battered brass sign which sat crumpled near her feet.

Oh no.

‘Universitetet for magiske vesener’

~

Hermione had been tending to wounded students for what felt like forever. From the information she had gathered throughout the afternoon, a small group of masked wizards broke through the front gate before heading straight to Professor Hansen’s classroom. They used force to move students, teachers and blockades out of their path. Luckily, no one was killed, but there were a total of eight people in critical care at the local hospital. 

Hermione’s clothes were blood-stained, there was a rip in her trousers and she had lost her cardigan due to using it to act as a makeshift sling. It was made more challenging by the fact not all students were human, it dramatically changes how you can care for their injuries. Her body was screaming at her to rest, and her mind was battling the flashbacks from the war, but Hermione knew she couldn’t stop. 

For Fredrik.

A strange calmness settled over her. Something about the sole focus of figuring out what had happened to her professor formed a pathway of clarity in her mind. Her body no longer ached, images of wounded students fell from her mind and she felt entirely renewed.

The travel down familiar corridors from her previous visit not even a month ago was different now. Windows were blasted out, blood stains spattered the walls and a statue of the University’s founder lay in pieces. As she rounded the corner to his classroom, she steeled herself; unsure what she would find. 

Whatever Hermione expected, it was not to see Harry in a heated conversation with a Norwegian Auror or the familiar glow from Draco’s hair inspecting the Professor’s desk.

“What is going on?” She blurted out. “Why are you both here?”

Her voice pulled both of them from their previous tasks, Harry immediately took in her appearance and came to give her an almost chest breaking hug.

“Oh my god. Mione, are you okay?” he said through her hair. “We heard and we want to help figure out what has happened to Professor Hansen.”

She tried hard to contain it, but the tears began to fall. Yet the clarity still remained. Her body shook slightly under the strain and Harry allowed her to use his clean sleeve as a tissue to wipe them away. “Thank you, Harry. This means a lot. You as well, Malfoy.”

Draco watched her and Harry interact from the professor’s desk, silently. He stared at her for a beat and started walking toward them.

Hermione tensed up—not out of fear, but uncertainty. He wasn’t about to hug her, was he?!

But no, he didn’t.

When Draco reached them, he pulled out his wand and, wordlessly, started casting charms. Scourgifies on her hands and her clothes, a Reparo on her ripped trousers, an Episkey on her puffed up face.

He paused for a moment, looking into her wide eyes with an inscrutable expression, and a weird shiver licked up Hermione’s spine.

When her arms finally wrapped around herself, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pristine handkerchief. With another swish of his wand, Draco transfigured it into a soft knitted cardigan, that he thrust into her hands.

“I just go where I’m told to, Granger,” he said. And with that, he went back to the desk inspection.

A few seconds went by in which Hermione and Harry simply gaped at him.

Harry leaned in and whispered, “He wasn’t told to do anything. Smart ass put it together in Kingsley’s office and volunteered our assistance.”

Hermione looked up at him, surprised, but Harry only gave her a smirk and stepped away to discuss something with another agent.

Hermione turned back towards Draco and let herself watch his thorough inspection of Professor Hansen’s belongings, a small smile forming on her face.

~

They left the University after two more hours of gathering witness reports and looking for any evidence as to what the kidnappers were looking for. The clarification they needed as to who was behind it came in the form of scraps from a letter Hermione wrote to the Professor, discussing the parchment containing the drawing of the box from the Norfolk raid. They had been found in the fireplace, among the cooling embers. The investigative crew doubted that the Professor had done it, and it led them to believe that, somehow, Alecto had found out about the help he was providing Hermione and wished to know what they discovered. Hermione knew that he wouldn’t have told them anything which is why they took him with them. The longer Alecto’s crew stayed in the University, the higher chance they could’ve been captured.

All three of them were dismissed with the promise of being kept in the loop as to anything else the DMLE found. It didn’t look like they had taken him out of the country.

Hermione finally bid the boys farewell from Harry’s office and flooed back home, looking forward to a quiet night to sort her thoughts out.

She was almost scared to death by a slightly inebriated Pansy and Ginny on her sofa.

“Ah, you’re back!” Ginny called. “We’re so sorry, Hermione. Are you okay? Do you want anything?”

She was bombarded by them, who crushed her between them in a hug, before Pansy shoved a glass of wine in her hand, encouraging her to have a drink. Hermione downed the whole glass. Ginny simply fetched the bottle to refill it for her. They were here for her tonight, whatever she needed, they wouldn’t judge if she decided to drink wine by the bottle.

“I ordered food from our favourite Thai place. You need to eat.” Pansy pushed. “I know what you’re like and you’ll be starving in the night.” Pansy exclaimed as she levitated their food in from the kitchen.

Hermione sat on her sofa, wine and pad see ew in hand, but before she could take a bite her reserves hit zero. Walls fell in her mind and she couldn’t stop the breakdown that was coming. Her breathing quickened and her eyes began to well up.

Ginny and Pansy rushed back to her side.

“It’s okay, Mione,” Ginny said, “just breathe, we’re here. You’re safe.”

Hermione sat sandwiched between them for thirty minutes until she had quietened enough to finally have some food.

After taking a few mouthfuls she relaxed into her sofa more, “Thank you. I really needed this. I can’t believe you both came here so late.”

“Of course we came, Granger, what a stupid thing to say. Were we just supposed to leave you sad and alone?” Pansy always did have her own way of comforting people, but in contrast to Ginny’s more emotional way of support, it was the perfect balance and never failed to help lighten even the sourest of moods.

“How did you find out what happened anyway? I didn’t contact you,” Hermione asked.

“Potter told us.” Pansy took a sip of her own wine before looking back at Hermione’s surprised look. “What?”

“Harry told you?” A smirk twitched on Hermione’s lips as she tried to keep a straight face. “Not, Malfoy?”

“That’s what I meant.” Pansy rushed. “Potter told Red, and Draco told me.”

Pansy was staring past Hermione, at Ginny. If an ‘Avada’ could be cast through eye contact, that was definitely what Pansy was attempting; it may have had something to do with the chuckling she could hear from behind.

“Right.” Hermione placed her glass and food on the coffee table, “Excuse me a moment, I need to get out of these clothes.”

As Hermione made her way up the stairs she heard Ginny laugh louder from the sofa.

“Shut up, Weaslette, stop laughing,” Pansy hissed.

Hermione smiled to herself.

Pansy Parkinson, you are ridiculous.

Peeling off her clothes, Hermione sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the moment of solitude. Despite the cleansing charm, she still felt dirty. Her jeans felt tighter and more restrictive. Her body enjoyed the relief and freedom as she got rid of her clothes. She lay on her bed for a moment, letting the soft mattress swallow her slightly, before she pulled an oversized t-shirt from her drawer. It was an old top of Harry’s, one of his quidditch jerseys which she had enlarged to be extra comfy. She fetched a hair band to tie up the mess of hair on top of her head and returned downstairs.

Whatever argument the girls were having had finished by the time she came back down and they were now deciding which movie to put on. Pansy was leaning towards Clueless, which she always wanted because she loved the outfits and fancied Paul Rudd, whereas Ginny was arguing for Pretty Woman; she always said she wanted a rich man to treat her — which Hermione thought was null and void now since she married Blaise and he was not ‘poor’ by any means.

Ultimately, today, Hermione had the deciding vote so she settled for her favourite, which was Dirty Dancing. So, now, as they finished their food and wine, watching Johnny and Baby’s final dance, she finally felt some of the stress of the afternoon melt away.

“Want to talk about it?” Ginny asked as the credits rolled.

“There isn’t much to say, Ginny. Is it awful that a friend has been taken? Yes. Is it horrible that it is my fault for involving him? Absolutely. But other than that, there isn’t much to it. I just need to wait for an update and hope that they can find him.”

“Okay, one, it is absolutely not your fault for asking him for help and, two, you can still talk about what happened so that you can process it. What were you doing before you got the call?” Ginny filled Hermione’s glass once more.

She took a drink before starting. “I was with Harry and Draco in the DMLE. We were discussing the potential of other Aurors to assist us in our searches and… why are you looking at me like that, Pansy?”

“You just called him ‘Draco’.”

“Did I?” Hermione said innocently, bringing the glass of wine to her lips.

“Yes, you did. You have never called him that. Ever.”

“Well, that is his name, isn’t it? Plus we work together now. He was helpful today, so I guess I thought I’d be nice!”

Pansy stared at her for a couple seconds. Hermione started sweating and she didn’t even know why. What was she even trying to hide? It wasn’t like she had called him ‘Dad’ or something. It was just a name. Slip of the tongue. It happens.

“I see.” Pansy seemed unconvinced. “Okay, continue.”

“Then I received my call from St Mungos and was sent to the University. After helping care for the injured students and professors, I decided to go to Fredrik’s classroom to see if I could find anything to help. Which is when I saw the guys. I didn’t think they would even know about it, let alone be there to help.”

Ginny hummed. “Did they say anything when they saw you?”

“Harry came and gave me a hug, and I just… cried. Although I was a mess, I had ripped my trousers somehow and was covered in blood. Malfoy was much the same as usual, he didn’t really react to seeing me, although…” Hermione trailed off at the memory.

“Although?” Pansy pushed.

“Well, when he came over he didn’t say anything, he just fixed my clothes.”

Confusion spread across both of her friend’s faces. “What do you mean ‘he fixed your clothes’?” Ginny asked. “Is this a euphemism for something I don’t know?”

“No, Gin.” Hermione chuckled. “I mean he literally pulled out his wand and cast cleaning charms and fixed my trousers.” She took another sip of wine to fill the silence of her friends lost in their thoughts. “Oh, and conjured me a new cardigan as I had to give mine away.”

“What? How? What did he use?” Pansy seemed more invested by this part of the story.

“I dunno, Pans. A handkerchief, I think. It’s upstairs if you really want to see it. I think he was just trying to help keep me composed as I was a little upset. Harry did say that Malfoy had offered to come to Norway when they found out. But Malfoy just said that he did as he was told.” Hermione threw her hands up in puzzlement. “I’m not sure. Malfoy is the biggest mystery going.”

Pansy hadn’t waited for her to finish her sentence, before she was sprinting up the stairs, to retrieve this offending cardigan. She came back down in two seconds, whizzed straight past them and jumped through the floo with the garment, squealing a hasty goodbye.

“Well, that was weird,” Hermione stated.

“Pansy is always slightly weird though. Do you feel a little better?”

“I do. Thanks Gin.” A genuine smile finally crossed her face.

“My pleasure. As long as you know I love and support you.” Ginny took a sip of her drink. “But, you know, I won’t let you live down this Draco thing. Although, you have Pansy’s little slip up now.”

Hermione rolled her eyes “Ugh, she really is ridiculous. I don’t know why either of them are intent on keeping this thing between them a secret from me?”

“You know?” Ginny’s eyes widened.

“Please, you’ve met Harry, he is awful at keeping secrets. I popped round for a cuppa a few weekends ago, and oblivious as he is, made mine in a green mug which said ‘Slytherin Bitch’ on it. The exact mug I got Pansy for her housewarming party.”

Ginny was laughing so much that it became infectious and Hermione couldn’t help but join. She missed these nights when Ginny was away for work. As much as her friendship with Pansy had been such a surprise and a blessing, the fact that she and Ginny grew up so close together, was something that had formed a sisterhood between them. At one point it was believed they would’ve actually become sister-in-laws. She shuddered at the thought of Ron being her future husband.

No, thank you.

“Do you think Malfoy knows about them?” Hermione asked, not so innocently.

“Probably. Why?”

“I have a plan which will put an end to all of this nonsense.” And give me something happy to take my mind off of things.

Ginny’s eyes lit up. “I’m in.”

~

The plan was set for Thursday. The DMLE were being sent on drills so aside from Harry and Draco, everyone would be out of the office. If Ginny had succeeded on her part of the plan, everything would work out perfectly.

At exactly 11:45, Hermione made her way to the DMLE level, towards Harry’s office, where she knew both him and Draco would be. She gave a short rap on the door.

“Come in,” Harry called. “Oh, Mione, didn’t realise it was you. Are you okay?”

“Yes, thanks, Harry. Actually, I was hoping to steal Malfoy for a couple of hours, I just need his help to look at something in the archives.” She turned her attention to the blonde in the chair to her right. “If you aren’t busy?” She tried using the most innocent, unassuming façade she could muster up to try and get her way, but Draco looked suspicious. He was far too perceptive for his own good. She just hoped he wouldn’t ruin it.

“No, of course,” Harry said eagerly. “We’ll be good here for a couple hours as everyone is out, you two go ahead.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she said with far too sweet a smile.

Cautiously, Draco followed her out of the room. As soon as they were out of Harry’s sight, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into his office, closing the door behind them.

“Are these the intentions, Granger?” he drawled, nodding to their joined hands.

Hermione quickly released his fingers and stepped back, feeling her face flush.

“Don’t be a prat.”

Draco smirked. “I suppose it is you, after all. Those sweet smiles just now made me think you could be an impostor trying to seduce me.”

She glared at him as he pulled away and propped against his desk. He was in his grey suit again today, all long lines and sharp angles. He looked really good in it. So annoying.

“So,” he said, “to what do I owe the pleasure of being sequestered into my own office?”

“I am getting fed up with Harry and Pansy lying to me all of the time, so I’m giving them a nudge in revealing… whatever they are.” Hermione shrugged.

“So you do know?” He leaned back onto his hands against the desk. “How long?”

“Since the day after your party. Thanks for telling me, by the way.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “I was sworn to secrecy I’m afraid, and that meant I could only reveal if it would benefit me. Those are the rules.” He paused. “If it’s any consolation, I only found out the night before you did.” 

“How very Slytherin of you.”

This only earned a smile in response.

Draco undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie slightly. Hermione most definitely did not look.

“That doesn’t explain why we are hiding in my office, Granger.”

“I have a plan but we can’t be seen or it won’t work.”

“Who’s Slytherin now?” He looked impressed.

She scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Planning a way to embarrass your friends for hiding something, instead of asking them. Seems pretty Slytherin.”

She raised her eyebrow in response, not wanting to admit that it was a bit like that. 

They weren’t waiting much longer when she heard the familiar click of heels from outside. Hermione peeked through the window blinds and saw Pansy walk past the office. Though her excitement was cut short as she felt Draco presence behind her.

Draco’s arm braced beside her head, his weight shifting to the door frame. The whisper of his breath tickled her ear as he leaned down.

“What’s the plan now, then?

Hermione’s breath hitched as she turned to face the smug wizard; however, as she twisted, she found herself face-to-face with his chest instead. An intoxicating aroma surrounded her and soft cotton brushed against the tip nose. 

Draco inhaled sharply at the sensation and went still; the only movement was the steady, calculated rise and fall of his chest. Craning her neck, Hermione looked up at him. He was a whole head and shoulders taller than her and his eyes stared back into her own — dark and inviting, the only look reserved for her. The one she could never decipher.

They were too close; Hermione was getting far too warm under the heat of his gaze.

“Let’s give them five minutes and then we’ll go.” Hermione’s voice came out quiet; quieter than she had intended, but at this proximity she felt as though she had shouted. 

“What shall we do for five minutes then?”

Again, if you didn’t know Malfoy you would have assumed he was about to kiss her. But she did and he wouldn’t. Would he? 

For a second she thought he might, but in the blink of an eye, Draco had pulled back and was now perched on the edge of his desk. Her heart was pounding, she could hear it louder now in the distance he had created. 

Calm down. Don’t be ridiculous.

Not having been with anyone for the last year was starting to show, if even Draco Malfoy could have an effect on her. She really needed to go out for the evening with Theo again. 

The tick of the clock was the only sound in the room, her excitement built with every minute that passed.

12:05

Perfect.

“Let’s go,” Hermione said, full of energy.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” she said surely. “If they are going to mess around like teens sneaking out after hours at Hogwarts, then, fine.”

“Did that a lot then, Granger?”

“No. I was the one who caught them all.”

Smiling, she opened his office door and attempted to walk quietly so that her heels wouldn’t make a noise on the floor. As she arrived at the door, Draco followed behind her, able to get a good view of the chaos that was about to ensue.

She could tell he was enjoying this.

After a count of three in her head, she turned the handle.

“Oh, Harry, sorry I forgot…”

“OH MY GOD!”
“What the hell?”

This picture was priceless. Thankfully, for her own sanity, Harry still had his boxers on but he was standing between Pansy’s legs, as she was seated on the edge of his desk in her underwear, with his trousers down by his ankles. As they both scattered, Harry tripped over as he attempted to pull his trousers back up and Pansy pulled her long coat back around her. 

“Well, what do we have here?” Draco said. “On ministry property as well, Potter. Oh, dear.”

“Fuck off, Malfoy.”

“Pansy? Have anything to say now?” Hermione was wearing her best ‘I knew it’ smirk.

“You knew, then? Guess I’m not too surprised.” Pansy didn’t seem as bothered by this as Harry was.

“Yes, I did. Thanks for keeping it from me by the way, not that I know why, Malfoy obviously knew. Rude.”

“I wondered why Red was so insistent on my coming here today. Now I know.” Pansy shrugged. “Well, fair play Granger, didn’t think you had it in you to risk seeing this one in his birthday suit just for revenge.”

Hermione and Harry both shivered.

“I guess since you two are still here, Harry can take his lunch break. Don’t worry, Draco, Hermione will keep you company.” Pansy said with a smirk.

Before they could protest, Pansy had grabbed a hold of Harry, and pulled him through the floo to her flat.

“Unbelievable.” Hermione moaned.

“Yes, well not much could get in the way of Pansy and sex.” Draco turned back towards his office. “Now, Granger, considering it was your plan that has me stuck here for the day, it looks like lunch is on you. I’ll take a steak sandwich from the shop down the street, thanks.” 

Chapter Text

Granger returned shortly after with their lunches and some coffees in hand. There wasn’t much annoyance at the fact she had been put on babysitting duty, more so a smugness at the fact her plan had succeeded.

“You know,” Draco started, “at some point, you may want to act slightly apologetic for planning to catch your friends in a compromising position.”

“They’ll be fine. Besides, hopefully it reminds Harry that he cannot, and should not, keep things from me.”

Draco unwrapped his lunch and took a bite of his sandwich as he felt a pair of eyes watching him. “Can I help you? Or do you make a habit of watching people eat.”

“Sorry,” She looked slightly chagrined. “I was just wondering — Could I ask you a question about Norway?”

“Well, that depends, are you wanting to ask me about our investigation? Because I’m not well educated on the country itself.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously I mean the investigation.”

He heard a soft mutter of ‘utter arse’ under her breath before she sipped her drink but he fought the smile that tugged at his lips, not wanting to look to pleased with riling her up.

“It’s about when I saw you and Harry there, I just wanted to know if you wanted your handkerchief back? I appreciate you lending me it, but when I mentioned it to Pansy she seemed… put out. If that’s the right words?” She paused for a moment. “Anyway, she ran off with it and I wanted to ask if you want me to get it back to return it.”

Draco took a small sip of his own drink. “There is no need, she already returned it.”

Granger was confused, he could tell. “Oh right. After she left mine on Monday, I wasn’t sure where she was going or what she wanted with it.”

“She came to my apartment and returned it.”

End of conversation.

“Why? Was it important?”

Or not.

“Not really, she was just interested. It was a gift, to me, from a long time ago. I guess she was surprised I still had it.” He shrugged off any more of her potential questioning and changed the subject. “Have you got any present ideas for Theo’s birthday next week? You know he’s hired the backroom of his favourite club?”

“Of course he has.” She chuckled softly. “Not really. I couldn’t figure out what to get him. He hasn’t made any hints like he usually does, so I’ve been at a loss for ideas. What have you got him?”

“Sorry, Granger, that’s top secret information. Just in case you plan to steal my idea.”

Granger chuffed a laugh. “Ever the Slytherin. Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll find something good anyway.”

As they finished the last of their lunch, there was a whoosh from Harry’s office floo, indicating he’d returned.

Granger made the brave choice to head into his office first with Draco trailing behind. He wasn’t surprised to see a slightly angry, and embarrassed, Harry.

“I hope you’re happy, Mione. This was utterly ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous, Potter, is your broomstick underwear. I mean, come on, what are you, twelve?” Draco called from the doorway.

Hermione began to laugh again. “At least you’ve learned your lesson about keeping secrets. Now, since you’ve returned, I don’t have to stay and babysit him. Goodbye, boys. I’ll see you when we have a lead or Theo’s birthday party, whatever comes first.”

With a brief wave, she made her way out of the DMLE.

Harry saw this one-on-one time as his opportunity to follow Draco back to his own office and accost him. “Pansy told me about the handkerchief.”

He had a smug look on his face that Draco didn’t appreciate at all.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Not this again. There is nothing to a stupid old hankie I had in my pocket.” He tossed the sandwich wrappers in the bin. “Tell your girlfriend she really is ridiculous.”

“I mean, sure, if you want to call the first official favour your father gave your mother when they were courting stupid, then that’s on you.” Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I know your mum gave it to you for your birthday last year and I know it means something.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Harry held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, fine. But, if it really means nothing, why did Hermione think she needed to remain here with you to ‘babysit’ the department? You could’ve left the floor empty.” He paused, “But you already knew that, right?”

Harry offered a self-satisfied smile as he left and went back to his own office.

Yes. I technically knew that. But it means nothing.

Harry came by to visit Hermione after work on Friday. Originally, it was supposed to be her quiet night in, but whilst searching for Draco in the DMLE, earlier in the day, Harry had intercepted her in hopes of joining her for lunch to discuss the case.

The cafeteria had been full so, in replacement, Hermione offered for him to join her for a chat after work. It was only meant to be for a cuppa, but as usual, it turned into her making her spaghetti bolognese, and him staying for dinner.

“Are you mad that I didn’t tell you about Pansy and I?” Harry shovelled another large mouthful of pasta into his mouth.

“Not really, it would’ve been nice to know,” Hermione had a small bite of her own. “It just got tiring with you both trying to keep something hidden. Are you happy, at least?”

“I am.” A soft smile painted his mouth. “I don’t really know how it happened, I just took a shot and somehow it paid off. Ginny guessed it immediately when she saw us at Draco’s birthday and it made it feel more — real. We wanted to hang on a little longer with less people knowing.”

“I understand.” Hermione placed her hand on his knee. “I’m happy for you, Harry, I really am.”

She flicked the TV over to another channel and resumed eating.

“If secrets are being revealed, are you going to tell me yours?” Hermione raised her eyebrow in question of what Harry was referring to. “You and Draco?”

“What?” She scoffed. “There is nothing going on with Draco and I. Why would you even think that? We simply work together, that is all.”

“Oh, so you just decided to start using his first name, or just magically end up standing close to each other, or just so happen to look at each other in meetings as if no one else is around?” Harry chuckled. “And, Mione, I have definitely seen you mentally undress him a couple of times in our briefings.”

Her face flushed warm with embarrassment. “Okay, so he’s slightly attractive, that doesn’t mean I fancy him, or that anything is happening. Using his name is also polite.”

She took a drink of her tea to aid her drying throat.

“Besides, there is no way Draco Malfoy would ever fancy someone like me.”

“You’re right.” Harry said.

Her shoulders slumped and her face fell ever so slightly.

“Using his name would be polite; if you actually said it to his face.” Harry smiled widely.

She scoffed at his awful dramatics and set to frustratingly eating her pasta.

“Come on, Mione. I know you and, if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I agree with that last part. Have you even asked him about Norway? If it were me in your position that day, he would’ve just ignored me and left me to it.”

“He was just being nice, Harry, I am technically his partner now. Anyway, I asked about that and he said it was no bother, he had been told to go alongside you and, as for the handkerchief, it was already back in his possession and wasn’t important.”

Harry placed his empty plate on the table in front of them. His face turned suspicious. “What do you mean by ‘wasn’t important’?”

“He told me it was an old gift.” Hermione placed her empty plate on top of his. “Pansy had assumed he’d gotten rid of it over the years and that she got herself worked up for nothing. You know how excited Pansy gets.”

“I see.” Harry became nonchalant. “Well, okay, if that’s what Draco said then I guess that’s the truth.”

There was nothing really telling in the how Harry had said it, but something in his words hadn’t given Hermione much confidence that he believed it.

Harry checked his watch and stood to take his leave for the night. Before he left, Hermione made sure to give him the leftovers from the kitchen, so he could eat them for tomorrow’s lunch.

“Thanks, Mione.” His face lit up. “Hey, why don’t you come to the department quidditch match on Sunday. I know it’s not your favourite, but Ginny will be subbing in for Angelina, and Pansy is coming to watch.”

Hermione really hated quidditch; she just always found it boring. It was just people flying back and forth along the pitch. But Harry looked really excited to invite her, his youthful joy of the sport dancing at the surface.

“Of course I’ll come. Thanks for inviting me.”

“See you Sunday.”

With a final hug, he was gone.

~

Pansy came round at ten Sunday morning, insisting she must pick Hermione’s outfit for the match.

“This is ridiculous.” Hermione threw the fourth option for a top onto her bed. “I have already tried on three different tops, why does it matter what I wear? Can’t I just be comfortable whilst being forced to watch a boring match.”

Pansy handed her another pair of jeans from her drawers.

“Because, Hermione, I have a feeling you will enjoy today’s game.” Pansy checked the wardrobe once more. “Also, because I would like for people to see that you have some fashion sense outside of work, and don’t solely live in office wear.”

Hermione pulled up the jeans and made a point of looking even more put out. 

“Yes. Spin.”— she made a twirly motion with her finger —“They look great, they really make your butt look good and I think I’ve found the perfect top.”

Pansy held out an off the shoulder jumper with long sleeves and a folded over neckline, in a beautiful emerald green.

“I can’t wear that.” Hermione took the jumper from Pansy and placed it down onto her bed.

“Why not? It really suits you.”

“You know why,” Hermione began sifting through the rejected tops. “I am there for Harry. I can’t turn up sporting Slytherin green now can I? Besides, Harry is already making stupid assumptions about Draco and I being partners, and I am not feeding fuel to the fire.”

A light bulb went off in her head.

“Oh, my, god. That’s what you’re doing. You want me to turn up in green to further this stupid game you and Harry are playing.”

“No, I am not. What a ridiculous thing to say.”

To give credit to Pansy, she almost kept a straight face, but as soon as she looked at Hermione, she broke.

“Fine. Yes. I thought it would be funny to point it out, in revenge for your little plan this week. If you really don’t want to wear it then fine, but I wasn’t lying it really suits you.”

Hermione knew, much to her annoyance, how good she looked in green. She had first worn it out to a lunch date with a muggle man she met whilst in a cafe in London, he had complimented her plenty.

“I also think someone else might appreciate it.” Pansy said conspicuously.

“You are both insane. And to prove it I will wear the green one.” Hermione snatched the jumper back from her bed. “But of my own choice, not through some coercion.”

~

They arrived just before the game was due to start, and quickly made their way to the changing rooms to wish everyone luck.

Some people were out for today so there were a few position changes, which hopefully meant the DMLE would win this time. Last time they had lost to DMGS, but only because Blaise had played dirty. Hermione hadn’t heard the end of it from Harry for nearly a week after.

They were playing the Department of Transportation today — mixed with a few Regulation and Control of Magical Creature workers as their departments weren’t as large as the DMLE.

Ginny was filling as a chaser because Angelina Johnson was sick with dragon pox contracted from her last mission — which Hermione thought was an unfair advantage; Dean and Seamus were the other two in the line up. Cormac was the keeper, he was still an arse but at least he had stopped attempting to flirt with Hermione all of the time. Harry and Draco had flipped a sickle for who was to be the seeker for the match today to keep it fair. Harry won, which meant Draco would play as a beater alongside Ernie Macmillan. 

“You finally come to watch me play and you can’t even wear Gryffindor red to support.” Harry shouted as they neared the edge of the pitch.

“Don’t start, Harry.” Hermione held her hand up. “Anyway, I’m here for Ginny.”

To emphasise her point, she bypassed Harry’s hug completely and went straight for her real best friend; the only one who supported her and wouldn’t embarrass her.

“Aw, thanks for the support, Mione, but maybe you should save it for Malfoy.” Ginny quipped.

On second thought, she could piss off as well.

“Save what for me?” Hermione heard from behind.

Of course he chose that moment to come and join the conversation.

“We were just saying Hermione looks good in green. Don’t you agree, Draco?” Pansy slithered past, like the snake she was, to give him a brief kiss on the cheek in greeting.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I guess so.”

Pansy smacked him over the back of the head.

“Ow, Pans. What was that for?”

“Way to make someone feel nice, dickhead. She looks better in green than you do in this horrible puke yellow.”

“Blame Potter for this one.” Draco grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

“Hey, I’ve already told you, Malfoy, I can’t change the department colours.”

The referee for today, John Dawlish, interrupted to come and give them their five minute call. Wishing them good luck, Hermione and Pansy left to find their seats. 

As much as this was a small inter-departmental game, it still pulled a good crowd of various ministry employees, as well as friends and family of players. Hermione and Pansy made their way up to the main box to sit with Blaise and Theo; it did pay off to have so many friends high up in various departments. 

“Hello, ladies. Don’t you both look wonderful.” Their resident nymphomaniac called.

“Hi, Theo. Thank you,” Hermione replied, as she shuffled past him to the bench. “You also look dashing as ever.” Theo grinned and placed a chaste kiss on the side of her head.

He winced slightly as he sat back down.

“Is everything okay?” Hermione asked concerned.

Theo broke into a wide smile and nodded excitedly. “I had my first couple yesterday. They were amazing, but he could be slightly rough at times. I’ve cast three cushioning charms on my arse already. Although I feel more sorry for her, she was really taking a—”

“I’ve got it.” Hermione cut him off. “I’m glad you had such a good night.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his openness with her, their friendship really had grown exponentially over the years.

Hermione took her seat just as the first whistle blew and placed her small satchel in between her feet. She wouldn’t tell anyone, but she had brought a book just in case the match went on for too long.

Harry made his way as high as he could immediately to get the best vantage point of the snitch, whilst Ginny was first to grab the quaffle. Hermione had only seen her play twice at Hogwarts, and had watched a few of her early matches for the Harpies; but even she could see now how incredible Ginny had become. Once she had the ball, there was no stopping her. Her speed and agility rivalled the likes of Viktor.

After about forty minutes, the score was 60-40 to the DMLE. Unsurprising with a professional player on their team.

All too quickly, the opposing team hit their bludger in the direction of Ginny. Too fast for their attempted attack, she twisted and flew straight by it. It was now coming straight for Hermione. 

Everything moved in slow motion as Hermione watched the bludger soar directly towards her. Just as it was about to crash into the front of their box, Draco sped into view and hit it as far as he could. Hermione’s heart raced wildly.

“Worried there, Granger?” Draco winked and flew off; back into action.

Gods, she could punch his smarmy face. 

Hermione tried to focus back on the game but, instead, now all she could focus on was Draco’s annoying, pointy face and his stupidly long legs that gripped around his broom like a vice. It was ridiculous, in Hermione’s opinion, that thighs be allowed to look like that. Although, his thighs were one thing — his arms. Gods. The power at which he could swing the bat was immense. Hermione was sure he could knock someone out with one punch. His shoulders were broad and his jersey allowed her to see the tensing of his back muscles as he flew. Hermione concluded that, yes, in fact it was completely illegal to look like that.

Hermione drifted along in her own world, that currently revolved around watching Malfoy on a broom, for a little while longer until her friends around her erupted into cheers pulling her from her daydream.

“I can’t believe it, they did it!” Theo yelled. “So quickly as well.”

“Did what?” Hermione blinked up towards her standing friends.

“Bloody hell, Hermione, were you watching any of the game?” Pansy started. “Harry just caught the snitch. They won 210-40.”

Pansy took a second to look at Hermione, and noticed the flush on the top of her cheeks.

“Oh,” Pansy hummed. “You finally discovered the joys of broom thighs, huh?” A smirk spread across her face.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Hermione deflected but Pansy just chuckled in response to her awful attempt at nonchalance. “Let’s go and congratulate them.”

At the pitch, Blaise was the first to sprint off and hug his wife in celebration. Theo attempted to both congratulate and flirt with Cormac, which was not going as intended, and Pansy and Hermione waited at the edge for Harry and Draco to finish their handshakes with the other team’s captain.

Hermione’s hair was falling out of her side braid so she placed her satchel down onto the ground by her feet as she attempted to tuck the fallen strands back into place. 

“I know you said Draco was fit, but he’s even better in a Quidditch uniform, don’t you think?” Pansy said with a smirk.

“Ugh, for goodness sake, Pansy. I simply said he wasn’t unattractive I didn’t say he was f—”

At that precise moment, Draco Malfoy decided to take off his jersey in favour of using it to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“F—fucking hell.” Hermione couldn’t help her jaw dropping, the sight actually making her salivate, which up until this moment, was something she didn’t think was possible.

Pansy had the biggest grin on her face. “You were saying?”

“When did that happen? I swear he’s never been that toned before!”

His fair hair glowed in the sunlight; the light seemed to bounce off each high point of his body, further enhancing each dip in muscle definition. Scattered across his abs were a mixture of small white scars with a larger one spread across the right side of his chest. Reflecting on her previous analysis, Draco’s holster strap was pulled tight for security because he definitely didn’t need any more definition. To top it off, the one thing she hadn’t expected was a tattoo along the centre of his back. From where she stood it looked like black wisps — similar to those of a patronus, and in the middle, emerging from the smoke was a dragon shadow. It seemed as though the wings really moved as he rotated his shoulders to stretch out.

Pansy gave her a knowing look. “Perks of Auror training.” She laughed at Hermione’s expression. “Come on, how have you never seen him shirtless before?” 

“We only work together, Pansy. I know seeing people in very little clothing happens often in your line of work, but not in mine.”

She shrugged. “True. Well, maybe try and calm yourself because he’s coming over with Harry.”

As the guys approached, Pansy pulled Harry into a hug and gave him a brief kiss in congratulations.

“Well done, you two. Good job out there.” Hermione attempted to sound normal, which, from Pansy’s amused face, she assumed had failed. She couldn’t look in Draco’s direction; the fear of him seeing straight into her thoughts was too intense.

“Hey, where’s my congrats kiss, Pans?” Draco asked, opening his arms.

Hermione braved a brief look. Dear Merlin. She quickly looked away again.

“Sorry, Draco, I can only give one guy my kisses. I would suggest Granger give you one but she got quite hot towards the end.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in horror and quickly looked at Pansy in hopes of conveying how much she wanted to kill her. Pansy was enjoying herself far too much.

“Yeah, you do look a little peaky, Mione.” Harry said. “Do you feel okay? I hope you’re not coming down with anything.”

He attempted to place the back of his hand on her forehead, reminding her terribly of Molly. Hermione ducked and slapped it away.

“No, Harry, I’m fine. It’s just a little warm out here, that’s all.”

“Maybe you could use the showers to cool off. Draco, could you show her where they are?” Pansy was smiling sweetly.

It was official. Hermione wanted to die. She wished the ground would open up, and swallow her whole. 

But hopefully not before she had Avada’d Pansy. 

“Nope. I’m okay.” Hermione rushed out. “I’m going to see how Ginny is.”

Hermione turned abruptly and walked away leaving the three of them behind. She hoped Ginny would help her out.

She didn’t.

Ginny simply laughed at her discomfort, along with Blaise, so Hermione stormed to the exit before disapparating back home to curl up with a good book. How she should’ve spent her day all along.

~

Hermione had tried to take her mind off of her friends acting like prats, by taking a hot bath and settling down with her favourite book in front of the TV for the afternoon. One of the benefits of being as smart as she was, and living further out of the city, was that she could place anti-magic wards in specific areas of her house for any muggle technology she couldn’t live without. The TV being one, the kettle and fridge being the others.

As she found a nice spot on the sofa, a soft shiver trickled down her back indicating someone had entered her wards; followed by a short knock at her front door.

She was not prepared for the person that was on the other side of it.

“Malfoy?”

Draco stood before her in a pair of black trousers and a black t-shirt. His hair was still damp from recently being washed and the smell of his aftershave was stronger after being freshly applied; the warm, woody scent filled the air around her.

“Sorry for the front door approach, Granger, but I don’t have access to your floo yet.”

Keenly aware she was not wearing a bra, Hermione grabbed her cardigan from the hook next to her, under the pretence of feeling cold from the breeze. Even though it was at least twenty degrees today.

“What are you even doing here?” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And how do you know where I live?”

“It would be nice to be invited in as a friendly gesture,” he replied.

“Hmm, yes I suppose it would.” She made no attempt to invite him inside.

Draco rolled his eyes and held up his right hand which contained her satchel. “I don’t know what’s more offensive. That you still haven’t been a gracious host and invited me in, or that you decided to bring a book to our quidditch match. Not that I’m surprised really.”

Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t realise I had left it, thank you for returning it.” She took her bag from him. “And, I only tend to invite people in when they’ve answered all of my questions.”

He huffed, a brief smirk at his mouth. “Smarmy witch. Well, I believe, question one is answered and, as to question two, Harry told me where to bring it.”

“And why couldn’t Harry bring it himself?”

Draco chuckled. “I know you left pretty hastily, but I’ll give you one guess as to why Potter, who was being groped by Pansy in public, didn’t bring your bag himself.”

“Okay,” She held her hands up. “I get the idea, I don’t need any more information.” Hermione hesitated slightly not knowing if he truly wanted to come in or was just being an arse to her. She extended the invitation anyway, “Would you like to come in, Malfoy?”

Draco's face broke into a gracious smile, placing his hand on his chest in faux-surprise. “Why, Granger, what a lovely offer. I would love to come inside your welcoming home.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics as Draco took a step over the threshold of her house. As the door closed, she felt him stiffen behind her.

“Why is there a flat faced beast staring at me on your staircase?”

“What?” Hermione turned and saw her familiar perched at the top of the stairs; intrigued as to her new guest. She scoffed. “That isn’t a beast, Malfoy. That’s Crookshanks, my cat.”

“Are you sure that’s a cat?” Draco’s eyes were narrowed. “It seems too aware to be a cat, like it’s lying in wait to attack.”

“That could just be you.” Hermione left Draco locked in a staring match in favour of returning to her cup of tea. Knowing it’s polite to play host, she called back, “Would you like a drink?”

“Firewhiskey, please.”

“No, I meant a hot drink like coffee or tea. It’s only one thirty in the afternoon.” Draco could hear the frustration in her voice.

“Then make it clearer next time,” he stated. “I’d love a cup of coffee, please.”

Draco was still staring at her so-called ‘cat,’ who was sitting at the top of the stairs. He had never seen anything like it. He could somewhat remember her having it at Hogwarts, it looked older and uglier now, and it had a sneer which could rival some of the worst purebloods he’d met. It was as though the creature was looking directly into his soul.

I wonder what you think of me.

Draco couldn’t take the harsh criticism anymore and made his way into the lounge

It was exactly how he would’ve guessed it looked; different to his in many ways. His lounge felt almost like a showroom, void of any personal pictures or trinkets — whereas Hermione’s was warm and homey. There were photos framing her fireplace and countless accolades and awards adorning her walls. A blanket covered her sofa, seemingly hand-crafted, and her curtains matched the colour accents throughout. Pansy had obviously had some say in decor, but it still screamed Hermione Granger.

What really caught Draco’s attention were the two bookcases either side of her fireplace, both filled to the brim with various magical and muggle texts — some he recognised and some he didn’t. A clear favourite of hers was the one currently placed next to her tea on the small table by her armchair. The Jane Eyre was well used, but care had been taken to not completely destroy the spine of the book throughout its many times being read.

Just as his fingers grazed the cover, Granger returned with his drink.

“Thank you.” Draco said as he took it from her.

He took a brief sip testing the temperature. It was perfect. He was surprised that she knew how he liked it. Although, the more Draco thought about it, every time she brought him a coffee it was exactly how he liked it. He was sure he had never mentioned it. Draco remained stood in the doorway between her kitchen and living room, not quite comfortable enough yet to sit.

“You have a lovely home, Granger.”

Granger was trying to work out whether or not Draco was lying; he could see it on her face. She was perched on the arm of the sofa whilst she mentally flipped back and forth between accepting a compliment or whether he was going to insult her design choices.

“Thank you,” she said eventually. “It’s a bit messy at the moment, I haven’t been around much to keep it tidy.”

“I meant what I said.” Draco caught her eye. “It’s nice, very Granger-esque. I must admit though I expected more than two bookcases. A bit of a let down if you ask me.”

Draco took another sip of his coffee as she stood and made her way to the hallway.

“Maybe I should show you the room upstairs then?”

His eyebrows shot up at the exact same time hers did.

“Merlin, no!” she scrambled. “That is not what I meant.”

“Granger, you really do seem to proposition me quite a lot. I’ve already told you I don’t mix business with pleasure.” Draco placed his cup on the woven coaster on her coffee table. “But, if you insist, you can take me upstairs.”

He followed up the staircase smiling at the various names he was currently being called. Draco focused only on that and not her arse incredibly close to his face, in what were a pair of very tight leggings.

At the top of the stairs, he noted three rooms total. They entered the room at the end of the hallway and Draco was greeted by what people would define as a mini library. Every wall had bookcases lining them, all full, with a corner being used for overflow; the pile of books nearly toppling over.

“Now this is what I expected,” he smiled, “Glad to see you don’t disappoint Granger.”

Draco turned to face her, noting the smug look on her face. More hair had made its way out of her braid since he’d seen her at the match, and the ends had gotten wet.

Hermione noticed his stare, and made an attempt to push more behind her ears. “Don’t even mention it. I know it’s a mess, I didn’t have time to braid it properly after all of Pansy’s outfit try-ons this morning.”

“Just take it out.” He said casually.

“I can’t because then it’s just a bigger mess.” Hermione was still shoving various pieces behind her ears, forcing them to stick out.

Draco shrugged. “Sometimes a mess can be nice.”

Granger made no attempt to take his advice; Draco thought he would help her out. They weren’t too far apart, but Draco slowly took a step closer so he was within arms length. Hermione froze; staring up at him with wide eyes. The pools of warm brown held his gaze as he carefully moved his hands up, towards the end of her braid. 

Had she stopped breathing?

Draco pulled the purple band from the end of the braid. “What did you think of the match?”

It took her a second to register that he had spoken.

“It was good.” Her voice was quiet. “Although one of the beaters kept showing off.”

He smiled at this, and began to loosen the hair from the braid. It was softer than he had imagined.

“Yes, I do find Macmillan a bit over dramatic sometimes. At least you were spared from a bloody nose. That wouldn’t have been a good look for your first game.”

“Yes, well, I suppose I should thank you for that.” Draco ran his hands into the sides of her hair around her face to shake the curls loose and free. Her eyes were slightly hooded. “It’s a good thing my partner was there to help me.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, her voice was breathier than usual.

“Yes. Your partner.” His hands paused.

She opened her eyes, finding his own once more.

Draco realised they were chest to chest with his hands still entangled in her hair. This had gone on too long. Catching himself, he cleared his throat and removed his hands; stepping back to break this — whatever this was. He asked for the bathroom.

“First door on your left.” The tops of Hermione’s cheeks were red.

Draco didn’t look back as he made his way into the room. It was still slightly warm from either the bath or shower and the scent of Granger’s shampoo still lingered. He leaned over the sink and splashed some cold water on his face.

What are you doing? That was so intimate. This is not a good idea. She is Hermione Granger and you are Draco Malfoy. 

His mirror self provided no comfort and when he left the bathroom, Granger had returned downstairs.

Now in her armchair with her demon perched upon her lap, Draco felt that distance was the best option and sat in the armchair opposite to her, collecting his mug from where he’d left it on the table.

“So,” he began, hoping to steer the conversation toward polite, reasonable, not-caressing-her-hair topics, “Jane Eyre is your favourite?”

Hermione looked down at the book on her table. “Yes. It was one of the first books I read when I was younger with my mother. Have you read it?”

“Once. I thought it was okay.” 

“I see.”

Silence.

The clock chimed two and Draco felt as though maybe he had overstayed his welcome. “I should get going. I need to get the final pieces of Theo’s birthday present sorted.” He placed his mug on the table and stood.

“Of course.” She rose to join him. “Thank you for returning my bag again. I appreciate it.”

“No worries, my pleasure.”

Draco began making his way out onto the front pathway when she quickly called out, “I’ll add you to my floo network. Since we are working together a lot, it allows us to transport to each other in case of an emergency. It makes sense.”

The image of half-lidded eyes flashed across Draco’s head, accompanied by the feel of curls in his hands.

“That does make sense, Granger, and you are nothing if not sensible.”

He stepped past her apparition wards and took one final look back to see her still at her front door watching him. With a brief nod goodbye, he apparated away. 

Chapter Text

Theo’s birthday party, Thursday night, had been a complete success; which meant everyone was sporting the worst hangovers yesterday at work. Theo had loved all of his presents, and being the centre of attention, but was still waiting for Draco’s gift. It was to be revealed at Pansy’s launch party this evening.

At noon, Saturday, a package was delivered to Draco’s apartment with a note attached from Pansy, instructing him to wear the suit she had selected. After a not-so-happy floo call from Blaise, Draco expected everyone would be styled for the event. It made sense. They were there for her fashion line after all.

