Chapter 1: Prologue
Notes:
Check tags!
TW: attempted SA, tortureSong rec: Vigilante shit by Taylor Swift
Chapter Text
10 June 2008
Hermione sipped her gin and tonic, occupying a booth in the back of the room. The dimly lit Muggle pub was surprisingly busy for a Tuesday night. Every table in the place was full, and groups of patrons stood throughout, the din of conversations and laughter at a nearly unbearable level. She scanned through the smoky haze, studying each person briefly before moving on to the next, searching for any sign they could be her next target. This decision was not one she made lightly, and they had to fit within her criteria.
She felt the insatiable itch under her skin starting last week. After a particularly taxing day, all she wanted to do was curl up on her couch with a good book and drown out the world. Unfortunately for her, she’d instead been requested by the Wizengamot to provide testimony as an expert witness on a case. They had sworn the commitment would be short, but several hours later, she still remained at the Ministry, famished and exhausted. With a lack of sustenance and rest, and no available distraction, her defenses had been down. Her mind began to flood with excruciating memories of the war. This is always when it started. The need to punish, to inflict pain, to make someone pay for their sins had begun pulsing through her veins. She tried to stave off the feeling, but she lacked the willpower and desire to stop herself, and the urge grew ever stronger until it overwhelmed her. Which is how she ended up in this tiny Muggle pub in Oxford, intent on satisfying her needs.
Her eyes fixed on two people across the bar, the man clearly drunk, the woman twitching nervously. The small woman appeared to be alone, and had taken up a spot against the wall, tightly holding onto her pint. The man was sitting at the bar when Hermione arrived earlier, and had looked as though he’d been holding up that barstool for most of the day. When he noticed the woman wasn’t with anyone, he zeroed in on her. A predator and his prey. Hermione could tell by her uncomfortable body language his advances were frightening her. As the man leaned in closer, towering over her, the woman’s eyes darted around looking for a way to escape. Hermione watched on, prepared to intervene. She saw the woman cringe as the man’s hand clasped her upper arm, and he began yanking her aggressively towards the exit.
Slamming her drink down on the table, Hermione stood, seeing red. No one else seemed to notice the couple, now slipping out the door. Pulling her hood over her unruly curls, Hermione checked to confirm her wand was tucked neatly within reach before striding quickly outside after them. The light drizzle of rain falling from the night sky enveloped her, dampening the city sounds. Hermione craned her neck first right, then left before honing in on the man dragging the woman into an alleyway one block over. Wand now in hand, she stepped carefully over puddles, leaning into the shadows of nearby buildings as she approached the alley entrance. Her anger surged when she took in the scene before her. The man had the woman trapped by his enormous body on the ground, her skirt pushed up to her waist. One large hand covered her mouth to suppress her cries, the other undoing his trousers. The woman struggled futilely under his weight, her muffled sobs barely audible. Just as Hermione had expected, the man had sinister intentions. Being correct in her assumption gave her no satisfaction.
Spotting an empty beer bottle in the pile of rubbish next to her, she picked it up by the neck and smashed the end against the building. The man’s head whipped around at the sound of glass breaking. Hermione held the broken bottle threateningly, jagged edges glistening with raindrops. Giving the man a face-splitting, evil grin, she raised her wand arm and pointed directly at him.
“Crucio.”
Chapter 2: The Briefing
Summary:
Time to build up some plot!! Enjoy :)
Notes:
I have seen other fics do song recs, and I just love that. I'll have at least one per chapter.
Song rec: Look What you Made Me do by Taylor Swift
Chapter Text
10 October 2008
Hermione hurried off the lift, arms swinging nervously, a quill tucked behind her ear as she headed to the room in the very back of the floor. She hadn’t stepped foot in the briefing room since she had completed her auror training two years ago, having opted to join the Department of Magical Artefacts instead of staying on in law enforcement. But now, as head of the DOMA’s recovery team, also because her department head has decided he’s too old to go on any missions, she had been assigned to work on the latest international special investigation. The owl she had received from Harry Potter, the Head Auror, had been short and lacking details. Without any hints, she had pondered what the case might be, wondering if it was at all related to the vague and mysterious article she had read in the Daily Prophet yesterday.
Extensive dark magic usage had been detected throughout Europe in the Muggle world. The article had been unclear on exactly how it was known, but indicated some sites showed substantial lingering magical presence. Some Muggle deaths had been reported, along with destruction of property. No motive was listed, nor was there any guess as to who might be responsible. This terrified Hermione. Firstly, she knew she was responsible for some of the magical traces in the Muggle world, but it sounded as if there were no suspects. Plus, she knew she hadn’t used enough magic to stain her surroundings, meaning someone else was out there wreaking havoc on unsuspecting Muggles. It had been nearly a decade since Voldemort was defeated, and the small uprisings of dark factions in the time since had all been quickly quashed by the DMLE. However, the I.W.C. must believe something significant is brewing if they were creating an international task force.