The party was scheduled to begin at eight o’clock. Prompt. 

Pansy asked everyone to arrive thirty minutes earlier to brief them on the evening. The party was being held at Pansy’s Manor. After her father died, it was left to her and she had completely remodelled. Not that she enjoyed visiting. Her flat was her main home, she simply used the Manor for events — to keep up appearances. Pansy had initially asked to host at Malfoy Manor but, after Draco voiced his concern for the Manor’s history tainting her launch party, Pansy concurred and decided on her own estate.

Malfoy Manor had also been completely remodelled after the war. His mother had ripped out every room and started anew. It was much brighter now; the addition of numerous plants added a touch of nature throughout and the ballroom was extended to allow for even larger gatherings than before.

It almost looked as though it had never been touched by darkness.

Almost.

Draco didn’t dislike what his mother had done, but he couldn’t stay for long periods of time. Eventually, he became uneasy and it often led to nightmares. Always the same thing; the reason behind him moving out. His flat was a new, untainted, space which allowed him a new beginning.

His mother visited home often enough, but she mostly resided at their French chateau. It afforded her more privacy. If it hadn’t been for her ruthless marketing, Draco didn’t believe he would have been accepted back into society. His mother had seen an opportunity when Harry and Granger spoke at their trials — she sought them out to express her thanks; opening the door for Harry to be suckered into her plans of helping Draco get a job at the DMLE when he returned home.

As he stood in one of the many guest bedrooms at Parkinson estate, dressed for tonight’s event, Draco placed a cooling charm over himself to avoid getting overheated in his suit. Pansy chose a classic black suit with black dragon hide shoes, and a small pop of colour in the form of a deep, rich, blue silk bow tie. It matched the pocket square and a pair of sapphire encrusted cuff links. He looked good.

Emmeline popped into the room behind him. “Master Nott has arrived. He is eager for his present now.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I bet he is. Thank you, Emmeline.”

Draco arrived earlier in the day to ‘assist’ Pansy. She roped him into taking in some of her thousand deliveries and, to save himself the trouble of extra travel, he remained there to get ready.

A small amount of aftershave along the sides of his neck completed his routine before Draco left to greet his friend. 

He made it to the greeting room as Blaise, Ginny and Luna arrived.

“Damn! Malfoy, you look good out of your usual snake green. Pansy’s not bad at her job, is she?” Ginny was dramatically fanning herself beside Blaise, who had a mock annoyance on his face.

“Thank you, Red.” Draco looked at her assigned outfit for the evening, “You don’t look too bad yourself. I see you have converted another one of us tonight.”

He threw a wink at Blaise, who failed to hide his displeasure.

Ginny and Blaise were both dressed in a deep burgundy velvet which perfectly suited them both. Most importantly, it didn’t clash with her hair. Gryffindor red was far too bright for the unfortunate gingers of the group.

“Hey. What’s wrong with red?” Ginny asked her husband.

“Nothing, darling. You look amazing, it’s just,” he looked down at his outfit, “wearing red makes me itchy.”

Theo snickered. “I can think of one red you don’t mind wearing.”

He waggled his eyebrows at Ginny, who shook her head disapprovingly at his awful joke.

Theo was sitting in the armchair closest to the bar cart nursing a tumbler of whiskey, his feet up on the small glass table, parading the signature Slytherin green for his outfit choice. He tapped his glass restlessly.

“Where is my present, Draco? I’ve waited very patiently. I feel like that’s almost worth another.”

“Yes. Almost.”

Draco pushed Theo’s feet down and gestured for him to follow; he led them all to the ballroom. Pansy had been setting up since three o’clock in here, running around like a headless diricawl. With a finger to his lips, Draco pointed to the back corner of the room towards a young model in a green dress matching Theo’s tie.

Overcome with excitement, Theo grabbed Draco by the lapels and kissed him on the cheek.

“Eugh!” Draco wiped his sleeve across his cheek. “Why was that so wet?”

Theo skipped back out into the hallway, unbothered by his sloppy kiss.

“How did you get her here? Is she here for me? I can’t believe this. This is the best gift ever!”

Theo leaned in for a second kiss but Draco slapped his palm to the offending wizards forehead and pushed him back.

Ginny peered around the corner. “I don’t understand. You bought him a person? Is this some weird rich person kink?” She looked at her husband, “Do not, buy me a person.”

Blaise chuckled and drew her in for a hug.

“No, not just any person,” Draco started, “that is Celine Aubert, one of the most sought after models in France. And for the record, I didn’t buy her. I asked my mother to pass a message along to see if she would model for Pansy.” Ginny was still confused. “This is technically a birthday present for Theo, because the last time they met at my mothers gala they, well, I guess you could say they had a busy evening.”

“She was amazing.” Theo was slightly delirious at this point.

“I haven’t coerced her,” Draco explained. “She doesn’t even know Theo will be here. My gift to him was the potential of amazing sex for his birthday. We all know it’s one of the best gifts you could give him.”

They all hummed in agreement. 

None of the group particularly felt comfortable at galas; the Ministry had thrown so many after the war in an attempt to show a unified front, they’d all been scarred for life. But tonight was important to Pansy.

So, after collecting their first, of many, champagne flutes from the floating trays, they strolled back into the ballroom.

“Where’s Potter?” Theo asked, morphing into a stage whisper, “I’m surprised Pans hasn’t hunted him down yet for being late.”

“He was here,” Draco answered, “but Granger sent a message about her shoes, or something? Pansy sent him to give her a message.” He took a sip of his drink. “It was along the lines of, ‘Potter, tell her to cram her feet into those shoes and be here within the next twenty minutes, or I will go to her house and drag her back by her hair.’ He disappeared pretty quickly after that.”

The group laughed.

A few minutes later, while Theo tried to shove the recounting of his experience with Celine into their unwelcoming ears, Potter appeared sheepishly at the doorway and made his way toward the group, followed closely by… No. This must be a joke. 

The floor length deep sapphire blue dress was strapless with beading details that led from her chest to a slit along the top of her left leg. Black strappy heels elongated her legs; only adding to the revealing cut of the dress. Her hair was styled in a low chignon similar to how she wore it at work but, instead of being sleeked back, small tendrils of curls framed along the edges of her face. It was all rounded off by a pair of dangling earrings — which looked eerily similar to his cuff links.

It was Granger. And she looked beautiful.

Fuck…

She also looked unhappy. 

Her eyes met Draco’s after surveying his outfit and her brow creased. 

Pansy waltzed over. “Finally, you’re all here. Looking good, might I add.”

“Why are we matching?” Granger burst out. “It makes sense for the couples, but why are Malfoy and I matching?”

“Because it will look best in pictures,” Pansy explained. “Once Hannah joins after work, she and Luna will be matching and, considering Theo will be trying to get in my model’s knickers all evening, I would prefer they match in the tabloids.”

Theo smiled widely. He looked like a niffler with a gold coin.

“That leaves you two. And I’m not breaking my vision just for your stubborn arses.” Pansy had a look of finality on her face.

“Fine.” Granger huffed like a petulant child. “I thought you hated purple, Harry?”

Harry scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I do. Kind of. But Pansy looks really good in purple, so…”

“Very diplomatic, Potter. Well done,” Draco gibed.

Harry stuck his middle finger up.

“Enough.” Pansy clapped. “Okay, rules for tonight. None of you will get ridiculously drunk, that’s mostly aimed at Theo. No one will annoy or hassle my models, that one is especially aimed at Theo. And if anyone asks you about my line, you simply say, ‘I’ve loved everything she’s designed and I can’t wait to see what her next collection brings’. Understood?”

Everyone nodded dumbly. This felt like a lecture from McGonagall.

Pansy whisked Harry off just before the clock struck eight for their duties as hosts. It dawned on Draco that this was the first public event in which they would be in focus as a couple, and Harry was on his third glass of champagne by the time the first guests arrived.

~

The event launch was a complete success. There was a nice buzz of discussion around Pansy’s clothes. The fact that her fellow schoolmates were there in support also helped. It was over two hours before Draco had a chance to sit down and enjoy a drink.

Draco saw a flash of sapphire attempt to duck out of Skeeter’s view as Granger spotted him at the bar and moved to join him.

Unlucky for her, Skeeter noticed, and followed along behind. Granger growled her annoyance and asked for a large glass of whiskey from the bartender.

“Ah, Mr Malfoy, how lovely to see you. Still looking as dashing as ever.”

He rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink.

“I see you are both sporting a lovely blue this evening, a hint of a little something between you?” Skeeter asked, her quill scribbling in the background.

“Any real journalist would clearly see that Pansy had all of her friends in matching colours. But then, I don’t know if you can include yourself in that.” Draco sniffed.

“Ah, a good reporter knows when there is more hidden under the surface, Mr Malfoy.” Skeeter answered sweetly, undeterred by his tone. “Now, Miss Granger, I didn’t quite catch your answer on how you felt about endorsing Miss Parkinson’s line after your school rivalry. Or how you feel, watching your ex-enemy in a committed relationship with your teenage love.”

Draco saw Hermione take a calming breath and turn to face the incessant woman.

“I’ve loved everything she’s made and I can’t wait to see what her next collections bring,” she recited boringly.

Draco chuckled. He covered it well with a cough, though.

Granger smirked. Or not.

“Interesting,” — her scribbling quill paused — “Miss Lovegood just said the same thing.”

“Oh, really?” Granger remained stoic.

Then her face lit up and she lowered to a whisper.

“You know, I will let you in on this,” she said, and Skeeter’s attention peaked. “I have heard her next collection will be on bugs.”

Draco furrowed his brow, his head tilted slightly as he listened in.

“I heard,” Hermione continued, “she was looking at beetles in particular. You don’t know where she could research those, do you, Rita?” A grin stretched across her face.

Skeeter was pale-faced.

“Um, no. I think we’re done here.”

She scurried away with her photographer close behind.

Draco gestured for two more firewhiskeys and slid one over.

“What was all that about, Granger?”

Hermione waved him off flippantly. “She’s just scared because I trapped her in a jar.”

He paused, unsure if he had heard her correctly. 

“I’m sorry. Did you just say you trapped her in a jar?”

Granger was pleased with herself. “I did. After I realised she was coming into the school in her animal form, listening into conversations and getting information from, well, you, I trapped her in an unbreakable jar for a week and demanded she stop." 

Draco was in disbelief.

“What the fuck!” he blurted, “That is some Slytherin shit if ever I’ve heard it. I think you were put in the wrong house.” He smiled. “Cheers to that, Granger.”

She laughed and raised her glass to his. Clink. They both took a drink of the burning liquor. 

“I’m not that bad. Besides, something…” she gestured to her left arm, “tells me I wouldn’t have fit in with you all, down in the snake pit.”

Draco shrugged, “I suppose. But if you pulled stuff like that for us instead of against us, you definitely would’ve made some friends.”

“Like you?” Granger looked him in the eye.

Hope was nestled behind the warmth of her caramel eyes; as if, with everything they’d been through, he would’ve accepted her regardless of her blood status.

He would. 

Had Draco been the man he was now. The boy he was then, though?

“No, I don’t think it would’ve been me” he said. “I was too far gone by then.”

Her face fell slightly, but he continued.

“If I’d known then what I know now, it would’ve been different; but, hindsight is a wonderful thing, Granger.”

He took a sip of whiskey; it burned more this time.

“Theo would, though. He would’ve been your partner in crime.”

She smiled. It felt nice.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
It had been exactly two weeks since Professor Hansen had been taken when Hermione had a visit from Harry. He came over to her house to say that he’d received a notice from the Norway office informing them that the Professor had been found. 

She cried.

Hermione was told that she wasn’t able to visit him yet. He was not in a good shape and was being kept at the local hospital until he was well enough to talk. 

She cried.

They finally received the call a week later to say Fredrik was stable enough for visitors, and that they would set up an international portkey for them straight away. An hour later, they stepped into his private room; to see him sitting up in bed, conversing with his wife. He still had some residual bruising along the right side of his head, and his hand had been bandaged to allow the potions to help with the burns. 

She cried.

“Hermione, please, no tears for this old man,” Fredrik consoled.

Hermione stepped closer to his bedside. “Professor, I am so sorry! I feel awful! If I had any idea that this would’ve happened, I would’ve never asked you for help.”

He raised his bandaged hand to silence her frantic rambles.

“Hermione, listen to me.” He enclosed her hands in his. It was the most sentimental she had ever seen him — aside from the few interactions with his wife. “This was most definitely not your fault. You are not to blame for the actions of some bad people out there and I have enjoyed every second of working with you, and experiencing your magnificent brain once again. I wouldn’t change it for the world. Your work would’ve taken longer if you hadn’t come to me for a second opinion and, all this,” he gestured to himself and the room, “proves we need to get these wizards off our streets.”

Hermione had calmed by the time Fredrik released her hands. 

As she stepped back towards Harry, he placed his arm around her to provide some support. The familiar gesture through years of friendship never failed to comfort her. It was a gift of his. 

Hermione observed the Professor closer.

Fredrik’s face was blotchy, mottled with various stages of yellows, greens and purples. His left hand was bandaged but she could see red fingertips peeking out; the fresh skin raw with premature shedding. Alongside his right forearm was a scar stretching from elbow to wrist. The white line healed but left as evidence of a horrible ordeal. Hermione understood why it looked so familiar to her own.

A cursed blade was one of the only things that allowed a scar to remain present despite the use of magical healing. Hermione’s had faded quite a bit after Bellatrix’s death, yet it was still visible to those who knew to look for it. She wondered if Fredrik would lose his once Alecto was dead.

Hermione hated the thought of wishing death upon someone. However, if the war taught her anything, it’s that to be truly free, some people need to die.

Professor Hansen’s wife stepped to her husband’s side once more. “I want to thank you for all of your help bringing my husband home, sir.”

Hermione looked frantically at Harry, her eyes wide.

“If it was not for the long hours you aided our agents here, I fear the worst may have happened. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.” Her voice cracked lightly.

Harry’s face was beetroot red.

“You’re very welcome, Mrs Hansen.” He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, I am not the wizard responsible.” he paused, avoiding Hermione’s eyes. “But, I know he would say that it was no trouble at all.”

“Oh, my apologies. Are you not Auror Malfoy?”

Hermione’s mouth fell open in a silent shock. She looked back at Harry who, somehow, grew redder under her gaze.

A soft chuckle came from the wizard in the bed.

“Come now, Asta. Let’s let these two return home.” He pulled his attention back to Hermione. “I am to remain here for one more week for the rest of my recovery. I will then return back to the University, which I am assured has been all repaired. I shall owl you to discuss our next plan of action. Thank you for caring, Hermione. I appreciate it.” Fredrik gave her a warm smile.

“Of course, Professor,” Hermione said. “I am just glad you are back home safe and sound. I will eagerly await your letter.”

Harry and Hermione waved their goodbyes before returning to their portkey. Behind them, they could hear the mutterings of the Hansens speaking behind them.

"Din innblandende kvinne.”

"Men jeg synes det er viktig informasjon å få vite."

"Jeg skjønner. Det er derfor du gliser som om du ikke har noe godt fore."

The professor’s warm chuckle faded into the background noise of the hospital as Hermione and Harry weaved through the hallways, back to the international visitor’s room.

~

Hermione’s brain had been rattled all afternoon.

Harry had done what he did best; ignored all of her questions about why Mrs Hansen was under the impression Malfoy had brought her husband home and, to top it off, as they returned to her house, he received an urgent call and had to leave. He promised her they would discuss it when he returned.

She’d spent the last two hours sat on her sofa staring at her fireplace waiting for him to return; her stomach was grumbling so loudly, it had woken Crookshanks from his nap. When the clock struck three, Hermione admitted defeat. 

As she pulled a pack of biscuits off the top shelf of her cupboards however, her floo roared, and she raced back — the thought of food vanished from her mind. 

Harry barely made it onto the sofa before she bombarded him with questions.

“Right, tell me everything. What happened whilst you were in Norway? Why did Mrs Hansen think you were Malfoy? And why did she think Malfoy had helped save Fredrik?”
She stopped and took a look at him. Harry looked tired. Whatever he had been called in for must not have been good.

Hermione took pity on him.

“Would you like a cuppa? You look like you need it.” She offered with a gentle smile.

“Yes, please.”

The fact there was no remark about how he looked should’ve been her first clue that something wasn’t right. Hermione returned quickly with two cups of tea and the packet of biscuits. Harry greedily took his drink; not caring about the possibility of burning his throat.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hermione joined him on the sofa. 

Harry shook his head. “Not yet. I said I’d answer your questions so we’ll do that first.”

He took another sip of his tea, sighed and sank further into the cushions.

“Nothing happened in Norway during the first visit, but something was bothering Draco about it, so he went back a few days later and, long story short, Draco spent quite a bit of time going through different locations with them; because he knew the most about how Alecto thinks. When they finally raided where the Professor was being kept, they invited him along.” He took a bit of a biscuit, crumbs sprinkling his jumper. “I’m not sure why his wife thought that was me, though. I’m sure they met when they took Fredrik into the hospital.”

“I don’t understand,” Hermione puzzled, “what do you mean he was there a lot? He was here in London. And how come he never mentioned anything?”

“Well…” Harry said hesitantly, “he wasn’t here all of the time. Sometimes, if you came to see him for the case and I knew he was in Norway, I told you he was in a meeting or on a field case.”

She gasped. “Harry James Potter! Why the hell would you hide this from me?”

Harry scrunched up his face in a grimace. “I didn’t want to! But Draco asked me to keep it from you in case, uh…”

“In case?” Hermione pushed.

“In case you didn’t want his help,” he completed, as though regretting every word that came out.

Hermione opened her mouth to object, but Harry raised a hand.

“I told him that was a ridiculous thing to say; he is your partner. If there is one thing I know about Malfoy is that, once he has you, he would do anything to keep you. Uh, not — not you, specifically. I was using a general ‘you’, you know?”

Harry abruptly shoved two more biscuits in his mouth, effectively barricading the outflux of words.

“Why would he think I wouldn’t want his help?” Hermione said, disheartened. 

“I think Draco did it because he wanted to help, but didn’t want you to think he was forced to help because of your partnership. He was just doing something nice,” he mumbled, spitting crumbs with every word, “in a very Slytherin, behind your back sort of way. I’m not entirely sure though, he is quite confusing, to be honest.” 

“How often was he gone?”

“A lot.”
 
She hummed.

All of the times she had sent Draco memos, to have Harry’s responses come back, or visited to check on his progress, before she was intercepted under the guise of joining Harry for a break or lunch, flooded back to her.

Draco was a nice person; she knew that. Hermione just couldn’t fathom that he had done this for her. If it was Pansy, Blaise or Theo, she knew he would fight entire cities for them — they were his family. But her? She didn’t mean that much; they just worked together.

Taking a sip of her, now lukewarm, tea, Hermione remembered Harry’s earlier state. “What happened after you left earlier?” ”

Harry groaned. “I won’t talk about it here, but I do need to let you know there’s an emergency meeting tonight in the briefing room, at six. You’ll need to be there.” he looked at his watch. “Speaking of, I should probably head back to get things ready for then. I’ll see you later.”

He gave her a kiss on her cheek before stepping into the floo calling for the Ministry. 

This can’t be good.

~

Hermione arrived early for the meeting in the DMLE. Before facing whatever was about to happen, she made a quick detour to Draco’s office. After a few knocks, she heard him call her in.

“Granger?” Draco placed his paperwork down. “I didn’t realise you would be in today. How was Professor Hansen? Harry told me that you both visited him earlier.”

Draco was either unaware that Harry had told her of his involvement, or was deciding not to address it. She could do that. The last thing Hermione wanted was to make a big deal of it — even though it was — and cause a rift between the balance they had found recently.

She closed the door behind her, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

“Harry said there was an important meeting I would need to be here for. I’ve only come in for that; hence the non-work compliant outfit. Fredrik, was doing much better as well thanks. He should be out and fully recovered by next week.”

“Good, I’m glad.” He gave her a half smile. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I just wanted to say thank you. That’s it. No reason specifically; just, thank you. I really appreciate it more than I can say.”

Draco stared at her for a beat, then pushed his chair back, sighing. 

“Look, Granger…”

“Nope.” Hermione held her hands out to stop him from saying anything more. “There is nothing else to say. Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m thanking you for, so there is no further discussion to be had on it.”

A small smile twitched at the edge of his mouth. “Well, if that’s all, then I do believe we have a meeting to attend.”

Draco stood and rounded the table towards her.

Hermione wasn’t quite sure why she did it. Maybe her brain short circuited; maybe the overwhelming need to express her thanks overrode her sense of logic. 

But, she hugged him. 

Draco froze. As if she had cast a petrificus on him. 

Hermione, making the most sensible decision there was, turned, opened the door and left; not sparing a look back.

Chapter Text

Granger hugged him.

She hugged him, and Draco’s brain lost all function. He was very rarely hugged; it was only his mother or Pansy, and even then he disliked physical contact.

But from her, it felt — nice.

Granger was warm and smelt like earl grey tea and old parchment; stretched on her tip-toes, her hair had almost suffocated him, yet there was something oddly comforting about it.

Ever the gentleman, Draco had kept his hands planted firmly at his side. Mostly because he panicked that his hands were dangerously close to her arse.

Harry mentioned what had happened at the hospital whilst in Norway, when he returned earlier for the emergency meeting with the Minister, so Draco had expected something from her, but wasn’t quite sure what. He’d spent the afternoon mentally preparing himself for whatever Granger might say when she inevitably came to him to talk about it. Out of all the possibilities he had run through, Draco never expected her to react like that.

He righted himself, straightened his tie, gained some composure and proceeded to the briefing room.

Harry was discussing something quietly at the front with Shacklebolt, Finnegan was reminiscing about how good the food was at the restaurant he and Thomas had visited last night for their anniversary meal; Johnson and Macmillan sat beside them, voicing their intention to take their respective partners to the establishment. Granger was seated beside John, who gave Draco a smile as he entered.

“Good, Draco, you’re here,” Harry said. “Take a seat. You are all here because, in light of recent events… we believe there will be an attack on either us, or on the wizarding world.”

A chorus of shocked exclamations filled the room. Everyone, aside from Draco and Hermione, were voicing their confusion.

The Minister raised his hand to silence the room, and took over.

“Unknown to most of you in this room, for the last few months, both Auror Malfoy and Miss Granger were tasked with hunting down Alecto Carrow. I know this is a lot of information to take in but unfortunately we don’t know how much time we will be afforded.”

Ignoring questioning looks around him, Draco remained focused on the Minister.

“Recently, an acquaintance of Hermione, who was assisting their research, was kidnapped and held hostage for two weeks. He has been found and shall make a full recovery and, although he was not in possession of too much information, it was enough to tip Alecto off that we know what she has been searching for.”

Shacklebolt looked back at Harry for him to continue.

“We know she is looking for a special artefact linked to the Grail. We don’t know what exactly, but all of this has clearly spooked her. Which leads me back to the attack. At approximately 12:30 today, we received an anonymous note.” Harry picked up a small square piece of parchment from his folder. “It reads, ‘He was just the beginning. You know what I want. I will find it and then I will come for you.’”

There were murmurs in the group.

“Now, as much as there is no direct threat of something immediate, Carrow will do whatever it takes to keep us from capturing her. We need to remain extra vigilant.”

From Draco’s seat, he could see there was something else written on the note which Harry had omitted from the group.

“Is that all that was written?” Draco asked, oozing all the boredom he could muster.

Harry stopped addressing the group, shifting uncomfortably at his question. 

“It’s okay, Potter. I’m a big boy I can take it.”

Walls began to build inside Draco.

“Malfoy,” Potter said with caution.

Granger bolted from her chair, grabbing the paper from Potter’s hands and moving away out of reach.

“Mione, no!”

“’He was just the beginning,’” she read. “’You know what I want. I will find it and then I will come for you. And Draco Malfoy — I know what you did and I will take everything from you, just as you did me.’”

Draco walls were up completely.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his head burned with the gazes of his fellow Aurors; Shacklebolt and Potter seemed frustrated with the abrupt release of information and Granger was looking at him in a way he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Oh, would you all stop staring.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s not the first time I’ve been threatened by a lunatic with a skull tattoo. Carrow’s just playing mind games as she now knows I’m assigned to her case.”

Potter cleared his throat to pull the attention back to him and proceeded to explain more about how they could look to patrol the streets in a better way without arousing too much suspicion from the public. It went on for another forty minutes before everyone was excused for the day. Not that Draco paid any attention.

Granger had watched him the rest of the meeting; she had been attempting to do it discreetly but, unlucky for her, spying on an Auror is pointless.

Everyone exited towards the floo networks, but Draco sat in his office for a little while to clear his head. It wasn’t everyday you went from being thanked and hugged by Hermione Granger to receiving death threats from Alecto Carrow. He may as well soak it up.

There was a short rap on his door, before it squeaked open.

“You alright there, son?”

His eyes opened to see John making his way in, closing the door behind. John would sometimes call him ‘son’; a term of endearment that probably meant very little to him, but meant a lot to Draco.

“Thought I’d come and check on you.” John took a seat. “Not that you need it, obviously.”

Draco chuckled, his walls slowly began to crumble. “No. I’m perfectly fine being in the firing line of another Death Eater.” He sighed. “I feel like I’m sixteen again.” 

“Listen. Nothing is going to happen, she is just riling you up, putting you on edge to try and knock your concentration. We won’t let her. With all of us now helping, it will take some of the load off of you and Hermione.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He took a deep, steadying breath to break down more of his walls. “I had hoped this would all be over after the war. When Potter won, I had truly believed that we could live free of this stupid torment. But now, five years later, we’re back in the same position.”

“Well, not exactly.” John clasped his hands behind his head. “Old snake nose had a lot more of an army. This is just one person with a few half-arsed followers, who, in my opinion, would run at the slightest hint of defeat. Don’t lose the hope you’ve gained. It’s good to hope for a new life, Draco; for something worth living for.”

“I don’t know. I gave up hope a while ago and, as much as I love my job, the people we see don’t make me believe we live in a better world. We’ve just hidden it better.”

“Maybe? Maybe not?” John shrugged, “But with people who remember the war and are willing to fight to defend this world we’re making, then it can only go up from here. Besides, you’ve done well, Draco. You have a great group of friends, your mother, your job and a woman who supports you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “If you’re referring to Granger, I think you mean a work partner who supports you.”

“I know what I said.”

John paused, his gaze roamed Draco’s face.

“I heard about what you did for her. Does she know?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” Draco shrugged it off. “She thanked me.”

“And?”

“For Merlin’s sake.” He threw up his hands in resignation. “She thanked me and hugged me. That’s it. Just as she would with any of her friends.”

“So you are friends?”

“Okay, I think we’re done.” Draco stood and pushed himself away from his desk. “Thanks for checking on me, but I’m going to head home now.”

John stood from his chair and held his arms out. 

“What are you doing?” Draco said quizzically. 

“You said you hug your friends when you say thank you. I’m waiting for mine.”

John attempted to keep a straight face but he failed, and immediately began to laugh at, what he thought, was a great joke.

“Ha. Ha. Goodnight, John.”

Draco left John, still chuckling, by his office door and headed to the floo for his apartment.

~

Draco was due to have drinks with Blaise tonight, since Ginny started the quidditch season about a week and a half ago and Blaise had become all mopey again; but in light of today’s developments, Draco cancelled in preference of drinking alone.

Settled into the armchair in the lounge, his ankle perched upon the opposite knee, Draco clutched a rather large serving of firewhiskey. The burn seeped down his throat, and he relished in the slight pain that always came with the first sip.

Alone for the first moment of the day, Draco’s mind wandered.

No matter how far he had come, it seemed life would always bring him back to choices made as a child.

Something in him needed to help Granger and Professor Hansen. The more Draco got to know her, the guiltier he felt about his youth. Specifically that night at the Manor. The one thing that still haunted him.

Draco witnessed many a terrible thing under Voldemort’s reign of his house, but nothing else compared to watching his own aunt torture his schoolmate on their floor. It left an imprint on Draco; it hung around like a stain on his very soul.

By that point in the war, Draco had known it wasn’t going to end well for the Dark regime, and when the golden trio were brought before him, he made a choice not to identify them. Only a blind man wouldn’t have recognised that orange hair as a Weasley, or the mess of curls alongside him as Granger, and, although Harry had been hit by a stinger, Draco could still recognise him clearly. Draco hoped that his delay in identifying them would aid their eventual escape.

Instead it led to something worse.

Draco could recall everything 

It was still as vivid and raw. 

‘Take the prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback. Wait. All except the Mudblood.’

Then the screaming started. Burned into his ears. He could hear it, even now, as he threw back his entire glass of whiskey and re-filled it. Never leaving. In his nightmares, sometimes, he speaks up; he tries to stop her suffering. But it never ends. He just suffers with her.

Logically, Draco knew nothing could have been done; he knew there was no point in speaking out against his aunt.

That was the day he lost hope. No matter the choices he made, people would always suffer. 

Even after all this time, a split decision from the war has come back to haunt him. 

Draco had tried to protect her.

‘Draco made his way through the broken doorways and corridors of the castle he had once called home. Spells shoot past, clipping his ear, as he tries to find her. She had to be here. The stench of blood permeated the air. The fallen fighters laid motionless around him; students and Death Eaters alike. Then, ahead, Draco caught a glimpse of her from the adjacent corridor. Just as relief rushed through his body, Draco saw him. The masked man. He exited the classroom to the right with his wand raised; ready to cast whichever curse he felt like. To injure or kill her. He didn’t care. Draco did. Draco raised his wand and…’

The floo roared to life, breaking him out of the memory.

“Pans, what the fuck are you doing?!” Draco grabbed his chest. “You nearly gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“Harry told me what happened and I wanted to check on you.” She observed the glass in his hand, “But clearly you are self soothing by getting drunk alone.”

“The perfect remedy.” He took a sip to punctuate his point. “I’m fine, Pans, honestly.”

“Hmm.”

She wasn’t buying it.

“Fine, I’ll leave if you answer one question. Does she know why?”

Draco stilled.

“No,” he pointed at Pansy, “and she won’t find out.”

“It is fair to tell her what happened at least. She is your partner and having you receive a death threat is not going to put her at ease.” Pansy perched on the edge of the chaise. She quirked her eyebrow. “It is technically the reason you are sitting here today.”

When Draco gave certain memories up from his time before and during the war, a few were much more influential towards his sentencing; this memory in particular, Draco believed, was the reason he only received a house arrest sentence and not jail time; even with Harry and Granger’s testimonies.

“I’ll see,” he lied. “Now, please leave. You are ruining my pity party for one.”

Pansy made no attempt to argue and left him to drink his sorrows.

~

The office seemed on edge for the next few weeks. Carrow’s note had had the desired effect. Everyone was expecting something; anything. But no one knew what. They added security measures to the most important places like St Mungos, Gringotts (much to the goblins’ dismay) and notified Headmistress McGonagall.

For a couple of days, there was some respite in the form of Harry’s birthday celebrations. Pansy hadn’t spared any expense on his party and had invited not only the whole department, but anyone else she could think of from Hogwarts who was free. Considering there were only four Slytherins in a flat full of mostly Gryffindors, it had all gone very smoothly.

Well, aside from when Theo gave Harry his gift of ‘HotPot pants’. They were a pair of boxers covered in Harry’s face, which Harry then graciously modelled in the middle of Pansy’s living room; mentally scarring everyone for life.

As the calendar shifted into August, the clock began to tick. Their searches had come up empty and nothing was providing them with any evidence as to what this grail may be or where to find it. As the temperature rose with the season, so too did the pressure. 

Carrow had gone underground after their previous raid efforts and Draco was pulling extra hours, alongside Granger, looking for any clue that they could’ve missed.

It was a normal Wednesday morning today. Draco had actually eaten breakfast at home, much to Emmeline’s excitement, having awoken earlier than usual; he arrived at exactly eight o’clock and had managed to research various grails mentioned within other stories for the last few hours. Draco couldn’t quite believe how many iterations within muggle literature there were. It was most commonly referred to as the ‘holy grail’ due to its depiction within the painting ‘the last supper’, as a chalice alongside Jesus Christ.

Other depictions were a bowl or dish, as well as one being a small stone — which muggles called the philosopher’s stone. That one had made him chuckle. Of all his findings, Draco determined their best option was a cauldron. This cauldron was supposedly able to bring back the dead, and that sounded exactly like something Carrow would want to get her hands on.

Draco marked it on the board with a piece of red string, promising never to reveal to Granger that her method actually worked very well, and finished up for the morning. He treated himself to an early lunch at the cafe around the corner; their lemon tarts were delicious and paired extremely well with a cup of earl grey tea.

Upon returning to his office, Draco waved his wand to unlock the door and — no feedback. He was sure he had locked his door. Had he? Maybe he had simply forgotten, in his need for food. His hackles rose. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and magic tingled in his fingers, aching to be used.

He edged the door open slightly and went cold.

Sat atop his desk was a rather inconspicuous looking brown box.

Draco pushed the door open further in hopes of casting a diagnostic spell. But, as he took a step into the room, something sounded from within the box.

There was the sound of glass smashing followed by a sharp hiss, similar to a kettle boiling over.

Draco turned back towards the main floor and shouted.

“GET DOWN!”

His office exploded behind him. 

Chapter Text

Alarms blared throughout the Ministry.

Hermione instinctively grabbed her wand out from her bun and slammed open her office door in search of its source; Theo exited his office just as she did.

“What’s going on, gorgeous?” Theo asked as they set off for the main lobby.

“No idea. It’s not from us, is it?” Her eyes frantically searched for any signs of damage.

“Don’t think so, unless you were messing with protection wards in the archives.”

Hermione shook her head.

Amelia, the head receptionist, entered from the lift lobby. “Oh, good, you’re both here. Glad to see neither of you were caught up in the mess upstairs.”

“What do you mean ‘mess upstairs’?” Hermione rushed as her heart began to race, “Where have you been?”

“It’s awful, really. It seems as though there was an explosion in the Auror department.” Amelia recounted as if she had all the time in the world. “No one knows yet what happened or if there have been any injuries. The whole floor has been closed off for inspection.”

Hermione and Theo took one look at each other and sprinted for the lifts. 

Panic flared within her; her heart only thumping harder and harder as she pounded the button to the DMLE floor.

Please be okay. Please be okay.

Hermione hadn’t felt true fear for her friend’s safety like this since the war. Dealing with a constant worry that ate you up from the inside, always expecting that the worst had happened. Her nervous energy was not helped by Theo, who paced the entire lift ride up; muttering words of comfort under his breath.

The lift doors heaved and screeched open slowly, and both Hermione and Theo forced their way out, racing towards the main floor. A line of both Aurors and trainees formed a blockage to stop anyone from passing into the DMLE. Behind them was chaos.

Smoke engulfed the office; ash and dust which hadn’t yet settled from the blast. Some of the desks were blown to pieces and scattered across the floor. There was shouting from all around and groans of pain could be heard from those isolated to the right. Hermione could see some of her friends amongst the injured; it looked like Seamus had a broken arm, Ernie was holding the side of his head and Angelina was sporting a black eye.

Hermione stepped forward instinctively until an arm blocked her.

“Sorry, no one can enter the scene until we have medical staff here and the scene has been cleared,” a trainee in front of them explained.

“I am medically trained, I can help until other mediwitches arrive,” Hermione stated. “Where is Harry Potter?” She definitely wasn’t above pulling the friend card.

“Sorry, ma’am, but I have to wait for St Mungo’s nurses, and I am unsure of where Head Auror Potter is.”

“Do you know who she is?!” Theo interrupted loudly, pushing her aside, far more angry than she’d ever seen him before. “She is Hermione Granger, and was helping Harry defeat the darkest wizard of all time whilst you were still in nappies. Now let her in to find her friend before I take this wand and shove it…”

“Okay, Theo,” Hermione pulled him back by the arm, “too much. I appreciate it, but that is not going to help.”

“It’s okay, Lindall. You can let them in.” Harry’s gravelly voice cut through from somewhere behind the barrier. He stepped into view as the younger trainee stood aside.

Harry wasn’t too badly injured from what she could see, just some scrapes.

Hermione rushed forward and pulled him into a chest breaking hug. Though this did nothing to settle her unease.

“Are you okay? Have you been hurt? What happened?"

"I'm okay, Mione"

"Are you sure? Do you need healing? Because—"

"Hermione, I'm alright, I promise." 

Despite his insistence, nausea still rolled through her, as if her stomach could claw its way up her throat. Hermione looked around at the scene as the realisation dawned on her and the fear increased.

“Harry, where is Draco?”

Harry beckoned for them to follow. “He’s stuck beneath the rubble and we can’t get to him,” he said grimly, “I’ve been trying to get him out for over five minutes.”

Hermione was going to be sick.

“Where?” Theo demanded.

Harry led the two of them into the familiar hallway; well, a distorted version of the one she had walked down many times before. The space where Draco’s office was supposed to be was gone. In its place was a mess of broken wood and glass.

A cool curtain of magic washed through Hermione.

Her mind became blank; void of all emotions. Her nausea disappeared.

“We’ll get him out,” she said assuredly, “and I can provide any medical care until the other mediwitches get to him.”

Hermione dropped to her knees to assess the rubble.

“Theo, you begin moving the wood on the opposite side from us; considering that is where his office was, it is most likely he will be under that section, so be careful. Harry,” she turned her attention to him, “you will help me clear a path from this side which will allow me access in, and a pathway out.”

Hermione cast a Homenum Revelio and revealed the glowing outline of Draco’s body about seven feet away.

“Aim for that spot,” she instructed.

Both men nodded and got to work.

After, roughly, ten minutes of clearing, much longer than Hermione would have liked, Theo finally announced that he could see Draco. Having stabilised enough debris on their end, Hermione was confident the pile was less likely to collapse as they attempted to remove him.

Hermione weaved her way through the forged path and crouched beside, a partially covered, Draco.

A large gash was bleeding along the side of his head and, after a quick Vitalis spell, was confirmed to be the reason he was still unconscious. Hermione cleared more of the smaller debris from around his torso and noticed his left arm bent at an odd angle.

“I think his shoulder is dislocated and his wrist may be broken,” she called to the two men who watched her intently. “I can’t see the rest yet until I clear more wood. Stand by in case anything starts to fall as I do.”

After levitating some more pieces of wood from his chest and legs, Draco was now on full display. 

Along with his head and arm injuries, Draco had a gash to his thigh which, thankfully, hadn’t hit an artery, and he had a broken ankle. The worst injury Hermione found was a piece of wood that was lodged in his side. It was currently stabilising the blood loss as it remained intact and lodged inside, but the longer it stayed in, the harder it would be to remove due to the build of pressure. Once removed, he would begin to bleed out. Fast.

“I need to do something about this.” Hermione looked back towards Harry. “Are the nurses here yet?”

“They are, but they can’t all fit in such a small space.”

“Tell them to prepare for the immediate extraction of a patient. I will remove the wood, and heal as much as I can here, so he can be taken immediately to Mungos. That way only one mediwitch needs to come here to levitate him out.”

Harry nodded and ran out to the main floor.

Hermione took a deep breath to prepare herself for this completely reckless and unsanitary attempt to remove this piece of wood from an unconscious Malfoy. Hermione could see it would be tricky, but remained surprisingly level-headed. Casting a secondary diagnostic spell, it revealed that the wood wasn’t very thick, but long enough to have caught his spleen.

With a slow twist of her wand, the wood removed itself from his wound.

Blood immediately leaked out and pooled around her knees, soaking into her trousers. The first spell, aimed at his spleen, was to cauterise and close the incision to stabilise the organ first. It took a few seconds due to her limited view but the diagnostic eventually shone blue, indicating the spleen was closed and she could move on. The incision sight was checked and cleaned before a deeper diagnostic was used to check for any internal bleeding.

Hermione worked methodically, knitting together each layer of skin that had been torn, to make sure she removed any hidden splinters. She reached the final outer section and carefully knit his skin back together before inspecting her work. It wasn’t perfect and would definitely need a secondary set of cleansing potions and spells, but it was enough to allow him to be transported to St Mungos.

She took an extra second to quickly clean and close the gash in his head, and pop his shoulder back into place. His broken bones would be too difficult to heal on her own, but they would be fine until he got to the hospital. Hermione removed her hairband and transfigured it into a makeshift sling for his arm. Her fingers brushed over his hand as her mind ran wild about how delicate hands are and how too long of a prolonged blood loss to your hands could affect your wand ability. Draco could deal with losing a foot but not his ability to cast.

A short chuckle from behind pulled her from her thoughts.

“I didn’t know that, Hermione. But I’m sure he’ll appreciate your thoughts for his ability to handle his wand.” Theo said with a slight smirk.

Hermione turned back to Draco to make sure his sling was tight enough; definitely not in an attempt to hide her blush from mumbling all that out loud.

A middle-aged mediwitch she recognised form her work at St Mungo’s moved next to her and levitated Draco back to her colleagues for transport. Hermione stood as they left, knees aching from the wood splinters and shards of glass. 

She looked down at her appearance. Blue jeans were now deep burgundy, blood caked her hands and forearms as well as the ends of her hair and, although she couldn’t quite see it, her skin felt tight from some blood drying along the edges of her face.

Harry approached her carefully and scourgified some of the blood from her hands and face.

“You did amazingly, Mione.” He drew her into a tight hug, “Why don’t you head home and get cleaned up. We’ll contact you when he’s awake if you want?”

She nodded dimly and silently made her way towards Harry’s private floo, taken aback by Harry’s office missing its front wall. Whatever caused this had been big.

Hermione stepped out into her living room and, with one look at her safe place, whatever wall had been keeping her level-headed and calm broke. She was drowning. Her legs gave way as she collapsed, sobbing on her rug.

~

A few hours passed since Hermione dragged herself off of her rug and crawled to the shower. She was now sitting on her sofa with a cup of coffee with a curled up Crookshanks. Her familiar had appeared during her crying episode and, in his usual manner, stared at her until she finally deciphered that he was telling her she looked a mess and needed to wash.

Harry’s stag appeared at eight thirty to let her know they’d received word of Draco being stable and awake if she wanted to visit him. They were allowing people in late — something about preferential treatment for an Auror.

It made perfect sense why Harry would assume she would want to visit. Draco was her partner and she healed him after the explosion. 

Logical really.

Hermione also knew that they weren’t that close. It would be better for Draco’s close friends to visit him instead of her taking up their visiting hours.

Yes.

She should let the others go and check up on him tomorrow.

Logical.

Hermione left for St Mungos before Harry’s patronus finished its message.

Stepping out of the main floo corridor, Hermione approached the receptionist to inquire as to where Draco was staying but was sidetracked as Theo rounded the corner.

“Ah, there’s the saviour of the moment. Come to check on our darling patient.” He smiled broadly.

“I’m not really a saviour, Theo.” She gave him a hug. “And I definitely wouldn’t call him darling. I just wanted to check that everything has healed okay.”

“Sure you did,” Theo smirked. “He’s in room three. Considering you work here, I’ll leave you to find your own way. I’m heading home. He’s being mean and moany, which means he’s back to normal and has no need for me.”

Hermione chuckled. “I see. Well, that’s a good sign. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

He walked away, but turned back to her abruptly.

“Hermione, I meant to ask earlier. When did you learn Occlumency?” He dropped to a whisper. “I won’t say if it’s supposed to be secret, I just wasn’t aware you could do it.”

“I can’t occlude,” she said perplexed, “I’ve always been awful at it. I struggled to clear my mind long enough to learn and Harry always said I was too emotional.” Her head tilted. “Why do you ask?”

Theo had an odd look upon his face.

“Oh, no reason, I must’ve made a mistake,” he shrugged. “Have a good night, Hermione.”

Theo waved before disappearing into the green flames.

Hermione didn’t dwell too long on the odd interaction, and made her way to the west wing of the hospital. She approached the doorway and hesitated; she would definitely need caffeine for this. Hermione decided upon a small detour to the visitor’s room, down the corridor, for coffee but, as she turned into the room, she was surprised by the occupant.

“Mrs Malfoy?” Hermione froze.

The woman turned and smiled warmly. “Miss Granger, what a pleasure. As I am aware, I owe you great thanks for helping Draco.”

“Please, call me Hermione, and no thanks necessary. It would’ve been a waste of my studies if I couldn’t put my medical degree to use.”

Hermione tucked her hands behind her back, aware they were getting sweaty. It’s not that she was afraid of Narcissa Malfoy per se, it was that she held a sort of… presence. As if she knew more about you than you did.

“Likewise, call me Narcissa.” She smiled softly. “I have heard a great deal about your partnership with my son. Although, I must admit, I was surprised to hear that you were working together. Not that I doubt your abilities,” Narcissa rushed, “but I do not think either of you would’ve picked each other for a first choice of partnership.”

“No, I suppose not.” Hermione let out a small huff of a laugh. “Although, it’s been nice to work alongside someone who can maintain a full conversation without trailing off into quidditch, current affairs or workplace gossip.” She smiled. “I apologise for my shock when I saw you, but Mal— er, Draco told me you were in France.”