Upon entering the briefing room, she saw the area was packed with people, some faces familiar, some not at all. The windowless space was hot and stuffy with so many bodies crammed in, and Hermione immediately felt sweat beading on her back. She was looking around for a chair or stool when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Hermione spun around and came face to face with Seamus Finnegan, who she hadn’t seen since their final year together at Hogwarts. He was taller and had filled out, his dark hair cut short, looking more a man than the boy she remembered. He was grinning at her, arms held wide. Hermione smiled brightly and enthusiastically hugged him.
“Seamus, oh my goodness, what are you doing here? I thought you’d moved to Ireland to be closer to your family!” She stepped back, grasping his arms, taking him in.
“Aye, I did. But I needed work or else my Mam was going to force me to take over the family farm. I ended up going through auror training. Been working in Galway, breaking up bar fights and chasing down lost sheep, bored out of my skull. When I heard Potter was putting together a team and they wanted people from our area, I jumped at the chance to come back.” He hooked his thumb towards the slim man to his left. “Drug my partner down with me. Much to his wife’s chagrin.”
The fair skinned man nodded in greeting. “Rowan Byrne, pleased to make your acquaintance.” Rowan seemed reserved and stoic, quite the opposite from Seamus who radiated boisterous energy. Their opposite qualities likely made them ideal partners.
“I’m Hermione Granger, nice to meet you.”
From just behind her shoulder, Hermione heard someone clear their throat. She turned toward the sound and took in the man before her. He was tall, olive skinned, with brown curly hair and expressive eyes the same shade of amber as hers, and he had a dusting of freckles across his nose that reminded her of summers from her childhood. He was dressed simply but neat, in grey trousers and a white button-up with charcoal robes. His appearance gave off ‘boy next door’ vibes. He gently took her hand in his, kissing it softly.
“Enchanté, mademoiselle. The brilliant Hermione Granger. Your reputation precedes you.” His eyes twinkled as a small smile graced his lips.
“Thank you, I suppose. And you are?”
He straightened, caressing his thumb along the back of her hand gently before dropping it almost wistfully. “Laurent Boucher. I work in the Bureau de Auror at the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France. Harry Potter requested my services for this project. Upon learning I would be working with the famous Miss Granger, I couldn’t say no.” He gave her a heart stopping smile, a dimple evident in his cheek. He was quite charming, his French accent enticing, and Hermione felt drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Several moments passed where they simply stood, eyes locked, Hermione barely breathing.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Boucher.” Hermione felt a blush creeping into her cheeks at Laurent’s attention. She returned his smile with a wide one of her own. Wow, it really was warm in this room, she thought, and debated casting a cooling charm on herself.
“Ah, there you are, Hermione. About time you showed up,” boomed a male voice behind her. She stiffened at the sound as a myriad of emotions ran through her. First fear, then anger, and finally annoyance. She didn’t bother turning around, knowing full well he would barrel his way into her line of sight. Sure enough, Oliver Wood pushed past Laurent to stand directly in front of her, his crisp, dark auror robes swirling around them.
Hermione and Oliver had dated for nearly a year after she had graduated from Hogwarts. At the time, Oliver was a professional keeper for Puddlemere United. Hermione’s friends had encouraged her to date him, thinking she would be excited to travel to his matches, see the world on the arm of a famous quidditch player. Hermione was more interested in the idea that he wouldn’t be around very often, mostly leaving her to her own devices. After Ron’s death during the war, Hermione had struggled in connecting with people, not wanting to open her heart to anyone new. Oliver had fallen for her quickly, even though Hermione kept him at arm’s length whenever possible. After only eight months of dating, he had asked for her hand in marriage. She had declined, and he had pleaded for her to reconsider. She compromised by saying she would be willing to keep dating, but told him it was way too soon to consider a binding union. Honestly, Hermione wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be married. They had tried staying together after that, but things were never the same. Oliver became controlling and jealous, constantly needing reassurance, assuming she had turned him down because she was interested in someone else. She felt her other friendships slipping away, as all her free time was tied up with entertaining him. After three painfully long months, Hermione called it quits and told him she was done. She threw herself into healer training, taking a double workload of courses at St. Mungo’s, wanting to keep herself busy and unavailable to him. It didn’t matter, he was always popping up wherever she went. Trip to the grocer? He was getting bread. Early morning coffee shop stop? He was there, enjoying a pastry. Years went by with this continuing, and Hermione just accepted the fact he would always be lurking around. When she quit her healer job and decided to pursue being an auror, Oliver found out and applied the following year for the program. He had retired from quidditch at that point and said he wanted to make a difference in the world. His involvement was another factor that pushed her to pursue DOMA, knowing studying artefacts wouldn’t be enough to keep his attention. Not that it mattered. He still found reasons to pop down to the lower levels and swing by her office, which bothered her to no end. She considered warding him out of her space more than once, but didn’t feel like explaining why to Harry or her other departmental colleagues. Most people seemed to like Oliver and wouldn’t understand her point of view.
Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “Wood.”
He narrowed his hazel eyes, cocking his head to the side. “That’s the kind of greeting I get? After all the love we shared?” Oliver reached out and plucked the quill from behind her ear, tsking at her. “I’ve told you before, you’re going to stain your face with ink if you keep doing this.” He looks down at her plain attire, a simple jumper and knee length skirt. “Nice muggle outfit. You really should pay more attention to your appearance. How will you ever catch a wizard looking like this? You know your clock is ticking, Hermione. You’re not getting any younger.”
She resisted rolling her eyes or smacking him across the face. Beside her, she sensed Laurent tense and she spared a glance his way. His eyes, once warm and sparkling with delight, were now cold and calculating, focused on Oliver. Hermione wondered what he was thinking.
“I’m not doing this here,” she sniffed, backing up a step. She saw Oliver open his mouth, but before he could say anything, they were interrupted.
“Okay all, listen up!” Harry’s voice carried over the crowd. “Let’s get this briefing started!”
The room quieted down as everyone found a seat, Hermione purposely sitting between Seamus and Rowan, leaving no space for Oliver. Or, sadly for Laurent, she realized.
“I know each of you are curious why you’re here today, so I think it’s best if we lay out everything we know. Get you up to speed before we announce official assignments. I’m Harry Potter, Head Auror here. As I say your name, please stand or wave so others can learn your identity.” Harry went around the room, introducing witches and wizards from the UK, Ireland, and France. “There are more investigative teams in other parts of Europe that we will be in contact with, but we felt it was important to gather you all specifically. Just know as Head Auror, I’m always available if you need me, but I’m handing over management of this team to Dean Thomas, one of our top detectives.” Dean moved forward as Harry stepped back and leaned back against the wall.
Dean was subdued, his usual cheery attitude gone. “I’m certain most of you saw the article in the Daily Prophet yesterday. While not giving any details, the article made some correct assumptions. Dark magic usage has been detected in several Muggle cities across Europe. And not just a light lingering trace. Some sites have seen so much there are magical stains that have seeped into the surroundings. They’ve been associated with significant architectural and property damage, natural disasters, and a string of Muggle deaths.”
Hearing this caused Hermione to squirm in her seat, her anxiety spiking. She knew there was no possible way she would have been invited onto the team if they knew her secret, but listening to Dean made her pulse race with worry.
“As some of you may know, there are a handful of squibs working as Muggle police officers at different stations.” A few people glanced around, murmuring, this being news to them. “They have long been our eyes and ears in the Muggle world, since they can still detect magic despite having none to use themselves. We began getting reports from them, noting an uptick in magical happenings starting a few weeks ago. We believe this increase in occurrences is not coincidental.”
Dean pointed to the wall behind him. “We’ve been creating a timeline of known events, including dates, estimated times, locations, damages, and casualties. We have yet to discover a specific pattern, as the occurrences are happening at random intervals. Most of the Muggle victims do not appear to be connected. We’re suspicious there is an underground web linked to the dark world trying to create chaos. To what end is uncertain, though there are a multitude of possibilities.”
Hermione thought again of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, their desire to rid the world of Muggle-born witches and wizards. Could this be related, even 10 years later?
Dean paused, taking a deep breath. “You all have been chosen to work together, to find out why this is happening, and stop these bastards before anything worse occurs. Harry and myself have assigned your partnerships.” With a snap of his fingers, a packet landed in each of person’s lap. “Your partner is listed next to your name. This packet includes a summary of everything we know at this time. Inside you will also find your mission for the week. You are expected to complete your duties to the best of your ability, and keep us in the loop by owl. There will be significant travel associated with this case, long nights, and longer days. If at any time you feel you cannot continue with the work, please report directly to me. I’ll be staying local, consolidating the tips and updates you send us. We will plan to meet here weekly for briefings. Good luck, and I’ll see you all next Friday.”
Hermione picked up her packet with trepidation, fearing she might see her name paired with Oliver’s. She breathed a sigh of relief when she read Boucher’s name next to hers. Sensing a presence next to her, she found Laurent standing at her shoulder, close enough she could smell the oak and citrus of his cologne. It made heart race. Before either of them could say anything, Harry was calling for them.