Narcissa waved her hand. “That’s quite alright, dear. I was there until this afternoon; as soon as Theo notified me about what had happened, I adjusted the remainder of my plans for the summer so I could return home early.”

Hermione felt stupid for not immediately thinking that she’d obviously returned for her injured son.

“Of course, that makes sense.”

A silence fell over the two women. It wasn’t an awkward pause. More like, Narcissa was assessing Hermione.

“My apologies, were you wishing to order a drink? I’m standing in your way.” Narcissa collected her cup and stood aside, revealing the small, elderly, worker who was sitting behind the visitor’s drinks station.

“Uh, no. Well, I was, but actually I don’t think I need any more caffeine today. After everything. I’m just going to check on how Mal— er, Draco’s wounds are healing and then I’ll be off.”

“Okay, dear. Would you like to go alone?”

Narcissa’s face remained impassive, yet it seemed like this was a test.

“No, please join me.” Hermione smiled broadly. “I wouldn’t want to keep a mother from her son.”

Hermione moved aside to allow Narcissa to exit first, following her down to room three.

“You have a visitor, my dear,” Narcissa announced upon their arrival.

The combined gazes of the steely grey eyes did nothing to help calm Hermione’s nerves.

“Granger? What brings you here on this fine evening?” Draco’s signature drawl signified his return to his usual self.

“Hi, Malfoy.” Hermione gave up the pretences for his mother’s sake. “I just came to see how your side has healed.”

“Ah, yes. My miracle saving on my office floor. Would’ve been better if you’d managed to save my suit. I happened to be fond of that one.”

Dick. 

Hermione’s face must have displayed the sentiment because Draco chuckled slightly.

She rounded the bed towards his injured side and Draco leaned slightly to allow better access to the side of his gown. It didn’t seem like there were any other entry points where the nurses had to go back in and remove any missed debris, and the scar was smaller than a sickle. Hermione was proud of her work.

“Looks good and I don’t think the scar will be an issue. With some dittany paste, it should fade completely.”

Absentmindedly, she rubbed her fingertips over the scar to see how raised it was.

Draco hissed when she touched him. Hermione’s eyes snapped to his face. 

Draco stared back at her, his eyes now bright blue and open; Hermione stood trapped in this moment of time, held frozen by his gaze.

Narcissa cleared her throat.

Hermione pulled back hastily, resuming time.

“Good. Well, that all looks good, and your arm looks good, so it’s all…” Hermione backed up towards the door.

“Good?” Malfoy finished a smirk tugging at his annoying mouth again.

“Yes. Good.” Her face was on fire. “Goodnight, Malfoy, Mrs Malfoy. I hope you have a nice time back home. I’m sure I’ll see you at another Ministry event soon.”

“Goodbye, dear. I’m sure I’ll see a lot more of you now I’m home.” Narcissa’s smirk was more intimidating than Draco’s.

With a curt nod, Hermione turned and ran back to the floo networks.

His mother sighed. “You could’ve been a little nicer to her, dear. She did help heal you from a fatal injury.”

“Yes, yes.” Draco waved her off. “It’s fine, I’ll send her a thank you card when I’m home.”

“And buy her flowers.” She added as she held her teacup to her lips.

“Mother, I can’t buy her flowers,” Draco protested. “People will speculate there’s more to it.”

“Is there more to it?” She asked almost innocently.

“No, mother. There isn’t more to it. We are simply colleagues. I’m just lucky because she is a trained mediwitch.”

His mother slid into the armchair beside his bed and took another sip of her tea.

“I see.” She paused slightly. “So, the story I heard about a certain handkerchief I believed had gone missing when the Manor was raided was a lie?”

“For Merlin’s sake, mother. Not you too.” Draco raked his hand down his face. “I swear, I will kill Pansy for her meddling in my personal life. It doesn’t mean anything. Granger lost her cardigan and needed something for the chill. That was all I had on hand to offer.”

His mother hummed.

“Were you wearing a jacket?”

Draco’s jaw clicked. “Yes.”

“So, it wasn’t all you had to offer.”

Draco groaned. Resigned that this conversation would not go in his favour, and being much too tired to deal with it, he closed his eyes and attempted to get more rest.

“I’ll send the flowers tomorrow then, yes, dear?” his mother asked sweetly.

“Whatever you wish, mother.”

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the satisfaction radiating off of her.

Chapter Text

Whilst the investigation was taking pace over the explosion, the search for the Grail was paused. Draco had been signed off from work for the remainder of the week, Harry was in and out of meetings with the Minister since the incident and Hermione returned to her usual archival work. With the new archival assistant being sent to Spain to negotiate a new addition, Hermione was back at her old job; boring in comparison to her new one. As much as she loathed to admit it, working with Draco was quite enjoyable.

The only break in her monotonous routine had been the appearance of an overly large bouquet of flowers from Narcissa Malfoy. Mrs Malfoy thanked her once again for her quick thinking to help her son. The already large gesture was extended with an invitation to join Mrs Malfoy for dinner on Sunday. Not wanting to come across as rude, Hermione had replied with her acceptance.

But now, at nine o’clock Sunday morning, Hermione was freaking out over what to wear. She had tried on almost everything in her wardrobe to no success. Nearly descending into a hysteric state, she’d flooed Pansy for help.

“Why don’t you borrow something from my wardrobe?” Pansy asked.

“I can’t.” Hermione flopped on her bed, defeated. “I’d feel like an alien in your fancy clothes. This is already too stressful without me feeling like an imposter.”

“Fine.” Pansy sighed. “Then I think you should wear the little black dress. It’s the most ‘dinner with the mother-in-law’ thing you have.”

Pansy laughed at her own joke, then was hit on the back of the head by a pillow.

“Piss off, Pans. She is not going to be my mother-in-law. And for that comment, you’re also on hair duty.”

Pansy groaned but fetched the products anyway.

~

With five minutes until her invited time, Hermione paced her living room. Butterflies swarmed in her stomach and she fought the urge to send a last minute reason for cancelling.

To steady her hands, Hermione clutched onto the bottle of wine Pansy had brought from her cellar at home, a gift for the hostess.

“Make sure that you compliment her home, then provide her with the gift as thanks.” Pansy had stated before she left. 

To which Hermione had replied, “I am aware of how to use basic manners, Pansy. I’m not completely inept.”

Although, the longer she paced, the less suited for today she felt. What was wrong with her? Hermione had met Narcissa Malfoy quite a few times at various Ministry events over the years; she was well aware of how to interact with her. Why did this time feel different?

The small clock on the mantle chimed for midday.

With a deep breath, and some Gryffindor courage, Hermione grabbed a handful of floo powder.

“Malfoy Manor,” she called and was swept away.

~

As elegantly as she could, Hermione stepped out into the greeting room.

Having attended a Christmas charity gala here once, which Malfoy had failed to return home for, Hermione was already aware of the dramatic décor changes that had been made. But now, in the light of day, she really appreciated what a difference there was to this once dreary, dark, manor.

At the gala, Narcissa had made the effort to come and talk to her directly about the remodel work that had taken place; taking extra time to point out how the layout was adjusted. The old drawing room was demolished and in its place was a courtyard space for her plethora of flowers.

It did help release the tension Hermione held for the evening.

Upon first receipt of the gala invite, Hermione had cried for an hour in panic about returning. Harry had stayed with her the entire time, reassuring her that he would remain by her side the whole night and, if she chose to leave at any point, he would go with her. The decision to attend was hers alone. Hermione was proud of herself for going. It allowed her closure on what happened there.

Standing there now, basked in the light from the large windows, Hermione realised how much she’d also changed since the war.

Narcissa entered from the doorway opposite.

“Hermione, dear. Welcome, I am so glad you could make it,” Narcissa greeted.

“Of course. Thank you for your invitation.” Hermione held out the bottle for her host. “This is for you, as thanks for having me.”

Narcissa took the wine with gentle hands. “Thank you, dear. Come through, we shall be eating shortly. Would you care for some tea first?”

The anxiety caused Hermione’s mouth to become completely void of moisture.

“Yes, please.”

Narcissa led her through the house, down various corridors and turned into what could only be described as a large conservatory.

The large glass walls shimmered in the sunlight, allowing for a complete view of the gardens. Trees towered in the distance and flower bushes of all colours lined the pathways. Inside was simplistic in style, yet warm and inviting. A small circular table sat below a large domed ceiling that refracted the lights into small rainbows. A perfect place to host an afternoon tea.

Hermione took a seat in one of the two armchairs and sank into the plush velvet cushion. It seemed to mould perfectly to the curve of her back. The comfort was short lived when Hermione jumped as a small house elf popped beside her.

“Good afternoon, Miss. Marion is wanting to know if Miss would like some tea?”

The elf was dressed in a simple black dress, not too dissimilar from Hermione’s.

“Oh!” Hermione startled. “Yes, please, earl grey if you have it.”

Marion nodded. “Of course, Miss. With or without milk?”

“With, please,” she quickly added, “and honey.”

Marion nodded again. “Of course.” Then popped out of view.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Did you not want a drink, Mrs Malfoy?”

“Please, call me Narcissa, dear.” She smiled. “Marion has been with me so long, she knows my regular drink of choice. I only specify if I wish to try something different.”

“That makes sense. I should’ve thought of that, really.”

Hermione needed to get a hold of herself. There was no way she would survive the whole afternoon at this rate, her heart was pounding.

“I want to clarify, Hermione, if the thought of my house elves working is bothering you. They are employed. They were freed during mine and Draco’s house arrest and have been paid ever since. Marion has been with me for the longest, alongside her sister Emmeline, who is now Draco’s elf, but I’m sure you’ve already met her.” Narcissa waved her hand flippantly.

Hermione frowned. “No, I haven’t. I’ve never needed to visit his flat for any reason.”

“I see.”

There was no particular meaning behind those two words. Yet it still seemed as though Narcissa was testing her.

Marion popped back into the room and snapped her fingers, their tea appearing on the table in front of them. Hermione tested a small sip, it had been cooled to the perfect drinking temperature.

“Mmm, that’s lovely,” Hermione hummed. “Thank you, Marion, that’s the perfect amount of honey.”

Marion nodded. “You’re welcome, Miss. Marion is used to adding honey for Master Draco’s tea. Marion added the same amount for you, Miss.”

Hermione blushed and avoided looking at Narcissa.

“Yes, thank you, Marion.” Narcissa added.

With a bow of her head, Marion disappeared.

“Interesting.” Narcissa placed her cup and saucer back on the table. “I didn’t realise you had such similar tea tastes as Draco. He used to use far too much sugar, if you ask me, but one year, he returned from Hogwarts having discovered honey was a much better way to sweeten his tea.”

There was a small glint in Narcissa’s eye. She delicately placed her hands on her lap and continued.

“As I was saying before our drinks arrived, it is nice that you shall get to meet Emmeline today. She is… different from Marion.”

Hermione tilted her head in question. 

“Marion has a much more understated choice of clothing, whereas Emmeline prefers boldly coloured dresses.”

“Oh, lovely.” Hermione placed her own cup down. “But, sorry, I just want to check, how is it I shall be meeting Emmeline today?”

On cue, the familiar click of dragonhide shoes echoed from down the corridor. Hermione’s eyes widened slightly.

“Mother, I would appreciate it if you could collect your own flowers next time,” Draco’s drawl rang out.

He rounded the corner to the conservatory and froze in the doorway; his face scrunched in confusion as he spotted her.

“Granger?”

Narcissa rose to greet her son.

“Darling, Hermione is joining us for dinner this afternoon. Did I forget to mention it?”

“I see.” His face was impassive.

Hermione sat silent during their exchange, frustrated that she hadn’t even contemplated the possibility of a double motive at play.

“Now, let me go and put these in some water.” Narcissa collected the flowers. “And you can show our guest to the dining room. I won’t be long.”

She rose from her chair and made her way over to the doorway.

“Hermione,” Narcissa called over her shoulder, “I should’ve said this sooner, but you look lovely today. This dress really suits you. Don’t you agree, Draco?”

It was Hermione’s favourite black dress, modest but still form-flattering. The hem stopped just above her knee, hugging her figure all the way up to the squared neckline which was adorned with diamante gems; puffed shoulders tightened into long sleeves. The velvet of the dress was soft to touch and matched the large velvet hair bow used to secure her hair in a half up/half down style. Pansy had loosened her natural curls, morphing them into soft bouncy curls. Small black strappy kitten heels finished her outfit and added a couple inches to her height but, standing beside Draco, he still eclipsed her.

A blush formed high on the tops of her cheeks as she braved a look at the steely-eyed blonde in front of her.

“Yes. She looks lovely,” Draco replied through gritted teeth. “Follow me, Granger.”

Draco placed a hand at the small of her back, scorching her skin through the fabric, and led her back down the hallway. They were silent during the walk, not that Hermione’s brain could form words even if she tried. She focused solely on the grounding of Draco’s hand on her back; the route to the dining room a haze.

With a show of manners, Draco pulled out Hermione’s chair for her. She muttered her thanks before he settled into the space to her right at the head of the table. Uncomfortably close for Hermione’s liking.

“Why are you here?” Draco questioned.

“What a lovely greeting, Malfoy. I’m here because your mother invited me.”

Hermione removed her napkin from the table and placed it across her lap.

“You could have said no.”

She rolled her eyes.

“That would’ve been rude; she simply wanted to thank me for helping you.” Her hands fidgeted under the table. “Although, had I known you were also going to be in attendance, I would’ve declined.”

He scoffed slightly, and dropped his voice low. “One thing to note about my mother. If you think her intentions behind something are ever ‘simple’, they are not.”

Hermione never had a chance to ask what he meant as Narcissa returned. 

The first course appeared instantly. A baked fig and camembert tartelette, with a small rocket salad. It was divine and it took all of her control for Hermione not to audibly moan when she took her first bite.

Hermione never really worried about her dinner etiquette, her parents were well revered within their dentistry community, and she’d attended a fair few ‘posh’ dinners when she was younger; but she had to admit her manners were going to be tested if the food was going to be this good for every course.

The moment all three sets of cutlery were placed down in finish, the plates disappeared and the dreaded small talk began.

“So, Hermione, I have heard a small amount about your work with Draco. But very little about what your full job entails. Would you mind explaining a bit about what you do for the Ministry?” Narcissa enquired.

Hermione brightened.

“Of course! I work in the Department of Mysteries, next door to Theo, in fact, although I work more in the archives of the ministry. My official rank is Unspeakable, but that’s just a fancy title.” Hermione waved it off. “I deal in information from all areas of historic magic.”

“I see. Do you find this fulfilling?” Narcissa quirked her brow.

The question threw Hermione slightly.

“Well, yes, I do, but…”

The two Malfoy’s were watching; waiting patiently.

“I suppose there isn’t really an active part to the work I do. It is based on knowledge. I either already know it, or I look up things I don’t yet know to assist others. Not much… adventure.”

“You want to be a more active voice within the wizarding community, then?” Narcissa said.

Hermione shrugged, unsure of how best to answer.

“If I can speak freely,” Narcissa enquired, “I had always assumed you would go into the law departments. Attempting to enact change within our society.”

Hermione breathed a laugh.

“I think that was what most people assumed when we left school. I thought that was what I wanted too, up until University. I found joy in my medical studies and loved learning more about our history and runes.”

Hermione nervously tapped the stem of her wine glass.

“I guess over the years it’s become slightly more of a routine and I miss the spontaneity. That’s why I’ve enjoyed working on our case.” She braved a look at Draco, who regarded her with a curious look on his face. “Not only to help capture Carrow, but because it’s given me an outlet. I think I’ve been trapped between archive shelves for a while.”

The table fell silent.

Hermione took a gulp of wine, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

Had she intended to reveal that she felt wasted in her job and that she’d enjoyed working with Draco whilst at dinner with his mother? No.

Had she, instead, babbled and felt observed like a fish in a tank? Absolutely.

In some solace, two elves popped into the room. One was Marion, now wearing a white dress, pretty and simple; the other wore a puffy dress in a garish bright pink.

Marion held up a bottle of wine towards Narcissa and proceeded to pour her a small glass. She turned towards Hermione. “Miss would like some wine with dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

Marion began to pour and Hermione noticed it was her gift. It wouldn’t surprise her to know Pansy meddled into finding out which wine would pair with their meal.

“Marion, is this your sister Emmeline?” Hermione questioned.

“Yes, Miss, I is Emmeline. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss.” The small elf bowed her head. “Emmeline has heard lots of lovely things about you Miss from Master Draco and his friends. But how is you knowing I am Emmeline?”

The elf looked puzzled.

Hermione caught a glimpse of Narcissa hiding a small smile behind her wine glass.

“Just a hunch.” She replied with a soft smile.

Draco was looking at both women strangely.

The next course was pan fried sea bass with a side of samphire, potato dauphinoise and a creamy lemon sauce. Just as delicious as their first course. Hermione fought every instinct not to shovel it down. Forgoing breakfast was not the best choice.

Conversation flitted between lighter topics over the second course. By the time Narcissa asked Draco about the case and how long they felt it would be before they could catch Alecto, dessert arrived. A lemon brulee tart with a raspberry coulis. The almost too tart lemon with the caramelised sugar crackle on top and the fresh raspberries was delightful; it reminded her briefly of her favourite lemon and blueberry cake.

“This was all delicious,” Hermione praised.

Narcissa smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. The dessert wasn’t too tart for you?”

“Granger prefers lemon desserts.” Draco answered.

Hermione whipped round to him, quick enough to catch the flash of embarrassment before his face morphed into self-scolding. The slate grey shutting off emotions in his eye.

~

The sun began to set and the burnt orange light peered over the faraway hills and refracted through the conservatory. Hermione was taken aback by the ethereal glow that encapsulated them. After the meal, Narcissa insisted on a final pot of tea before they left.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner, mother.” Draco rose from his chair. “I’m afraid I must be off. I have an early meeting tomorrow morning with Harry and the Minister. In fact, so do you, Granger.”

Hermione frowned. “Really? I didn’t receive a memo.”

“It was Harry who I received the floo-call from earlier. He asked me to pass the message along.”

Stupid, Hermione. How could she have forgotten that Harry would know she was here from Pansy.

Draco quirked a brow, “Problem?”

“No.” Yes. “I was just wondering why you’d failed to pass his message along.”

“Maybe I was just so engrossed in your lovely company, it slipped my mind.” Draco smiled far too sweetly.

“Okay.”

Hermione couldn’t wait for this to come up in conversation tomorrow. She’d intended to keep all of her friends uninformed of these plans, in hopes it wouldn’t keep fueling their incessant ridicule about her and Draco’s non-existent relationship. It would be worse now they knew he was also in attendance; at least Pansy only thought it would be her and Narcissa for dinner.

“Well, then, darlings, you both best be off. You don’t want to be out too late.”

Narcissa stood to give Draco a hug and a kiss on his cheek in goodbye. Holding her hand out to Hermione as she joined them.

“Thank you for coming today, Hermione. I have thoroughly enjoyed your company. Hopefully we can do this again soon.” Narcissa hugged her.

“Thank you for the invitation. That was truly some of the best food I’ve ever eaten, please pass my compliments to Marion and Emmeline.”

“I will dear. Draco, will you show Hermione to the floo? I would like to finish my tea before I retire for the evening.”

With a gentle smile, Narcissa gestured for them to head off before taking her seat again.

They walked in silence once again. 

Draco finally spoke as they entered the welcome room.

“You seem to have made a good impression on my mother, Granger.” His eyes narrowed. “I hope this isn’t your way of infiltrating my home.”

Hermione scoffed. “Oh please, it was your mother’s invitation. I don’t just invite myself to family dinners, Malfoy.”

There was a small smile on Draco’s face at her defensiveness.

“Earlier, you said your mother’s intention wouldn’t be simple. What did you mean?” she queried.

“I mean that I love my mother very much, but if you ever wondered where Theo, Pansy and I learned our cunning Slytherin ways, you need look no further than that lady there.”

Hermione tilted her head. “What would her motive be for bringing me here today, then?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t say, but I’m sure it’ll become apparent sometime in the future.”

Hermione bristled slightly at his non answer.

“Fine, don’t tell me.” She shrugged. “I don’t care anyway.”

Draco collected a bag of floo powder and held it out to her as she stepped into the grate. As she went to grab some, Draco pulled his arm back slightly and leaned in.

“You do look good today, Granger.”

He returned the bag towards her once more, flashing her his signature smirk. Hermione gawked slightly, before collecting a handful of powder and calling for home.

Chapter Text

“You do look good today, Granger.” He leaned close to her ear, hearing the slight hitch in her breath, stopped from pulling away as she met his gaze.

“You too, Malfoy.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “Really?”

“Well,” she shrugged, “it’s only fair I compliment you back. If you like it that much, maybe I should make this dress a more permanent feature at work.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. Distractions in our line of work are very dangerous.” He was keenly aware of how close they still were. 

As if reading his mind, Hermione slowly placed her right hand along the front of his tie before playfully pulling it through her fingers, edging him closer.

“What’s wrong with a little danger, Draco?” 

He couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“Master Draco?”

Huh.

Hermione’s voice began to sound strange.

“Master Draco?” She was getting louder.

“MASTER DRACO!”

Draco shot up in his bed. What was happening?

Emmeline stood beside him.

“Apologies, Master Draco, but Emmeline is remembering you is having an important meeting at eight o’clock and it is already seven thirty, sir. You oversleep this morning.”

Overslept? Draco was never known to oversleep. In the background, his wand was buzzing, signalling his alarm had been going off.

“Right. Thank you, Emmeline.”

Draco rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. It took a second for his brain to catch up to what just happened.

Fuck.

Draco changed hurriedly and left for work, vowing to ignore any more thoughts about his dream.

~ 

Shacklebolt had unfortunately been called away to the French ministry on a last minute seminar. So Harry decided to shift the meeting towards the bomb incident. It would now be Draco, Harry and Granger.

Great.

Granger arrived exactly on time and, to make matters worse, her curls were still soft from yesterday’s dinner; styled in a loose bun, similar to Pansy’s launch party.

Images of a sapphire floor length gown, which hugged all the right places, sped through his mind. A slit in the gown showing just enough thigh where, if you traced the line, you could follow it all the way up to her…

“What do you think, Malfoy?”

“Huh?”

“Perfect. Paying lots of attention, I see.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I was asking about what your thoughts are on the possibility of this attack not being Carrow.”

Right, the meeting about his near-death experience at the workplace, not Hermione’s thighs. 

No. Granger’s thighs, not “Hermione”. Granger’s thighs.

Wait! No. Just, Granger, no thighs.

Just Granger.

Shit.

“It’s Carrow,” Draco affirmed. “No one else would have a reason to take me out other than her.”

Harry hummed his agreement. “Investigations showed it was an erumpent potion that caused the explosion.”

“Bloody hell, Malfoy!” Granger sputtered. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Those potions are not to be messed with. How did they even get such a volatile potion in?”

Hermione — no, Granger shot to the edge of her seat.

“We believe it was placed in the box with a stabilising charm to keep the bottle still; with a small item locked in a timed stasis above it. When the timer ran out, the item dropped onto the bottle, smashing it and triggering the potion.” Harry explained.

“That makes sense,” Draco concurred, “I heard a sound of glass breaking before the explosion.”

“Had you been a less competent Auror and moved closer, you would be dead,” Harry said.

The brief silence soured the room.

“When can I come back, then?” Draco asked. “I would really like to catch her now.”

“For the rest of this investigation, it has been decided” — Harry inhaled a deep breath, releasing it in a sigh — “that the best cause of action is for you to relocate to a safe house.”

Draco fumed.

“What?! You want to banish me based on one attack?” He shot out of his seat. “This isn’t right, Potter! You know I can’t do anything trapped in some stupid safe house on my own. I need to be here!”

He slammed his hand down on the table. Potter remained calm. 

“I know, Malfoy. It wasn’t my decision. But we can’t risk another attack, we got lucky that no one was fatally injured or killed.” He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So far, we haven’t released anything about your recovery and we feel it may be best for you to lie low.”

“You want to pretend he’s out of action, don’t you?” Granger asked. “If Alecto believes the one person who stands a chance of catching her isn’t around, she may show herself.”

Harry nodded.

“That’s unfair, Harry. You know how important this is to him.”

Draco’s anger had been completely overshadowed by Herm— Granger’s defence of him. Sitting back in his chair, Draco observed her. 

“I know, Mione. It honestly wasn’t my choice. Kingsley said to remove you entirely for your safety, and I fought to keep you on.” Potter raked his hand across his face, “His compromise was you relocate somewhere she wouldn’t find you.”

There was a hazy look in Granger’s eyes. The intricate wiring in her brain seemed to be firing overtime.

“The Manor?” She offered.

Draco shook his head. “It would be one of the first places they looked for me. They can’t get to me, but I wouldn’t want my mother in harm’s way.”

She hummed her agreement. 

Draco watched as her eyes focused, her shoulders rolled straight and she took a deep breath. He waited to see what her second offer of location was, but was entirely unprepared for it.

“He can live with me.”

“What?”
“Come again?”

Both Draco and Harry looked at her as if she’d grown another head. She rolled her eyes in annoyance at having to repeat it.

“I said, he can live with me.”

“Granger, as much as I’m flattered, I don’t think we’ve reached the moving in together stage of our partnership,” Draco challenged.

“Yeah, Mione, do you think this is a good idea?”

She raised her chin, “I do. And here’s why: I live in the middle of nowhere, pretty much, I have strong protection wards around my house and can adjust them accordingly. There is also no way anyone in their right mind will assume I have Draco Malfoy living in my house. It’s the best cover, and he can still have access to anything he needs. I can just take the work home.”

Draco was still in too much shock to truly understand what she was saying.

Harry seemed to weigh his options. “It could work. What do you think, Malfoy?”

“What?” He was astonished. “I think we will murder each other.”

Was this a crazy day? Draco seemed to be the only one thinking clearly.

“To be fair mate, you thought that months ago when I first paired you together and you’re both still here,” Harry quipped. “I think this might be the best compromise for everyone involved.”

Draco thought about his options. Kingsley wouldn’t change his mind about the safe house option, and he figured Granger’s idea was the best at keeping him heavily involved in this case. Could Draco live with her, though? He wondered what it would be like to see her first thing in the morning, her hair still mussed and her face soft from sleep; or last thing before bed. Would she curl up on the sofa with a cup of tea and a book, or would she want to avoid him completely?

Only one way to find out.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a housemate, Granger.”

Some consolation was that she didn’t look any more thrilled than he was.

~

The rest of the day had been shit. Draco had been allowed to return back to his flat to pack whatever he thought was needed, not that he had any idea how long this arrangement would be for. How do you plan outfits to be trapped in someone else’s house?

One thing Draco had been adamant on was bringing Emmeline. She could still stay at the apartment, but was allowed to enter Granger’s house when called for. It didn’t feel right asking her to return to his mother, nor was it fair for her to be left alone for however long. He could tell Granger wasn’t keen on the idea, but she said yes. Draco guessed that, due to her pleasant interactions with the elves at the Manor, his mother must’ve informed her they were employed and not enslaved.

At seven thirty, Draco flooed into Granger’s living room with his belongings, and was told — under strict warning — not to leave the house without explicit instructions. Harry would come here if needed. 

Harry had left quickly, probably hoping to avoid the first argument of this arrangement.

As Draco put his cases down, Granger stopped him.

“Wait,” she said, quite forcefully in fact, “I sorted your room out. It may be easier for you to go straight up and sort your things upstairs. I can order food whilst you do, if you like? A last takeaway before I adjust the wards.” She smiled nervously.

Draco had never really had takeaway food. Not unless you counted taking leftovers from a restaurant, but he had heard good things about the Thai place Pansy mentioned in her Granger stories.

“Okay. I’ve heard you have nice Thai food.”

She smiled again. “Sure. I can show you the menu, or I can recommend something I think you’ll like.”

Draco shrugged indifferently. “I’ll take your recommendation, it worked the last time when we were at the cafe.”

She nodded. “I’ll show you your room, then order.”

Granger headed towards the stairs and Draco levitated his numerous cases up behind her; slightly put off by the beast staring at him from the top of the stairs. It was clearly not enjoying having another male presence staying in its house, which, honestly, Draco understood.

Speaking quietly so she wouldn’t hear him talking to her mangy cat, Draco said, “I’ll behave, I promise. Just don’t kill me in the night.” Before he continued on to the bedroom, he backtracked to add, “Or, become territorial and piss in my bed.”

The cat’s eyes lit up in excitement and Draco felt as though he had just given the beast a great idea.

Fantastic.

The room Draco was to sleep in was the one at the end of the hallway. When he had previously visited it was a mini library but, as Draco entered now, there was a double bed along the right side of the room opposite the bookshelves, and all of the clutter and books that were haphazardly strewn about the room before had vanished. Granger had also placed a small reading table with a lamp next to an old, brown leather armchair. It sat beside the window overlooking the garden.

“I know it’s not much, or as luxurious as what you’re used to, but it was all I could do in such short notice today.”

Draco moved towards the chair.

“I know you enjoy reading, so I thought you might enjoy spending some time reading by the window. Of course if you don’t and you prefer to read in bed then that is fine. Sometimes I read in bed as it can be nice before getting some sleep, but some find that distracting so I wanted to give you an option of where to sit. Or, of course, you can sit anywhere else in the house as I suppose it is your house now temporarily…”

She was rambling again. Her nervousness seemed to pour out of her through streams of unending speech.

“…that is of course if you need use of the kitchen whilst I’m out, and even then I’ll label anything that—”

“Granger.” He cut her off, her face flushed. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

She smiled. He liked it when she smiled.

“I know this isn’t what you signed up for all those months ago, but I appreciate all you’re doing.”

“You’re welcome, Malfoy. I understand it means a lot to you to continue working.” She tucked a small curl behind her ear. “I’ll head down and order dinner whilst you unpack. There should be enough storage space.”

Herm— no, Granger turned and made her way downstairs, petting her beast along the way.

It turned out there was more than enough storage. Granger was a lot more advanced in extension spells then she’d been letting on. It took about forty minutes to unpack and place everything how he liked. Draco had rotated the chair slightly; it would now face the direction of the sunset since he preferred to read during the evening. As he finished up, there was a knock at the front door and the smell of food wafted up. His stomach gurgled in anticipation.

~

Dinner was delicious and Draco could see why Pansy enjoyed coming round so much.

They had cleaned up for the evening and were currently sitting in the living room with their respective drinks of choice. The reality of their new living arrangements was finally settling in.

At some point in the evening, both had needed the loo at the same time, which led to an awkward you-go-first loop. Then, having forgotten he was there, Granger had changed into her pyjamas upstairs and when she returned to the living room, she shrieked with surprise at the sight of him. Draco almost stepped on the demon cat twice, which he knew would win him no favours with the fur-ball, and had walked into the side of her kitchen island four times. In his defence, it was the perfect height for tiny humans, but not for a fully grown man.

He’d only been here three hours.

At ten thirty, they had finally decided to call it for the day and head to bed. As much as this has been an odd day, the most surreal moment came as they went to part ways at the top of the stairs. Just as Draco opened his door, she called to him.

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

He froze slightly, at the odd feeling of sharing a house with Hermione Granger. He turned back with a small smile.

“Goodnight, Granger.” 

~ 

Draco always thought he was an early riser, but Granger was ridiculous. He awoke around seven and could already hear her downstairs. Not close enough yet for him to be too casually under-dressed, he threw on a pair black trousers and a loose buttoned shirt to make his way downstairs.

“Good morning,” she said cheerily. “Sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I? I always tend to wake around six in the summer. When the sun rises.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He took a seat on one of the stools at her kitchen bar and watched as she made herself some coffee. Not quite yet dressed for work, Granger was wearing a red knit jumper and a pair of muggle jeans, which he had only seen once before — and would like to see again. Her striped stocks stuck out the bottom.

“Would you like some?” she asked, her hand hovering over a second mug.

“Yes, please.”

She poured water into his cup from a strange metal jug before placing the mug of black coffee in front of him.

“Thank you.”

Draco leaned onto his elbows as he grasped the warm mug. Wait a second. Draco assessed his position.

“Granger? Have you altered this island?”

She held her own mug close, as if it shielded her and shrugged.

“I noticed you caught the edge a few times yesterday. It doesn’t really make a huge difference to me, I can still use it as I have high stools.”

It was a simple thing but it broke down a small barrier in Draco’s mind.

“Thank you.”

Granger took a drink as a small blush formed on the tops of her cheeks. “I’m heading into the office at eight, but if I make any new developments I’ll let you know when I come home.”

She blanched slightly, matching his own expression. It was odd to say home when they both lived there now.

“Okay. Would you like breakfast before you go? It’s the least I could do for letting me stay here,” he asked, taking a drink.

“Sure. Thanks, Malfoy.” Granger smiled.

“Emmeline.”

The small elf popped into the kitchen. “Hello, Master Draco.”

Granger’s smile dropped. “Malfoy, that is not what I thought you meant.”

He ignored her and continued, “Emmeline, would you mind making us some breakfast. The usual will do perfectly.”

Emmeline nodded excitedly. “Yes, sir, I’ll bring it straight here when it is finished.”

“Thank you.”

Draco looked up to see Granger stood with her hands on her hips ready to chastise him.

“Malfoy, you can’t be calling her here every day just to make you food. You will need to cook at some point.”

“And I will,” he replied. “When I’m familiar with your kitchen. Until then, you agreed she could continue to work for me.” Granger didn’t look convinced. “Besides, she loves cooking. You wouldn’t take her joy away from her, would you?”

Her eyes twitched and narrowed. “Low play, Malfoy.”

Draco grinned.

Granger excused herself to get changed and returned as their food appeared on the table in front of them. Emmeline had, of course, gotten overexcited and prepared more than usual. Today's breakfast consisted of both waffles and pancakes with various spreads and syrups, fried eggs, bacon, orange juice, fresh fruit and some yogurt with granola on top.

“This is ‘the usual’?” Granger was puzzled.

“No.” He sighed. “She is clearly excited about the idea of cooking for more than just me and I don’t tend to eat breakfast that often. She’s probably bored.”

Granger dished herself up a few items from the selection but from the way her eyes kept flitting up to Draco’s face, he could tell there was something she wanted to say.

“Yes?” he drawled.

“What?”

Draco raised his brow. “You clearly want to say something, I can practically hear your thoughts.”

He gently cut off a piece of bacon and added it to his waffle, before taking a small bite.

“I was just wondering if you would like Emmeline to move in here? With you. Or, if she would like to.”

“Oh.” He paused. “No, probably not. She likes her quarters, designed them herself, and she’s quite… particular.” He chuckled. “I actually think you would hate her living with you. She is happy enough to come when needed.”

Granger nodded.

They ate for a little while longer in comfortable silence before Granger mumbled that she would have to go to work. She explained that he wouldn’t need to worry about Crookshanks as it would take itself out when needed and said to not feed it snacks. He was on a strict diet. 

She also told him that they would adjust the wards later.

Draco bid her farewell and tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do, all day, by himself, in Hermione Granger’s house.

~

The day hadn’t been awful, just boring. 

Draco had attempted to shower not long after Granger had left, but the shower head was too short and he needed to bend at an awkward angle. He would adjust that at some point. After managing to turn the grey box in the living room on, but not quite figuring out all the buttons on the box remote, Draco had then ended up watching nearly identical instalments of some gardening thing for a few hours.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent in a staring contest with the beast. It had come downstairs sometime after three to take itself outside. Upon its return, the creature had sat in the opposing chair to Draco, and stared him down; it refused to move throughout all of Draco’s protests or bribes of secret treats that its owner didn’t need to know about.

It stayed strong until a moment before its loving owner returned, and Draco realised he was the one being babysat.

Granger had flooed in around five and quickly gone upstairs to get changed before they sorted the wards. She returned in the outfit from this morning. Not that had any connection to why his day had just slightly improved.

“Would you like coffee before we get started, Malfoy? I always find it helps me,” Hermione called from the kitchen.

Now if Draco thought hard enough, he could definitely find a game in this.

“If you think I’ll need it, Granger.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be too intense, but if you need extra energy it can keep you going.” She offered innocently.

“Hmm, I already have plenty of energy, but I’ll take a coffee anyway. You’ll have to tell me what you want me to do. You know, being our first time and all that.”

He smiled and made his way into the kitchen. Hermione had her back to him.

“Okay.” She collected a second cup from the cupboard, “It will get easier the more we do it, and it will require less time for us to finish.”

He huffed a laugh.

Granger turned, confused. He smirked and he stalked closer.

“I see, and is it always easier for you to finish after the first time?” Draco taunted, reaching her side.

A look of understanding crossed her face.

“Oh, Malfoy, you are ridiculous.”

Hermione slapped him on the chest and pushed past towards the door.

“You know that isn’t what I meant. You ridiculous arse.” Her voice lacked any real anger, more annoyance at herself for not realising sooner.

“Hey, it wasn’t all me.” Draco held his hands up in surrender. “You didn’t have to tell me that bit of information about you.”

“Piss off.”

Middle finger in the air, Granger left with her drink in hand.

Draco collected his own coffee from the side and made his way back to the living room, laughing.

Hermione had never heard him laugh. Snicker or chuckle, sure, but never a full, open laugh. She found herself rather liking it. Even if it was at her expense.

She moved on by explaining her plan.

“We’ll stand in the garden when we cast, it’s the central part of my land. I know I don’t have to explain how wards work to you, so I won’t insult you by explaining why that’s necessary.”

“Was that a compliment, Granger? That’s a first.”

Draco feigned utter shock, his hand clutched his chest and everything. Very dramatic.

By Draco’s standards that is; Theo would’ve been mock crying on the floor by now.

“Yes, well, it may be the last.” She arched her eyebrow. “I normally cast in a hexagonal system as I find it allows for more coverage and structure. Aside from the basic ones, we can add some people — and muggle — repelling ones. It’s good that you cast so they recognise your magical signature whilst you live here.”

“Sounds good.” He nodded. “Shall we get started? It will take a little while.”

She nodded.

They made their way out through her kitchen and into her conservatory. She loved sitting out here; especially when it rained. The sound of raindrops bouncing off the glass created the perfect ambience for her to read. 

Draco paused behind her, examining the space, and Hermione expected a witty remark of some kind, but it never came. 

~

It had been two hours before they had worked through every ward individually, leaving only one remaining. Draco had asked to cast that one.

“The reason this one goes on top is because it is the strongest,” he explained. “It usually deters people from breaking them as they can’t get through and, if by any chance they do, they usually don’t realise there are more layers below.”

“What did you have in mind?” She asked eagerly. 

The thought of someone else performing capable magic at an incredibly high level was exciting for Hermione; and she needed a break. She’d transfigured her jumper into a t-shirt an hour ago in hopes of minimising how sweaty she was from the constant casting. 

Draco remained in his button down shirt, but had rolled the sleeves up as well as opened a button around his collar. He looked great, annoyingly. The sheen of sweat upon his brow only added to his glow in the sunlight.

“There is a ward which I use on my own flat. I think it will work well here,” he said.

“So I can trust you not to miscast and burn down my house?” Hermione smiled as she settled onto the warm grass.

A soft smile graced his lips. “Yes, Granger, you can trust me.”

Such simple words, yet they seemed different now. Something within her had changed. Watching him now use his magic was something small; intimate. Just for her. Hermione had known when she first took on this case, there would be some element of trust needed for this partnership. Not that she hadn’t trusted him before. But not in the way needed to work with him. 

There was a gentle feeling when she thought about it; a warmth that spread through her when he was near. It felt safe. She felt proud to know the man he had become and how much he protected those he cared about. 

Hermione had been shocked with how distant she had become that day in the DMLE. If anyone was to ask, she would say her first thought had been Harry. That would be a lie. 

It was Draco.

Something in her gut ached with worry for him. As if she knew, even before the lift had reached its destination, that it was Draco who had been injured. Hermione had come to trust him more than he would know. She didn’t heal him because he was her partner. She saved him, because he had already saved her.

The soft lull of his voice drew her back to the spellwork. Draco’s wand work was smooth, elegant, as natural as breathing. He really was an incredible wizard. Hermione focused on the symbols he cast and recognised he was using a runic based charm. 

Uruz. Isa. Algiz. Hagalaz.

“You’re casting runes.”

Draco paused, looked back at her and nodded in confirmation. She stood from her position on the grass and made her way closer to observe.

“Why are you using that spell to apply them, though?”

“You know a lot more about runes than me, Granger,” he stated. “What’s the answer?”

Draco waited. He didn’t push or judge; just waited for her to figure it out.

Hermione rushed through all of the relevant knowledge. She didn’t want to make him wait too long; although Draco looked as though he was in no rush.

“Runes work by carving them into the intended object. Your spell acts as a knife to carve them into the ward itself.”

He smiled widely. She loved it when he smiled.

“Ten points to Gryffindor.” Her skin bristled at the praise. “I found this spell to be the most effective method and why this ward is so difficult to break through.”

“Because to completely eliminate runes, they must first be removed, and then the host object destroyed. Otherwise residual magic still lingers.” Hermione stood taller, reminiscent of her answering a professor’s question correctly. “But why do you choose those specific ones?”

Draco began to cast again, using each rune placed to explain his reasoning. “Uruz, for strength and courage. Isa, for clarity; to help see problems more clearly. Algiz, for protection and defence of the house. Hagalaz, for overcoming obstacles.”

Hermione nodded her approval. “Good choices, but may I add one more?”

“By all means, it is technically your house.”

Draco showed her the spell and motion for his carving spell and he stepped back to allow her to try.

She succeeded the first time.

Hermione carved an X into the air, linking either side with a vertical line from each corner.

Dagaz.

“For hope.” She smiled. 

There was a guarded look in his eyes.

“Hope.” He replied.

Chapter Text

Two weeks of Hermione and Draco living together passed without too much drama. She would wake before him and shower before getting dressed and heading downstairs. At seven he would stroll down, most recently in some loose fitting pyjama trousers — which she most definitely did not appreciate — and join her for a coffee before she left for work. Draco spent his days drawing up maps and plans whilst she would research through the archives for any mentions of links to King Arthur.

Then, at five, Hermione would floo home and they would eat dinner together; made by either herself or Emmeline, and spend the rest of the night going through what the other had found that day. 

Hermione liked the routine they’d forged for themselves. 

Aside from a few teething problems, like Draco accidentally walking in on her in the shower once — thank Merlin for shower curtains — and a few heated discussions about work, it had been rather pleasant.

It must’ve been boring for Draco, though. Hermione tried to bring as much new material back for him as she could, so there was always something to do. She had finally taught him how to use the television to help pass the time; he really enjoyed the cooking shows, apparently. Ironic, really.

But, despite the distractions, it was still not an ideal situation.

Whilst having lunch with Harry in his office on Wednesday, Hermione proposed a plan that would benefit their work, but would hopefully get Draco out of the house for a couple hours.

“I really think it would do him good to get out for a while,” Hermione pleaded. “Plus, I may need backup.”

“Then I’ll come with you.” Harry held his hand up to cut off her next objection. “I understand Hermione, I really do but I can’t just let Malfoy out for a couple of hours, unprotected. What if you’re attacked? Kingsley would kill me.”

He shoved a handful of chips into his mouth and Hermione chuckled.

“No, he wouldn’t. You’re probably the only one he would let off. Harry, you have my word we will be careful, I’ll take the necessary precautions. A costume, glamour, anything.”

He groaned. Hermione was wearing him down, she could see it. Just one more thing.

“I’ll owe you one.”

After a few more seconds, Harry conceded. 

“Fine.”

Hermione did a small fist pump under the table.

“But no one can know and you need to disguise him extremely well. Spell him, ward him, make him believe he is an entirely different person. Whatever it takes, okay?”

“Yes, Harry, thank you.”

Hermione shot up and hugged him tightly. He chuckled slightly and hugged her back.

“Wow.” Harry raised an eyebrow, “All of this to go on a day date with Draco Malfoy, eh?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry. I take my hug back.”

There was a smile on both their faces; she didn’t technically deny it.

Hermione took a sip of her tea and allowed her eyes to roam the mess that was Harry’s office — she really wished he would let her organise it. 

Harry’s wand buzzed, signalling the end of his lunch hour. He let out a sigh as he threw the burger wrapper in the bin.

“I suppose I should get back to work, then. I’ve still got quite a lot of information to add to that.” He pointed to the geo-board in the corner. “Don’t tell Draco, but it really comes in handy.”

Hermione frowned. “Why would telling Draco be an issue?”

“He just gets insufferable whenever we mention how helpful his board is.”

“His board?” she questioned. “Did he buy it for the DMLE, then?”

Harry scoffed, “I wish he’d only bought it. He invented the damn thing.” He shook his head. “His ego inflates whenever we use it.”

Hermione was shocked. She’d known how impressive the magic behind the board was and understood what an incredible show of magic it was. But knowing Draco created it, Hermione, yet again, was confronted with the realisation that Draco Malfoy was, annoyingly, a very talented wizard.

~

When her day ended, various folders in hand, Hermione eagerly ran to the floo to go back to Draco and tell him the good news. The green flames roared around her and she stepped out to see him in his usual spot with Crookshanks sitting on the armchair opposite. Strange. Crooks only ever sat in the living room if she was around.

“How was your day, Granger? Much the same as the last few weeks I’m guessing.” Draco asked listlessly, not moving from his position.

“No, actually.” Hermione placed her folders on the table and faced him. “I have some good news.”

Draco raised his eyebrows in question.

“I have figured out where to start our quest for the Grail and…” She paused for dramatic effect. Not that he seemed too enthralled. “Harry has said you can accompany me. You just need to be disguised, for obvious reasons.”

A slight shock brushed over Draco’s face before his neutrality returned.

“I see, and where shall we be going on our little trip out of town?”

“To see the Lady of the Lake.”

~

Hermione was nervous. Caught up in her excitement of discovery, and the fact Harry had actually agreed to let Draco accompany her, she hadn’t fully comprehended the potential danger of their trip. Although she had scouted the location out beforehand, and there was no possible way anyone knew what they were doing, the worry began to rise.

She was sure there had been a flicker of happiness in Draco’s face on Wednesday at the idea he would finally be able to go outside somewhere other than her garden.

They both agreed to go early Saturday morning to try and avoid as many people as possible.

So, at five o’clock, Hermione made her way into the living room.

Their final destination of Wales would be far too hard on their bodies for one jump, so Hermione planned a midway point. Harry would be on call the entire time if needed, all they needed to do was tap Draco’s Auror badge three times and he could apparate straight to them.

Draco trudged downstairs, looking far more grumbly at this time of the morning. Hermione handed him a mug of coffee in hopes some caffeine would improve his mood before they left.

Merlin forbid I’m stuck with a moody Malfoy all day.

“Ready, Granger?” he asked groggily, gulping down the liquid mood enhancer.

She nodded. “The real question is: are you ready to be a brunette, Malfoy?”

Draco grimaced. “Is that really necessary? Could I not just change my face slightly, or at least not go brunette.”

“Nope.” She said far too excitedly. “It needs to be more than a simple glamour and I promised Harry we would be careful. But, if you don’t want to be a brunette, that’s fine,” she paused, “I could always make you ginger.” A smile tugged at her mouth.

He looked as though she had just vomited slugs all over his shoes. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh.

“Absolutely not. Brunette it is.”

Draco stood in front of her and she withdrew her wand. It took a few different spells to alter his appearance properly; his hair changed to a dark brown with a bit more length, his eyes adjusted to a slightly deeper blue — like when he was laughing amongst friends — and Hermione changed his face shape to be slightly more rounded.

He ended up looking like a distant cousin of Harry.

She didn’t like it.

“All done.” Hermione tucked her wand into her bun. “Don’t look in the mirror, you’ll hate it.” 

Draco looked anyway. Then scowled as his reflection as if it had cursed his entire family.

Draco turned away quickly. “You’re one hundred percent sure this is the correct place? We can always check again.”

“Yes. I believe I have located the lake where, if someone wished to summon the Lady of the Lake, they would try here.”

“How exactly do we summon a mythological female nymph?”

“With a hope that my research is correct.” 

Draco offered a small smile. “Then I’m confident we’ll find her.”

Hermione released a nervous breath, her shoulders relaxing.

To be on the safe side, Hermione glamoured her hair, one of her most recognisable features, into a sleek bun of warm strawberry-blonde to avoid any nosy wizards. Once in the muggle world, she could find a small, hidden, corner and return it to the normal brown mess of curls atop her head. 

They both stepped into the floo and headed for the Leaky Cauldron.

~

Hermione was thankful to her past self for putting quite a bit of thought into the quickest route there. They had arrived at the apparition point at exactly five forty-five and begun the small walk to the lake. Aware that Llyn Ogwen was a popular muggle tourist spot, Hermione also had the foresight to cast anti-detection charms which would allow them to move without being seen by any stray muggle who decided on an early morning hike.

Sanding at the end of the lake, they took a moment to examine the view before them. 

A cool mist rolled across the lake from the early morning dew. A grand expanse of clear, deep blue water was ahead of them; the end disappeared into the two mountains either side, off in the distance. The wind was warm and the water looked cool and refreshing. The air smelled crisp, with a hint of freshly mowed grass from the meadows further away.

Hermione wanted to cup the liquid and drink, as if it would’ve been the purest water she ever tasted.

Draco interrupted her moment of calmness.

“What do we do now?”

Hermione pulled a small necklace from her pocket and held it in her hand. It was a simple gold chain with a pendant containing a small red gem; a gift from her parents for being sorted into Gryffindor.

“Everything I read indicated that a sort of sacrifice has to be made. Nothing serious, just enough to show her you have a true intention of seeking her. I’m not quite sure what to expect after that.” She turned the stone between her fingers, hesitating as to whether to part with it.

She looked up and saw Draco staring down at her, assessing in his gaze.

There was no malice anymore when Draco looked at her. Not since school. But, the more she looked, the less she could read him. He would always be an equation she couldn’t quite solve and, if she ever did, she may have the key to who the real Draco Malfoy was.

“Ready?” She asked, tentatively.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

Hermione took a deep breath, found her Gryffindor courage and began to walk into the cold lake ahead of them. Sensing Draco tense behind her, she turned to him. The unease on his face was evident; so Hermione held her hand out in offering.

He hesitated to take it.

“Do you trust me?”

Draco didn’t speak but responded by walking towards her, taking her outstretched hand in his.

She hadn’t held his hand like this before. Hermione had grabbed him, and even hugged him, out of heightened emotion, but holding his hand in comfort was new. Hers seemed so small compared to his; it was warmer than she’d imagined and Hermione could feel the small calluses forming on his fingertips from his years of duelling.

They walked further into the water until it reached her stomach.

It was freezing and Hermione began to shiver. With a final look at Draco, Hermione raised the hand containing the necklace to her heart, closed her eyes, and began to recite her intention to meet the nymph. As she opened them again Hermione threw the chain out into the water.

Nothing happened.

There was no sign of anything or anyone.

“Maybe I was wrong.”

Hermione released his hand and wrapped her arms around herself, bowing her head in disappointment; not only for her incorrect guess, but for the fact that she had brought Draco all this way, freezing his bollocks off in a lake in Wales, just for it to be a wasted journey.

“Let’s give it a moment, Granger. You never know, maybe it’s been a while and she’s not ready to see people. Merlin knows how long you women take to get ready.”

She laughed, appreciating his attempt to cheer her up. Hermione looked up at him again and Draco smiled fully at her.

Even though, an that moment, he didn’t look like Malfoy, Hermione knew she could recognise that smile anywhere. She had memorised it the day she first saw it, wanting to be the one to make him smile like that.

Forever.

As that thought entered her mind, the wind rushed around them; warm and inviting.

It enveloped them in a whirl of mist from the lake’s surface before, all of a sudden, it stopped. Hermione was no longer cold and the water around them felt warm; it was as if she had just stepped into a warm bath at the end of the day. Her muscles relaxed under the heat. She looked at Draco to see if he had felt it too and jumped at the sight of familiar blonde hair.

“Oh, no, Draco! Your glamour has gone. Quick! I need to recast them.”

Hermione scrambled to collect her wand from her bag.

An unfamiliar voice spoke from beside them. “There is no need child. You cannot be seen here.”

Hermione let out a squeak of surprise and they both turned to see a figure standing in the water with them.

She was draped in a flowy white fabric; as if her dress itself was part of the water, curling around her figure. Pale skin glowed in the light and hair, as dark as raven’s feathers, fell down to her waist. She looked ethereal and the power that radiated from her was immense.

Hermione’s mouth seemed glued and her eyes widened in awe at the beautiful water deity ahead of them. Draco had frozen, ram-rod straight, beside her; also void of anything to say — for once. Gathering her Gryffindor courage from deep within, Hermione swallowed the unnatural amount of saliva that had gathered in her mouth, and stepped forward.

“You’re Nimue, aren’t you?” Hermione asked curiously.

“If you wish me to be. I have had many names throughout time.”

Her voice was soft and melodic, as if anything she said could put you into a trance.

“We are looking for an item,” Hermione explained. “We believe it to be the Grail.”

“I see.” Nimue didn’t seem to be surprised by their reasoning for seeking her. “What do you wish to do with it?”

“Nothing.” Hermione answered quickly and honestly. “We just want to try and find it first before someone bad gets their hands on it.”

Nimue seemed to contemplate this idea. It was likely an odd request of someone looking for the Grail but not with the intention of using it.

“The Grail is not an item which follows the rules of your earthly plane. It cannot just be summoned. It must be earned.”

“We will do what’s necessary.” Hermione stepped forward. “Would you happen to know where we might find it, or what it may look like?”

“I can point the direction out to you,” Nimue revealed, “but I cannot tell you how to achieve your goal. I also cannot tell you what you are looking for. The Grail can change to fit the needs of the seeker. It has been a chalice, a cauldron and a tray. It has been many more and yet much less.”

“Any help you can give will be very much appreciated,” Hermione said.

Nimue turned her attention to Draco.

“You are silent. Why do you speak not?”

He cleared his throat.

“I must admit I am at a loss for words.” He faced Hermione. “This has been her endeavour and I am simply here for support. Although I want to find the Grail for the same reason, I haven’t done much work to get here. It’s only fair that she gets the time to talk to you.”

She seemed to consider his answer. A soft smile on her lips indicated she was happy with what he said.

“The item you seek
Shall be found where it was lost
The trials await
As the seasons change
And the hoarfrost can roam true
The open of Yule.”  

Hermione’s eyes lit up at the riddle set before her, excited to have a new challenge.

“Thank you, m’Lady.” 

With a small nod and gentle smile, Nimue disappeared before them, sending another gust of wind swirling around the pair.

Silently, they returned back to the water’s edge and once dry, they began their journey back to their apparition point. Hermione was cold and wet — again, and Draco’s disguise had been put back in place once they exited the ‘in-between’. Even so, she was giddy.

“I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I guessed it right.”

“Wait,” Draco paused, “guessed?”

“I did research it, but it doesn’t specify the exact lake and there are quite a few. I narrowed it down to this one and—” she trailed off, lost in a thought.

“And where? Granger?” He waved his hand in front of her face, pulling her back.

“Sorry. I was just thinking, where did Alecto visit in Wales?”

“Somewhere near Snowdonia, we couldn’t pinpoint an exact location around the mountains. Why?”

“Because I think she chose the wrong one.”

A smile broke out on Hermione’s face and she ran towards the apparition point.

Draco chased after her, calling her name. She could barely hear, so focused on if her theory was true. Just as she stopped to apparate he caught up and grabbed her arm.

“Fucking hell, Granger. Slow down and tell me what’s going on.” He seemed panicked.

“When I was trying… to figure out… which lake was the correct one, it was between here and Llyn Tegid.” Hermione struggled to breathe. “What… ultimately led me here was that it is closer to Mount Snowdon. Oh my God!”

She panted, bending over to place her hands on her knees.

“But, maybe Carrow just read it as Snowdonia, the whole park, and what if she chose the wrong one. We should go and see if there is anything there that could help us locate her.”

She stood, regaining use of her lungs again. 

Merlin, I need to work out.

“But, Harry, only said to come here and go straight back.” Draco raised his eyebrow. “You aren’t disobeying orders are you, Hermione?” He smirked.

Her mouth dropped open and he snickered at her confusion.

“What?” He shrugged. “I thought since you called me Draco earlier, you clearly feel we’re close enough for first names.”

“Huh? Wha—”

She recalled the incident of the lost glamour.

“Oh, no, that was just a panic thing. Please, just call me Granger.”

There was no way her composure could deal with him calling her by her given name. Although the way ‘Hermione’ rolled off his tongue had sent a shiver down her spine. He almost purred it. She didn’t even recall saying his name at the time; Hermione avoided it now due to her friends; constant joking.

“Please.”

Something flickered behind those dark blue eyes.

“Okay, since you asked so nicely. Lead the way then, Granger.” His tone was almost playful, but his timbre was low.

She tried not to focus on the way it made her feel as she grabbed his arm and spun them away.

With a crack, they reappeared towards the edge of the second lake. It seemed eerier somehow but Hermione couldn’t quite put her finger on it. They disillusioned themselves in case Carrow did happen to be there, and made their way further down the side of the water.

As they approached the midway point, Hermione felt a little disheartened that they weren’t going to find anything but Draco tensed beside her.

“There are wards here. I can sense the change in the air.” 

He cast a few detection charms. They didn’t indicate anyone was present, but they did show the blurred outline of a small building hidden behind some defence wards.

“It’s a house of some sort,” he said, “My guess is that Alecto was using it to stay in whilst looking for the Grail.” He raised his wand once more and began dismantling the wards.

“Wait!” she shouted quickly.

Draco paused.

“If we do something now and Carrow comes back, she will know we were here. Your magical signature may be present and she’ll know you aren’t as ‘out of action’ as we’ve made you seem. Let’s leave for now and tell Harry. He may be able to come back with us to investigate.”

Hermione could tell he didn’t particularly like the idea, but knew that it was the smartest choice. He voiced his agreement and they returned to their apparition point before leaving for home.

~

They stepped back through her floo and Hermione removed the glamour she had, once again, placed on her hair, before removing all of Draco’s.

“There, back to normal.” She smiled.

“I’m surprised you weren’t more fond of me as a brunette.” He quipped. “Your track record with my blonde hair is not as fun.”

“No, but I’ve grown to like it; something about it suits you. To be honest, you looked too much like Harry and it was a bit off putting.”

Draco barked a laugh. “True. I guess it’s bad enough that he has to look like that all the time, without me copying.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and proceeded to the kitchen. She would definitely need more coffee to begin figuring out Nimue’s riddle. 

She carried the cups into the living room and cleared space on her living room floor before she accio'd various books and maps, spreading them around the space. Draco took a seat beside a few tomes which depicted the battles of King Arthur.

“Well at least we know one thing.” Hermione said as she joined him. “We are definitely ahead in finding this damn grail. Alecto won’t stand a chance.”

Chapter Text

Draco awoke Sunday morning no different to how he had been for the past week: Painfully hard and uncomfortable.

Thoughts of Granger were invading his sleep and, as much as he thoroughly enjoyed them, he did not enjoy having to sneak into the bathroom every morning just to release the tension.

It was always worse during the week when she would wake before him; reality bled into his dreams and he would awaken to sounds of Granger in the shower, humming gently to herself, completely unaware of the torture she caused him. He had taken to wearing loose pyjama bottoms to find some comfort from his tight dress trousers.

Last night’s dream was especially fun as Draco now had the pleasure of hearing her use his first name; chanting it over and over as he brought her to the edge in some hidden cabin by a lake.

Maybe a little on the nose after yesterday, but he’d take what he could get.

It surprised him to hear it fall so effortlessly from her lips. Even in her moment of shock, it sounded beautiful. Unlike how anybody had said it before. And Draco wanted more. He wanted her to use it whilst making coffee, whilst calling him for dinner, offering him a book to read; held against the wall, screaming it into his mattress, in the shower or over his office desk. 

Merlin, he was deranged.

The time alone allowed him to think, and nothing gets you to be honest with yourself quite like solitude.

Draco reflected on their relationship and he couldn’t help but admit that he harboured feelings for her. Maybe he always did in some small part of his soul, but he could pinpoint exactly when it all changed. 

The night in the Manor.

Yes, she became more attractive as they grew up throughout Hogwarts; shedding her goody two shoes image in that stupid fucking periwinkle dress. But after the Manor, something in him felt drawn to her.

Draco had seeked her out during the battle for reassurance that she was still alive. Feeling joy when he finally saw her in the room of requirement, only to have the Weasel ruin it. Prick. He didn’t deserve her in the first place and then treated her like shit. It made Draco’s blood boil just thinking about it.

He headed down to the living room and observed the mess that was their Saturday evening research session. They hadn’t managed to come up with a complete answer yet, but had a few ideas of where to look for the Grail’s lost location.

“Morning,” Granger called cheerily from the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

When Granger brought their drinks in, he saw that she hadn’t changed out of her pyjamas. She stood in a small pair of muggle pyjama shorts and an oversized quidditch jersey, belonging to bloody Potter, which hung slightly off of her shoulder — which Draco pointedly refused to look at as it seemed she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Fucking brilliant. He immediately regretted his decision to come down for the day.

“I think we should start with locations first today, I think I’ve figured out the latter part of her riddle.” She said happy as ever, unaware of his discomfort.

Draco silently agreed and sat, attempting to hide his developing problem by crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. The loose trousers were comfortable, but afforded no privacy — something he was sure Granger had appreciated before.

‘The item you seek/ shall be found where it was lost/ the trials await. 
As the seasons change/ and the hoarfrost can roam true/ the open of Yule.’

The first part was clearly the location, and the second, the time. They figured that much out yesterday.

“My guess,” Granger stated, sitting across from him, “is we were right about the date being the first day of the Yule celebrations, which would make it December 21st. Since hoarfrost means the time when frost is coating the grass to appear ‘old’, it makes sense to be in mid-winter. I think that all coincides with each other.” Granger stated.

“Yes, I agree.” He raised a brow at her, “You know what this means?”

She frowned, curious.

He stood — making sure to angle his hips away from her just in case — and strolled over to the box in the far corner and pulled out an item, holding it up for her to see.  “It’s red string time.”

She smiled and joined him by the map.

~

Quite a few hours passed before they settled on a few options for a location that seemed plausible. It would be a tricky endeavour as they wouldn't be sure if they were in the right place until the very day, when something would happen, and they may only be able to apparate to two locations. Their top choice at the moment was a reference from an old tale about a wanderer, who had buried the grail at the foot of a tower. Supposedly, at the entrance to the underworld, but Draco believed that it just meant a separate plane, almost like the one they visited with Nimue. 

Deciding Granger should be using her weekend to relax and not work, Draco called Emmeline for an early dinner and the two of them enjoyed the rest of their Sunday off.

Emmeline had slowly become a part of their routine, as Granger warmed to the idea of her working. She was allowed to cook dinner for them only if Draco invited her to eat alongside. If Emmeline wanted to decline, she could, but Granger said she wouldn’t have Emmeline feel as though she was not welcome in the house with them. More often than not, Emmeline declined their invitations for dinner, opting for joining Draco during the weekdays for lunch; much to Granger’s disappointment.

As the sun began to slowly lower behind the surrounding trees, Draco mused over the last two days as he finished the last of his food.

“I think I might know what Carrow is looking for.”

Granger pulled her attention to him.

“You remember Nimue said that the grail is an item which doesn’t follow our rules and can become anything?” She nodded. “Well, she made a reference to it once being a cauldron. Just before my office was blown to pieces, I was working through different variations of what the grail had been rumoured as, and one was a cauldron given to Bran the Blessed.”

“The half giant king?” 

“Of course you know who he is.” Draco chuckled at her flushed appearance. “It was said that he received a cauldron that could bring back the dead.”

“And you think that is what she wants?”

“I do. I believe she wants to bring back her brother. There is a catch, of course. No one can truly return from the dead, it is unnatural. The choice was you could bring them back, but they cannot speak. It was supposed to be a way of maintaining order. Those who returned would find themselves driven mad by the inability to speak and would choose to part from this world again.”

Granger contemplated this for a little while. Suddenly, she stood and collected her glass, and the wine bottle from the table, nodding for him to follow.

The mess was, still, spread everywhere and it only left her sofa free to sit on. Draco awkwardly sat beside her, trying to give her some space. Granger topped up his glass, before refilling her own and asked the question Draco knew she had been holding onto.

“You had something to do with Amycus’ death, didn’t you?”

He took a large swig of his wine, unable to hold her eyes, and nodded.

“How does she think you are involved?” she asked with no judgement in her voice. “I assumed that was what the threat meant when she sent it after the explosion. But, it was a literal war zone at Hogwarts, she can’t think you are the sole person who caused his death.”

Both of them had already drunk quite a bit of wine during dinner; the bottle was nearly empty and Draco could tell that she was affected. Her cheeks were rosy and that familiar blush across her collarbone was back and, as much as he wanted to deny it, the lack of his frequent evening drinks with the snakes had made the wine less tolerable. Draco had enjoyed the light mood of the evening and was cautious to tread too far into deep water and reveal the truth.

“I saw him aiming to attack someone, and I retaliated without thinking. I sent a curse his way but I missed and hit the wall behind him. I simply wanted to delay his attack, but the wall was already seriously damaged and it collapsed on him. He couldn’t cast a shield quick enough.” His answer was calculated. “Alecto doesn’t just think I had something to do with it; she wants me dead because I killed him.”

Silence.

Granger gave no indication of what she thought and, for once, her expression was unreadable. She edged closer towards him, raising her hand from her lap. If she was going to slap him, Draco would understand. To keep a very important piece of information from her was selfish; especially when it could affect how she viewed him as her partner and had been the reason why the office had been attacked. One of her friends could’ve been killed.

Draco braced himself.

She gently placed her hand on his forearm and gazed up at him with her big, brown eyes. Open and forgiving; it was comforting.

“It’s okay.” She smiled softly. “Thank you for telling me. I understand now why this is so personal for you.” Draco fell deeper into those pools of warm amber. “But I want you to know that just because you took a life, it doesn’t change anything. You were acting out of instinct to protect and not with bad intent; that makes a difference. I acted in ways that I’m not happy with during the war, when it came to life or death. You have to choose to live.”

Draco couldn’t find any words. It was a mess inside his head. He couldn’t quite believe her understanding of the situation, but there was more to the story and Draco could see that Granger knew it.

“May I ask who Amycus was planning to attack?” Her voice was gentle.

He smiled apologetically. “I don’t think we’re ready for that yet, Granger. Maybe further down the line.”

She accepted his hesitance and removed her hand.

Once their current bottle of wine was empty, Granger headed once more to the kitchen and returned with another in hand.

“In the realm of being truthful and breaking down walls, I say we play a game,” she said with a cunning smile.

“Interesting. Rules?”

“We can ask each other anything but, in the interest of not going too far, we each get three skips. In case anything is too personal that we aren’t ready to share yet. Deal?”

He grinned. “Deal.”

~

The first hour was relatively safe questions; neither delved too deep straight away. No skips had been played yet, although Granger was close when Draco asked about the polyjuice potion incident of second year. 

Draco had spent so long laughing that Granger managed to go upstairs, fetch her hairband and collect some more drinks from the kitchen before he had finished. He would most definitely be asking Harry for his memory of her as a cat, in exchange for whatever Harry wanted.

The only alcohol left was firewhisky, so they swapped to shots. This may have been a mistake.

“Okay, would you ever sleep with Pansy again?” Granger asked.

She’d moved closer throughout the questions and was now using his leg as a way to keep her feet warm. Draco could cast a warming charm but found he preferred this more.

“No. We are more like family now. When we were together, it was mostly a convenience thing for both of us; she just liked to act in public. Pans basically pissed off after fourth year anyway. Got bored, I guess.” He scoffed. “Well, that, and she was annoyed I paid her no attention at the yule ball.”

He caught his blunder right as the words left his mouth, but it was too late.

“Why was that?” she asked.

Draco ran his hand through his hair. “A room full of witches all dressed up. I was a teenage boy, you do the math.” Good cover. “And, I believe that was two questions. So that means I get two.”

She rolled her eyes and Draco took his chance.

“What happened with you and Weasel?”

Granger threw back a shot, grimacing at the burn.

“He cheated. With Lavender whilst she was visiting him at practise. He told me it was the once but I don’t believe him. I thought if I could make myself believe it was just a one night stand I would feel better, but I didn’t.” She tipped some more liquor into her glass. “Right my turn.”

“No, I get two. Remember?”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Was Weasel actually any good in bed?”

Granger snorted a laugh, “No.”

This put a huge smile on Draco’s face.

“He tried, but I don’t think it ever felt right between us. It was a bit of a learning curve going from friends to more than that. Although, I can assume Lavender wasn’t as pleased as she hoped she’d be. My guess is he hasn’t improved much from when they were together the first time.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He looks like he couldn’t tell which way up he’s meant to be. Probably does about thirty seconds of foreplay before expecting to shove it in. Or worse, expect the woman to do all the work.”

She hummed in agreement.

Draco’s mind flashed back to her bedroom admissions at his birthday dinner.

“Is that why you felt the need to search elsewhere for your pleasure? Not that I’m judging, just interested in who’s on the receiving end of your handcuffs.”

She groaned. “I knew that would come back to haunt me at some point. Fine, get on with the jokes.”

“I’m not joking. I think it’s admirable that a woman who isn’t getting the attention she deserves should go out and find it. I personally wouldn’t know an unsatisfied woman, but that’s just me.”

“Oh, really.” She cocked her eyebrow. “So if I asked Pansy if she was happy every time, she would agree?”

“I’d bet on it.”

“Cocky, aren’t you?”

“You could say that.” His smirk returned to his face at his dual meaning. “Would I know any of your other conquests?” he asked, and it did sound as innocent as he intended.

Smooth. Nicely done, me.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “A few.”

His eyebrows raised slightly. “I see. Let’s play a new game then, for everyone I guess correct, you drink and for any I get wrong, I drink.”

“You’re on, Malfoy.” She seemed extremely confident. “You’re aiming for five. Excluding Ron.”

“Hmm, okay. Another Weasley?”

“Not very specific,” she chided, “but, no. It didn’t feel right.”

Draco tipped back the burning liquid.

“Although,” she added, “Charlie is pretty fit.”

He choked slightly and she giggled. His chest panged slightly at the thought of her finding another man attractive, but then, he was also trying to guess other people she’d slept with so Draco wasn’t doing himself any favours.

“Krum?” he ventured forth.

She didn’t answer but took a drink. He narrowed his eyes.

“Interesting. Okay, maybe another quidditch player,” he said. Her eyes flit away, trying to hide her face from revealing anything. “Wood.”

She huffed and took another drink.

He chuckled.

“McLaggen?” Draco hoped not.

“Eugh, no. In his dreams.”

“I give up. I can’t think of any other wizards worthy of taking you to bed. And even then I would argue about Wood, the only thing bigger than his reputation for quidditch is his reputation with witches.”

“Yes, another wizard who slept around a lot and clearly learned nothing.” He laughed at her statement. “The others were Michael Corner, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie.”

“Macmillan? But he’s with Padma.”

“Obviously it was before that, Malfoy. That’s three drinks for you then.” Her typical ‘I’m superior’ face was on.

Draco took his three shots in succession. He wouldn’t be getting out of bed tomorrow.

Granger was sitting even closer now, close enough that if he leaned forward even an inch, he would be able to whisper in her ear all the things alcohol ceases to censor.

“Are there any more wizards on your to-do list? I would gladly help you in narrowing them down.” Draco was looking at her intently.

“I’m not currently looking for another one night stand. Why? Have any suggestions?” She met his eye.

Draco edged forward slowly.

“Maybe? It depends what you are looking for. Do you want to be in charge? Or are you looking for a man who can take the lead; who you can trust to guarantee your pleasure above all else.” Her breath caught. “Do you want gentle touches, barely there but charged,” his breath along her ear echoed his words, sending a visible shiver down her back, “or someone who is rough and commanding; to pick you up against the wall and have you begging for release until you feel like your body is going to explode?”

It was almost imperceptible, but Draco was sure he heard a small yes escape on her breath.

Leaning back ever so slightly, her eyes were heavy lidded and the flush had come back even stronger than before; the soft red matched the colour of her wine-stained lips, plush and begging to be touched. She looked perfect with the firelight on her face. When she opened her eyes fully, they locked onto him; her pupils were blown wide.

She leaned in ever so slightly, as if to kiss him. He would’ve let her. In that moment there was no one else, no world outside of this moment of him and her. He leaned in slowly.

Meeeeoooooowwww!

Crookshanks screeched from the staircase.

Reality pulled them back and she retreated, standing from the sofa swaying mildly.

“Right. I have just thought it is very late, we are very drunk and I have work in”— she looked at her clock —“six hours.”

Draco nodded and rearranged himself on the sofa. She looked around the room.

“I’ll just tidy this before I go up.”

With a wave of her wand, the books, files and papers began to pile themselves up neatly onto the table. The only thing left was their map of red string but in her drunken state, she struggled to accio it all off correctly, and ended up entwined within it.

“Shit.” She mumbled.

“Wait, Granger, hold still. I’ll give you a hand.” Draco said as he pushed off of the sofa.

He attempted to pull her out but, instead, just wound more knots around their hands. Both now sufficiently tangled, they stared at each other in disbelief, and began laughing at their predicament.

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll remove my left hand as you remove your right, and then hopefully the string will slide off. Ready?” She nodded.

They both pulled their hands out at the same time; creating enough tension to release the string. They chuckled again at the muddled pile of red twine at their feet.

In Hermione’s moment of distress, a curl had fallen loose from her ponytail and sat along the side of her face. Without hesitation, Draco reached up to tuck the curl behind her ear; his fingertip grazed along her cheekbone, her skin was soft and warm from the ridiculous amount of alcohol they had consumed this evening. Draco wasn’t actually sure how they were both standing.

But they were.

Face to face, once again. Stuck in a moment of tenderness.

Hermione gazed up at him and Draco swore that one look in those big, brown eyes would be enough to make a man go mad. He would do anything she asked. She could swallow you up in her eyes and make you feel safe forever. It would only take a step. A little closer. He could do it.

Would she kiss him back? From how she had responded earlier, Draco thought she would.

But he also thought she would regret it in the morning. 

He lowered his hand, “Goodnight, Granger.”

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

Draco made his way up to his room without looking back, and when he finally crawled into bed, he thought about the evening.

What the actual fuck just happened?

Chapter Text

Hermione had not been avoiding Draco for…ten days now.

She would tell you that she was resolutely not doing that.

There was most definitely no way Hermione thought about kissing her new housemate. Absolutely not.

Or, that their Q&A session had made her question any feelings she may have towards him.

So the idea that Hermione Granger was avoiding Draco Malfoy was a complete and utter fabrication.

It was just mere coincidence that any time Draco entered or occupied a room, Hermione no longer had the desire to be in there.

She’d also managed to acquire extra work, which kept her out of the house for longer each day. Although she felt bad for leaving Draco on his own a lot more — Merlin knows how mind numbing it must be, she couldn’t be around him after their near kiss. It was completely an alcohol induced situation which should never, and would never, happen again.

It was unprofessional.

But, he was getting harder to avoid. Draco was infiltrating her dreams; her every thought. Countless times this week she had awoken sweaty and aroused after a new dream about where that evening could’ve led; she was tired of needing a cold shower before work.

After the third night, Hermione had been foolish enough to floo Ginny about it, in hopes her friend would provide some comfort and advice on her situation.

Ginny did not. 

Instead, a package arrived for Draco on Monday morning, courtesy of Ginny, which contained a few pairs of light grey jogging bottoms.

Whilst visiting a cafe in the muggle world, Ginny once commented on a man who’d ‘left nothing to the imagination’ with his outfit choice. Now, completely unaware of how it affected Hermione, Draco Malfoy strolled around the house in a pair. It was sinful.

Yesterday Hermione woke up late — enjoying the scenario in which he’d pulled her into his lap instead of letting her walk away — and Draco ended up having to knock to wake her. As she flung open her door, he was shirtless with only those stupid muggle joggers pushed low on his hips.

Draco’s broad shoulders looked sculpted from marble; his abs sloped into a perfect V above the top of the waistband and, to top it off, as he turned she was greeted once again by his tattoo spread wide across his back. Hermione could’ve sworn the black wisps moved as though being blown by the wind. Oh, and of course he had a perfect arse as well.

Her day had been shit after that. No amount of work could quieten her mind of thoughts of him. Hermione finished early for once and proceeded to march straight past the usual scene of Draco and Crookshanks in her living room to take a cold shower; her fingers wandering to relieve the pressure of the day.

It would eventually have to end.

There was no way Hermione could ignore him forever; especially since her birthday was on Friday and Narcissa had offered to host so that all in attendance would be safe within the Manor’s wards. How Narcissa Malfoy, of all people, had discovered the date of her birthday was beyond her.

This morning an owl had arrived with confirmation from Narcissa about who was invited and if anyone was missing. Aside from the usual lot, Hermione responded by adding two more Weasleys to the list. George had always supported her since the war, and even more so after Ron’s affair came to light; he’d always treated her as a sister and, since Charlie was back home for a while, she invited him as well.

Hermione had a plan brewing.

She had just finished her breakfast as Draco’s voice called out as he came into the room.

“I’m heading to the Manor today.”

Hermione had almost forgotten what it sounded like, he had been more than facilitating her need to not ignore him.

“I see. Has it been cleared with—”

“Harry knows,” he said, placing his jacket onto the back of the dining chair. “I am to floo directly there.”

Hermione nodded as she scrubbed the last remnants of her breakfast off of the plate.

“May I ask, why the need to visit today? Can it not wait until Friday when everyone is there?”

Draco finished buttoning the cuffs of his sleeves before putting on his coat and waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, right, I’d forgotten about that thing. But it’s best that I go today anyhow.” 

‘That thing’?

“Fine,” she said, drying her hands on the towel hooked over the counter.

Hermione waved her hand, drying off the cutlery, and yanked open the drawer that housed them; ignoring the clatter the metal made from being thrown inside, before slamming it shut.

“Everything alright?” Draco asked behind her.

She was already grabbing her cloak and moving to the vestibule, barely throwing him a thin smile over her shoulder.

“Fine. See you later, maybe, yeah?” Hermione said, grabbing a handful of Floo powder. She threw it into the hearth carelessly and ignored the dust that flew up. “Ministry of Magic!”

~

Hermione re-read the same sentence for the third time. For some reason, it wasn’t going in. She was getting nowhere with research today.

Groaning in frustration, she slapped the folder down onto the top of her desk, letting out a huff. A glance at the clock showed she had only been at work for two hours. Just two? Is that all? She groaned again and pushed off her chair to stretch. The repetitive pat of her heel tapping against the floor filled the room, although the melodic comfort soon became another thing that irked her.

Hermione wasn’t like this. She didn’t even know how to deal with being like this. She picked up the folder again out of stubbornness, but ten seconds later it was slapped back down on the desk and Hermione dropped her head in her hands.

There was a soft knock on the door and Harry poked his head in and entered.

“Hey, Mione. How are you?” He walked over to her and gave her the customary hug. “I know it’s been a busy week and we haven’t managed to catch up much. With Draco at the Manor today, I assume you’ve discussed your birthday plans.”

“No, Harry,” she said a bit too forcefully, pulling away, “I haven’t discussed my birthday plans with Malfoy. I’m far too busy.”

Harry looked down at her, eyebrows scrunched. “What’s wrong?”

Hermione let out an indignant huff. “Nothing.”

He stared at her for a beat in silence, eyes narrowing. As if she was a fucking case or something.

“Riiight…” he said eventually. “Okay, well, I just came to pass a message along.”

“Oh, okay!” She brightened. Maybe new work would distract her from… whatever this was. “Who from?”

“Pansy. She wanted me to tell you that she is taking you out shopping tonight, for a birthday dress.”

Hermione scowled. Never mind.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Harry looked at her as if she was a dangerous animal. “Is the case bothering you? I can help whilst Malfoy’s away.”

There was that annoyance again.

“No, Harry! I don’t need any help! Tell Pansy to pick me up here, if she wants. I’ll finish work and we can go, I guess.”

“Do you, er, not want to go? You were excited about the party just yesterday, so we thought—”

“Yes, yes, I’m excited.” She stood to open the door for him. “I’m very grateful. Very kind of you all to take time for that thing.”

Part of Hermione winced inwardly. That line skated too close to something she was trying to ignore at the moment.

They stood like that for a while—Hermione holding the door open, Harry planted in the middle of her office, looking like he did whenever she talked about Arithmancy.

“I— Er— I don't really know what I’m supposed to say here…” His voice was quiet, waiting for some sort of prompt from Hermione. 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Whatever, Harry.”

Hermione tugged her office door closed behind her and set off for the next room down the corridor, leaving him behind. Theo would improve her mood. She was sure.

~

Theo was not only incredibly good company, he was always extremely creative when it came to inventing new spells. Today he was developing a spell to help track endangered animals across country borders. The Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures were investigating a recent string of mooncalf abductions and they were believed to be passing them through various European countries.

She’d settled in perfectly after her talk with Harry, and had even relaxed. It helped that Theo had provided her with a cup of her favourite tea from his secret stash.

Hermione watched as his hand flourished in a variety of movements.

“So, what would you like for your birthday, Gorgeous?” he asked suddenly.

Hermione held her mug of tea between her hands, entranced by his wand work.

“Hm? Oh, I don’t need anything but you’re lovely self,” she replied.

“You flatter me, darling.” Theo tested various wand movements. “But I’m sure I can think of something for you. Although, Draco has probably claimed all of the cool ideas.”

“Malfoy? Why would he care?”

Theo paused his charmwork, cocking an eyebrow at her. His eyes narrowed. “He cares.”

Hermione let out a wry chuckle.

“Theo, this morning he didn’t even remember that my birthday was on Friday, there is no way he’d remember a gift.” 

Her tone was a bit too bitter and she regretted saying anything at all. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice.

It wasn’t like she cared. She didn’t. What Malfoy invested his regard in was none of her business. Of course, she had cared about his birthday, so common courtesy dictated that he should care about hers as well. But really, it didn’t matter at all.

“Hmm, interesting.”

Before she could worry about what he meant by that, Theo quickly flashed her his favourite roguish grin.

“Well, I guess that just means I can claim the best present award.”

Hermione smiled back at him. If it wasn’t for, well, his entire personality, Theo’s roguish grin would make her fall for him in a heartbeat.

“Are you at least looking forward to the meal?” Theo asked.

“Yes. It should be fun. I’m also excited to see Charlie again; it’s been ages.” She hoped her voice sounded calm and non-conspiratorial.

“Charlie Weasley? I thought he was off fighting dragons.”

Hermione huffed. “He doesn’t fight them, Theo. He cares for them.”

“Eh, same thing.” Theo placed his wand down and joined her. “My point is, I thought he was abroad with some dragon wife.”

“No, he’s back in the UK for a little while, visiting. And, as for the dragon wife, it is safe to say that he is not only single, but very gay.”

Theo perked up visibly.

“Shame, really”— Hermione sighed dramatically —“he has only gotten more handsome as he’s aged. There’s something about a rough, rugged dragon tamer that is really sexy.”

The Slytherin was quiet, lost in his thoughts.

“Don’t you think so, Theo?”

“Hmm, yeah I guess.”

Hermione smirked behind her mug.

~

With Theo successfully lifting her out of the weird bad mood, Hermione returned to finish off the last of her work for the afternoon. Pansy let herself into Hermione’s office at exactly five o’clock.

“I just need to finish, and send this document off, Pansy. Give me ten minutes.”

Pansy huffed. “Fine.” She sat in the chair in front of Hermione’s desk. “But that only means we stay out later shopping.”

Hermione finished in five.

On their way to the floo network, Theo shot them a passing farewell wink. Then his voice shouted out from behind. 

“Oi, Pans!”

Both women stopped to face him.

“Make sure you find the perfect dress for our Golden Girl, yeah? Something to cheer her up.”

Pansy’s eyes narrowed. “And why would she need cheering up?”

Hermione wasn’t thrilled by the fact they were shouting a conversation about her like she wasn’t even there, across her department floor.

“I just think you should find a dress that really suits her. A colour we all know and love her in. Something that says ‘I don’t think anybody would be able to stop talking about how good I look, even if they bore their friends to death by the end of the ball— er, night’.”

Theo was smirking and, for a moment, it seemed as if he and Pansy were having a silent conversation through their eyes. Maybe it was something Slytherins learned to do whilst conspiring in Hogwarts. With time, Hermione had given up on trying to see through them when they got like this.

“I see,” Pansy said. “Well, I better find a great dress, then.”

Theo’s face split into a wide grin and, with another wink, he left them to it.

Pansy immediately turned and headed for the lifts. Hermione felt no need to clarify what just happened, she was aware Pansy wouldn’t give her a straight answer.

~

Diagon Alley was brimming with activity. It seemed everyone was out shopping this evening. Pansy had dragged Hermione into four different clothing stores before they finally found one suitable enough for her standards.

Perks of being who they were, the shop owner closed for the duration of their visit, allowing Pansy full use of the styling booths for her various outfit options. Hermione had never felt more like a dress-up doll in her life. After narrowing down the decision to ten options, Pansy collected them onto one rail.

“Try this one again,” Pansy ordered, pulling the dress from the hanger.

Hermione huffed as she made her way to the booth. She tossed it over her head, sliding her arms through the sleeves. It was a baby-doll style dress, but instead of the sleeves sitting on her shoulders, they sat atop her upper arm. She slid back the curtain; noticing the shop owner now stood to Pansy’s side.

“Turn.” Pansy wiggled her finger, indicating to show her the back. “I think this is by far the best option, but I don’t think it’s your colour. We will have to transfigure it.”

“If I may,” the older lady said, “we do have that one in another colour. It isn’t out on display yet as we only have one.”

With a twist of her wand, a dress appeared from the back room.

Pansy’s eyes lit up and a grin spread across her face.

“Perfect.”

After a successful shopping trip, they both walked back to the floo with arms full of various sized bags. Pansy, ridiculously, purchased the other nine dresses for Hermione anyway.

Arriving home, a letter awaited her on the coffee table from George, explaining how he was grateful for the invitation on Friday, and both he and Charlie couldn’t wait to see her. Draco was nowhere to be found, probably still at the Manor, and her familiar was curled up in the armchair usually occupied by the blonde.

Hermione opted for a bath and an early night, in preference of another potential ‘out of routine’ talk with Malfoy.

~

On Friday, Hermione woke up with a smile on her face; she was thoroughly looking forward to this evening. However, her excitement was short-lived once she made her way downstairs. Draco barely spoke to her and, anything he did say, was most definitely not birthday related. Hermione hoped someone would make him aware but Theo didn’t seem to care yesterday and Pansy had remained very tight-lipped on the situation.

It didn’t matter. Hermione would head home later, wear her brand new dress and walk right past him if needed; Draco Malfoy was not going to ruin her birthday by being a prat.

The day ended up being split between floo calls with Narcissa about any final details for the meal that evening, and Harry — who was being extra clingy. He’d insisted on her joining him in the DMLE all afternoon so he could spend some time with her; not that Hermione really understood why, she would see him that night anyway.

But, regardless of Harry’s clingy-ness, it was a nice surprise to see all of her friends in the DMLE present her with a small cake, a card and a gift. They’d all chipped in for a new leather-bound notebook, which was inlaid with gold filigree on the cover.

It was a lovely gesture, but nothing eased the lack of acknowledgement from the one person Hermione really wished would say happy birthday. Perhaps that was why Harry was being so clingy?

It was sweet, even if it didn’t quite work.

~

Okay, Harry was driving Hermione insane. 

He’d barely left her side, even going so far as to accompany her to the bathroom. When the clock struck five thirty in the DMLE floor, Hermione had barely finished yelling goodbye before she rushed to the closest lift. Ordinarily she would’ve used the floo in Harry’s office but she didn’t want to risk him finding another reason to keep her there.

Stepping out into her living room, she was greeted by the familiar sight of Malfoy and Crookshanks. For whatever reason, Malfoy was reading One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore. Hermione couldn’t see how a first year assigned book was relevant to King Arthur, unless somehow he’d discovered a mention of local fauna at one of the battlefield sites.

But Hermione was in no mood today to find out and immediately headed upstairs.

“Granger,” he said, stopping her mid-step, “I know we’re heading to the Manor this evening, for your thing. I’ll be ready to leave at seven.”

Frustration threatened to boil over.

“Sure, Malfoy.”

She stomped upstairs to begin getting ready for her party this evening; determined to look the best she ever had.

Screw you, Malfoy.

Chapter Text

Friday was a different routine for Draco. He was going to be heading to the Manor to help his mother decorate for tonight. His full involvement was vastly underplayed; Merlin forbid his friends get the wrong idea about his intentions. This was purely a thank you gesture to Granger, for letting him move into her home.

Draco almost caved on Wednesday morning, though.

The look that crossed her face when he played indifferent was, surprisingly, quite disheartening.

Draco was more than aware Granger had been avoiding him for the last week due to their close encounter after Wales. He’d scolded himself the morning after but didn’t deny he couldn’t wait for it to happen again. The blush of her cheeks, her eyes warm and inviting him closer, pupils blown at the thought of kissing him.

She was stunning.

When his mother called him after breakfast, Draco proposed the idea of Granger’s birthday being celebrated at the Manor. Of course his mother was more than happy to acquiesce, and they tried to arrange as much as possible between them to keep some form of surprise for the Granger.

Pansy helped secure anything they needed from muggle London, and Harry tried his best to occupy Granger at work, keeping her away for longer periods of time. Although she probably welcomed the distance from him.

Draco had never put this much effort in for anyone before. It was both exhausting and exhilarating.

His mother finalised the decorations in the dining room, whilst Draco charmed the large bouquets of fresh flowers to ensure complete freshness all evening. Along with his mother, Emmeline and Marion, they had designed — in Draco’s opinion — the perfect meal plan for tonight. They would begin with a two course meal, consisting of starter and entrée, before relocating to the smaller lounge where her birthday cake would be presented. Some nibbles would also be placed on the tables for people to enjoy alongside their drinks afterwards.

Everyone was scheduled to arrive just before seven, but Draco would have to be back at the cottage when Hermione returned from work to keep up the illusion.

As Draco charmed his final banner in place above the table, the grandfather clock chimed 17:30.

She’ll be back soon.

All of this time together had keyed Draco in on Granger’s work schedule pretty well. Not only knowing what time she returned home, but if she arrived slightly early or late, it was an indicator as to how well her day had gone and what her mood may be. Those days where she sped home, Draco would ask Emmeline to provide the best wine with dinner and he would watch as the tension from the day slid away.

With a swift kiss on his mother’s cheek, Draco quickly made his way into the floo and back home.

He’d just managed to take his usual place in the armchair, grabbing a book of whatever was closest, her demon cat perched upon his lap, when Granger walked out of the flames.

He used all his might to fight a congratulatory smirk.

“Granger, I know you’re heading to the manor this evening, for your thing.” his hand waved the comment off. “I’ll be ready to leave at seven.” 

“Sure, Malfoy.” Her voice lacked any enthusiasm.

Draco let out a sigh of relief once she disappeared upstairs.

I am nailing this surprise party stuff.

~

At six fifty, Draco heard Granger’s door creak open. He was aware, from Pansy, that she had taken Granger out shopping for a special outfit for tonight. From the lack of description from his friend, Draco could only assume there was some scheming involved.

At six fifty-one, his assumptions were confirmed.

Granger returned downstairs, her hair in soft curls falling down her spine, wearing a short dress with puffed sleeves that clung across her upper arm, revealing her shoulders and his favourite speckle of freckles. The skirt flowed and fell perfectly from her hips to just above her knee and Draco knew immediately why Pansy had not informed him of the dress earlier.

Fucking periwinkle.

The colour had haunted him ever since fourth year. Stupid Pansy. Why did she have to be as observant as his meddling mother?

Although Draco never outright told her he thought Granger had looked pretty at the yule ball — which anyone with eyes could’ve seen; well, not Weasel, but he’s an idiot — Pansy had followed his eye line throughout the night, as they wandered over to the young witch in the arms of Krum. He didn’t fancy her per se, but it became harder to deny that she had become a pretty witch. Draco only mentioned the thought once to Theo and Blaise; it was a brief conversation, though. It’s not like he spoke about her the entire night.

Taking a controlled breath, Draco stood from his usual chair.

“Bit dressed up for a meal, Granger.”

“Well,” she was affronted, “I didn’t think your mother would appreciate my work attire.”

It was a crap excuse, but Draco allowed her to believe he didn’t care.

He shrugged. “Okay. Come along, then.”

Anger radiated off of her as she grabbed a handful of powder and tossed it into the pit.

“Malfoy Manor.”

~

Draco cast a cleansing charm over them both and his stomach swirled from the excitement. It felt nice. It had been a while since he had something to feel excited over. He looked at Hermione, seeing the confusion on her face at the fact his mother had not been there to greet her.

“I can take you to my mother. If you’d like?”

“Yes, please.” She replied curtly.

Merlin, this witch was not happy. Not that Draco could quite figure out why she was so pissed that he of all people seemed to forget her birthday. It felt a very ‘on brand’ thing for Draco Malfoy to do.

“This way.” He held his arm out for her to take the lead.

A silent accio pulled a small wrapped gift into his hand out of her sight. He fought hard to stop a smile from forming.

They reached the closed doors to the dining room; before Draco pushed them open, he turned.

“Oh, before I forget,” great start, “It’s only fair, since we’re in my family’s home that I be the first to give you this.”

He brandished the present wrapped in black paper with a green velvet ribbon secured around the edges. Granger’s mouth pulled into a small ‘o’ as her eyes flitted between the gift and Draco.

Putting on his most attractive smile, he said, “Happy Birthday.”

Granger’s face lifted, her eyes alight and Draco’s heart swelled.

“Thank you.” She took a hold of the offered gift.

“You didn’t think I’d forgotten, did you?” She looked away, a flush on her cheeks. “I see. Well, we can’t keep everyone waiting.”

With a twist of his hand, both of the doors swung open to reveal her friends inside.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMIONE!” Everyone cheered.

Draco saw the sheen on her eyes from tears she willed not to fall.

“Thank you, everyone.”

Draco gazed at the present table to his right. Varying sizes of gifts were spread across the top; some sported barely acceptable attempts at wrapping. One furthest at the back looked as though a two year old with a blindfold had wrapped it; Draco assumed that one was Harry’s.

Granger made her way around the room thanking all in attendance and Draco definitely didn’t feel a strange pang in his chest as she lingered in her hug with Charlie Weasley.

“You did well, mate.” Harry approached with a slap on his back. “Can’t imagine it was easy keeping it from her. But she looks over the moon.” Both men took in the sight of her wide smile. “I can’t believe you gave her your present first. We were all supposed to do it together.”

“My house, my rules, Potter.” Draco looked back to the table. “Let me guess, yours is the red polka dot box at the back.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah, how did you guess?”

Draco shook his head with a small smile.

“Come on, everyone. It’s dinner time and I’m hungry,” Pansy shouted from the doorway.

~

Their menu was based around favourites of Granger’s; anything she’d mentioned in passing during Draco’s stay. After they’d all finished eating, everyone presented their gifts for the guest of honour to open.

Blaise and Ginny brought her some new journals, Pansy gifted clothing items — not that Granger let anyone see what they were. She had opened the box, squealed and slammed the lid shut. Luna and Hannah provided a new house plant which didn’t require any maintenance, as Granger had killed the last three. Harry’s toddler present was a new teapot set and Theo gifted some fancy muggle stationary all engraved with her name.

His mother chose a very understated gift; really affordable and simple.

A custom made gold bracelet which was adorned with Granger’s birthstone, each gem entwined within leaves and vines. Very restrained.

Draco quietly mentioned for her not to open his at the table; it would best be enjoyed at home sat beside the fireplace. No innuendo intended.

“Shall we move this party to the lounge?” his mother asked. “Everyone can have a drink and some snacks if they wish.”

Theo stood abruptly. “You had me at drink, Narcissa.”

Everyone groaned. Merlin knew what Theo would be up to today.

Draco stood and followed the group, pausing as he noticed the birthday girl lingering by the door.

“Not running at the chance to figure out what Theo’s planning, Granger?”

“Not really. I dread to think what games he’ll want to play today.” She held his gaze. “I wanted to say thank you. Your mother informed me that you helped her with the planning. I really appreciate it.”

Draco rubbed the back of his neck, “It was nothing, really, Granger. I hung up a few garlands, it was mostly her.”

It was a weak lie. He knew it. She knew it. But it was left unchallenged.

“In whatever capacity you helped, thank you.” Granger hesitated slightly, before rising on her toes and pressing a small, barely there kiss upon his cheek.

She vanished before Draco could respond.

His hand grazed his cheek; a warmth lingered from the feel of her lips against his skin. He followed her out to the rest of the group.

A second cheer of happy birthday echoed in the lounge as the others presented the cake when Draco finally made his way to the next room; though he lingered in the entryway. Everyone waited for Narcissa to slice and present the cake to Granger before they all joined in retrieving their own. To his left, Harry made a sound like he just came in his pants after taking a bite.

Pansy hit him on the arm before he said, with a mouth full of cake, “Iz jus’ so good.”

How his friend could date this mess of a man was absurd.

Draco stepped further into the room and Theo came and slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, mate. Good job on the decorations.”

Why was everyone slapping him today?

“Thanks. Although you know it was my mother who planned most of it.”

Theo hummed and took a sip of his liquor. “Still, a lot of effort to go through for ‘just a colleague’ don’t you think?” He smirked and Draco’s face pulled into a scowl.

“We are just colleagues. But, she allowed me to move into her house. There has to be some way to repay her.”

“I guess.” He shrugged. “Which actually reminds me, since we haven’t really spoken since you nearly got blown up and all that, have you been teaching Hermione Occlumency?”

Draco’s face twisted in confusion. “No. Why? Did she say I had?”

“No, she told me she didn’t know how to, but I know it when I see it. She was definitely occluding the day she saved you from the rubble.”

Theo paused slightly, then his face brightened.

“Wow, when I say it like that it sounds so romantic. If I blow this room up do you think Charlie would want to save me from the rubble? He’d carry me out in his big strong arms and, in thanks I could suck—”

“That’s enough.” Draco cut him off. “One, I haven’t taught her. Two, she wears her emotions like a flashing sign, so I don’t even think she would be able to. Although, come to think of it, she was acting odd in Norway.”

Draco shook his head and returned to the topic of conversation. 

“And three, please don’t think about blowing my house up just for a hookup.”

Theo scoffed at him. “Ugh, whatever. Boring.”

Draco needed a drink.

He headed over to the drinks cart before joining Pansy and Granger, who were situated on one of the chaise lounges.

“I’m just saying the colours suit you perfectly.”

Whatever Pansy was just talking about, was abruptly cut off by Granger upon notice of Draco.

“What are you lovely ladies talking about?”

Draco took a mouthful of the familiar amber liquid.

“Hermione’s underwear.”

Draco choked, Pansy smiled, and Granger looked like she would combust from embarrassment.

“I see.” He desperately tried to not cough up from the burn of his drink going down the wrong hole. “Is it a particularly interesting conversation about her underwear?”

Granger whipped round to him and his smirk grew.

“I brought Hermione a lovely pair of lace knickers today and she refuses to show them off. It’s insulting, really.” Pansy faked annoyance as she took a sip of her wine. “Oh, well. Maybe she’ll show you when you get home tonight and someone can appreciate all my effort.”

Pansy abruptly stood and sauntered off towards Harry leaving Draco and Granger in a rather uncomfortable silence.

He cleared his throat.

“Ignore Pans. She always gets more insufferable after a drink.”

Granger chuckled. “That’s true.”

They drank in silence, comfortable with watching the rest of the room.

“Um, Malfoy?” Granger’s voice was quiet. “Did you mention your library earlier? Before we left home.”

Draco knew she wouldn’t be able to resist asking.

“I did. Would you like to see it?”

Her eyes were ablaze with excitement and she nodded frantically.

Draco chuckled and stood, holding his hand out in offering. He ignored the smirking looks as he led her out of the lounge and along the hallway. Climbing one more set of stairs and turning right. A giant pair of crisp white double doors stood before them. Draco gave them a push and they swung open. Granger stepped through eagerly and he followed, watching her intently.

Hermione took in the room, whilst Draco took in her.

It looked as though her eyes might have actually popped out of her head as she registered the size of the room. There were two levels, each with six aisles, decorated in a lush white wood. The walls were marble and the large window opposite the door allowed for plenty of natural light. At this time of night, they showed the grounds draped in moonlight.

The warm buzz from the alcohol spread throughout his veins, second only to the way Hermione made him feel. The joy that lit up her face as she looked around was breathtaking. Everything about her was glowing.

“Beautiful.” She breathed.

“Yes.” 

She turned to face him.

“Let me show you this one feature, I think you’ll like it.”

He extended his hand and Hermione bounded over, grasping it tightly as he pulled her deeper into the shelves.

“Whenever I feel like reading, but don’t particularly like how bright the library can get, I come over here. Because…”

Draco removed his wand and gave it a small wave.

Deep blue, velvet, curtains appeared surrounding them. Hermione gasped as small, white lights floated around them, like stars in the night sky; illuminating enough so you could still read.

“How did you do this?” she asked in awe.

Draco shrugged. “I prefer to read at night, but I like sitting in here. So I combined a few different spells to create my own private area. I used to visit everyday when I lived here.”

Hermione beamed up at him.

The floating stars reflected back in her eyes like golden sun drops.

Draco couldn’t fight it any longer.

With her hand still in his, he pulled her closer.

His free hand cupped her face and she sank instantly into his touch.

Hermione’s eyes drifted closed as Draco’s nose brushed the tip of hers; her lips parting slightly.

Draco closed the gap.

It was soft at first. Testing.

But after a few gentle kisses, Hermione moaned and Draco released her hand to grip her waist and pull her body closer. Her chest pulled flush against his and the heightened thump of her heart beat against his own. Draco tilted her head further as his tongue skimmed the edge of her lower lip. He groaned when her mouth opened up for him eagerly. Hermione’s hands were in his hair, pulling, stroking; anything she could do to touch him.

Draco spun them until her back hit the wall.

Her whimper as Draco slid down to kiss her neck was music to his ears. He’d never heard anything so sweet as the noises she made for him. He bit softly on a soft spot below her ear and her hips bucked.

“Fuck,” she breathed.

“Say it again,” he panted, “I love it when you say naughty words, Granger.”

He smirked along her neck as she repeated the word once more. Draco returned to her mouth, frantic now. Both of them pouring the weeks, months, of pent up emotions into a searing kiss.

Draco pulled back. “I really need you to tell me to stop. If you don’t, I’m not sure I’m going to make a smart decision for either of us.”

“Don’t stop,” she whined.

“Fuck. Don’t say shit like that, Granger. I can’t take it.”

Hermione’s hands glided up his chest and she began to unfasten the buttons of Draco’s shirt. His head fell back on a groan.

As she worked, she mimicked his earlier actions by kissing, licking and biting along his neck. Reaching the final button, Hermione pulled away to admire his chest. Draco may or may not have tensed slightly.

Hermione ran her fingers along his stomach, stopping as she reached the top of his belt; a glint in her eye.

Draco needed to gain control of this situation. If he didn’t, he was at risk of turning into a thirteen year old who came in his pants.

Grabbing both her hands in one of his own, he held them above her head. She keened as he slid his other hand up her thigh, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers. A small lace strip greeted him at the top of her hip.

“Granger, do you—”

“Draco, darling.”

Panic.

Draco dropped Hermione’s arms instantly and banished the curtains before casting a quick spell to close the buttons of his shirt. The sound of his mothers heels entered the library, growing louder as she walked into the centre aisle.

Draco and Hermione rushed out to meet her.

“Ah, dear, here you are. Showing Hermione the library, I see. What do you think, dear?”

Hermione cleared her throat. “It’s really beautiful.”

Her cheeks were blushed and her voice gravelly.

“Thank you.” His mother dipped her head. “Darling, I just needed a quick word. If you’re not busy?” Her eyebrow twitched.

“No, of course, Mother.” Draco looked over to Hermione.

His mother smiled. “Hermione, dear, I believe Theo is planning to begin some games.”

“Okay. I’ll head back to the others.”

Not sparing a second look at his mother, Hermione quickly made her way out.

His mother turned to him, her eyebrow quirked. “Lovely hairstyle, Draco. Messy really is the new chic.”

He rushed to flatten it out.

“What did you want, mother?” He grunted.

Had she really purposefully interrupted the most amazing experience to comment on his hair?

“I know I’m interrupting, but I thought I raised you better than that.” His face twisted as his mother sighed. “Please don’t do that amazing woman a dis-justice by sleeping with her for the first time in our library.”

“Mother!” Draco sputtered.

“I’m no saint, Draco, and I’m not naïve. But for goodness sake, have some manners.”

His mother turned and made her way out mumbling under her breath. ‘Honestly, boys and their hormones.’

Draco was left in his library — alone, confused, and with an uncomfortable erection.

Chapter Text

Hermione ran back towards the lounge; her heart thumping with every step.

As she approached the lounge, she propped her hand on the wall and tried to get her breath to even, willing her heart to calm. Her brain cleared as she reflected on what had just happened. Had she and Draco nearly crossed the line?

Shit. Her head knocked against the wall.

All the times Hermione had imagined him; the way he looked in the mornings with the freshly tousled hair, his Auror uniform pulled tight to reveal the contours of his chest. In her dreams, which often took her through a variety of scenarios of Draco pulling her close before making her his.

Nothing compared to the real thing.

His lips were soft but demanding; his body strong, as it encased her in a protective hold. His hands as they slid up her thighs were enough to make her forget her own damned name. They weren’t even really friends yet, but Hermione was ready to throw it all away for the taste of the pure sin that was Draco Malfoy.

Hermione didn’t regret it. Though she couldn’t say she wasn’t happy about Narcissa’s interruption. They hadn’t even addressed their almost kiss; this would just have to be another problem to figure out another day. Right now, she had a room full of her friends expecting to play games into the night, and she wouldn’t tell a soul.

“Ah, there’s the beautiful woman of honour!” Theo exclaimed, pulling everyone’s attention.

Hermione smiled at his term of endearment. Theo always had been one to say it how it was. A bit like Pansy, except he gave compliments not insults.

“Join us. We’re going to play a nice easy game to start us off.” He smiled dangerously. “Never Have I Ever.”

The room collectively groaned.

Theo was savage in this game, occasionally Hermione refused to drink to avoid giving too much information away. Merlin forbid her favourite Slytherins had any more ammunition top use against her.

Hermione poured herself a small firewhiskey from the cart, the need for something stronger was most definitely warranted, and made her way over to one of the leather sofas, squeezing herself between Ginny and Harry.

“How was the library, Granger?” Pansy enquired, a sly look in her eye. “Huge, right.” Her eyebrows waggled.

“Uh,” — Hermione cleared her throat — “yes, it was beautiful. I may have to add an extra room to my house.”

“Don’t say that, Granger. You’ll be stealing all my design ideas next.”

A shiver ran down Hermione’s spine from the deep timbre of the voice behind her.

“Now, now, Draco. I’m sure it’s no surprise that Hermione would want her own library,” Pansy soothed.

The tall blonde walked past her, his own firewhiskey in hand, before settling onto the chaise beside Pansy. 

“I’m sure she’ll be asking for another tour to draw up her design plans very soon.” Draco’s voice was low with a teasing arrogance.

Hermione couldn’t breathe. Her back ached from sitting so straight.

Pansy’s eyes flared with enjoyment, a knowing smirk on her face. Hermione was just grateful that there were other conversations going on so the whole room was not included in this one.

Ginny leaned in towards her ear and whispered. “Okay, one, you are telling me everything later, and two,”— she waved her wand and summoned the bottle of firewhiskey —“I think you’re going to need more of this.”

She smirked, pouring more of the amber coloured liquid into Hermione’s glass.

Theo relaxed back onto the second chaise, strategically placed next to Charlie, and began to announce the rules.

“It’s simple, one person says ‘never have I ever’ and then, if you have, you drink. I’ll go first.” He took a second before smiling. “Never have I ever masturbated to the thought of someone in this room.”

Theo chuckled and took a sip.

Everyone else moaned their annoyance.

“Really, Theo. You’re not even going to start easy?” Pansy said.

“Nope. Rules are rules. Drink up.”

All eyes scanned the room to observe who had. It was absolutely not a surprise that almost everyone drank. The only two who didn’t were George and Charlie.

“Hermione!” Harry spluttered, his eyes wide.

“Share, Granger.” Theo demanded excitedly.

Hermione had approximately one second to figure out what to say. The stare from cool grey eyes burned into her skin. She smirked.

This is a game after all. 

Hermione merely shrugged and said nonchalantly, “There wasn’t only one Weasley I found attractive.”

Two pairs of ginger eyebrows shot up, the brothers exchanging a look of questioning between them.

“I knew it! I knew you fancied me, Hermione,” Ginny cheered.

The room laughed as the focus shifted from Hermione. But the intensity of a pair of grey eyes remained on her.

~

Despite Theo’s intense start, the tone of the game calmed and everyone was more focused on getting as drunk as possible rather than discovering everyone’s dirty little secrets.
Although an ill-timed question from Blaise about the use of butt plugs changed Hermione’s view on Harry forever. Some things she really didn’t want to imagine.

“Never have I ever received an amazing birthday gift that demonstrates my love for my friends in the Gryffindor tower.” Harry shot a smirk at Draco who scowled at the memory of his mug.

The mug in question now resided within the shared space of the DMLE after Draco refused to take it into his office as the colour ‘offends him’.

“I hope you don’t expect me to drink, Potter. I can guarantee you I have never.” His lip curled in disgust. Then turned and pointed at George. “Which reminds me, I have a bone to pick with you, Weasley. Do not take Potter up on any more of his surprise gifts for me.”

George laughed. “Whatever you say, Malfoy.”

Harry snickered into his glass before he turned to Hermione. “It’s your turn, Mione.”

“Never have I ever hooked up with someone a friend is currently dating.” Hermione said, quickly adding, “Before they were together. I don’t think I want anyone’s affairs being revealed tonight.”

Most of the room, including Hermione, had finished their first glasses of various spirits and were partway through their second but, as she took a drink, she pushed aside the fear of waking up tomorrow with the world’s worst hangover.

Once again the Weasley brothers didn’t need to drink; however, Draco stated that, as he didn’t technically count ‘Potter’ as a friend, he would not be drinking even though he dated Pansy.

“Ooooh, Hermione,” Theo started as her glass left her lips, “did you and Harry also have a fling?”

Her face twisted in revulsion of the idea.

“Absolutely not, Theo. No offence, Harry, but that is disgusting.”

“No offence taken, I agree one hundred percent.”

“Come on, then, share with the class,” Theo encouraged.

Hermione turned her nose up in mock-arrogance. “This isn’t Truths, Theo. The point of the game is simply to say whether we have or haven’t. That is all you get.”

“Exactly, Granger,” Draco piped up. “Don’t let Theo pressure you. We’ll move on, it’s my turn next.”

“Thanks, Malfoy. I won’t.” She poked her tongue out at Theo.

Draco smirked at her. “Never have I ever fucked Ernie Macmillan.”

“You prick.”

Honestly, she was more annoyed at herself for not thinking Draco would do something like this. She finished her glass as her friends bombarded her with questions.

“What? When?”

“Was it any good?”

“Does Padma know?”

“Is this why he disappeared after our New Year’s party?”

Hermione drowned them out and stared at the man opposite hoping her eyes would burn a hole in his head. His smirk was still plastered over his face and Merlin if she didn’t want to march right over and wipe the stupid thing straight off. She wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t smirk anymore. His gaze dropped, only for a second, to her lips and a warmth  stretched across her cheeks. Was he thinking the same? She bit her lip and his eyes darkened at the movement.

“Alright.” Pansy’s voice cut in. “I think we should move onto something more active. We already know a lot about each other, so I propose we end the night with a bit of friendly competition.”

Cheers filled the room; the alcohol had taken full effect.

Pansy ushered everyone over to the long table and, with a wave of her wand, summoned a large glass to the centre of the table, and a galleon.

“This game is called Arrogance,” she started.

“That isn’t fair. You Slytherins already have that in abundance,” George joked and all the Gryffindors murmured their agreement.

“Rude”— Pansy put her hands on her hips —“but true. Anyway, Hermione and I played this once at a muggle bar. It was fun and you get really drunk. The aim of the game is to get your opponents to drink.”

Hermione moved to the bar cart, they would need a variety of alcohol for this game. She placed a few different bottles on the table as Pansy continued.

“At the start of your turn, you pour as much, or as little, of whatever alcohol you choose into the tall glass. You then flip a galleon and call wizard or dragon. If you guess correctly, play passes to the other person for them to repeat the same steps. Whatever random mixture is in the glass when someone guesses wrong will be what they have to drink.”

Ginny looked sick at just the thought of drinking whatever they may create. Hermione shivered at the memory of the mixture of whiskey, wine and vodka she had the last time she played.

“So, I guess wizard or dragon and, if I get it wrong, I have to finish whatever disgusting drink is in that glass?” Theo questioned.

“Yes,” Pansy said. “Make sense?”

Everyone nodded.

“Okay, let’s partner up. Pairs will make this easier. I choose Harry!” Pansy exclaimed.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Pansy’s obvious choice of partner.

“I’m with Blaise.” Ginny peeped.

“This isn’t fair,” Theo said, “there is an odd number.”

Hermione looked around the room to check, and a small glint in George’s eye caught her attention.

“I actually need to head off. I have an early start in the shop and I’m already drunker than planned. Sorry, bro, you’ll just have to partner Theo.”

Hermione smiled. George was just as perceptive and cunning as the Slytherins.

Hermione loved Charlie’s company, but felt like he was wanting to settle down and, regardless of Theo’s outwardly behaviour, she knew he felt the same. A few times he had gotten slightly loose-lipped and murmured his secret fantasies of coming home to someone, or having the comfort only a partner could give. Hermione was confident that the two wizards would be a good fit for each other.

George gave Ginny a quick kiss on her head and walked over to Hermione, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Thanks for the invite, sis.”

Hermione’s eyes misted over at the endearment.

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Keep an eye on them two for me. I have a feeling they’ll be in for a long night.”

With a wink, he waved the rest of the room goodbye, and left.

Ginny moved beside her and spoke quietly, “You okay?”

Hermione nodded; a single tear rolled down her face. “He called me ‘sis’.”

Ginny pulled her into a hug. “I really hope, then, he wasn’t the brother you thought about whilst you, you know…” Ginny looked down between Hermione’s legs and back to her face.

Hermione laughed, her head thrown back as she wiped the tear away.

As they rejoined the group, Hermione saw that Harry, Pansy, Charlie and Theo were locked into the first game of the night.

A tall figure moved behind her, close enough for her back to feel the warmth radiating from their chest.

“I hope you’re not sad that you’ve been paired with me by default.”

Hermione turned on the spot to look up at Draco. “Of course not.” Her voice was soft and quiet. 

Draco looked down at her, a seducing smile across his face, causing a shiver to run down her spine as she remembered their similar position earlier.

~

The game ended after an hour with an overall victory going to Blaise and Ginny. Not that anyone looked as though they’d won anything. The drinks that had been concocted pushed them into ‘far too drunk to function’ territory.

Charlie asked to use the loo thirty minutes ago and a very eager Theo exclaimed he’d show him the way. They had not made it back. The three options were: they’d flooed to Theo’s flat, they were sullying the Malfoy estate, or were lying unconscious somewhere.

Hermione’s bet was on option two, but Draco pointedly refused to acknowledge that one; instead wishing for option three.

Blaise and Ginny became far too handsy for public viewing and left after a ‘strong suggestion’ from Pansy involving some wand pointing.

That left Hermione, Draco, Pansy and Harry as the last four standing. Or the last four slumped across the furniture.

“Make the Manor stop spinning, Malfoy!” Harry called forcefully, words slurred. “What stupid room design is this?”

“It isn’t, you lightweight. Pans, take him home, I don’t want sick on the sofas.”

Draco was the only one still sitting upright but Hermione could tell he was much drunker than he let on. His eyes were a cool blue and a flush was forming at the base of his neck. He’d popped open the top button of shirt at some point during the game and Hermione swore that was the reason she’d messed up her guess. When he’d rolled his sleeves up and his floral tattoo was back on show, Hermione had forgotten what the two options were.

So…technically it was Draco’s fault they had to drink twice.

Pansy heaved herself up, tilting slightly in her heels, and slapped Harry on the head. “Come on then. Let’s see if we can find a sober up potion. If not, you’re sleeping in the bathroom.”

She grabbed Harry’s arm and hauled him alongside her.

“Happy birthday again, Hermione. I hope you had a pleasurable day.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “And night.”

Both of them stumbled out towards the floo.

Hermione’s brain was so ruined by the last mixture of wine, firewhiskey, beer and tequila that it may have permanently damaged her brain cells. The chair beside her creaked as Draco stood.

“Come on, then, Granger. Let’s get you back.”

“Noooooo, Malfoy. Just leave me here, let the alcohol rot away the last of my internal organs,” she whined as Draco scoffed at her. “I don’t even think my legs work anymore. I’m destined to be in this chair for the rest of my life.”

She knew she sounded like a child, but she didn’t care. Her eyes screwed shut in protest.

There was the sound of some more movement as well as a mumbled ‘utterly ridiculous, brightest witch of her age, my arse’, before strong hands pulled her up to standing.

“Stop being pitiful, it doesn’t suit you.”

The mix of smoked whiskey on his breath and his warm, woody aftershave filled her nose. He smelt amazing. The alcohol was not helping her, the faux courage it gave was dangerous. Hermione placed her hands on his chest to steady herself and felt him suck in a breath. Looking up at him, Draco’s eyes were closed; his breathing measured. Slowly, her right hand slid a little higher. His eyes shot open.

“Granger, I think it best if you remove your hands.” She pulled back as if burnt by his skin. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”

She couldn’t help it. She really tried. But, something about hearing those words pour out of Draco’s mouth, sent her mind spiralling. There was no fighting the soft moan that escaped her lips. Hermione craned her neck to look at the man in front of her; the very tall, broad, and handsome man in front of her.

“Granger,” he started softly, “this is not good for either of us right now. We have had far too much to drink and I am many things, but someone who takes advantage of a drunk woman is not one of them. Especially not you.” He held her gaze. “I think we should leave.”

It took a few seconds for Hermione’s brain to catch up with her actions; internally cringing at the realisation of what she’d just implied — and how it had made him uncomfortable. She nodded grimly and stepped away.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise, Granger. You never have to apologise to me.”

Draco’s hand made to reach for her, but he withdrew, placing them in his trouser pockets instead.

“Let’s just go home, Malfoy.”

Hermione turned on the spot and headed towards the welcome room. Mortified. She called for her cottage and as soon as she arrived back home, Hermione wished Malfoy a goodnight and disappeared into her bedroom; not looking forward to the hangover or the conversation that would follow tomorrow.

Chapter Text

It was too fucking bright.

The sun was being fucking obnoxious.

It could fuck off.

Draco awoke with the master of all headaches; his choice to overindulge last night had not been the right one. Not that anything else seemed like a good option after what happened in the library.

Fuck.

He groaned as he rolled onto his side. Everything ached, his back, his head, his chest. His heart.

Something about the way Hermione had looked at him last night before they returned home had broken him. It was like a switch, the change from her drunken delirium to sobered state.

Don’t misunderstand, Draco Malfoy would’ve loved nothing more than to finish what they started, but he was most definitely not going to attempt to shag Hermione Granger whilst she was completely sloshed.

The knowledge that he did, in fact, want to sleep with her wasn’t new information.

Draco felt it as soon as he first saw her upon his return to England. The feeling that started in the pit of his stomach; like a rope that pulled him from within. He’d always prided himself on being controlled and meticulous in every aspect in his life, yet somehow Hermione had become a weak spot.

That had been the cause of his ‘outburst’ yesterday. Ordinarily Draco would not have made such a bold move as to snog Hermione senseless in the aisles of the library. However, there was that pesky feeling again. Pulling him in like the Moon to the Earth’s orbit. Draco could go so far to say that these last few months have only led to the realisation that he lov— 

Nope. No. Not a chance.

Draco dragged his aching limbs off the bed, his grey bottoms falling low on his hips, and grabbed a black t-shirt from his reading chair. He gave no shits about how he looked at that current moment, his only thought of solace was caffeine. Although he did owe the She-bini some thanks — those grey trousers were incredibly comfortable and, if Draco did say so himself, very flattering.

There was no shuffling from downstairs as Draco exited his room and he assumed Hermione would be completely out of action for the day. His stomach sank at the feeling of her closing off again. It had been torture last week. Not hearing her voice, her quips or insults; just left with his own thoughts and the orange beast — who was currently perched atop of Draco’s favourite armchair, staring disdainfully at him.

“Alright, just a quick treat before your mistress awakens. But no telling.” Draco pointed at the beast, fortifying his point.

The demon remained still and continued to stare, unimpressed.

Flicking on the electric kettle, which Draco found a love for immediately as it was much quicker than a pot on the stove, he removed a small fish shaped biscuit from the cupboard and trudged over to the moody monster. It sniffed at his fingers, as usual, before biting forward. It had taken Draco approximately six illegal biscuits before he concluded the feline was biting him on purpose, and would need to learn the beast’s tell. Moments before the strike, the creature would pull its head back, allowing Draco to adjust his hold and slide his fingers out of the reach of its teeth.

The kettle clicked behind him and the hiss of steam filled the kitchen. He collected a mug from the side: instant coffee, sugar, water, milk. Perfect. His energy and body freshly renewed the second the scalding liquid hit his tongue.

Unlike the woman who looked like a raggedy gremlin in the kitchen doorway.

She said nothing, but her hair engulfed her entire head, and her face had a slight greenish hue.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Ssshhh. Too loud. Whisper,” the gremlin woman replied.

Draco huffed a laugh and proceeded to make her a cup.

Within the thirty seconds it took to prepare her drink, Hermione had crawled over to the sofa and was now lying unceremoniously across all the pillows. The thought of her stunning appearance yesterday in contrast to this had Draco hiding a laugh behind his mug.

“You’re coffee m’lady,” he whispered, placing the cup on the table nearby.

“Mmnngg, thanks,” she mumbled, her arm strewn over her face in an attempt to block out the sunlight.

Draco was unsure whether to stay. They were obviously discussing nothing in her deteriorated state, and watching her in silence as she lulls about didn’t seem particularly great either. Collecting his drink, he started towards the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked, uncovering one eye slightly.

“I didn’t think me sitting here watching you die from alcohol poisoning would be that entertaining, so I’m heading back to my room.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be up in a minute. It’s just”— she waved her arms about —“so bright down here. You can stay.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why, thank you for your permission, Granger.” He reclaimed his armchair, now void of the fluffy demon. “How wonderful of you to allow me to join you.”

“Prick.”

He smiled; at least she was still a little feisty. Hermione clasped the back of the sofa and heaved herself up before she grabbed her drink.

“Mmmmm. So good.”

Draco shuddered.

Hermione’s hands were in his hair, pulling, stroking. She moaned as Draco slid down to kiss her neck.

“So good,” she moaned.

Draco shook the thoughts from his head.

“Thanks for the coffee. I needed it.” Hermione folded her legs underneath her, turning to face him better. “I can’t believe how much we all drank last night. I mean, I feel bad, but my guess is Harry is feeling a lot worse. From what I can remember, Pansy practically carried him out.”

“Yes, I don’t think Pansy was too happy with that. She’ll be extra disappointed to know you never ended up showing anyone her gift last night.”

Hermione’s eyes popped wide. Shit. Wrong thing to say.

“I’m sorry, that isn’t what I meant,” he sighed.

Hermione relaxed. “I know, don’t worry.”

Were they going to have this conversation now? It did not seem like the right time.

“We should talk, Malfoy.”

Apparently it is.

She took a deep breath. There was a tension around her eyes that looked as though she’d gone over this conversation in her head multiple times already.

“I want to apologise for last night, Malfoy.” She held her hand up to cut off his next words. “I know you said I don’t need to but… I put you in an awkward position and for that, I am sorry. I truly do enjoy working with you and I think that the stress of everything clearly got to us and we got a bit over-excited.”

Draco stilled. Was she saying she regrets it? Or that it was just a caught up in the moment thing. Did she not feel the same? He could’ve sworn— 

“Malfoy?”

Walls shot up; the familiar wave of ice washed over his body.

“I agree,” he said. It was the tone of voice he used in work meetings; clipped, matter of fact, cold. “It was clearly a lapse in judgement. We have been living together and are overworked. I apologise and it won’t happen again.”

There was a recognition in Hermione’s eyes, as if, somehow, she knew what he had just done.

Draco stood abruptly. “I am heading back to the manor today to assist my mother with the clean up. I shall return later and bring your gifts with me.”

He returned to his room, donning his usual black shirt and trousers before heading off.

Granger was still tucked tightly into the sofa when he strode past towards the fireplace, her legs pressed close to her body, shielding the warmth of the mug still in her hands. She watched him silently.

As he was about to step into the floo, she called him back.

“Malfoy, I— ”

He held her gaze, willing for any sign that she had misspoke and she did feel what he did. But there was nothing. Whatever it was died on the tip of her tongue and with a solemn nod, Draco left.

~

It took less than an hour to finish clearing everything away, however Draco hadn’t wanted to return to the tiny cottage too quickly. Instead, he took a moment to enjoy the grounds he barely visited, revelling in the sun which framed the horizon. His mother’s greenhouse stood tall and proud, a wide range of flowers on display. Her favourites had always been roses, tulips and hydrangeas; they grew here in abundance in every colour imaginable, charmed to bloom all-year round.

“Draco, darling, are you not heading back?” His mother’s soft voice echoed from behind him.

“No, mother. Not yet.”

“Are you okay, my dragon?” There was no fooling her. She caged his face in her warm hands. “What happened? You seemed so happy yesterday.”

Draco tried to turn his face but her hands held strong.

“Open up, darling. Let me in.”

At his mother’s words Draco felt his walls shake, before they tumbled apart. He released a heavy sigh and allowed his head to drop deeper into his mother’s hold.

“I think I made a mistake.”

“In what way?” She didn’t press too hard.

“I think I should’ve stayed away.”

Much to his mother’s credit, she did try to control her emotions, but the shock and hurt at his statement made her eyes glitter with tears threatening to fall.

“My dragon,” — she sighed and pulled him into her embrace  — “this is about Hermione, isn’t it?”

He nodded against her.

“Then I think you have made the right decision in returning.”

He scoffed and pulled away. “She told me this morning that it was a simple lapse in judgement and whatever happened yesterday was nothing.”

His mother quirked her brow. “Did she say those exact words?”

“No, but— ”

“Then that isn’t what she said. Is it? I know you, my darling, and I know how much she means to you. Don’t let your fear of losing her push her away. She was as happy as you were yesterday, I saw it. You know I’m always right,” she said, a happy lilt to her voice. Draco smiled at his mother’s brashness. “She is probably trying to process this all and has overcompensated. Give her time.”

Draco took a deep breath and gazed back over the grounds, the light and scents grounding him. He nodded.

“Good. Now, let us gather up everything from yesterday and you can head back to spend the day with her. It will improve your mood.”

His mother walked off, leaving no room for protests.

~

The remainder of the day had been civil once he returned home.

Neither Draco nor Hermione were entirely comfortable around each other, but it was a necessity that they get back to some semblance of normalcy. The few words she’d muttered were her thanks for her birthday gift, having finally gotten a chance to open it. 

Draco had managed to find an original writing journal belonging to Charlotte Brontë. And, after a fairly heated debate how she would absolutely be keeping the gift, and no, it wasn’t too much, they left each other be in favour of a quiet Saturday afternoon.

On Monday, Hermione received a memo from Harry about joining him for dinner at Pansy’s after work. She’d sent a quick message to Draco to inform him that she wouldn’t be back for dinner and set off for Pansy’s flat at five thirty.

“Hey, Mione.” Harry pulled her in for a hug. “How was work?”

“Same old. Although,” she started excitedly, “I’m finally confident in the best location to look for the Grail. Draco and I have been tossing up between two, and have finally decided on our favourite.”

“That’s great, Mione! I was actually going to speak to you about that. Next weekend—”

“No work talk.” Pansy interrupted as she entered the room. “This is meant to be a relaxing night away from work.”

She shot a glare at Harry, who held his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, fine. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Pansy passed Hermione a glass of wine before snuggling into Harry’s side. He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple.

Hermione smiled at their happiness. If she was being honest, she had thought that it was just a fling at first, that Pansy would eat Harry alive. But seeing them now showed her how much they cared for each other; their relationship was reminiscent of Blaise and Ginny — unexpected yet perfectly matched.

They settled onto the sofas, the pizza boxes spread across the table in the middle.

“How have you been, Hermione?” Pansy asked. “Has my gift seen the light of day yet?” she smirked.

Harry groaned and shoved a mouthful of pepperoni pizza into his mouth. “I really don’t want to know.”

“Shut it, broomstick boxers. Go on, Granger.”

Against her better judgement, Hermione felt herself flush. Pansy’s eyes widened.

“Shit! Something did happen, then? Wicked!” Her excited expression fell slightly. “Shit, now I owe Ginny five galleons.”

Hermione decided to ignore the fact they had waged on her. “Um, no. Well, not really.”

Two pairs of eyebrows raised at her hesitance.

“Something kind of happened in the library at my party, but it was just a caught up in the moment thing, I think. Nothing happened afterwards.” She took a small bite of her own slice. “Thank goodness, to be honest. I was ridiculously drunk. Merlin knows how you felt Saturday morning, Harry.”

Harry’s face turned green. “I don’t wanna think about it.”

“Hold on, rewind. So something kind of happened?” Pansy enquired.

“We kissed, and it was kind of—” Hermione felt her face grow hot under Harry’s gaze. “It was, uh, leading somewhere else.”

Pansy looked delighted. “Finally. So what happened after?”

“Narcissa interrupted us; probably for the best. Anyway, like I said it was most likely just a reaction from us being stuck together all the time in the house, and stressed from the constant research.”

“Did you tell him that?”

Something in Pansy’s tone put Hermione on edge. She wasn’t angry per se, but was definitely not pleased; even Harry froze.

Hermione cleared her throat.

“Well, er, not in that exact wording. I apologised for putting him in that position, and that we got caught up in the over-excitement.”

“Hm.” Pansy took a sip of her drink. “Excuse me one moment.”

The witch stood and headed for her bedroom.

Harry resumed eating. “Don’t mind her. She’s just screaming into her pillow. She always does it when she is frustrated.”

“Why is she frustrated?” Hermione questioned.

“Because you’re being an idiot.”

Hermione’s brows shot up.

“You seriously think that was just over-excitement? It’s okay to admit it’s more.” Harry said.

“Even Draco agreed. He said it was a lapse in judgement,” she reasoned.

“What colour were his eyes, then?”

Hermione’s mouth slammed shut.

“I know you realise it too when he occludes. I see it a lot at work.” Harry held her gaze. “Does someone being honest need to occlude his thoughts?”

Harry paused as Pansy returned to the room; looking much calmer.

“The way I see it, Mione,” Harry said, “you like facts. The facts are: you were pissed he didn’t seem to care about your birthday, you like his company, you call him Draco — and don’t give me that bullshit that it’s polite,” he said, shutting off her incoming comment.

“And you know what cake he likes,” Pansy interjected smugly. “I know you lied when Draco questioned me about it, I didn’t give you any help. I’ve known him my whole life and wouldn’t know what cake to get him. What does that prove?”

“That you’re rubbish at paying attention,” Hermione quipped.

Her friends huffed.

“My point is, Mione, you like him.” Harry’s tone was definitive. “I know you do.”

Hermione’s shoulders dropped, her lower lip falling between her teeth as she chewed on the soft flesh. It had started to ache when she finally continued.

“I don’t think it’s reciprocated.” Her voice was quiet.

Pansy came to sit beside her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, hard.

“Hermione Granger, that man has never, never, shown even a fraction of interest or effort for anyone before. You think I got a surprise party for my birthday when we dated? No. That prat didn’t even get me a gift, Narcissa did and he just put his name on it. You just need to pin him down already.”

Harry grimaced as Pansy returned to her original seat, settling into a comfortable silence.

Hermione took the break in conversation to mull over Pansy’s confidence; wishing she could muster up some of it.

~

The rest of the week seemed to drag by at a snail’s pace.

After Harry joined Hermione for lunch in her office on Tuesday, informing her that they’d been cleared by Kingsley to search the safe house she and Draco found by the lake in Wales, she had attempted to brush up on some defensive magic in the DMLE training rooms after work. They were then both called into a meeting on Friday morning, with the Minister, to go over their arrangement, just in time for their trip.

The mission was approved for her, Harry and Draco only — in an attempt to minimise attention. Although Kingsley expressed multiple times how unhappy he was at the idea of Draco being out in public, not only the first time, which he had been unaware of, but now a second. Though he acknowledged the benefit of having two highly skilled Aurors investigating.

Their plan was to quietly gain access and hope there was no trouble. Simple really.

On Saturday morning, at another ungodly hour similar to their previous trip, Hermione awoke to the sounds of the shower against the wall of her bedroom; that torturous noise had become some sick form of hell.

Sometimes reality would bleed into her subconscious and she would dream about herself following him into the hot spray of water; and sometimes she would wake to hear soft, mumbled moans that would haunt her for the rest of the day.

Today was the latter.

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was showered, dressed and ready to face whatever problems may come their way. One problem she hadn’t accounted for, though, was the sight of Draco Malfoy in his full Auror uniform when she arrived downstairs.

His crisp black button-up was tucked into the waistband of his trousers; the wand holster pulled firmly in place across his chest. His hair had fallen perfectly into his flawless tousled style — much nicer than the slick-back look from school — this style looked effortless, even if it probably took twice as long as Hermione’s routine. Hermione’s mouth watered at the sight of him with his sleeves rolled to the elbows and his tattoo out in the open, and she bit back a moan.

“Take a picture, Granger. It lasts longer.” He smirked.

She rolled her eyes. At least they were back to normal again.

As she poured them both a cup of coffee, Harry stepped out of the floo.

“Morning,” he grumbled.

Caffeine in hand, they recapped the plan. They would travel the exact way Hermione and Draco had previously and it would be Draco’s job to take down the wards. Harry and Hermione would remain disillusioned beside him, should Carrow be there and attack.

Final nods of approval. Cups sent to the sink. Familiar glamours in place. The clock chimed five thirty, signalling them all for the day ahead.

Draco stared back out at the mist-covered mountains from the edge of the lake, blessing that if he had to get up at such an unholy hour, it was at least to witness the beauty of this place again. It was much the same as when he and Hermione visited previously — just with a few extra sheep roaming about in the distance.

Hermione cast a warming charm over the three of them, the crispness to the autumn air grew more biting as the weeks went on.

They stepped closer to the boundary of the house.

Draco rolled the tension from his shoulders and removed his gloves. The warming charm was effective and he always preferred to have no barriers between his magic and his wand.

With a brief detection spell, Draco made quick work of the wards since they were stupidly basic protection charms, and all of their preliminary ‘Revelios’ showed no sign of anybody nearby. He couldn’t decide if he was happy with that or not.

“Okay,” Harry said, his eyes darting once more around the environment before casting a simple disillusion charm over the house, keeping them from prying eyes. “It seems like we’re alone, so let’s just inspect the house for any extra evidence, recast the wards and leave. Hopefully she won’t realise we were here at all and we can cast our own detection wards for when she returns.”

They began towards the house but Hermione froze, her gaze locked on the lake beside them.

“You alright, Mione?” Harry asked.

“I thought I saw—”

Draco’s back went straight as he observed her hesitation, his magic tickling the tips of his fingers, on guard. He searched her line of sight, but only saw mist and quiet water.

She shook her head. “Nevermind.

With a nod that probably meant to be reassuring, Hermione resumed trudging through the tall grass. Harry and Draco shared a tense look and followed suit.

The house, upon closer inspection, was more of a shack. The structure was entirely wooden and in dire need of repair. The roof had all but caved in and, by the looks of it, the wood-planked walls weren’t too far behind. After a few attempts, Harry had to throw his shoulder against the rigid door to finally get it to open; its hinges, solid with months of rust, creaked as they edged inside, wands raised.

It was eerily quiet. The soft groans of the wooden floor were the only noises to break the silence. The house was stripped bare and it seemed as though it had been abandoned long ago. Dust caked the large table in the middle of the room and the fire had long been burned out. The only hint of recent use was a large rectangular imprint under the window, where the dust was thinner. By the shape and size, Draco thought back to the chest that had held the inveniometer.

Breaking off to look around, Draco took what appeared to be the bedroom, whilst Hermione and Harry searched for any information in the kitchen and bathroom. It was not an overly large shack, similar to the stables they had once on the manor grounds. If Draco was being honest, the state of the bedroom looked like the stables. There was no ‘bed’ only a mouldy mattress in the corner of the room, and a fireplace. The small hearth sat cold and empty, choked in debris and bird shit.

Each spell he tried to help reveal any concealed evidence or loose floorboards that buried any information all came up short.

Returning to the main room, Harry shook his head to indicate their search had also come up empty.

Frustration boiled within Draco.

“This is bullshit!” Draco slammed his hand on the table. “She hasn’t been here in ages and there is nothing for us to follow.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, sounding dejected. “But at least we found it, now we are aware in case she comes back.”  

Hermione came to Draco’s side.

“It’ll be fine. We have our lead for the grail and I got the feeling that we may have been the first people to speak to Nimue for quite a while. Once we have it, we know Carrow cannot get her hands on it.”

He let her words glide over him and sighed.

“You’re right.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “What was that? Could you repeat it? I don’t think I heard it properly. Did you say I’m—”

“Don’t push it, Granger.”

A smug grin blossomed across her face, stealing a small smile from his own.

“Come on, guys,” Harry interjected. “There is no point hanging around for no reason. I’d rather you both be back in the safety of your cottage.”

Harry shut and re-locked the door, and Draco placed a detection charm on it to notify them if anyone accessed the house.

They began making their way back to the apparition point but, as Hermione passed the lake, she paused again.

“Granger, what are you looking at?” Draco huffed.

“There’s something in the water. I’m sure of it.” She edged closer. “In the light, I can see small flickers.” She moved closer once more.

“Mione.” Harry’s voice was tense.

But Draco saw it; out of the corner of his eye. Movement. Deep below the water surface, glinting in the sunlight. It looked like—

WHOOSH!

“GET BACK!” He yelled.

But it was too late.

A huge black tentacle wrapped its way around Hermione’s stomach and yanked her into the depths.

Draco dove straight in after her without thinking twice, ignoring Harry’s protests.

The water was like ice. It enveloped and swallowed him whole; the chill creeping into his bones. Draco pushed his limbs as hard as possible against the bitterness. Swimming down. 

Lower, lower, lower.

It was completely dark below. He could barely make out the silhouette of the squid as it descended deeper to the depths.

His body ached with exhaustion as the cold set into his muscles.

Harry’s stag shot down from the surface, illuminating the darkness. It followed as he swam, tethered to him. In the low light, Draco could see Hermione; her eyes were wide in fear as the creature pulled at her.

The thumping of his heart spurred him on.

Draco withdrew his wand from its holster and sent a Stupefy towards the squid.

It missed.

But the squid noticed it.

Jolting to a halt, it twisted to face Draco; its large beady eye seeking him out. Hermione was tugged sideways at an awkward angle, trapped within its hold.

Her face contorted and she screamed, the sound muffled and anguished, bubbles shooting up toward Draco. Precious air wasted.

No, hold on longer, Hermione.

Draco’s lungs burned. He was becoming light headed with the lack of oxygen, his vision began to blur.

The urgency to strike the squid grew; he would only have one more opportunity.

Draco raised his wand once again and the squid moved closer.

Aiming for its eye, the red light shot out.

It connected and the eye glazed over.

The squid twitched before it started to fall towards the void below. Taking Hermione with it.

Draco pushed forward again.

Hermione reached her arm out towards him and Draco tried to reach back.

Her eyelids fluttered and Draco’s body screamed at him to give in to the pain. But he couldn’t stop. He was so close.

He would save her.

He would save her.

He would.

Hermione’s eyes fell shut as the tip of Draco’s fingers reached her own.

With the last of his energy, Draco kicked harder, ignoring the cramps building in his legs, and grasped her hand, wrenching her free from the slack tentacle. The shadow of the creature behind her disappeared into the darkness below. 

Draco had nothing left to give.

His arms and legs were frozen and spasming from the cold. His chest seemed as though it was going to explode. With his wand held high, Draco pulled Hermione close and focused all his magic.

‘Ascendio’. 

Draco clamped Hermione’s unconscious body tightly as his residual magic pulled them up towards the surface and out into the light.

They landed with a thud against the hard ground.

Harry ran over, accompanied now by two other Aurors Draco couldn’t quite make out in his fading consciousness, and pulled Hermione off. 

He was yelling something about St Mungos — but Draco didn’t pay too much attention. All his thoughts were of her; hoping he had finally done enough to save her.

Just as he should have all those years ago.

How she had saved him in the Ministry.

Draco clung to that feeling within his core, the one that pulled him to her, hoping that somehow she could feel him on the other end. Like a rope to draw her back home to him.

The sound of spluttering water beside him made him want to weep with joy. She was alive.

Harry spoke directly to him now, but there were no words; the movement of Harry’s mouth was the only thing Draco could make out.

Draco held out his hand and placed it on Harry’s chest, cutting off whatever he was saying.

“Leave me. Just save her, Harry.”

He closed his eyes and let his head fall to the grass.

Chapter Text

Draco was going mad.

It had been over two weeks since their disastrous outing to Alecto’s cabin.

Sixteen days since he saved Hermione from that fucking squid.

Sixteen days since he last saw her; cold and unmoving.

Hermione had been kept at St Mungos due to her injuries. The physical issues were not the cause of their concern. Two fractured ribs and a punctured lung were easy to fix. No. Her issue was the toxin. Apparently no one knew that giant fucking squids release a neuro-toxin to subdue their prey. Lucky the one at Hogwarts liked the students.

When Draco finally came to, Harry informed him that Hermione had been caught on the beak of the squid. She was placed into an induced coma for three days whilst they ensured that all of the toxin had been removed and that there would be no long term effects on her brain.

As soon as Draco had been cleared, he’d been ordered to return to the house by Shacklebolt who didn’t want to risk keeping him out in the open too long. The Minister had also pulled some strings and burned any paperwork regarding Draco’s visit to the hospital. The same could not be done for Hermione. If Carrow was to find out that she had been admitted to Mungo’s for squid toxin exposure, it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out the connection. But Draco was pointedly avoiding that train of thought.

After a week, they ended up deciding to keep Hermione in longer for observation after she tried to stand — to prove a point that she was fine — and promptly fell on her arse.

The worst part for Draco wasn’t that they had kept her in, or even that he was going to be left by himself in the cottage with her demon cat. It was that they wouldn’t allow him to visit her.

Aside from the occasional visit from Harry to fill him in on Hermione’s recovery, and one visit from Pansy to collect some of Hermione’s things, Draco had been left on his own to worry.

Emmeline joined him almost everyday. She would cook, join him for meals and talk about the various books Draco recommended for her to read. Emmeline was lovely company, but it wasn’t the same. He missed his bossy, know-it-all roommate moaning at him for leaving his mug on the side, or for putting his feet on the coffee table — which he did just to annoy her —  or the sounds of her in the morning in the shower; waking up to the warm vanilla scent that permeated his room.

Like the deranged man he was, Draco had even used Hermione’s shampoo one day in hopes of tricking his brain into some reprieve; although it only made him miss her more, so he’d placed it back on its usual shelf. That was a new low, even for him.

Crookshanks, the demon, spent most of its time following him about; finding its way into his room during the night to curl up in the crook of Draco’s back. At first Draco protested and promptly removed the creature but, after a few days alone, it became a comfort.

The lack of daily routine ruined Draco’s concept of time; days of the week blurred into the same droll feeling. The sunlight shortened and the earlier evenings meant his sleep schedule was starting to deteriorate as well. Draco took to asking Emmeline to bring The Daily Prophet with her whenever she visited; not that he cared for the drivel in the gossip paper, he just needed it for some connection to the outside world.

This morning’s ‘revelation’ was that the witches of tomorrow should be looking for a wizard who can cook. It shows his love for his mother and family recipes. Bullshit.

His morning coffee was interrupted by the whoosh of the floo. Draco made no effort to move.

“Yes, Potter? To what do I owe the pleasure of you this morning?”

A deep voice, definitely not belonging to Harry, called back.

“Wow, if that’s the amazing greeting Harry normally gets, I understand why he sent me.”

Draco slammed his cup onto the counter and hastily rounded the corner to the living room.

“John?” Draco’s eyebrows raised. “What are you doing here?”

John smiled at him and shrugged. “Well, I assumed you’d be bored on your own and thought I’d pop by to keep you company for a bit. I don’t have any active cases at the moment.”

Draco was still unsure. No one was supposed to know he was here.

“Did Harry tell you to come?” He questioned.

“Yes.” John removed his boots and placed them by the fireplace. “And, before you ask, I know your location is top secret; Harry filled me in on the details before I came. But, he thought it might do you good to see a friendly face. Of course if you’re still unsure it’s me, I can remind you of the one time in Surrey where we found that brothel for—”

“Nope,” Draco rushed. “That’s enough. I’d only just managed to burn that from my memory.”

John chuckled. “Don’t worry about me being here, my lips are sealed.”

He zipped his mouth shut. Then paused and made a show of unzipping it.

“I would love a drink though.”

Draco smiled and made his way to put the kettle back on.

~

Hours passed and Draco felt at ease. Draco couldn’t help but feel grateful to Harry for John’s visit, though something niggling in the back of his mind told him that Shacklebolt was not aware of the social call.

Emmeline arrived with their lunch and both men took a seat at the table.

“So,” John started, “how do we plan on catching the bitch? After she blew up your office, and has now inadvertently injured Hermione, I can’t believe you will allow her to roam free for much longer.”

Draco scowled and gripped his whiskey glass. Emmeline had brought them a bottle to accompany their food; a charcuterie board with various meats, cheeses and breads. Although it was a work day, technically it was only John who was still on duty.

“No. But there isn’t much I can do from here. We have a plan but…”

“But?”

“We have an idea of how to get the item she’s seeking, but we can’t get it until Yule.” Draco sighed. “It’s ridiculous. Carrow is out there planning Merlin knows what, and I’m stuck here.”

He threw his napkin down at the table.

John finished the piece of bread he was chewing, his head tilted in contemplation. “Could you not sneak out?”

“Not very ‘law enforcer’ of you.” Draco smiled.

John jerked his shoulder noncommittally. “No, I guess not. But then again, she has injured someone you care about now. It’s more personal.”

Draco’s eyes darted around, avoiding John’s knowing gaze.

“Oooh,” he said, drawing out the word on a long sigh, “I see. You’re still pretending that you don’t care for Hermione. Ignoring the fact that, if what Harry said is correct, you dived in head first after her to chase down a giant squid with no thought for your own safety.”

“Harry is always a bit dramatic,” Draco countered.

“I would almost say it was very Gryffindor of you.”

John laughed as Draco scrunched his face in disgust.

“Never say that again.”

Draco drained his glass and reached for the bottle. He gestured to refill John’s but the man shook his head.

“I shouldn’t, I need to get back.”

John stood, Draco following him out of the kitchen.

“I actually came here to bring you some news.”

Draco’s ears piqued as John shoved his feet back into his boots.

“Hermione is due to be released tomorrow. She will be staying at Harry’s tomorrow night so that if there is an issue he can apparate her directly back to Mungos. If all is well, she will be back home on Thursday.”

Draco tried to fight off the annoyance at Hermione not coming home straight away; although he understood why. If there was an issue, Draco couldn’t apparate and floo would be too risky.

“Alright.”

As if sensing his apprehension, John made his way to Draco. “Listen, son. I know you’re ‘too cool’ for feelings and all that nonsense. But it’s okay to admit you’re worried about her. I said it the last time I saw you, and it’s even more apparent now, that you have changed and I believe it’s because of her. You seem more — well, you.”

Draco raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I even know who I really am. So I don’t know how you’ve come to that conclusion.”

John’s face became serious. “You are one of the bravest men I’ve known. Despite the hand you were dealt earlier in life, you have fought to disparage the assumptions about you and have become a phenomenal Auror. You are intelligent, funny — sometimes.” 

Draco scoffed at that but John continued.

"You are one of the most dedicated men I know — to your work, your family, and anyone else you care about. Hermione Granger is a complete match for you, and I can say with complete confidence that the way this woman has changed you will only continue to make you stronger.”

The older wizard smiled warmly.

“I’m proud of who you’ve become, Draco.”

Without warning, John pulled Draco into a hug.

He’d never done that before.

It was not your normal hug. It was a rib crushing hug that felt as though someone was pouring their pride and joy into your body. Draco lifted his hands to the man’s back. When John finally pulled back, there was a mistiness to his eyes.

“Make the most of the time you have with those you love, Draco. The world can take them away in the blink of an eye.”

With a pat on the shoulder, John turned and stepped into the hearth, disappearing into the green flames.

Draco was alone once more. As he took a seat, shielded in the comfort of the cottage, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

Hermione was bored of hospital food.

How she longed for a taste of Emmeline’s cooking. Over two weeks of lukewarm meals and jelly had really not aided in her recovery.

The mediwitches had finally agreed to discharge her and she was in the process of packing her bag to head to Harry’s flat.

Working for St Mungos afforded her a nicer room, but the plain white walls were enough to drive anyone mad. Padma had been placed in charge of her care due to her ability to keep a secret — plus the fact her fiance worked in the DMLE. Aurors had been posted outside of the room twenty-four seven since the incident, just in case Alecto decided to send someone to finish the job. Not that Hermione truly believed she was at risk here.

Hermione was collating all of her belongings as Harry signed off on her edited paperwork at the main reception.

Shoving the last of her clothes into the bag, the door squeaked open behind her and Harry sat on the bed with a huff.

“Right, we are all done here,” he said. “Absolutely ridiculous amount of paperwork, if you ask me, but that seems to be a lot of my job nowadays. If you’re ready we can leave.”

Hermione nodded and collected her wand from the bedside table. It had fallen out of her hand when the squid snatched her, which did make her powerless in the moment, but meant it wasn’t lost to the depths. 

“Perfect,” Harry said. “Let’s go.”

~

The floo journey hadn’t been overly long but it had been draining. Hermione scolded herself for feeling weak at something so simple. The moment she’d stepped out into Harry’s living room, she excused herself in need of a lie down. When she finally awoke, the sun had fallen below the horizon and a warm orange glow filtered through the small window. Dragging herself from the bed with a groan, Hermione slid her feet into her slippers and made her way downstairs.

Stepping into the living room, she saw Harry crouched by the fireplace on a call with someone. Upon noticing her arrival back downstairs, he quickly bid the caller farewell.

“How are you feeling, Mione?” Harry asked gently.

“Better.” She settled into the sofa. “I guess the floo travel will take a bit of time to get used to.”

Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Um, Mione. I spoke to Kingsley and,” he hesitated, “he has signed you off for the next two weeks. To give you time to get better.”

“Harry, no!” Hermione protested. “I need to get back to work. Don’t stick me at home, I’ll be of no use.”

“It’s not about being of use. It’s about you nearly being killed.” Harry slumped down on the sofa next to her. “I can try to help as much as possible but, Mione, I nearly lost you and I can’t do that again. You need to get back to full health and if we’re being completely honest,”— Harry rubbed his hand over his face and sighed —“I think Kingsley is going to pull you from everything; like he did with Draco.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide.

“What?! No, Harry, he can’t, it’s not fair! You can’t keep us both hidden, I— I won’t be able to access half of the information I need. This has been a slow process, I know that, but I almost have what I need for the trials, I’m sure of it.” She grasped his hand in hers, pleading with her eyes. “Please, Harry, speak to him. Tell him it would hinder our work.”

Harry placed his other hand on top of hers in comfort.

“You know what he’s like. This is too big and he won’t gamble another security risk.” Harry gave her hand a gentle pat. “I’ll talk to him but, at the minimum, I expect he will limit you to your home and the archives.”

“But how can I access old texts at home? How will I be able to transport it back for Draco? What if we miss a vital piece of evidence because I’m not there?

This wasn’t working. She reassessed her approach.

“Harry, I’ll go mad at home. Please, I need to be able to work. I’ll struggle to focus and then it will become a hindrance to the investigation.”

Nothing.

Despite her further insistence that it was entirely unnecessary, and her mumbles and groans about the idea being ‘utterly ridiculous’ Harry didn’t seem to offer an alternative.

After a few more minutes of attempted bargaining, her shoulders fell, and she settled on hoping that Shacklebolt would be understanding.

“How about a cuppa? I have some biscuits in the cupboard.” Harry tried cheerfully.

Hermione nodded, wracked with thoughts of her impending grounding.

When Harry returned, beverages in hand, they sat in a comfortable silence for a brief moment and Hermione relished that her tea was actually hot for once. If her time in hospital had shown her anything it was that they really needed to address the customer care external to medicine. The nurses were lovely, but trained chefs they were not — warming charms could only get you so far.

“You know, Harry,” Hermione started, “you never really explained what happened after I was pulled under.”

She held the warm mug tightly; its warmth spread through her hands. Ever since the incident her body couldn’t get warm. Hermione couldn’t count the amount of times she had asked for extra blankets or warming charms from the nurses. It felt like something was missing inside of her. Perhaps a near-death experience is a bit of a shock to the system.

Harry shrugged. “There isn’t much to say. You were pulled in, Draco went in after you, and I called for help. Aside from sending a light down, there wasn’t much else I could do. The last thing any of us needed was me following the impulsive git in and we all got stuck in the freezing water.”

“Impulsive?”

“Yeah. If Malfoy had actually stopped to listen to me, I was telling him that backup could be here in thirty seconds. It was like he didn’t hear a single word I said, you’d only been in about five seconds before the moron jumped in after you.”

“Why? That’s so reckless and stupid. Malfoy is many things, but he’s not an idiot.”

Hermione was getting tired of asking others why Malfoy did the things he did, but her friends always seemed to thoroughly enjoy the idea of her not knowing something. Pansy would smirk and avoid the question all together, Harry usually shrugged her off and Ginny just laughed.

Even now, Harry only gave her a lazy sort of smirk.

Hermione huffed. “Whatever. I’ll see him tomorrow to tell him off for being irresponsible.”

Harry laughed. “I will say this, though. Those five seconds, Mione,” his face sobered, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so scared.”

Hermione watched the slow rise of steam from her mug as she contemplated his words. Not pulling her eyes away she asked quietly, “Harry, after the clearing, with Voldemort, did you feel — cold?”

“Cold?”

“Afterwards, I mean. Was it like you couldn’t find warmth and like there was something missing?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Hermione hummed.

They’d sat in silence for a little while longer until Harry ordered them dinner. By the time she’d finished her food, the day had taken its toll and Hermione headed to bed. Her mind still pounded with the unknown but she drifted off to the hope that tomorrow would bring some clarity.

~

A faint memory of a dream teased the edges of Hermione’s subconscious.

The moment the squid pulled her under, her body shivered with remembrance of how the water encapsulated her body in what felt like pure ice. Except this time, as she watched Draco breach the water’s surface above, the vision changed.

Hermione watched as the past version of her fell deeper and deeper into the darkness and Draco swam down to reach her. The fear in the past Hermione’s eyes was like a beacon in the black.

A spell was shot.

It missed.

This ‘other’ Hermione was pulled and screamed out in pain. Draco slowed and raised his wand. The second spell was a direct hit and Draco pushed forward again. As the past Hermione’s eyes fell closed, the current Hermione gasped and saw Draco reach out and clutch her hand in his.

This was his version; Hermione was watching the situation through Draco’s eyes. But how?

Past Draco clutched her unconscious body close as his magic pulled them out to the surface. Hermione followed, pulled along by the dream.

In total they couldn’t have been under for more than a minute, in the moment it had felt like an eternity.

The view shifted once more and she watched in horror as her own face came into view on the floor, pale, blue-lipped and completely void of life. Draco was barely conscious himself but he was denying Harry’s attempts to help him.

Then Hermione felt it.

The pull deep in her chest.

It had been there for years; almost imperceptible. When it first began, Hermione thought she had imagined it. However, it persisted and grew stronger the older she got. With it starting towards the end of the war, a part of her wondered if it was a side effect of the cursed blade Bellatrix had used; the residual dark magic within her. But the more she focused on the sensation, she realised that it never seemed malicious. If anything it was the opposite; inviting, comforting. Something that could always pull her back home.

Here it was again, but stronger this time. Almost as if someone was on the other side calling for her.

Just as she tried to follow the feeling, the dream faded.

~

Hermione retrieved her bag from the spare bedroom and stood beside Harry to floo back to the cottage. “Ready?” Harry asked.

She nodded and held her arm in his as he threw the powder into the hearth. “Granger cottage.”

Her living room was empty. Void of the usual scene of Draco in the armchair closest to the window, accompanied by Crookshanks, it felt strange.

There was a sound of movement from upstairs, followed by the slight squeak of Draco’s bedroom door opening. As the stairs began to creak under his steps, anticipation built in her stomach.

Her heart skipped when Draco stepped forward into the room and observed her; her face warming under his familiar scrutiny.

The atmosphere tensed with Draco and Hermione both locked in each other’s gaze.

Harry cleared his throat, but Hermione couldn’t find it in her to look away.

“Right. I’ll be off. Owl, patronus, or floo me if you feel unwell at any point. But, other than that, enjoy your time off.”

Giving her a supportive rub on her arm, Harry disappeared from her side as the sound of flames filled the room.

Then there were two.

Hermione had pondered over their first conversation when back home many times whilst in Mungo’s. Then again after her conversation with Harry. Would she scold him for being so reckless? Would he scold her for standing too close to the edge? Would they argue over who was more in the wrong?

However, as she stared at him now, those beautiful blue eyes staring back, there was nothing else to say other than, “Thank you.”

It came out quiet, carried along by her breath.

“Granger.”

This one word held something. Something more. Something new. It might have been the way it fell from Draco’s mouth like a plea.

Familiar senses revived. The pull was back and Merlin be damned if she wouldn’t follow. Hermione’s feet moved of their own accord and, before she knew it, she clutched at Draco, pulling him into an embrace.

Draco’s arms surrounded her and trapped her tight within his hold and the effect was instantaneous.

Heat spread across her entire body, as though she had never known true warmth before.

Chapter Text

Hermione had been at home for just over two weeks and she was itching at the chance of returning to her archives to continue her research.

These two weeks were awful.

Draco took on the role of carer perfectly; ensuring Hermione would eat three meals a day — courtesy of Emmeline — and arranging with his mother to provide some research material from the Manor library. He’d also ensured she never over-exerted herself.

It was horrible. Entirely too attractive for their situation.

What made it worse was how often she found herself drifting towards him in search of that comforting warmth. The slightest graze of the hand, catch of the eye, or a touch of her back in passing would cause her heart to skip a beat. It was teenager stuff, really. Hermione Granger should not be having daydream fantasies about this man.

One morning in particular, Hermione was determined to go about her day completely on her own and show Draco she was still as strong as ever. Hermione left her bedroom with the intent of showering but caught Draco on his way out. His hair was still wet and mussed, his upper body was still damp from the shower, and a towel hung low on his hips. The sight, accompanied by the small trail of pale hair from his bellybutton, caused her brain to malfunction.

Hermione proceeded to trip over a ruck in the rug, and ungraciously tumble straight into him.

Draco gripped her hips to steady her as her hands landed flat on his chest and he’d muttered his concerns for her wellbeing, but they were drowned out under the ringing in her ears. The blush she could feel warming her cheeks meant she was no longer able to look up at him without exposing her desire. So, with her eyes still downcast, she rushed an apology and scrambled back to her room.

Blessing the small mercy that his towel had remained tightly on his hips; her heart couldn’t have taken any more shock.

Harry and Ginny had visited at various points over the last few weeks. Harry brought the good news that Kingsley was not planning to limit her movements, and Ginny’s visits were to convince Hermione to accept Molly’s invitation to her birthday meal. Everyone was aware that Ron would be in attendance, but Molly really wanted Hermione to come.

Even Pansy had been invited.

That was what finally cemented her acceptance. If Pansy, the Slytherin princess, could enter the house of the Weasley clan, Hermione really had no excuse.

Now, as she spelled her curls into a loose bun atop her head, Hermione contemplated whether attending the meal today was actually a good idea, or if her friends had managed to peer pressure her into going.

She checked her watch for the twentieth time that morning, in the wild hope that somehow this time the clock hands would be ticking backwards and pushing her departure for The Burrow into the distant future. But they weren't. They actually told her it was just about time to leave.

When Hermione walked into the kitchen, Draco was sitting at the table, reading the Daily Prophet.

“Bit predictable, Granger,” he said as she entered the kitchen space.

She tilted her head in silent question.

Draco gestured to her outfit.

She’d opted for comfort and settled on an oversized jumper and leggings — she couldn’t see the issue.

“Red for the Gryffindor lot,” he added. “Do they not approve of any other colour of the rainbow?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s just the first thing I picked up.” She poured herself a glass of water. “Why? What would you have me wear, Green?”

His eyes flashed briefly. “Maybe.”

Locked gazes. It happened more and more lately. Like a secret only they shared yet couldn’t speak.

Hermione forced herself to look away, downing her drink in one.

“Thirsty?” Draco teased.

Hermione ignored his comment. “I’m going now, but I shouldn’t be back too late.”

The benefit of a celebration lunch was that she could still leave at a respectable time. She’d flooed to Harry’s earlier in the week to test if she was still affected by the travel, but it went perfectly fine and was reassured that she would be able to make it to The Burrow in one piece.

Crooks accepted her pat on his head before she collected Molly’s gift, which Ginny had graciously picked up for her, and stepped into the flames.

~

Hermione normally loved coming to the Burrow, but knowing Ron would be here put her on edge.

She scanned the room to prepare herself. Bill, Fleur and Charlie were lounging on the sofa, George was helping Molly with the final parts of the meal. Ginny, who was currently in the garden with Arthur, had told Hermione that Molly hadn’t trusted anyone to make the food up to her standards, so she would be doing all of the cooking herself. Percy stood by the doorway discussing something with Penelope, and Pansy and Harry were waiting for her by the sofa.

“Hey, Hermione. Are you okay? You look a little sick,” Harry asked genuinely.

“Hi, Harry,” Hermione replied, giving him a hug. “I’m fine,” she lowered her voice, “just not really looking forward to Ron being here is all.”

“Look,” Harry took her hand and gave it a squeeze, “if he gives you any grief, I’ll say something. Don’t you worry.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

Hermione’s gaze swapped to the oddly quiet woman beside her.

“You look nice, Pansy. I’ve never seen you in a jumper before. I’m surprised you even own one.”

Pansy took a glance down at her outfit for the day and scowled.

“I don’t. Harry suggested I would feel more comfortable in it for dinner today, but I just feel — itchy. Apparently, he doesn’t own cashmere!” Her voice was annoyed, but her attempted glare failed as Harry was nothing but fond. “That will change.”

The floo roared to life again and Ron stepped from the hearth, brushing the dust from his favourite pair of distressed jeans that he'd worn almost everyday for a year when he'd first bought them.

Ron’s eyes roamed in search of the first hello, but caught Hermione’s gaze. Unsure of how best to approach him, she waved, praying to Merlin it looked natural and not like she dreaded seeing him.

Hermione turned back to her friends, both Harry and Pansy were pursing their lips to keep their faces straight.

“Merlin, Hermione,” Pansy started through broken breaths, “I was so right about that stupid wave the day you had lunch with Draco. It is exactly the one that you give to an ex at a family gathering.”

Pansy’s comment was too much for Harry, who barked a laugh and excused himself to the garden, wiping the tears from his eyes as he did. That set Pansy off. The Slyther-bitch broke into hysterics and Hermione glared at her until she followed Harry out.

Not that it made a difference. Hermione could still hear them cackling from outside.

“Hey, Mione,” a meek voice called from behind.

She froze. Steeling herself she took a deep breath and turned, a saccharine smile plastered on her face.

“Hi, Ron.”

He couldn't quite decide whether to place his hands in his pockets, or leave them dangling by his side, and it seemed he was unable to look at her face for more than two seconds at a time.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“I’m good!” Her voice sounded squeaky. “How about you? How’s, uh, quidditch been?” Not that she truly cared.

His demeanour switched in an instant, as if all hesitance was replaced by the change in topic.

“Yeah, it’s going great! I think I’m going to be asked to coach a smaller team in the off season.” He beamed with pride.

A wave of nausea rolled through her.

“That’s great. I’m sorry, Ron, I just need to use the loo before dinner.”

She sprinted to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Her stomach cramped and her chest ached at the clinical conversation. At some point she had loved Ron, both as a friend and more, but now their discussions were like a stilted connection of passing acquaintances.

Years of friendship. Years of a relationship and he had thrown it all away for a fling. There were rumours that he and Lavender were still an item; although Hermione doubted it. He loved his celebrity status too much. The appeal of witches fawning all over him was something she’d been aware of when he’d first started playing professionally.

Maybe being the youngest boy was hard. Hermione always knew that Ron craved a reason to stand out on his own, instead of just ‘another Weasley brother’. His need for attention was always going to be his biggest weakness.

There was a gentle knock on the door.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Ginny’s concerned voice called through the closed door. “Harry sent me to check that you didn’t feel unwell.”

“I’m alright, Gin. I just didn’t realise how much…” Hermione didn’t want to say it.

“How much it still sucks to see Ron.” Ginny finished.

Hermione opened the door and nodded solemnly.

“If you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. Mum knows that there was some kind of incident recently, and you got injured, we can just say it’s that. She wouldn’t mind.”

Hermione shook her head. “No. I won’t let him ruin the day. I’m here for Molly, so I’ll stay. I just needed a moment. I’m all good now.”

Ginny held her hand out and took hold of Hermione’s, tightly. “Come on. Dinner is being served and you can sit next to me. My boring husband is away for work and I want to gossip with someone during dinner.” A large smile spread across her face.

Hermione chuckled. “Sounds good.”

~

The food, as expected, was delicious. Topics of discussion were varied throughout the table, although certain people definitely vied for the spotlight. Hermione downed her wine as Ron recounted his ‘incredible’ save against the Applebee Arrows — for the third time.

“Still missed mine though, eh?” Ginny proudly exclaimed across the table.

Ron turned a little red in the face. Hermione guessed it was less from the mention of the missed goal but from the interruption of his story.

“Look, Gin, I have to be nice sometimes. Don’t you worry, though. Next match I’ll be all focus; can’t lose out on the World Cup finals,” he said with a smug smile.

Ginny hid a scowl behind her glass and Hermione placed a comforting hand on her knee.

It was always going to be a competition with two professional Quidditch players at the Burrow and, with the next few months being the matches for the World Cup, it was inevitable that brother and sister would meet on the pitch. Ginny was one of two chasers from the Harpies chosen to be put forward for Wales, and Ron had been chosen as the keeper for the English team.

Based on the little knowledge she had on the sport, Hermione would guess the odds were with Ginny. The girl was much more focused on the game itself; not the fame that came with it. It made her far more skilled and disciplined than Ron.

Maybe that’ll be the match I decide to watch.

Hermione smiled at the thought.

Conversation flowed more easily during dessert — mostly due to Ron’s mouth being occupied by his pie — and Hermione was having a lovely discussion with George about the launch of his next project.

“I think it will be a hit,” he exclaimed excitedly.

Hermione hummed. “I agree. Although, I am slightly concerned with you deciding to ask for Theo’s help on this project.”

“You’re more concerned with him assisting my work than dating my brother?” George quirked his brow.

Charlie sighed. “We aren’t dating. It was one hook up and one dinner.”

“Which for Theo is serious,” Hermione chuckled. “I don’t think he has ever taken someone out the entire time I’ve known him.”

“It’s true,” Pansy cut in. “I don’t know what you’ve got in your pants Weasley—”

Hermione, Harry, Ginny and George all murmured various sounds of disgust.

“—but it’s got Theo all romanced up. So keep doing it.”

Pansy raised her glass in cheers to Charlie, who looked quite pleased with himself.

Hermione laughed along with the group for a little while longer until, unfortunately, the pie ran out.

“How’s it going at the DMLE, Harry?” Ron’s broad voice called out.

“It’s going good, mate. We’re really close to closing in on the biggest case in a while,” Harry said proudly, flashing a wink at Hermione.

Ron gulped down his beer—great start—then asked the question Hermione had been dreading.

“Still stuck with Malfoy? Can’t believe he’s lasted, to be honest, I thought his poncy attitude would’ve chucked him back overseas.”

Pansy stilled slightly.

“No offence, Parkinson,” Ron continued. “You’re alright, obviously, otherwise Harry wouldn’t be with you. He’s a good judge of character.”

Much to Hermione’s surprise, Pansy didn’t answer, she just sent Ron a closed-lipped smile and took a drink of her wine. Hermione saw Harry take her hand under the table before attempting to diffuse the topic gently.

“He’s one of the best in the team, to be honest, Ron. He’s already caught as many dark wizards as the old Auror department had in the one year he’s been here.”

Ron chuckled mirthlessly, the malicious undertone setting Hermione’s teeth on edge.

“Well, he spent enough time round ‘em. Sure he knows how to catch ‘em.”

The table went quiet and Hermione’s chest burned.

Ron shrugged and continued, “Oh, well. I’m sure he’ll head off again when he gets bored here.”

“Why would he get bored here?”

The question was out of her mouth before she could think about it. It was sharp. Biting.

All eyes pointed at her.

“You know how he is, Mione. People don’t change that much,” Ron said.

“I suppose that’s true.” She shrugged and placed her second glass of wine down as calmly as she could. “So let’s look at the facts.

“Draco Malfoy has not only become a decorated officer in the DMLE, but he was one of the most respected Aurors in MACUSA and the French Auror department, training for, what, three years. Not only that, he has even provided external aid to other international departments if they required.—”

I should stop now.

“—Yes, he is still stubborn, annoying, and can be quite egotistical, but that doesn’t negate that, with an almost one-hundred and fifty percent capture rate in the one year he has been back in the UK, he's very good at what he does. Which, to put it in a way you’ll understand; the fact you are still talking about the way you caught a quaffle in your first professional match — over three years ago— "

I should probably stop here.

"—I can only assume your other matches have been a little lacklustre, and your work percentile probably lies around twenty percent—”

I should definitely stop talking.

“—So, yes, Draco is very much the same, but he is also an incredibly different man to the boy you once knew. It would do you well to remember that we are all grownups and the war affected everyone, no matter their background.”

Hermione was out of breath and could feel the heat in her cheeks. Ron was red-faced, mouth agape. Aside from Molly and Arthur, the rest of the room sat with smirks across their faces; but in that moment, Hermione couldn’t find it in her to care.

She picked her glass back up and finished it in one.

~

Ron left not long after the cake had been cut. He told them that it was due to a portkey timing issue and would have to leave earlier than originally planned, fooling no one.

The party wasn't quite the same after that, not for Hermione at least. Conversation was lively, but the topic of her passionate speech hovered in the middle of every room, unmentioned and unignorable. So, as soon as Bill and Fleur announced they were leaving to put Victoire to bed, she took the opportunity to say goodbye as well.

“Molly?” Hermione said quietly.

“Yes, my dear?” Molly smiled.

“Would you mind if I took an extra slice of cake home?”

“Of course!”

The woman beamed and, with a flick of her wand, a second slice of cake, perfectly wrapped for freshness, floated into Hermione’s hand.

“Thank you.” Hermione paused. “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I didn’t mean to ruin the mood of your party.”

The older woman hushed her.

“Hermione, I love my son very much, but I know how he can be. Sometimes being stuck in the past is not a good thing and can close you off to the possibility of meeting some amazing people—like I feel Mr Malfoy might be for you?”

Hermione flushed and avoided her eyes.

Molly went on, “I will always call you my daughter for however long you wish and, in all honesty, I was just happy to see a bit of that old fiery spark back in you.”

Molly pulled her into a hug.

The familiarity of Molly's hugs was a comfort Hermione hadn't known she'd needed. The moment the woman wrapped her up in her arms, the soft wool of her cardigan tickling Hermione's cheek, all of her frustration and embarrassment from earlier dissipated. If anyone asked, she would say that the mistiness in her eyes was due to the dust; but the knowledge that, in some way, Molly still supported her despite everything with Ron, and whatever this situation was with Draco, meant the world to her.

~

Draco was not in his usual place when Hermione returned home. It was Crookshanks who greeted her, with agitated mews.

He padded over from the chair letting her scratch a few times behind his ears before he reached up to paw at her legs — his claws peeking out in familiar warning.

“What is it, Crooks? Are you hungry?”

He mewed louder.

Strange. He should’ve been fed thirty minutes ago.

“Malfoy?” she called out tentatively. “Are you here?”

No reply.

There was no sound of movement upstairs, or the sound of the shower running.

Panic began to flare.

Hermione withdrew her wand and began a sweep downstairs.

“Malfoy?”

She entered the kitchen. It was empty save for a small piece of parchment on the counter with a scribbled message in Draco’s handwriting.

Sorry, had to go to The Manor. It’s my mother.
Speak to Theo, he’ll fill you in.
—D.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. At least he wasn’t injured or kidnapped. Although that may have been a slightly dramatic over-reaction though as, really, he could’ve just fallen asleep.

She tipped some food into Crooks’ bowl, placed the slices of cake into the fridge, and set off for Theo’s flat.

She reappeared in his living room and called out her arrival. Nothing.

Great, apparently it was a pattern today.

At least for Theo this was common. He could never hear the floo flaring, especially when he was in his office. It was honestly quite unsafe and Hermione often reminded him of that, but he always replied with “Nonsense, just come in and I’ll deal with you when I find you.”

So she did just that.

It was way too early for him to be asleep, so Hermione headed directly toward his home office.

“Theo! I’m here!” she called out, pushing the door open. “Did Malfoy— AHHH!”

“OH, SHIT!”
“FUCK, NOT AGAIN!”

The snapshot of Charlie’s fully naked body pressing Theo over the regal mahogany desk imprinted itself into Hermione’s retinas before she slammed the door shut. She hurried back to the living room, a mortified flush burning through her body.

That’s exactly why Theo shouldn’t leave his floo open and unattended! You could never trust his flat to be a family-friendly environment!

Charlie did have a nice arse, though, she had to admit…

She heard the office door reopen and both men stumble out.

“Hermione,” Theo called, “we can’t keep doing this. If you want to join me, just say! I can’t keep having heart attacks.”

Both men looked shamelessly mussed, half-dressed and sweaty. Red splotches covered Theo’s cheeks, matching the ones down Charlie’s chest.

“I just saw you fifteen minutes ago!” Hermione said. “How are you already…?!”

At that, Charlie merely shrugged and swiped a hand into his hair.

“Damn, you work fast,” she said to Theo.

He flashed her a smug grin and dropped into the nearest couch. It was leather and unnecessarily complex in shape.

“Alright, then, if you’re not here for my body, what did you want with me, gorgeous?”

Hermione took a deep breath to anchor herself. That’s right, before being shocked she had been worried sick.

“Draco is not home and he left this note saying you’d fill me in?”

“Ah, yes. It seemed as though there was a threat made on Narcissa’s chateau in France. Draco went to the Manor to check if it was true. Haven’t heard from him after that.”

“WHAT?!” Hermione shrieked. “Why didn’t you just say that immediately?! Narcissa might be in danger and you’re here hooking up with your not-boyfriend?!”

“Excuse you!" he retorted, reaching for Charlie to join him. "This is a stressful time, and you know what I need to handle stress. Besides, there wasn’t anything I could do. Draco will have it handled. You can go and check, if you’d like.”

Instead of saying all the ninety things she could have said at the moment, Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Why couldn’t he just have said so in the note?” She grumbled to herself. “Fine, I’m going. Thank you very much for your help. Have fun handling stress.”

“Or you can stay…” Theo drawled, tracing a playfully seductive swirl across Charlie’s chest. “I’m sure we could treat you very nicely…”

“Just don’t tell my family,” Charlie added.

Hermione snorted, annoyance melting a little.

“No, thanks. I’ve seen enough of your bodies for today.”

She started heading back to the floo but, to ensure them she wasn’t leaving with any bad feelings, called back, “Although Pansy will be delighted to finally know what’s in your pants, Charlie.”

He barked out a laugh. “If I wasn’t so scared of her, I’d let her have a peek.”

Hermione smiled and grabbed a handful of floo powder.

“What are you talking about?” Theo asked from behind her. “Did I miss something at dinner?”

There was a kiss sound and a chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain later. Now, take these off.”

Chapter Text

“Mother, I really do not think going back there is a good idea,” Draco objected. “You should remain here in the manor.”

“My darling, I will be fine. This was just some pathetic trick.”

Draco scoffed at her dismissal and turned away, trying to hide the annoyance on his face. His mother was perched on the edge of the sofa, talking calmly, as if they were discussing a failed brunch, not that someone had successfully attacked their French estate. The grounds were dusted white, through the window, and he could barely make out the tops of the treeline with the density of the fog. He let the soft fall of snowflakes calm him.

“I have to agree with Draco here, Narcissa,” Harry cut in. “It will be better for your safety if you're within the wards here.”

Harry had arrived around ten minutes ago and was still dressed in his casual wear, smelling of Sunday roast. He was still hovering by the fireplace in his serious Head Auror stance.

Draco opened his mouth to voice his agreement with Harry, when Hermione surged into the room.

“Narcissa! Are you okay? I heard about what happened.”

She went immediately to his mother’s side, sitting beside her on the sofa and taking her hands in comfort.

Draco had conflicting feelings over that.

“Oh, Hermione. Please, don’t worry. Everything is fine,” his mother soothed.

“Everything is not fine, mother. You are staying here!”

His mother huffed gently and twisted in her seat to face him.

“Darling, the attackers couldn’t even be bothered to check that I wasn’t due to return to the Chateau until tonight.” His mother looked more unimpressed by this than anything else. “Extremely lazy planning if you ask me.”

Draco let out a sharp breath through his nose and pressed his fingers between his eyebrows, fighting the headache that threatened between his eyes.

“Maybe we should sit, yeah?” Harry interjected looking pointedly at Draco.

Hermione spun to look at Harry, confusion etched on her face as if noticing him for the first time.

Draco took a seat in the armchair, with Harry in the one beside him.

“Found the good stuff!” Pansy exclaimed as she entered the room. “Just a small glass to take the edge off.”

Pansy set about pouring out small measures of what looked like an 1888 vintage brandy and did a double take as she held out a glass to his mother.

“Hermione? Why are you here? I thought you would’ve had enough drama for one day.”

A fierce blush rose on Hermione’s cheek.

Draco couldn’t see Pansy’s face, but he knew her well enough to know she was smirking.

He raised an eyebrow in question at Hermione but she subtly shook her head. We’ll discuss that later.

“Mother,” Draco said, moving the conversation back on topic. “Until a thorough examination has taken place about how such a package got onto the grounds in the first place, I think it best if you stay here.”

He was gripping the arm of the seat in hopes of calming his frustration and keeping a steady tone to his voice, but the only change was the whitening of his knuckles.

“I understand your concern, darling, but I do not think I shall be in danger anytime soon. If this was an attempt on my life, a rather cowardly one at that, then a failed attempt is even more likely to upset the attackers. If they see I am well and carrying on as usual, they will feel even more foolish.”

Draco ran his hand through his hair, his skin was buzzing with irritation. “And who’s to say that they won’t try again? But this time be more brazen about it.”

“He’s right, Narcissa,” Hermione said softly, “if this is about who I think it is, we don’t want to take any chances with anybody’s safety. Carrow is a loose canon and the closer we are to finding this object first, the more desperate she will become. She’ll try anything to hinder our investigation.”

Draco watched as his mother observed the woman before giving her a gentle smile.

“Thank you for caring about me, Hermione, but I’m afraid I can’t do it. When Draco and I were forced to stay here after the war, I felt like I was going crazy. Trapped within these walls, with the memories of everything. I feel free there and I will not have another person try to take that away. I trust the Aurors with whom Draco used to work and, if they say the house is safe to return to, then I believe them.”

His annoyance was building with every counter-argument his mother gave.

“What if we put a fail safe in place?” Hermione questioned to Harry.

He sighed, removing his glasses to clean them with his shirt. “The best we could do from here is a portkey which Narcissa would keep on her at all times so, if it looked like trouble, it would transport her directly to the Manor. Other than that it will be under the French Ministry’s jurisdiction.”

Hermione turned to Draco.

“Malfoy? What do you think of that?”

Draco threw his head back onto the chair and let out an exasperated groan. “I don’t like it—”

He heard Hermione sigh.

“—but, if mother insists on going back, I suppose it's a start.”

Draco raised his head to see Hermione smiling at him. He fought not to smile back.

He quickly added, “I would personally need to make extra assurances with the French Aurors as well, to make sure there are better securities in place on their end.”

His mother rose from her seat and walked over.

“Thank you, darling.” She placed a chaste kiss upon the top of his head. “I am going to speak to Marion about our return.”

She bid farewell to everyone in the room and left.

“Right. I should probably be off as well,” Hermione exclaimed, placing her untouched brandy glass down. “Crookshanks needs some extra food, I didn’t give him enough before coming here.”

Draco groaned. “Ah, shit. I forgot to feed him, sorry.”

Hermione let out a small huff of a laugh. “Malfoy, it’s fine. You had more than enough going on here. I’ll just give him a few extra treats and he’ll forget all about it.” She smiled and waved her goodbye to Harry and Pansy.

“Well,” Pansy started, from her perched position on the arm of Harry's chair, “ I never thought I’d see the day when Draco became domesticated. Worried about feeding a cat?” she snickered.

“Okay, one, I am not domesticated, and two, it is not a cat,” he explained. “It is a demon in which, if you don’t feed it, it shall feed on you.”

Harry nodded vigorously. “I’ll have to agree with you there, mate. I don’t entirely know how it’s still alive after all these years,”— his eyes narrowed —“and I don’t trust it.”

Pansy scoffed and stood, placing her empty glass on the small table beside her.

“Well, I, for one, have had enough excitement for one day. Although, I do believe today is a very good day to have a lioness on your side,” Pansy said, grinning at Draco.

Harry moved to her side, wearing his own smile at a fond memory.

“I’m guessing your smug faces are something to do with whatever ‘drama’ you were referring to earlier?”

“A certain— sorry, darling,” she said to Harry, “weasel prick with red hair and the belief that he is a gift to the wizarding world—”

Draco chuckled as Harry shrugged his indifference.

“—attacked your character today at dinner. Unlucky for him, a very headstrong, stubborn witch gave him a wonderful retort.”

Draco groaned. “Pansy, you shouldn’t have. I know how much today meant to you and Harry.”

Her smile deepened. “I didn’t.”

His brow furrowed. “You mean—” He gestured to the space Hermione had just occupied.

Both Harry and Pansy nodded eagerly.

“It was amazing!" Pansy exclaimed. "I was on my best behaviour all afternoon, but she was ready for a fight. She even managed a swotty way of saying he’s shit at ‘performing’.”

“It’s true," Harry affirmed before turning serious. "I’ve got to say though, not many people have been given the privilege of being defended in a full blown Hermione rant. So whatever you do, don’t waste the opportunity, Draco.”

Harry took Pansy’s hand in his, and began towards the door, turning back quickly to say, “But, if you keep feeding her demon cat I’m sure she’ll keep defending you.”

Pansy tilted her head in thought. “You do realise you’ve just told Draco to keep caring for Hermione’s pussy in order to keep her.”

Harry blanched. “No. That’s not what I — Ugh, shit. Let’s just leave.”

He could hear Pansy laughing at Harry's mishap all the way to the floo and Draco wished he could’ve seen the outburst for himself.

~

Draco returned to the cottage shortly after his mother departed for France.

Thankfully Hermione had managed to appease the beast, leaving Draco confident enough that the demon would not murder him that evening.

He couldn’t quite explain why but, when Draco saw Hermione in her usual chair, reading the same Jane Eyre book she had read a thousand times before, Harry’s words echoed in his head. How this brilliant woman in front of him had defended him so ferociously in front of the Weasley clan. He really didn’t deserve it.

Anyone else in this situation would say thank you, and be completely normal about it.

Draco, however, couldn’t escape the idea that it was incredibly attractive, and images of her red-faced, palm slapping the table, out of breath, flashed through his mind and caused all his blood to rush south. He practically ran upstairs, ripped off his clothes and proceeded to take an extremely cold shower.

It didn’t help.

Under the stream of water, breathlessness turned to pants, hitting the table morphed into playful slaps; a red-faced Hermione, with that freshly fucked look about her, twisted its way through his psyche.

Fuck.

Draco tried to resist. He really did. But like many times before, as the images of her clouded his mind, he took himself in his hand and worked the thoughts away.

~

After his non-relaxing shower, Draco rejoined Hermione downstairs and set off to make some tea, only to find a large bowl of spaghetti bolognese under stasis on the kitchen table.

“Did Emmeline come by?” He asked, sticking his head through the doorway to the living room.

Hermione nodded. “She came whilst you were in the shower.”

That makes two of us.

“I told her to put it under stasis as I wasn’t sure how long you’d be. My guess is she was concerned for you after today,” Hermione continued. “You really should check in with her. She worries.”

Draco collected two bowls from the cupboard, filling each with a generous serving of pasta, before collecting two glasses for the accompanying bottle of red wine, and heading back into the living room — all items floating gently behind him.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in question but took the food without comment.

“I thought it might be nice to eat in here tonight,” Draco said offhandedly.

She slurped up a strand of pasta, flicking sauce onto her cheek. Draco watched transfixed as her thumb removed it, and her tongue languidly licked it off of the pad. He was thankful she was simultaneously scrolling through different TV channels, because if she’d seen the look on his face at the small groan that left her on the second mouthful, she’d have probably run for the hills.

“Mmm, it tastes so good.” She moaned.

Fuck.

Draco was going to get hard watching Hermione Granger eat a bowl of pasta.

Snape in suspenders. Snape in suspenders.

Yep. That did it.

The sound of the TV box filled the room, a perfect accompaniment to their companionable silence as they ate. Due to it nearing Christmas, Hermione had selected a film about a boy who was left home alone to defend his house from intruders. Draco was quite enjoying the violent nature of it and was very impressed by what the eight year old came up with, regardless of the fact that some of these traps would’ve killed both men by now.

Thankfully, Hermione kept her moans to a minimum for the remainder of dinner, and Draco’s tension released — although a brief blissful hum had him wondering if he’d need to take another shower.

As the movie came to an end, and their empty bowls were discarded on the coffee table, Draco reflected over what Pansy had told him.

“So… Want to talk about what happened earlier?” he asked.

Hermione held her wine glass leisurely by the stem. The slight red tint from the wine stained her bottom lip and he wished she would let him lick it clean for her, but her own tongue darted out and stole the moment.

“If you want to, I won’t press if you don’t want to tell me what happened?”

Draco paused.

“I meant at the Burrow, not with my mother.”

“Oh!” Her eyes flitted around, looking anywhere but him. “There isn’t much to say, really. Ron made a rude comment and I told him to stop.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”

Draco slid from his usual armchair to the sofa cushion beside her. Hermione instinctively curled her feet closer to her body.

“Really? That’s not quite what I heard. Pansy said something along the lines of a ‘headstrong and stubborn witch gave him a wonderful retort, and that she looked ready for a fight’.” Draco gave her his most alluring smirk. “Was that not you?”

A shade of crimson, in perfect match with her top, crept up her neck and across her cheeks.

“I wasn’t fighting. Pansy was exaggerating, You know how she is.”

Draco shuffled ever so slightly closer.

“Oh, so Harry lied as well?”

Hermione nodded but continued to avoid eye contact.

A wicked idea came to Draco.

“Granger, you must know I won’t judge. ‘I am not an angel and I will not be one until I die,’ so you don’t need to act as one either.”

Her eyes snapped to his and her mouth opened in silent surprise, showing that red tint once more. Draco smirked at the reaction to his use of the quote.

“You said you’d only read it once,” she breathed.

Draco shrugged off her comment, not wanting to stray too far from the matter at hand. He moved closer again; like a predator enclosing its prey.

“Shame, really. I loved the idea of someone fighting in my honour, it really — did something to me.” His voice was as smooth as honey.

Hermione’s eyes shot wide.

Draco removed her glass and placed it onto the table, before grasping both her ankles and extending her legs over his own. His forehead was almost pressed to hers and the soft flutter of her lashes tickled at his nose.

The TV box had turned off and the room was silent except for the heavy breaths between them.

The air thickened.

“If it was me, what would you say?” Hermione whispered, her voice was barely audible despite being the only sound.

“I would say thank you, first of all, for feeling me worthy of defending and then—” Draco hesitated, unsure of where to go next.

Hermione was watching him; chocolate eyes staring up at him expectantly.

“And then?” she coaxed.

“I would say that I wished I had been there to see, not only for the look on his face but for what, I can only assume, would be the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” Draco’s own voice was a whisper now.

A small puff of breath exited her mouth, teasing Draco’s bottom lip and sending a shiver down his spine. The fruity tang from the wine mixed beautifully with the vanilla of her shampoo, and the lily of her perfume. She smelled divine.

“I doubt anyone could be sexy whilst telling someone off.”

“Well, Granger, that’s because you never had the privilege of watching yourself do it. From my perspective it is pretty damn hot.”

They fell back into a weighted silence. Faces inches apart, limbs entangled and their hands braced on each others arms — as if they were holding each other back.

A small flicker of something shone in Hermione’s eyes. A sparkle of gold that came before she chose to pounce.

“You know what’s really sexy?” she tempted.

Draco leaned closer, his chest now pressing against her side, taking as much contact as she would give him in that moment.

“Tell me.”

“Someone who decides to quote Jane Eyre as a way to win me over.”

Draco grinned. “Well then, ‘Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.’”

The last word had barely left Draco’s mouth before Hermione leaned forward and closed the gap. His mind raced back to the last time he had her mouth on his, pinned between his body and the wall of the library, and he groaned.

Hermione was more confident this time; she matched every kiss, lick and nip he pressed to her lips. She tasted like wine and sin. Like something he could never get enough of. A drug infesting his bloodstream in the best possible way. Draco bit at her bottom lip before soothing the pinch with his tongue. Her mouth opened with a sigh and his tongue pressed in, stroking against hers to elicit the sweest of sounds.

He loved the way she responded to his every touch.

Draco pulled away to press soft kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck, nibbling at the point in which he could feel her heartbeat the strongest. Hermione let out a soft moan.

He twisted them both, until Hermione’s back was against the armrest of the sofa and her legs were bracketing his, before leaning forward to kiss her again. His body to pinning her beneath him. His hands tangled within her hair.

Her damn hair.

It may have been the softest thing he had ever touched. It seemed as if every curl on her head twisted around his fingers keeping him locked in place so that he could kiss her for an eternity.

Her breathy moans were pushing him further closer to the edge and, when he couldn’t fight it any more, Draco tested a roll of his hips. Theyboth moaned at the contact; the friction doing very little to ease the strain in his trousers.

Hermione fumbled her hands out from where they were pressed to Draco’s front and began to unbutton his shirt. He pulled back to allow her space and Hermione kissed and licked at his collarbone before biting down on a soft spot at the side of his neck. Draco hissed in pleasure and his hips rolled again.

“I really don’t think we should do this here,” Draco rushed out. “This shouldn’t happen on your sofa.”

“I really don’t care where.”

Hermione grabbed the back of his neck harshly, and pulled his head down to meet hers in another frantic kiss. He groaned when her hips lifted to meet his.

Draco ran his hands along the outside of Hermione’s thighs, gripping hard as her soft curves dimpled around his fingertips. With another roll of his hips, Draco slid a hand down to the waistband of her leggings and painted delicate touches along the exposed skin beneath her shirt. Sliding his index finger under the elastic, he gave the fabric a small tug.

Hermione raised her hips.

“Granger, are you su—”

“Malfoy! Are you there?” Harry’s voice called out.

Hermione shrieked and Draco jumped back.

“Hello? Malfoy?” The voice sounded from the floo.

Draco let out a frustrated huff.

“Really? Fucking now.” He stomped over to the fire, adjusting himself in his trousers, and knelt before the flames. “Yes, Potter. I’m here.”

“Sorry for the late call, but I’ve just had a message from the French department to say that they have narrowed down how the parcel got onto the property. They wanted to walk us through it.”

Draco dropped his head in disbelief. This really had to be now? The universe was playing some sort of sick trick on him. He was destined to die of blue balls.

His tomb would read — Here lies Draco Malfoy, cause of death: not being able to ever truly fuck Hermione Granger, and being teased within an inch of his life, until his heart gave out.

Hermione joined him at the fire. “That’s great, Harry! What do they think happened?”

Draco rolled his eyes at how fast she moved on from their previous activities.

“They believe the postman was under the Imperius curse. That's how it was discovered: he didn’t maintain an even pressure whilst carrying it through the gates, and tipped over the potion bottle inside,” Harry recounted. “It seems to be the same erumpent potion sent to your office.”

Draco let out a resigned breath. “Alright, I’ll come through, and then we can head over to the chateau to meet them. Be at the manor in two.”

Harry nodded and ended the call.

He ran a hand over his face and turned to Hermione beside him.

“Granger, I—”

Draco was unsure of exactly what to say. He didn’t want to just up and leave but, what else was there? ‘Hey, Granger, thanks for the near shag, but I’ve got to go now.’

“It’s fine. Go.” Hermione smiled at him reassuringly.

He silently collected his wand from the table and left.

Chapter Text

Do you know how it feels when it seems like the world is against you? That was how Hermione had been feeling ever since the day of Molly’s birthday lunch. After her second chance to finally act on her growing feelings for Draco, it seemed as though the fates were enjoying her displeasure.

They’d both fallen back into their usual routine after Draco’s return, neither seeming to know how best to address what happened. But just as things returned to normal, and Hermione had finally gathered the courage needed to speak to him about it, she was called in to assist the DRCMC on a huge assignment.

An issue with a peace treaty, over land borders between the wizarding community and a herd of centaurs in the black forest, was causing increased conflicts, and the threat of a fight was looming. It had taken Hermione three whole days of searching the archives to find a copy of the original treaty, and then a further two days to translate it. After which, neither side was entirely satisfied, so then she had to be involved in any further discussions to reference the old laws which may negate certain decisions.

Before she knew it hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, and weeks turned into a month. But now, with a final stamp to the files, Hermione could finally say that her work was finished.

Well, that work.

The lack of spare time had left her no chance to research any more about the potential trials they may face for the grail.

With tonight being her first night officially free of peace treaty talks and, with only two weeks until their journey to the grail, Hermione had planned to resume their research. Draco, however, had other ideas. Knowing that she was completing the discussions today, he had ‘forced’ her into agreeing to join him for a proper four course dinner to celebrate her hard work before she had left this morning. Her pre-coffee brain was always more susceptible to coercion.

Hermione couldn't deny how understanding Draco had been over the last month. She could barely count the amount of times he had carried her up to bed after she passed out in her mountain of paperwork on the living room floor.

She felt guilty for all the late nights he'd spent alone, and all the meals she'd missed. He must’ve been lonely at home over the last month. The Manor was the only other location he was cleared to visit, but with Narcissa still in France, he'd been alone there as well. Pansy, Theo and John had all visited once or twice, but it was always fleeting.

Hermione was happy when Draco informed her that Narcissa would return for the Christmas season and, although she hadn’t approached the subject yet, she planned to ask if Draco wanted to spend Christmas at the manor with his mother.

The clock on the mantle of her office chimed. Two o’clock.

"Shit!"

Hermione was now late to meet with Ginny and Pansy for lunch at the tea shop in Diagon Alley.

With a flurry of movement, Hermione sent the sealed files away with a twist of her wand, collected her jacket from the stand, and tried to balance her handbag on her wrist whilst simultaneously trying to tie her scarf around her neck, all while opening her door.

Distracted in her woollen head trap, she ran straight into Theo, dropping her bag and sending his paperwork everywhere.

“Shit! Sorry, Theo.”

Hermione flicked her wand and the fallen papers calmly collected back into a pile in his arms.

“No harm done, gorgeous. Where are you running off to anyway?” he enquired.

“I’m a little late for tea with Pansy and Ginny. You know what Pansy’s like for being late.”

She'd successfully unbound her head and now had her scarf draped across her shoulders.

Theo sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Indeed I do. Off you go then, don’t keep our favourite timekeeper waiting much longer.”

She nodded and slid her arms into her jacket before picking up her handbag.

Theo quickly added, “Oh, and tell Draco I collected that handkerchief for him.”

Hermione’s face scrunched. “Handkerchief?”

“Yeah, his mum’s favour hankie. He asked me to see if I could get a second one made with his initials instead.”

Her brain was still whirring and Theo chuckled at her confusion.

“The white embroidered handkerchief that Draco keeps in his suit pocket,” Theo was speaking slowly as if addressing a child. “It belonged to his mother as a wedding favour from Lucius when they began courting. Draco wanted a new one made with his initials. Obviously, with everything going on, he can’t leave the house at the moment, so he asked me to collect it.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Anyway, stop worrying about handkerchiefs and get to your lunch date.”

Hermione yelped at her remembrance as to why she was running in the first place, and took off towards the lifts.

~

Pansy was visibly annoyed when Hermione finally arrived. She’d barely settled into the pink bistro chair before she was bombarded with questions regarding her lateness. Unsatisfied that her answer had not been more scandalous, Pansy took it upon herself to accept a superior Christmas gift as an apology.

The usual topics of their meet-ups passed with a familiar tinge of gossip and conspiracy. Pansy shared that she’d finally decided on a winter collection; far too late in Hermione’s opinion, but Pansy was confident she would have the initial pieces made for the New Year gala season. Her summer collection had been a hit and, after a short stint in Italian boutiques, Pansy revealed she was also making initial plans for formal wear.

“How about you, Gin?" Hermione asked as she bit into the small tartlet in her hand. The plum and honeysuckle sweet treat was truly magical. “Ready for the match next Wednesday?”

Ginny audibly gulped her tea. “Yeah. Although I am worried about Ron.”

This was the fateful match; the one which would see brother versus sister on the pitch. Whichever team won would advance to the qualifiers of the World Cup.

Pansy scoffed. “Why? Afraid he won’t be able to hide his embarrassment when you beat him? I, for one, can’t wait to watch.”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re coming? But you don’t like quidditch unless Harry’s playing.”

“True. I do love to watch my man squeezing a broom between his thighs. You can agree, can’t you, Granger?” She shot Hermione a knowing look. “But, just this once, I will make an exception for you. Blaise already got the tickets, we’ll just join him in his box.”

There was a moment of shock, then recognition, then joy crossed Ginny’s face and she pulled Pansy into a tight hug.

A noise of strain exited Pansy.

“Bloody hell, Gin! Calm down. Don’t strangle me before the match.”

Hermione enjoyed watching the interaction, though she remained quiet in favour of stealing all of the tartlets before her friends noticed.

“Are you coming?” Ginny turned and asked her eagerly.

Hermione paused, her hand already shovelling her fourth dessert into her opened mouth. She placed it on her tongue as she observed Ginny’s optimistic face.

“Mmm’of course,” she ungraciously mumbled.

Ginny shot up and circled the table, enveloping her in a rib-crushing hug that caused Hermione to wheeze whilst trying to breathe through the pain.

“Thank you, guys.” Ginny released the punishing grip. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to head off early to find my husband and ride him in thanks for inviting you all.”

The casual nature in which Ginny exclaimed this proudly, and quite loudly, was not missed by some of the older patrons of the teashop. She waved her goodbyes and left, disapparating as soon as she was outside.

Pansy was back to sipping her tea and observing Hermione with a strange look in her eye. “You seem,”— she paused thoughtfully —“distracted.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. “In what way?”

The woman shrugged and collected a small chocolate truffle from the tray.

“I’m not quite sure.”

She popped it delicately into her mouth.

With Ginny gone, Hermione now felt under assessment.

As Pansy finished the sweet she added, “It’s like you are trying to figure a problem out. I’ve seen it on your face many times.”

Hermione shook her head. “No I don’t think so.”

Pansy dabbed gently at the corner of her mouth with the napkin, removing the mess that wasn't even present, and Hermione's mind flashed back to Theo’s conversation earlier.

“There!” Pansy pointed. “Whatever that was.”

Hermione waved her off. “Oh, that’s nothing. Just something Theo said about Draco wanting a handkerchief made.”

Her hand automatically went to collect another plum and honeysuckle tart only to find she had eaten them all. She raised her hand in an attempt to capture the attention of a server.

“Why?” Pansy asked as she bit into another truffle.

“I don’t know. Theo just said he wanted one like his mum’s but with his initials.”

Hermione caught the way Pansy's hand stilled for a second before placing the last of the truffle in her mouth.

“Is that important?” Hermione asked.

“Maybe not.”

Hermione finally caught a server to ask for more tartlets, and she had just taken a sip of tea when Pansy asked, “Have you two slept together yet?”

Hermione spat her tea onto her plate.

“What the hell, Pansy! You don’t just ask someone that.” She dabbed her mouth with the napkin before spelling the mess away. “And, no, we haven’t slept together,” she whispered.

“Hmm.”

“What does it matter anyway?”

Pansy was still watching her with scrutiny.

Hermione sighed. “We have been close. Twice. But both times we were interrupted and nothing came of it after.”

“Hmm.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Would you say something more than ‘hmm’, that would be helpful.”

More tartlets floated down onto their table and Hermione promptly scoffed down her fifth.

“Do you love him?” Pansy asked casually.

Hermione choked on her tartlet.

“What? I love — huh — no. That’s ridiculous, no.” She rushed out in between gasped breaths, the crumbs were stuck in her throat and the tea wasn't helping.

“Do you think he loves you?”

Hermione laughed at that. “No, Pansy. I don’t think he loves me.” She couldn’t understand why there was sadness in her voice.

“Hmm.”

Pansy was an expert at giving nothing away and, in times like this, Hermione hated it. She wished that there would be a hint of anything on Pansy’s face which indicated why she was asking such odd questions. And maybe, maybe, Hermione hoped there was something to reveal that she did know if Draco had feelings for her. A hope that Pansy would jibe at her for laughing about the man’s obvious romantic feelings.

But there was nothing.

The conversation changed immediately to discussing what they would each wear to the match, allowing Hermione no more time to fret over it. With the event being held in Germany, Pansy informed her that the portkey was due to transport all of them at twelve exactly, so Hermione would need to be at Harry’s flat with plenty of time.

When their lunch was finished, they took a brief walk through the snow-capped cobbled streets and bid each other farewell from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

Just before she spun away, Pansy said, “You’ve known Draco for a while now. One thing you must’ve picked up on is his utter love of self-sabotage.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “If anything is going to change, I think it will have to be from you.”

With her passing remark, Pansy apparated away.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon line as Hermione entered the pub to floo home. She would be grateful when this was all over and she had the ability to apparate back into her own house.

Stepping out of her hearth, she saw her cottage was dark; the shade of the oncoming night drenching the house in shades of grey. Her familiar was curled up on a cushion with no sign of Draco.

“Malfoy?” she called.

A distant voice called back. “Out here.”

Hermione followed the voice into the conservatory and out into the garden.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing and there is snow everywhere.”

She withdrew her wand and cast a warming charm over herself and the mad man who was sitting on her swinging bench. As she took a seat beside him, the chair wobbled under the movement and she saw Draco put extra weight into his heels to steady the swaying swing.

“It’s been ages since it’s snowed. I used to love it as a small boy.” He took a deep breath. “There wasn’t any where I lived in the States, so I thought I would take the opportunity to enjoy the calm and quiet of a winter evening.”

Not wanting to ruin his calm, Hermione relaxed further into the pillows and enjoyed the silence.

It really was beautiful. The sun was flashing shades of orange, pink and purple as it sank lower in the sky; the distant sounds of birds cooing, the rustle of the wind in the trees, the crisp chill from the snowfall and the smell of the fresh fields which went on for miles. It was a slice of heaven.

They remained quiet for a little while longer and when the sun finally disappeared, Draco broke the quiet.

“How was work? Less hectic now that you have finished your peace treaty I hope.”

Hermione exhaled as if a weight was lifting. “Yes, thank goodness. It seemed quite boring in comparison to our work, but at least I’ll have the time to finish preparing for the trials now.”

Draco stood, held his hand out for her to take, and tutted. “Now, now, let’s have no more talk of trials. It is time for the celebration dinner.”

In their brief absence from the house, the kitchen had been completely transformed with candles and flowers, and the table had been set as if they were in a fancy restaurant.

Hermione’s eyes were wide in awe. “How?”

Draco chuckled beside her. “I asked Emmeline to decorate.” He looked around at the abundance of flowers. “I think she may have gotten a bit over-excited.”

Hermione smiled at the thought of the small elf rushing to decorate the room in secret.

When Draco had first moved in, Hermione could never have imagined an elf integrating into her life, but the more she got to know Emmeline, the more she understood how independent and feisty the little elf could be. Hermione was terrified that Emmeline didn’t actually like her after her numerous rejections of joining them for dinner, but Draco had managed to quell her worries by explaining that Emmeline just liked her own space.

As if reading her thoughts, Emmeline popped into the room.

“Good evening, Master. Good evening, Miss. Emmeline will be serving you now. I will take your coats. Then please, sit.”

Hermione and Draco shared an amused look and made their way to the table.

As Hermione pulled her arms out of her jacket, Emmeline clicked her fingers to send it away. Draco, ever the gentleman, pulled her chair out for her. With his coat removed, his signature smell lingered on his shirt; the mix of something warm and woody was comforting and familiar, like curling up by the fire with a good book.

“Miss would like some wine.”

Hermione nodded despite Emmeline stating rather than asking. Maybe the elf thought she was an alcoholic. She had seen Hermione drunk quite a lot considering their brief acquaintanceship. Emmeline poured for Draco and abruptly disappeared as their first course arrived — smelling wonderful.

~

Four dishes were served over the next two hours and the wine changed with every course; Hermione was stuffed. Conversation flowed naturally and Hermione felt more relaxed than she had in a while.

Hermione had mentioned her idea that Draco stay with his mother for Christmas, to which he graciously thanked her and accepted the offer, and having been reminded of Christmastime, Draco recounted a story of Theo being attacked by a peacock whilst attempting to ride it as a young boy one year.

A flash of her earlier conversation came back to her.

“Oh. Speaking of Theo, I bumped into him earlier and he wanted me to tell you that he collected your handkerchief.”

There was a flicker in Draco’s eyes; a flash of grey.

“Right. Thank you for passing the message along.” It sounded stilted.

“What’s the matter?" Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. "Is this because of Pansy’s weird freak out earlier in the year? You know how dramatic she is. I think it’s a lovely gift idea.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Gift idea? What did Theo say exactly?”

“Not much,” she frowned. “He explained that you have a hankie which belonged to your mother, from your father, and you wished to get a similar one made with your initials. I assumed you were wanting to replace hers.”

“I can’t replace a courtship favour, Granger. That would be quite odd,” he said with a small smile on his lips.

She blushed at the oversight. “Well, yes, of course. But, even so, it is a gift for your mother?”

Draco hummed noncommittal. “A gift,” he paused, “for my mother.”

Something about the way he said it made the hairs on Hermione’s neck stand on end. He held her gaze and she felt the blush burn hotter.

“Emmeline,” he called. The elf appeared by his side. “Could we have some more wine, please?”

With a nod, the elf disappeared and returned holding the bottle. She split it between the two glasses and placed it on the table whilst she cleared the final pieces from their dinner. With a pop, she was gone.

Draco hadn’t broken eye contact the entire time and Hermione’s heart seemed as though it was about to beat out of her chest.

‘If anything is going to change, I think it will have to be from you’

She needed to say something. Do something.

She opened her mouth and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Ginny has a quidditch match next Wednesday. Would you like to come?”

Idiot.

Whilst Draco's face twisted with confusion, Hermione internally scolded herself.

He eventually regained some composure and laughed, finally breaking the intense eye contact.

“That is not what I thought you were going to say.” He took a drink. “I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your memory, due to me literally living here, but I am technically not allowed to leave the house — aside from the manor. Especially not for a highly populated, out in the open, event.”

“No. It didn’t escape my notice. I just felt like you wouldn’t want to miss this one because,”— she paused for dramatic effect, —“Wales are playing England.”

Draco’s eyes widened, a sly smirk spread across his face. “But that’s…”

Hermione grinned. “Ron’s team.”

~

Wednesday morning, Hermione roused to the sounds of Draco in the shower. She could hear the soft murmurs that fell from his lips as he went about his morning wash. Sometimes, she could’ve sworn there was more to it than the gentle sounds of a person enjoying the feel of the hot water.

More often than not, she’d end up shoving a pillow over her head to try and block them out. Or keep the thoughts in, she couldn't quite decide which.

Laying in bed for an extra ten minutes after the water stopped, and confident Draco was finally finished, Hermione threw back the covers and collected her towel from the side. She exited her bedroom and turned the handle to the bathroom.

“GRANGER!”

Hermione slammed the door and leapt away as if burned.

I really need to learn to fucking knock.

That was twice with Theo, and now Draco.

She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her pounding heart against her palm, as the handle twisted and he opened the door.

“I am so sorry, Draco. I didn’t realise you were still in there. I promise I didn’t see anything, the towel was covering your—” Her eyes went wide at her blunder. She cleared her throat. “Y’know.”

Draco looked less put out than she thought he would be. He merely smirked at her distress.

“Granger, if you wanted to join me, you only had to ask.” Hermione gawked and Draco chuckled. “I’m kidding.”

He walked back to his room and she let out the breath she was holding.

“Although,” he resumed, “clearly I need to stress you out more. It seems to be the only time you use my name.”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself, as he closed his bedroom door.

Hermione sped into the bathroom, seeking solace in the tiled walls. It still smelled like him.

Impossible. You stress me out enough as it is.

~

They fell easily into their daily routine, with no further mention of her almost seeing him naked, and at a quarter to twelve, Hermione collected the charmed notebooks from her room.

“These are charmed to be able to communicate long distance." she explained. "I write in mine, you’ll see it, and then you can write your response.”

His brow twitched in interest. After succeeding at making her coins in fifth year, the notebooks weren’t really any more challenging for her to figure out.

Harry, as expected, had not allowed her clearance to sneak Draco into another country to watch a quidditch match, so the charmed journals were the next best thing. Aside from a muggle mobile phone, which Hermione really hoped she could use, but the wards around the pitch would make receiving a signal impossible.

Draco was still flicking the journal between his fingers to observe the magic woven within.

“I took the base of a protean charm and linked it to the pages. Whenever the ink touches the paper, it sends an exact marking to the adjoined book. It’s a basic adaptation really and I'm sure I—” Hermione paused at Draco’s intense gaze.

A wicked smirk stretched across his lips.

“Keep going, Granger. I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Hermione cleared her throat, it was suddenly extremely dry.

“Keep me updated on any ‘accidents’ that may befall any of the players as well.” Draco smiled.

“I will not send you updates if Ron is hit by a bludger—”

Draco pouted and damn if it wasn’t ridiculously attractive.

“—I’m leaving now but if there are any issues, then use the journal.” Hermione grabbed the floo powder and called out for Harry’s flat.

~

Blaise greeted the group as they arrived at the stadium. As part of the DMGS he always had a private box available at matches to rent out if he wished. Today’s group consisted of Hermione, Pansy, Harry, Theo, Charlie and George. The box was centrally located in the stadium, and Hermione swallowed the lump that formed in her throat as she peeked over the edge — they were very high up. It was more than large enough to facilitate everyone, and was well equipped with various beverages and snacks; of which Theo wasted no time digging into.

“Ah, brilliant! Food,” he cheered. “Had a bit of a rushed sex session before we left and I’ve really worked up an appetite.”

The group groaned.

“Really?” Blaise moaned. “I haven’t seen you in weeks and you’re immediately talking about your bedroom habits.”

“Don’t start, Mister, Oh-Merlin-I-finally-saw-Ginny-naked-and-we-had-the-best-sex-last-night-she-let-me-put-it-in-her—”

“Okay,” Charlie interjected. “I really don’t want to hear too much about what my little sister gets up to.”

George nodded along with Charlie's sentiment but Hermione, Pansy and Harry all chuckled; they’d already heard the story from a very excited Ginny the morning after it happened.

The German Minister’s voice boomed throughout the arena and beckoned them all to take their seats as he introduced the teams. On the initial fly round, Ginny made sure to come over to give them all a wave and blow Blaise a kiss. Ron did not. He flew around to his ‘fans’ making stupid poses.

Hermione withdrew the journal from her satchel as the first whistle blew. She pulled the self-inking quill from the side pocket and went to write, but a 'tsk' from her side pulled her attention away.

Pansy looked over into her lap and rolled her eyes.

“You’re not reading are you? Ginny will be really upset.”

With a quick shake of her head, Hermione held the book up.

“No. It’s a journal. Draco wanted to be kept up to date so I made these. I can write the updates from the match so he knows who wins.”

Pansy nodded her acceptance and didn’t say anything else, but there was an annoying glimmer in her eye.

Hermione turned back to the blank page and started her first missive. Really hoping they worked as intended.

‘The match just started.’

‘Okay. Let me know how it goes.’

A small smile graced her lips at the knowledge that she'd correctly cast all of the necessary charm work and she moved her gaze to the blur of colours that whizzed about on the pitch before her.

~

After forty minutes of play, England were on 40 points, and Wales were on 50. Hermione had written brief messages about which team had scored and which players, but negated to indulge Draco's messages about how annoyed Ron was geting . Mostly because, due to the location of the box, Hermione couldn’t see the exact look on Ron’s face every time Ginny got the quaffle past him, but she assumed he was not happy.

She held the quill to the paper again.

‘Theo keeps looking over. I think he might want this for some weird sex thing with Charlie.’

‘How would he use it for that exactly?’

Hermione’s brow furrowed.

‘Well, it can also be charmed to delete the messages after they have been read. He could probably write anything he wanted in here without anyone seeing.’

There was quite a pause between her response, and the words she waited patiently for.

‘For example?’

Hermione inhaled sharply. He didn’t want her to — no, that would be ridiculous. Her cheeks flamed and she subtly tried to look around in case anyone was watching her, but everyone sat engrossed in the game in front of them. Her hand was clammy as she wrote back.

‘I guess he could ask certain questions, or explain certain thoughts.’

‘Questions like: What are you wearing?’

Hermione swallowed.

‘Yes.’

‘Answer?’

Her heart was thudding in her rib-cage; surely someone could hear it.

‘You know what I’m wearing. You saw me earlier.’

‘True.’

Then another message came through.

‘What underwear are you wearing?’

So Draco was doing this.

Hermione thought over her options. She was supposed to be reporting on the match, yet the idea of sex journaling with Draco was — interesting. Her brain told her to stop, but her Gryffindor courage urged her to see where this would go.

‘Lilac. Lace.’

Simple. Not too much yet, just enough.

‘Fuck, Granger.’

It was as if she could hear him through the page; her eyes drifted closed at the warm timbre of his voice as he whispered the words into her ear. The deep purr of the way her name rolled off his tongue it was—

Her friends all shot up around her, shouting in celebration.

“Yes! That’s my wife!” Blaise gushed proudly.

The distant voice of the commentator rang through the stadium explaining how Ginny Weasley had just scored another quaffle. Hermione picked up her quill.

‘Ginny just scored.’

‘Lucky her.’

~

The match lasted a total of two hours and fourteen minutes. The Welsh seeker caught the snitch leaving the score 260 - 90. Ginny was elated and had immediately flown up to the box to celebrate with Blaise. After the initial hugs, Harry, Charlie and George went down to console Ron.

With Ginny and Blaise unable to return with the group, they promised to host a party in celebration as soon as they returned home. Everyone else gathered around the rusty old shovel, grabbing on tightly as the portkey pulled behind Hermione’s bellybutton, and the group were ungracefully deposited back into Harry’s lounge.

Draco had remained well-behaved for the remainder of the match, only sending his congratulations to the winning Weasley. However being back in the same country, merely a floo journey away, caused the apprehension to build in Hermione’s stomach. The thought of seeing him now that he knew what underwear she wore was making her slightly nauseous.

“Harry. Could I use your loo before I head back? I’m busting,” Hermione asked.

“Sure, Mione."

Hermione shut the door behind her and locked eyes with her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was windswept and wild, and her cheeks and nose were rosy from the chill. She looked like a mess.

A knock at the door halted her movements to cast a refreshing charm.

“Mione,” Harry called, “Draco just flooed and said to head to the manor. Narcissa returned from France today and she wanted to speak with you.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. What would Narcissa want with her?

“Okay, thanks Harry,” she replied.

Draco had been antsy all afternoon.

Lilac. Lace.

Those two simple words had been enough to send him over the edge.

After her message about the tolerable Weasley, he’d gotten off twice to the thought of Hermione in her lilac underwear. Once in his bedroom, and once in the cold shower — which was a failed attempt to calm down and stop thinking about her.

He knew he’d been a bit strong on the flirting today, but he couldn’t help it. After their run in this morning, and the way she’d said his name again, Draco was intent on making her say it over and over. In an assortment of ways: shock, scolding, breathy, screaming with pleasure — he’d take them all.

The excitement only built after she informed him of Wales’ win; the thought that he would see her soon was thrilling.

So imagine his surprise to find, once again, the universe found a way to delay his joy.

An owl from his mother arrived at the same time he knew their portkey was due to return, informing him that she’d just arrived back to the manor in preparation for Christmas, and that she would like to see him. As well as Hermione.

Sending a quick floo call to Harry, Draco pulled the sack of powder from the side, took a handful and called for ‘Malfoy Manor’.

He stepped into the welcome room to find his mother already waiting for him.

“My darling dragon,” his mother greeted. “How are you?” She pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Fine, Mother. What did you require me for?”

She batted his arm. “That’s no way to treat your mother whom you haven’t seen for weeks. It’s not always get down to business, Draco.”

He sighed. “My apologies. How are you? Was everything okay in France?”

His mother smiled warmly at him. “Yes, my dear. Now, on to business—"

Draco fought to roll his eyes.

"—I wanted to speak with you about Hermione. As you know, she owled me a week ago expressing your intent to stay here, with me, for Christmas. But I felt it only polite to ask if she wished to stay as well.” Draco’s eyes widened. “What do you think?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, mother—”

“Don’t say um, darling,” she said sternly.

“Mother,” Draco said exaggeratedly, “I don’t know if she would like that idea. She loves her cottage.”

As if called from afar, the fireplace activated behind him and Hermione stepped out.

Her hair was wild and free, her face red from the slight wind chill of the German winter air. She looked beautiful.

“Narcissa,” she exclaimed excitedly, but Draco could sense the tension simmering beneath the surface.

“Hermione, dear. Come, let’s have tea. I have a question for you.”

Chapter Text

It was the morning of the twenty-first. The first turn of Yule. The day they would hunt for the grail.

Draco was kept up late last night by Hermione’s stress. She had made them run through every possible journal, book, and note they had made over the last seven months to make sure there was nothing missed. But neither of them truly knew what to expect.

They had risen early, like their previous trips, and sipped their coffee silently; stuck in the uncertainty that today brought. The plan was similar as well: they would glamour themselves, floo into the Leaky Cauldron, and enter muggle London before apparating to their final destination.

With a twist of Hermione’s wand, Draco watched in the mirror as he donned his dark hair once again.

“If there are any problems or, if anything goes wrong,” Hermione fretted, “we send word to Harry. He knows we are going and will be able to assist.” Her voice was tight and her shoulders were pinched up to her ears.

“Hey,”— Draco placed a comforting hand on her shoulder —“it’ll be fine. Just don’t get grabbed by any more giant squid and we’ll be okay.”

She huffed in response but a small smile danced upon her lips, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

With a swirl of green, they were off.

~

The walk from the final apparition point was quite pleasant. They strolled through the local town, passing some small, quaint shops and cafes along their route. As it was still early for a Sunday morning, few establishments were open — but a small stand offering freshly brewed coffee to-go took their fancy.

“I can get this one,” Hermione said, pulling a five pound note from her pocket.

“Thank you.”

Draco collected his cup from the vendor. The coffee was surprisingly nice. It was a medium roast, but was rich, chocolatey and slightly nutty.

“How far is the walk to the hill?” he asked.

Hermione took out her map of the area. “I estimated about ten minutes from the centre of town. Although, I’m not sure how long it will take to walk up to it. It is fairly large.”

Draco nodded. “We best get going then.”

After many hours of back and forth debate as to the whereabouts of the trial location, they finally settled on the Glastonbury Tor. It was a large tower near the mid-point of the town. There were varying stories about different locations in Glastonbury, but one in particular, about the resting place of King Arthur, explained the King asked to to be taken there after his final battle. Perhaps, in hopes of retrieving a second grail to help him heal from his injuries.

Nimue’s riddle seemed to indicate that it could only be accessed during this time of the year, which only added to the pressure of their decision. Make the wrong one, and they would have to wait another year before they could try again. If they were lucky, they might be able to apparate to a second location by midday — but any more than that would not be possible. Excluding the strain of walking to and from their destinations, or the searching of the areas, apparating took a toll on your body when overused.

Hermione cleared her throat and pulled Draco from his thoughts.

“Okay, here we are. This is the entry to the Tor, we just need to follow this pathway to the top. We are heading for that tower.” She pointed to the building in question.

It stood over one hundred and fifty metres tall.

“Up there?” Draco queried.

“Yep. I hope your legs are warmed up.”

~

Draco wasn’t that tired when he reached the top. A little warm, but removing his coat helped him cool off enough. His Auror training really did come in handy, and he was thankful his fitness had not diminished too much from being housebound.

Hermione, on the other hand, had not benefited from her shorter legs and had taken double the amount of steps as Draco. By the time they reached the top — which had only really taken twenty minutes — she was red in the face and her breathing was laboured. She looked more like she’d just run a marathon.

“All good there, Granger?” Draco quipped with a smirk.

She inhaled deeply. “Yuh..I’m..fi..one…second.”

Hermione, rather ungracefully, flopped down onto the floor in an attempt to steady her breathing.

Draco left her to her dramatics to search around for any clues that they were in the right place.

It all looked quite plain. No sign of wards, no hidden messages or objects. Draco was stumped. There were a few etchings in some of the old stones but, from what he’d seen so far, none were of any importance. Although a carved ‘King Arthur was ‘ere’ had made him pause for a second, before realising that King Arthur would not have defaced an ancient tower with that broken script.

The view from the top of the hill was stunning. The grass was dusted white with the early morning frost, and the town was slowly coming to life below. Evergreen trees went on for miles and the sky was light and clear despite the chill in the air.

After a few minutes Hermione came to aid with his search, her breath now back to normal.

“I hate to say it, Granger, but we may have the wrong location.”

Hermione crossed her arms in thought, taking special notice of the doorway. She stared a little longer, her head tilting in question, before she finally walked up to the crumbling stone arch.

“I think this might be it.” Running her hand along the inside of the blocks, she paused. “It’s a rune,” Hermione exclaimed.

As she touched it once more, the air rippled around them.

Hermione gasped in excitement and Draco watched her reactions, enjoying the light behind her eyes at the thought of locating a long forgotten place. The rune was carved into one of the stones in the doorway. It was a little too low for Draco to see unless he bent down. No wonder he'd missed it.

She touched it again and recited it out loud. “Gyfu.”

At the mutter of its name, the air rippled once more, but this time the world around them seemed to quieten until they were completely alone. The grass lost any hint of green below the frost, turning pure white, and the tower before them began to mend itself, reverting to its original state. As if time itself was reversing around them.

Hermione smiled, still taking in the chaos around her. “It means gift.”

Draco knew that. But, seeing the soft smile that crossed her face when she told him, he was happy to play dumb.

All of a sudden, they were thrust somewhere new, as though they had been pulled through a portkey; spiralling through the open doorway ahead — which was now a shimmering white curtain of magic.

The place in which they arrived was strange.

It looked every part the same as the location they just left, yet it was completely restored before their eyes. Crumbling ruins were replaced by a grand tower, standing at least thirty feet tall. A large circular window decorated the front wall. It would’ve allowed for a perfect interrupted view of the vast landscapes. Behind them, the entirety of the town had disappeared. In its place was a vast expanse of white mist, as if they were standing in the clouds themselves.

Similarly to their Nimue visit, any glamours that had been cast were void in this realm.

“Well, something worked,” Hermione said. “The question is where are we now?”

Before Draco could offer his opinion, the door at the front of the tower transformed. It was now made of the same mist that surrounded them. Emerging from the swirling pearl clouds, came an old man — who Draco thought, easily looked two hundred years old — dressed in robes similar to Dumbledore. Except these were white. What a surprise. He held a long wooden staff, entwined with various flowers in shades of pink and white, adorned by a large clear crystal at the head.

This man said nothing but Hermione gasped.

“You’re the Fisher King, aren’t you?” she asked excitedly.

The old man smiled softly. “I am. As well as other things. I am here to help guide you to your grail.”

“We know which grail we are looking for, Sir. It is a small cauldron,” Hermione explained.

“I see.” His face did not show any surprise to her statement. “Is that the grail you need? Or is it the grail you want?”

Draco looked at Hermione, the usual look of working out a puzzle etched onto her face.

“We don’t get a choice do we?” he asked. “The Grail is assigned based on the seeker's needs, not wants.”

“That is correct, young man. But, you see, there is only one. Only one of you shall earn the Grail.”

They looked at each other.

“It should be me, Granger,” Draco started. “We don’t know what could face us on these trials and— ”

“I’m afraid it is already decided.” The Fisher King cut in and turned his steely gaze to Hermione. “It is you who must seek the Grail. It is written, so it is set. I cannot change the course any more than you can. You alone face the trials.”

Dread filled Draco’s stomach. “No.”

A hand settled gently on his arm.

“It’s okay,” Hermione said. “I’ll be fine, and you’ll be here waiting for me when I get back.”

She offered him a small smile in comfort.

Draco looked into her warm, deep brown eyes, the flecks of gold glittering in the light of this place, letting them encircle him in their comfort. Fear stormed within him, swirling through his mind like a forceful wind. But Draco refused to occlude; he would stay present for her.

He nodded and Hermione’s hand fell as she stepped forward to face the Fisher King.

“My child, you are ready to face the trails of the Grail. I do not know what awaits you, but I feel your strength and determination. There shall be three; past, present, future — you shall need to pass one to enter the next. If you fail, you shall return here empty handed and you must leave. Forever.”

“Right, no pressure then.” She attempted a light tone but it fell flat.

Draco could sense the fear rippling off of her. Hermione took a final look at Draco and his eyes attempted to convey every possible emotion he was currently experiencing. His throat felt unusually dry and the best support he could offer in that moment was a smile.

Hermione turned back towards the ethereal gate beside the Fisher King.

Just as she approached, the old man offered one more passing remark. “Interesting. You are both entwined in red string. I have never seen this in person before. What an honour.”

Draco had no idea what the man was on about but it seemed as though it was intended as a comfort. Hermione’s shoulders relaxed and, with a steadying breath, she stepped forward into the mist.

The dread returned as soon as Hermione disappeared. Draco tried to find that familiar sensation in his chest, but found it missing. For the first time in years, he felt alone.

“It is odd,” the old man said, “I have never been visited by two before. Something is… different about you both.”

“How long have you been here? Are you always alone?” Draco questioned.

“Time is not the same here. A minute, an hour, a year, they all become one. But yes, I am always alone. Unless a brave soul wishes to take on the trials.”

“How are we different? Why was it written that Hermione must be the one to take on the trials?”

Draco could feel how insufferable he was being, asking so many questions, but he needed answers and anything was better than waiting in silence. He began to pace, a stark contrast from the stoic, motionless Fisher King.

“You are entwined in a red string. It influences all you do now. Of course, it was not always like this. You made it so. As it is written, the girl child must take on the trials as the boy child has no need for this grail.”

“What do you mean I made it so? I don’t have a grail,” he said harshly. “And we are also not children,” Draco added snidely.

The Fisher King smiled at this. “You are all children to me; I am old and you are young.” He paused before continuing. “You made it so, the day you saved her.”

“With the squid?” Draco was puzzled.

The Fisher King shook his head. “In the drawing room—”

Draco’s heart sunk.

“—she needed you and you saved her.”

“No,” Draco said, barely audible in his shame. “You’re wrong, I didn’t save her.”

“She was dying. She was going to die. You saved her.”

Hearing him say it so surely bothered Draco, not just because he didn’t believe it, but also in the way he was confident Hermione would’ve died. It had never crossed Draco’s mind that Bellatrix would’ve killed her, he always assumed she wanted her alive. But then, it wasn’t about her, was it? It was about Harry.

Fury bloomed within. “How? How did I save her? Standing there like a coward,” he spat.

“A shield.”

Draco furrowed his brow.

“Do you notice it about her? An untrained mind, yet she can occlude; almost as well as you, I would guess. She took a part of you that day, and you took her pain. Your mind shielded her. You knew what was happening and wished to act. And so your magic did. You subconsciously changed her fate, thus entwining it with your own.”

“What do you mean ‘fate’? It implies there are multiple outcomes.” He almost didn’t want to ask. “Is there a world where I don’t save her?”

“Yes.”

Draco thought he was going to be sick. Imagining a world without her was one of the worst things he could think of. A world without her warm eyes, her freckle spattered cheeks; the way her laugh filled you with joy, and how she could cause the world to freeze around you with a single look.

“You feel it, when you think of her. I can see it on you.” The Fisher King was smiling brightly. “The pull of the string. It calls to you both, it just waits for you to act.”

For the first time in a long time, Draco felt happy. Truly happy. Years of wondering about that night. Hermione’s persistence that somehow he’d helped her, and the dread of having to admit he’d been a coward, but this, the knowledge he had saved her life, made it worth it.

It gave him — hope.

Hope for the future.

“All that you need to do is act,” Draco muttered softly to himself

“With the admission to oneself, comes the final step needed.” The Fisher King was looking at Draco knowingly.

But Draco couldn’t admit it yet, he needed to know if the pull worked both ways. If Hermione felt what he did of her own accord, or if it was only because Draco had given her a part of himself. He couldn’t admit his feelings to her if she didn’t feel the same. His heart wouldn’t take it.

His mouth opened to question if that was how it worked, but watched instead as Hermione fell from the sky above, landing along the soft fog around his feet. Her eyes were closed and she looked as though to be sleeping.

Draco’s heart raced. “Hermione?”

The mist was cold as she stepped through. Not cold enough to chill, but as if she had splashed water on her face to wake herself up in the morning.

There was nothing around. No signs or any sense of direction. The only thing it seemed she could do was walk.

Hermione walked for a while before the never-ending white slowly faded, revealing her to be walking along a street. A muggle street. Specifically, a muggle street in Hampstead Garden; a road Hermione was all too familiar with. As she neared the end she stopped to look at the little house to her left.

Her house. Her home.

Not anymore.

Her past.

It looked exactly as it used to when she was growing up. The tended flowerbed in the front garden full of hydrangeas and hyacinths, the bright blue door her father had insisted on painting, and the small stone birdbath along the path.

Her heart swelled as she allowed herself a moment to reminisce.

The years spent hurriedly racing up and down the path on her walks to school each morning, eager to learn for the day. Or the comfort she felt returning home from Hogwarts, eager to tell her parents all about the magic she'd learned that term.

Walking the pebble path towards her old front door now was more daunting than she imagined it would be. Joy from seeing it again only highlighted the guilt and sadness of what happened during the war.

The door was already unlocked and, with a small push, she made her way inside.

Hermione wondered what could be waiting for her here. Would she be shown a happy memory, or would it force her to relive one of the worst moments of her life? The glazed over looks of both her parents as they sat, slowly losing their memories of her — the photo frames emptying, denying any proof of her existence.

A high-pitched shriek broke out from upstairs.

Her blood went cold and she ran, her wand raised. Slamming open her old bedroom door, Hermione froze at what she saw inside.

There stood a young Hermione, maybe six or seven, in the midst of a tickle fight with her parents.

“Quick, daddy, get mummy whilst she’s not looking.” Her laughter erupted as her dad lunged at her mum.

“Hey! No fair, I wasn’t ready,” her mum exclaimed. “Okay, Hermione Jean, it’s your turn then.” Laughter rang out once more as the small child ran behind her dad hoping for protection from her mum’s tickle attack.

The laughter faded into the background as Hermione stayed hung up on her mum’s use of her name. No one called her that anymore. Her stomach rolled as she doubled over, sobbing, unable to hold back the tears she had tried to suppress for years. Seeing them now made it almost unbearable. If her heart could’ve given out from pain, this might’ve been the moment.

Hermione dropped to her knees as the room shifted around her, revealing her now to be around the age of eleven. Young Hermione was sitting on her bed reading the same version of Jane Eyre that now sat aside her sofa.

“Hermione Jean, would you come downstairs please. We have a visitor who wishes to speak to you.”

Wiping her dampened face with the back of her hand, she followed her younger self downstairs where they was greeted by a younger Professor McGonagall standing in her living room.

“Good afternoon, Miss Granger. My name is Ms McGonagall, and I am a teacher at a very special school and we would love for you to attend.”

Extending her arm out in front of her, she presented the child with a brown envelope.

Hermione remembered this perfectly of course. It was the day she received her Hogwarts letter and the day her parents finally got answers as to why strange things seemed to happen around them. They had been so proud of their ‘little witch’. She’d spent every day after reading as much material as she possibly could. McGonagall had given her some books that would be required for her first year, as well as some information about the wizarding world and the school — thus forming her love for Hogwarts: A History.

The voices around her muffled as the scene shifted once more.

This was it. The moment she’d been dreading.

Hermione watched as a past version of her descended the stairs, wand in hand, her beaded bag slung high on her shoulder; filled with all the supplies she could fit in preparation for going on the run.

Having lived it once, Hermione did not want to watch this again.

She rushed to the front door and wrestled with the handle, but it was impossible. It was locked shut. The windows — locked. The back door — locked.

There was nowhere to go.

“No,” she cried, slamming her hands against the windows in hopes one would crack enough for her to escape this nightmare.

When there was no luck, she faced her younger self — a defeated look in her eyes knowing what she was about to do — raising her wand towards her parents, blissfully unaware of how their lives were about to change.

‘Obliviate’

The word hung like a putrid scent in the air.

Silence, louder than anything she’d ever heard seemed to permeate the space.

Hermione watched in horror as her heart split in two. The younger her checked on her parents to make sure it had worked, and that they were okay, before kissing them both on the cheek and leaving.

But she couldn’t now.

Her feet were rooted to the ground as if she was part of the floor.

The familiar spark of her mother’s eyes dimmed and her expression fell flat as the spell took hold. A large picture frame on the wall, depicting them all smiling cheerily on her 16th birthday, shimmered as she vanished from the picture — now showing her parents seated at a table celebrating their anniversary.

Tears coated her cheeks as she tried to understand why she would need to be shown this again but, as quick as the visions had all arrived, the house was gone, and Hermione was thrust into the white mist once more.

~

After finding the will to continue after the last vision, Hermione had wiped her face dry, and set off in search of the next trial. The mist thickening, and covering her body as if it was a living thing, but never causing unease or fear.

It seemed as though she’d been walking forever in the shapeless place. Yet her feet never ached and her body never tired. It could've been ten minutes, an hour, even a month at the pace she was going.

When Hermione believed she may finally give up, she heard a voice calling to her from the distance.

“Harry?” she called into the fog.

She pushed on to discover the source of the voice.

Harry's office door appeared between a break in the mist, the gilded letters of Head Auror across the frosted pane of glass. As she approached, the door swung open easily, and Hermione could see both Harry and Draco discussing plans over his desk.

This can't be the present.

The scene before he mirrored that of the Dolohov capture raid six months ago.

“What do you think, Mione?” vision Harry asked.

Both men looked at her and Hermione turned to see if the other version of her had shown up. However, there was only mist.

“Who are you looking for?” vision Draco queried, his eyes narrowing at her.

Hermione could try to hide her confusion, but something told her it would be pointless. “Oh, uh, sorry. I was daydreaming. Could you fill me in once more?”

She forced a smile and stepped closer to the desk. This Draco was just as perceptive as the real one. He was assessing her and she tried her best to seem unbothered by the strange scenario she was now a participant in.

“We were just discussing the best course of action," Harry explained. "Draco and I have been working on this for a while now and we want to get your thoughts.”

The plans on the table bore a strong resemblance to the ones for the raid in June. Red and black markings scattered across the page indicating which one of the two men had penned the idea. Analysing the parchment in front, Hermione noticed this would not be as easy a fix as last time. Their plans were polar opposites and it would be impossible to come up with a happy medium.

She would have to choose.

This was it. The present represented a choice.

As if sensing her understanding, the plans sharpened; the lines crisping and the routes becoming more evident of their paths.

Red had a sense of safety about it. A familiarity which reminded her of how Harry made her feel: their relationship throughout the years, the bond they’d formed, and the comfort in knowing he would always be there for her.

Black was unfamiliar; riskier. But yet, it called to her. Pulling her in like a lighthouse in the mist, bringing her home — how Draco made her feel. Ever since he moved in, there was a feeling of being complete that rested somewhere in her heart. It had been there for a while and Hermione was bored of lying to herself. Lying about how she felt. The way he seemed to quieten the world around them, easing her worries yet sharing her burdens.

The more she thought about Draco, the more he flooded her senses. Her eyes fell closed as the smell of his cologne hit her nose and the sound of his voice echoed in her mind. Although she could no longer see him he felt closer than ever, as if his heartbeat was in time with her own. There was a warmth at her back as though he was standing right there with her, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Harry’s voice pulled her from her reverie, “Which one do you choose, Mione?”

Opening her eyes, she found the room had vanished and she was alone. Mist surrounded her once more but at her feet were two coloured lines. Red leading to the left. Black leading to the right.

With a confident step, she made her choice.

~

The black line seemed the longest walk yet, but Hermione could sense the nearing of the end of her journey and pondered what the future could hold. How accurate was this future? Hermione was not one for divination and the idea of being presented with her future made her uneasy. What if she hated it? What if everything was so dramatically different, that she didn’t recognise herself anymore?

Hermione's eyes tracked the black line a few steps ahead and, where the line ended, a large field waited for her. Her brows knitted in confusion.

Suddenly, someone yelled out for her to duck, just as a spell flashed past her, giving her warning to roll safely out of the way. Quickly observing the scene around her, Hermione realised she was standing in the middle of a battlefield.

Making a break towards the direction of the voice, she ran to find Seamus hunched behind a rock.

“Blimey, Hermione! At least be prepared when you apparate in a fight zone. Are you injured?”

Shaking her head, she frantically looked around for some more information about where she was.

“I was looking for Draco, have you seen him?”

“He ran to the top with Harry.” Seamus jerked his head in the direction of the hill ahead of them. “Think they’ve gone for Carrow.”

Her breath stuttered.

This was the fight they'd been waiting for. Hermione clutched her wand and focused all her magic on apparating to the top of the hill. She knew where she needed to be.

A sharp crack sounded as her feet landed back on the muddy ground and she whipped around to catch a glimpse of the men. There was a cackle of laughter followed by an onslaught of spells from the left, and adrenaline pumped through her as she caught a flash of blonde hair in the distance.

She watched as both men ducked behind a large boulder and, with another crack, she appeared alongside them.

“Gods, Hermione! You shouldn’t be here!” Harry shouted. “It isn’t safe, go.”

“No! I’m here to help. We’ve done all of this together. I can’t just sit idly by whilst you fight.”

“Harry is right. You can’t stay,” Draco pulled her closer and looked into her eyes. “Go home. We’ll be fine.”

His eyes were molten; as if a fire raged within him, but his voice was — tender. Hermione’s knees went weak. She'd never seen him look at her like that before. Whatever had happened between now and then was striking.

The rock cracked behind them, Carrow was seemingly becoming bored with her target practice.

Harry moved first, trying to draw Carrow’s fire so that Draco could attack. It was working until an ill-timed dodge meant Harry was hit and went down.

“Harry!” Draco moved out from behind their hiding place in an attempt to reach him.

Hermione watched as a sick grin twisted its way onto Carrow’s face. Under the guise of sending another spell towards an injured Harry, which had Draco lower his wand for a split second as he ran, she struck.

Her hand twisted back and aimed at Draco.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“NO!” Hermione leapt out from behind the rock.

The world around her slowed; everything became clearer, sharper — as if she had all the time in the world. And there was only one thought occupying her mind.

Save Draco.

Hermione watched as he turned to face her, an understanding falling on his face as she moved in front of him. The fire in his eyes was gone. Left in its place was pure fear.

That was the last thing she saw.

Bright blue eyes guiding her home as the green light surrounded her and swallowed her whole. And, as she fell, she felt complete. She had made the right decision, and she would it make again.

Hermione fell until she was floating.

The ground opened up below her and now she descended further into the mist. The cool air brushed over her as she travelled back. Past the office of two choices, past her younger self receiving her letter; further yet through more of her childhood memories. It was peaceful.

And, as her head finally hit the floor, she was content.

A pair of warm hands gripped her shoulders and Draco's worried face came into view.

“Hermione, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?”

His eyes darted around her face and body, checking to see if she was injured in any way. She was still a little fuzzy, but the memories of what happened slowly returned.

“I’m fine. Just a little dazed. H-how long have I been gone?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes? Hard to tell, but it wasn’t long at all.” Draco seemed more relaxed now that she had finally spoken to him.

She took his offered hand and stood.

The Fisher King stepped closer into view, a wide smile on his face. “Well done, young one. You have completed the trials of the Grail.”

Hermione finally felt as though she was lucid again. Patting down her body, to realise that she wasn’t actually dead after receiving an Avada from Carrow in a random dream field, she found that there was something in her front trouser pocket. Something cool under her fingertips. Hermione pulled on it to reveal a necklace. A gold chain with a small red gemstone pendant.

“What is this?” Hermione asked, choking back a sob. It looked exactly like the gift her parents had given her. The one she had sacrificed to Nimue.

“It is your grail,” The Fisher King said, as though she should’ve realised this sooner.

“But,” she hesitated, “how exactly is a necklace going to help me?”

“That is for you to find out. There is only one rule to such an item like this. You must never take it off, no matter what. It must remain fastened around your neck at all times. It will leave you when it is done.”

Hermione tried to open the clasp on the chain, but it was to no avail.

“I can’t open it, would you mind trying?” she asked Draco demurely.

Holding his hand out, she passed the small chain to him. As soon as the metal touched his skin, the clasp sprung open.

“Seems you lacked the magic touch, Granger.” He smiled at her and she couldn't help but smile back.

Turning her back to him, and gathering her hair up, Draco slid his hand around her neck to collect the other end of the necklace. The clasp snapped shut as he pulled the two ends together.

Hermione turned slowly, still within Draco’s grasp, and looked up at him, seeking out his bright blue eyes once more, and enjoyed the comfort they now gave her as she wondered if she would ever tell him about the choice she made for him in her trial.

“Leave this place, children,” The Fisher King ordered. “Or else risk being stuck between these worlds like me.”

Hermione faced him. “Thank you, Sir.”

The Fisher King simply nodded in reply before turning and leaving through the portal in which he arrived.

“I guess that’s our cue,” Draco said.

Not that it was necessary, but Hermione took Draco’s hand in hers to lead him back through the doorway, appearing back in the vibrant world atop the bustling town below.

Squeezing his hand tighter, she exclaimed, “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

Since their trip, Draco had been mulling over what the Fisher King said. The realisation that he’d had some influence in saving Hermione that day at the manor had filled the pit of guilt he'd carried for years. It was the main reason why he constantly chastised himself for acting on his growing feelings towards Hermione.

Now the guilt was replaced by the niggling feeling that she would only care for him with the influence of his magic. He’d been using all of the travelling back and forth to the Manor for the last few days, to assist with preparations for Christmas, as a welcome distraction.

First thing Monday morning, Hermione had been pulled into a meeting with the Minister to explain their success at retrieving The Grail, and to inform him that they would be spending Christmas at the Manor.

Shacklebolt had cleared them to stay there — most likely preferring the wards that it offered — but had promptly explained that Hermione was now to remain at home. All of her work in the Archives would be passed to the intern for the remainder of the year, and her emergency shifts at Mungo's would be paused until Carrow was found. He did not want to toy with the idea of Carrow kidnapping her to get her hands on the Grail — which was literally fastened to her body twenty-four seven.

Hermione had expressed her annoyance to the Minister, and then complained to Draco for two hours after returning from the meeting, but she had accepted Shacklebolt’s terms.

So naturally, she disobeyed immediately.

His favourite curly-haired witch was currently out collecting the last of her presents from muggle London. Against Draco's advice she stay safe at home.

With their friendship group invited to The Burrow for Christmas tomorrow, his mother had decided to host a gathering for them all tonight. The irony that all the snakes had fallen for Gryffindors was not lost on Draco; their ancestors must be turning in their graves. Embossed invitations had been sent out listing that the theme would be ‘Casual Christmas Eve Gala’, which would still require all attendants to be in formal wear. Merlin forbid they be comfortable for the evening.

With more attendants this year, Hermione had panicked that she was not prepared for the extra recipients and was cramming in last minute gift shopping before everything closed. Draco, however, was scheduled to be at the Manor by midday to help his mother with any final decorations, and to transfer their luggage for their stay. Hermione would floo in later with Pansy once they were dressed.

Upon hearing that Hermione planned to wear the same dress as her fashion line launch party, Pansy had ‘politely’ asked to dress her for the evening and was due to arrive later on to get ready at the cottage with Hermione.

Draco collated the last of their bags in the living room and checked that he hadn’t missed anything. A final glance around the room was cut short as he was suddenly attacked by the orange demon.

“Ah! You little shit. What did you do that for?” he snapped at the creature.

It didn’t reply. Obviously. It was a cat.

But something in its eyes told Draco exactly why he was being attacked. Draco was holding something called a pet carrier. This was to be the feline’s method of transportation to the Manor, and it was not happy about it.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Look, I know you don’t want to go in here, but your mistress insists. If it was up to me you wouldn’t be coming at all.”

The demon seemed to smirk at this idea. If a cat could smirk that is.

“Come on,” Draco called, but as he went to grab the fur-ball, it jumped out of reach and ran upstairs. “Well, great.”

Draco sighed and dropped the carrier on the floor.

“Fucking cat. I thought we were finally friends!” he yelled to the non-verbal animal upstairs.

~

It took thirty minutes for Draco to catch the demon spawn in the plastic jail and, with a few scratches and a rather deep bite mark, he stepped into the floo with the luggage and the beast, calling for Malfoy Manor.

“Draco, darling. You’re late,” his mother chastised as he exited at the other end.

He released the spawn of Satan, with his wand raised, watching as it darted out of the crate, taking off in whichever direction was away from Draco.

“That,”— he pointed at the orange blur —“is why I’m late. Stupid thing didn’t want to get into the crate.”

His mother chuckled at his annoyance. “I’m sure he’ll settle in no time.”

“It’s not a he. It’s an it,” Draco argued.

Unwilling to pander to his tantrum, his mother walked off and left him to mope in the welcome room.

Hermione’s morning shopping in London was pleasant; she’d always enjoyed buying gifts at Christmastime. With her seeing both Charlie and Narcissa this year, Hermione needed to pick up a few extra bits. She also found something small for Emmeline and Marion; intending to ask Draco if he felt they would like to receive gifts as well.

Draco should've travelled to the Manor earlier, tasked with taking the luggage and Crookshanks. Hermione hoped there were minimal issues, but Crooks really did hate floo travel.

She’d strolled past Madam Malkins after lunch, and debated buying a back-up dress for this evening. Hermione loved Pansy’s fashion choices, but Merlin knew the witch loved to dress her quite risqué; she didn’t think Narcissa would appreciate too much skin on show for a sophisticated evening. It was no surprise to Hermione that Narcissa had opted for a full gala worthy dress code, despite it being a casual evening.

After she received a howler from Pansy about not wearing a dress she’d worn already, they’d both argued over whether it truly mattered as it was just a quiet night with friends. In the end, they'd compromised, by Pansy winning the argument, and Hermione let her style her for tonight. Pansy had remained tight lipped on the outfit of choice, but as she unveiled the dress hanging on the back of Hermione’s bedroom door, everything became clear.

“I can’t wear that!” Hermione pointed to the emerald fabric. “What would everyone think?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Everyone would think you look fit, and that green really suits you.”

“And?”

She smirked wickedly. “And, they would also find it hilarious that you are in the home of the Malfoys in Slytherin green. I mean, nothing screams I want to jump Draco Malfoy’s bones more than this.” Hermione shot her a glare. “Ugh, come on, Hermione, this is the perfect time. He’s saved you from a squid, you saved him in a otherworldly dimension.”

Hermione knew she would regret telling Pansy and Ginny what had happened in her trials.

“This is exactly the next step in your relationship.”

She gestured for Hermione to sit before her so she could get started on managing the mess of hair.

“What relationship?” Hermione sighed. “We kissed twice and nothing came of it. And honestly, the last few days he's seemed even more distant.”

Pansy paused her wand motions.

“Brightest witch my arse,” she mumbled and moved in front of Hermione. “This is serious for him. You’re spending Christmas with his mother for Merlin’s sake."

“I don’t know, Pans. I think it might sort of be a convenience thing for him. Like it's only because he's been stuck in this house and wants something casual. Which is fine, but I don’t know if that is enough for me.”

Pansy gripped her shoulders with an almost bruising grip.

“Hermione Granger, listen to me. This is not a convenience thing. If I can guarantee you one thing, then that is it.” Pansy’s face softened slightly. “How do you feel about him, Hermione? Truly.”

“I — I like him. I really like him, Pans. When we’re together, just us, it’s like the world outside disappears. I can’t really explain it. It’s like he tied a rope around my heart and whenever he’s near I can feel it pulling me in; and, if we are apart, it’s like I can feel him on the other end beckoning me home.”

The words seemed to tumble from her mouth. A truth that even Hermione hadn't realised seeped into every word. Pansy smiled warmly at her.

“I’m going to ask you this again. Do you love him?”

Hermione’s mouth opened and closed again.

Pansy huffed softly and stepped back. “Fine. I won’t push you for an answer, but I think it’s something you need to decide upon. Although, jumping in front of a killing curse is quite the show of affection. Whether it was real, or not.”

Returning to Hermione’s hair, Pansy gave a few extra swishes of her wand and tamed the remaining curls into place.

“I do know one thing, though,” she added. “You are most definitely wearing that dress as I know it happens to go perfectly with a set from your birthday present.” Pansy gave her a wink.

~

With a final dab of gloss, Hermione inspected herself in the mirror. Her hair was natural yet styled; her makeup simple yet flattering, and the dress was — a statement. It wasn’t too dissimilar from the launch party gown except there was no slit up her thigh.

The floor length gown was soft velvet, and hugged every curve of her body. A thick band of fabric hugged across the top of her arms, leaving her shoulders bare. Hermione ran her fingers across the cool metal of her grail necklace. There was something deeply satisfying about the gold and red necklace against the emerald dress.

Hermione charmed all of her friend's presents into a single enlarged bag, which Ginny would take to the burrow for them all tomorrow, along with gifts for the remaining Weasley family. Even Ron. Though, he only got a box of cauldron cakes.

Bag in hand, Hermione headed downstairs. Pansy gave her one more look over, nodding her approval that Hermione was ready, and stepped into the hearth. Hermione threw in the powder and they spun away.

Engulfed in the green flames, they arrived at their destination right on time and were greeted by Emmeline and Marion. Emmeline’s eyes went wide.

“Miss Hermione looks beautiful. Emmeline wishes she had a dress like that,” the small elf gushed.

“Thank you, Emmeline,” Hermione smiled. “You look lovely also, what a— pretty shade of purple.”

It wasn’t exactly a colour she would wear herself, but the elf seemed ecstatic at the compliment.

“Thank you, Miss. Please follow Emmeline to the main room, everyone is waiting there until dinner. It is to be served in exactly thirty minutes.”

Emmeline took off through the house, not sparing a look back to see if the witches were following.

Hermione trailed along the familiar route from her birthday. Memories of that day came flooding back. Her anger at Draco for not caring, the shock of the party — the events of the library. A shiver ran down her back.

In exchange for brightly coloured birthday banners, the Manor was now decorated beautifully in shades of green, red and gold. A large Christmas tree stood tall in the centre of the entrance hall. Garlands draped each entryway and bright red holly berries stuck out of the green pine leaves.

From down the corridor, Theo could be heard talking loudly about his first official encounter with Molly and Arthur as Charlie’s boyfriend.

“I found it less scary riding the dragon in Romania.”

“Is that Charlie’s new nickname?” Blaise humoured. There was laughter from the group, and one retching noise.

“Really?” Ginny gagged. “Please don’t say that about my brother.”

“Don’t worry, She-bini,” Theo started, “That nickname is reserved for our dear Draco.”

Pansy began to chuckle beside Hermione, blocking out the response.

“Boys and their competitions.”

Hermione’s eyes blew wide at Pansy’s insinuation, and she laughed harder.

Wanting to deflect from this topic of conversation, Hermione bragged, “Well, you will be happy to know that I have actually seen what Charlie has ‘got in his pants,’ as you so eloquently put it at Molly’s birthday dinner.”

Pansy’s mouth fell open. “What? When? You have to tell me later. I have a bet going with Harry.”

Hermione’s questions about why Harry was betting on Charlie's genitals were cut off as Emmeline stepped into the ballroom and announced their arrival.

“Miss Pansy and Miss Hermione.”

The moment she stepped into the room, Hermione sensed the atmosphere shift. A burning gaze from a pair of steely eyes in the corner warmed her skin.

Pansy strutted over to Harry, pulling him in for a quick hello kiss, leaving Hermione the centre of attention.

“Fucking hell, Hermione!” Ginny graciously exclaimed. Everyone else murmured their similar sentiments.

Despite the compliments, she couldn’t draw her eyes away from Draco.

“Who knew you look so good in green,” Charlie stated.

Hermione was sure she imagined it but, for a moment, it looked as though something akin to jealousy flashed across Draco’s face as he quickly regarded the man; pulling his eyes away from hers.

“Thanks, everyone.” Self-consciousness rolled through her. “It was Pansy’s doing, obviously.”

Narcissa joined them shortly before dinner and worked her way round to thank everyone for coming. She made no strong comments on Hermione’s dress, simply hugging her in welcome and commenting that the shade suited her complexion well. Although there was definitely a sparkle in Narcissa’s eye.

~

Dinner was absolutely delicious. Emmeline and Marion had gone all out and delivered a five-course meal. Hermione felt ready to burst by the time their dessert arrived; but the temptation of lemon meringue pie was too good to ignore.

She was pleasantly surprised by the muggle tradition of Christmas crackers being pulled at the end of the meal, but Harry whispered that Draco had asked about any traditions he needed to be aware of that either Harry, or her, would miss out on by being in the magical world. The small gesture caused her heart to swell.

Draco was sat furthest away from Hermione all evening, seated beside Narcissa, yet his gaze shifted over to her throughout the meal. If Hermione picked her glass up to take a sip, or lingered slightly too long on the bite of food she pulled from her fork, his eyes were on her. It was invasive and perfect at the same time. Excitement buzzed every time.

Having had slightly too much alcohol by dessert, she became more brazen. She’d purposefully caught his eye as she licked meringue off the tip of her fork. He'd gripped his fork until his knuckles went white and the intensity of his eyes sent shock waves through her.

She'd played it safer after that or else risk turning into a puddle at the table

Everyone was now resting in the smaller lounge. Including Narcissa who, having indulged in one too many glasses of wine with dinner, was sat laughing at Harry’s retelling of that initial Norfolk raid, back in May, which had been the catalyst for Hermione to come in and consult. Draco was scowling at his mother’s enjoyment of his naked hose-down.

Hermione took in the couples around the room, a sadness working its way through her.

Blaise relaxed into an armchair with Ginny draped across his lap; her arm thrown around his shoulder playing with the nape of his neck. A couple who were loud and passionate about what they felt for each other.

Harry and Pansy sat beside each other on the chaise, huddled close, with Harry’s left arm wrapped around her. A couple who, despite public opinion, were not afraid to be together because that is what made them happy.

Theo and Charlie were slumped on the sofa together. Charlie absentmindedly ran his hand up and down Theo’s back as the Slytherin leaned further into his touch. A couple who had avoided relationships due to the fear of heartbreak, yet had found someone to trust completely.

It was as if the world was laughing at her.

Her breath caught in her throat; a threat of tears stung at her eyes.

On opposite sides of the room, were her and Draco. As he conversed with Narcissa, Hermione took time to think about what she really wanted, and her mind went back to the conversation with Pansy.

“Alright!” Theo shouted, commanding everyone’s attention. “Who wants to play a game?”

Narcissa stood. “I think this is where I take my departure for the evening.”

She gave Draco a brief kiss on the cheek and made her way towards the door. Stopping to turn back.

“Actually, Hermione? Would you mind if I borrowed you for a moment? I wanted to check everything is okay in your room for the week.”

Hermione nodded. “Of course.”

Butterflies swarmed in her stomach as she followed Narcissa out.

Instead of leading her towards the guest quarters at the top of the main staircase, Narcissa turned left and out on to the first floor balcony. Hermione brows pinched together.

“Pardon my small lie, Hermione. But I wished to speak with you alone before I went to bed.” Panic must’ve flashed across Hermione’s face as Narcissa rushed, “It’s nothing bad, my dear. I just wanted to say thank you. I know we haven’t had many opportunities to talk since you began working with Draco, and I just wanted to thank you for what you’ve done for him.”

Narcissa gazed out over the gardens, she looked a picture of grace.

“I can assume it wasn’t easy offering your home to him but, I couldn’t be more grateful. Your partnership has helped him so much, I found myself almost living in the past this evening. Thanks to you, I have my son back. Not the shell who left, but the man I knew he could be; the boy I lost many years ago.” Narcissa’s eyes misted. “I love my son with all my heart and you have brought him back to me.”

Narcissa leaned forward and pulled Hermione into a hug.

The cool winds failed to calm the blush in Hermione’s cheeks.

“I appreciate your sentiments, Narcissa, but I don’t think I’ve done anything," Hermione explained. "He is an extremely talented wizard and I have no doubt he could’ve solved all this without me. Besides, if anything, he’s helped me. I was wasted in those archive shelves day after day. Having him around has challenged me, showed me I haven’t lost that fighting spirit I had as a young witch. I owe him thanks.”

Narcissa took Hermione’s hand. “You see, Hermione, a partnership can work in funny ways. One day, it feels as though the world is against you both; then, it feels like it’s both of you against the world.” She smiled. “You had both lost the best parts of yourself and, with each other, you have regained them.”

Narcissa dropped her hand and headed for the door.

“The heart is an interesting thing, Miss Granger. We cannot always help who it finds, but we can make sure they know there is always a place for them.”

With a final nod of farewell, Narcissa left for her quarters.

Hermione took a few more minutes alone to enjoy the quiet of the winter's night.

She observed as the darkened grounds were illuminated by fireflies, dancing over the pond. Every now and then a flash of white from the peacocks in the moonlight would take her attention. The soft rustle of trees reminded her of her little cottage, not that the Manor could ever be described as little. A fountain, tucked away in the back, rippled in the moonlight as the water flowed, causing a glitter of light to dance upon its surface.

With the chill settling in, and goosebumps rising along her arms, she returned to the lounge.

Her mind was still occupied by Narcissa’s words as Hermione poured herself another glass of wine at the small bar cart when she re-entered the room.

“What was my mother questioning you about now, Granger?”

She jumped, nearly knocking over her glass.

“Merlin, Malfoy.” Hermione clutched her chest. “You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

There was a soft smile on his lips.

“Sorry.” He took a small step back. “What did she want then?”

She shrugged. “Nothing much, she just asked if I liked my room and if I had everything I would need for the week. I assured her that she had already done plenty and my room was lovely.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “You liked the purple décor then? I wasn’t sure if you would prefer Gryffindor red?” he asked with a sarcastic lilt to his tone.

Bollocks.

Someone really should remind her to stop lying to an Auror.

“Hey, Mione,” Ginny interrupted. “Sorry, but we need to be off.”

“Really, Gin?”

The red head nodded as she pulled her husband up from the chair.

“Yeah. We have a fairly early start tomorrow at the Burrow for dinner. Mum asked if I’ll help out so I need to get there for eight. I completely lost track of time.”

Ginny didn’t sound particularly excited about that and Charlie groaned from the sofa.

“Ah, yeah, good point. We’ll probably need to head off as well.” He patted Theo’s leg in indication to move. “Mum won’t appreciate it if we turn up looking like we’ve been up drinking all night.”

Hermione nodded and made her way over to hug them all goodbye.

“I understand. Thank you for coming tonight. It’s been lovely having everyone around for Christmas instead of just Harry and I.”

At the sound of his name, Harry also explained that he and Pansy should head home. Pansy had been getting more handsy over the last hour and Hermione was grateful he had the forethought to leave instead of subjecting Hermione to any more views of his underwear.

The group made their way to the floo and left, leaving her and Draco alone.

“It was nice tonight,” she said wistfully.

“Yes, it was.”

Draco turned to her. Without company, his eyes roamed up and down her body as if taking her in for the first time that evening. Hermione’s back tingled and she felt a familiar growing warmth as Draco removed his jacket, laying it over the back of the chair.

“It’s a shame it ended earlier than expected. Theo had been trying to convince us to play strip exploding snap in your absence.” His eyes met hers. “It would’ve been an interesting game I think.”

Hermione swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. She took a mouthful of wine and changed to a safer conversation.

“How comes everyone was in the ballroom when Pansy and I arrived earlier? I had assumed you would have been in the lounge before dinner.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Mother wished to show off her new décor. Not that anyone cared. Pansy was the only one to comment and you both didn’t arrive until close to dinner time.”

Hermione tapped her chin in a show of consideration.

“Would it be a point in my favour if I was to compliment your mother’s décor choices tomorrow?”

He huffed a laugh. “I doubt there is much you could do to not win favour with my mother. But, I guess she would appreciate the comment.” He regarded her with curiosity. “Why, do you want to take another look?”

Hermione nodded, a smile tugging at her lips. Draco held his arm out to her and led her down the same route as earlier, bypassing the dining room and turning into the dimly lit ballroom. A quick wave of his wand intensified the candelabras so she could admire more of the room.

Taking a moment to truly take in the décor, she could see how much effort Narcissa had put in to tonight. The room was white with intricate panelling along the walls, each lined in gold. Garlands similar to those in the entrance hall hung around the edges, framing the large golden chandelier in the centre. The sconces gave a warm hue to the room, perfectly cosy for a room of this size. Smaller trees decorated with various baubles were placed in each corner of the room.

“It really is lovely in here,” Hermione affirmed. “I remember the great hall in fourth year and how amazing it looked for the Yule Ball. Although,”— she sighed —“I wanted to enjoy the dance floor a little more before the party songs started. But Viktor was not much of a ballroom dancer.”

“It’s a good thing we’re in a ballroom, then.”

Draco withdrew his wand, gave it a quick swish, and the room transformed. The ceiling was now adorned with candles floating gently around them, mimicking the starry night sky. A small gramophone appeared off to the side, poised for action, and the once plain walls were now draped in curtains of gold.

“That is, if you would care to join me for a dance?” Draco asked with a mild hesitance in his voice.

Hermione smiled widely and nodded.

“We must of course keep this traditional,” Draco started, trying tot hide the amusement in his tone. “Dance partners must bow and curtsy to indicate the start of their partnership.”

Hermione chuckled, his words echoing that of McGonagall’s during their fourth year. The thought of Snape teaching the young Slytherins how to dance made her chuckle broaden into a laugh.

Draco quirked a brow at her outburst.

“I was just imagining what it would’ve been like to have Snape teach the rules of the dance.”

Draco smiled fondly. “Yes, it was quite awkward. Although, he had the advantage of all Slytherins having gone through etiquette training when we were younger. So ours consisted less of the dancing, and more of no spiking the punch bowl or sneaking off to alcoves in the dark.” He paused. “What happened in your lesson, then?”

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at the memory. “McGonagall had to teach the majority how to dance. She actually used a student for demonstration.”

“And who was her choice of subject?”

Hermione was barely containing her laughter enough to give him an answer.

“Ron.”

It took Draco approximately two seconds to register what she had just said.

The light behind his eyes grew in amusement and his laugh boomed out. His broad voice echoed in the room and Draco’s shoulders shook as he folded over and clutched his stomach in enjoyment.

Hermione wanted to commit this to memory. Not just because of how hilarious Draco had found the news, but because of how infectious his joy was. The small dimple in his left cheek, the wrinkling of his eyes; the way he clutched at his side as he doubled over. Her chest bloomed as she observed him. He was beautiful.

After a minute or so, Draco managed to compose himself and wiped a stray tear from the corner of his eye.

“Thank you, Granger. That may have been the best possible Christmas present you could’ve given me.”

“Oh, well, I’ll just return your gifts then,” she shrugged.

“Let’s not get too carried away.” Draco’s high spirits seemed immune to her sarcasm. “It is my turn now, then,”— he extended his hand —“to do right by offering to accompany you for your long awaited Yule dance.”

Hermione took his extended hand and allowed him to lead her into the centre of the room. Draco twisted his wand in a circle and the gramophone clicked into action.

Draco released her hand to take a small step back, holding eye contact as he lowered into a well practised bow. Hermione fought the small smile at the corner of her mouth as her right hand rose to her chest; her left held out as she lowered into a gentile curtsy.

The next few seconds moved in slow motion as Draco approached her and Hermione felt her breath hitch at the close contact. It shouldn’t seem so alien. They had been in each other's company for months now, they’d held hands, hugged — kissed. But, somehow, this felt far more intimate than anything before. As the harp strings rang out, Draco raised his arms and waited as Hermione raised her own. Their hands locking together as he pulled her into the formal embrace.

Draco took the lead — as any true gentleman would — and Hermione forced her brain to remember anything useful from her days as a young dancer. Their steps were hesitant at first; each partner trying to assess the other's rhythm. It was glaringly obvious that he was the better of the two, but nothing spurred Hermione on more than the idea of competition. She would show Draco that she was a good dance partner.

He was surprisingly easy to follow, the elegance in which he subtly pulled her and allowed her to take his guidance was not something she’d expected. Hermione had expected stepped on toes, swear words and an eventual surrender from her blonde partner. Instead they moved with the grace of a couple who had been dancing for years.

Draco slowed slightly.

“Still okay?” he asked.

His breath tickled her nose at their close proximity and she repressed a shudder.

With a brief nod Hermione allowed herself to be pulled further along into Draco’s lead.

The hesitation to her movements lessened as Draco took a more forceful approach — his lead allowing her to follow along easily. The increasing beat in the music echoed the pounding of her heart. The nervousness she felt of them being close together was something Hermione didn’t expect would ever leave. There was something about Draco Malfoy which brought out an uncertainty in her. Yet it also made her a better person. More aware of herself and her surroundings and, in moments like this, it was as though they were the only two people in existence.

Narcissa’s words flitted around her mind.

‘It feels as though the world is against you both. Then it feels like it’s both of you against the world.’

Hermione was pulled back to the moment as Draco took the opportunity to spin her, and she unceremoniously tripped over her own foot. He barely hid his smirk.

“You know, Granger? It’s rude to drift away from your dance partner, it causes a lapse in concentration.”

It lacked any roughness, but it was enough for Hermione to mentally scorn herself.

Murmuring her apology, Draco resumed their dance.

Easily, they fell back into the previous rhythm and moved across the floor as though gliding through the air. Hermione’s focus fell back on Draco and his brilliant blue eyes. The candlelight reflected within them like small specks of starlight — warm, inviting and magical. The signature cold grey she was accustomed to seemed a distant memory now.

Draco took a step back, releasing her arms. He maintained eye contact as he raised his right hand up in front, palm facing Hermione. She returned the action, their hands held an inch from each other. Close but not touching. They circled each other slowly. The intensity from his gaze burned.

Traditionally, this was the moment in the dance that signified whether the dancers would choose to remain with their partner and forsake all others.

And, as the music swelled a final time and Draco swept Hermione back into his embrace, she knew there was no longer a choice to be made. After these months of working together, the way he’d saved her — not only in the manor, but from the squid, to her trials for the Grail. Hermione knew her choice was well and truly made. She allowed herself to relax deeper into the feeling of being by his side as the warmth within her chest spread around her body. Hermione leaned into that familiar sensation in her chest that had been there within her since she was seventeen.

The music quietened and they withdrew from each other. Draco bowed, just as he had at the beginning of their dance, and Hermione curtsied. Looking into his eyes as she acknowledged the truth.

That she was was completely and utterly in love with Draco Malfoy.

The melody of the piano ended their dance and Draco stepped into Hermione once more and took her hand in his.

“Thanks for the dance, Granger.” He placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “I can see why you felt left out at the ball. You’re not a bad dancer.”

“Thanks, Malfoy. You’re not too bad yourself.”

He smiled at her compliment and gave another wave of his wand, returning the room to its usual state. Hermione knew now what she needed to do. It was all or nothing and she wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“Would you like another drink, or would you prefer to retire for the evening?” he questioned, his voice quiet with hesitance and a hint of nervousness.

“Another drink sounds great.”

Draco smiled warmly as he led her back towards the lounge.

Hermione squashed the dread that was building at the thought of Draco not reciprocating her feelings, and promised herself she would find out exactly where she stood. Tonight.