“Boucher, Granger. Could you both follow me to my office?” he said as he strolled past them, Dean on his heels.
“Do you know what this is about?” Laurent implored. Hermione shrugged her shoulders, pulling her packet snug to her chest and promptly following Dean and Harry. She could feel Laurent keeping pace behind her.
Harry’s office was small, made even more cramped by the overflowing bookshelves along one wall and the boxes full of reports stacked on and around his desk. He’s never been one to enjoy paperwork, and often letting it pile up until filing becomes critical. Hermione spotted several interdepartmental memos floating above Harry’s head as he sat behind his desk. Everyone filed in, forced to be close enough their shoulders brushed.
Rubbing his temples, he let out a long sigh. Harry looked overworked. His hair was unruly, dark circles under his eyes, his skin sallow. He had only been Head Auror for just over a year, but the job was already taking its toll. Plus, having two kids at home and a pregnant wife, he certainly wasn’t getting any rest. He cast a locking charm on the door and a privacy charm on the room, to prevent anyone from overhearing their conversation. Then he looked directly at Laurent. “You’re telling her who you really are right now. No one outside of this room will know, unless you deem them worthy. And I’ll need a regularly updated list of those you inform. But she’s going to be your partner, so you need to be honest with her from the start.”
Hermione looked over at Laurent with confusion. Was she supposed to know this man? She racked her brain as she studied his features. All she could think about was how similar his features were to her own. Same hair color, eye color, skin tone. Perhaps she had a long lost relative? Would it be strange she found him attractive if they were related? Isn’t there a Muggle saying about how couples tend to look alike? Then, abruptly, without a word or glance her way, he…rippled. Olive skin became porcelain, honey brown curls changed to straight blond strands, amber eyes adjusted to silver, and soft features sharpened. Draco Malfoy stood in front of her. She gasped, backing up into Dean.
“Malfoy? H-How? What are you doing here?” She thought back to the way Laurent- no, Malfoy- had gently kissed her hand and smiled so charmingly at her. She felt her cheeks staining red, though this time with anger and embarrassment. Draco stood stock still, refusing to look at her, his face unreadable.
Hermione swiveled to face Harry, hands on her hips. “You expect me to partner with him? How did he even get in here?” Harry and Dean shared a look.
“Hermione, he really is an auror working at the French Ministry, that is not a lie. He trained in France and has been working primarily undercover with them for years. Boucher is his false identity when he is in the field. His previous Death Eater contacts have allowed him access to the dark world, and he has brought down many a dark witch and wizard. I vetted him myself.” Harry took a deep breath. “Also, he volunteered to help.”
Hermione sneered at Draco in disbelief, but to his credit, he didn’t react.
“Thomas, could you take Malfoy to his new desk? Please help him get settled in.” Dean nodded. Draco transfigured his features back, again becoming Boucher. Without looking at Hermione, he walked out the door after Dean.
Once the door was fully shut and the charms reinforced, Hermione rounded on Harry, her hair sparking with magic. She slammed her palms down on his desk. “I swear to Godric, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m going to wring your neck if you force me to partner with him. We cannot work together. We hate each other. I mean, I thought he’d fallen off the face of the earth. I haven’t seen him since…” Her voice trailed off as she pictured the last time she had seen Draco Malfoy.
Bare feet, hollowed cheeks, dead eyes, chains digging into his wrists and ankles. Trapped in a cage, he had looked resigned to meet the dementor’s kiss that day in court. When Hermione’s name was called in his defense, he had spun around so quickly he nearly fell over. Hermione stood with her head held high, a child of 18 in front of the Wizengamot. She bore witness to his refusal to name Harry in Malfoy Manor, his refusal to kill Harry at Hogwarts in the Room of Requirement, and his willingness to walk away from Voldemort at the final battle. Harry accompanied her and confirmed her accounts. Draco’s wand had been checked, and not a single killing curse had been cast. He hadn’t killed anyone during the war, which was more than Hermione could say for herself. She’d taken more lives than she could count, in anger, in rage, in defense of her friends. All factors were considered, and Draco’s sentence was reduced to 2 years house arrest. After that, as far as she knew, no one had seen or heard from him since.
Until now.
“How did he even become an auror? I thought a criminal record automatically disqualified you.”
“Well, yes, though outside of the time he spent awaiting trial in Azkaban, he was only sentenced to probation. Thanks to you, might I add.”
Hermione’s cheeks flushed further red at that comment. “You were there, too, Harry.”
“Only because you asked me to. I doubt I would’ve gone to his defense without your urging. Anyways, after the war, so many witches and wizards had been killed, the rules for admission were laxed. Plus, his information on the dark world is extremely valuable. As far as I’ve been told, he’s never stepped even one toe out of line. His wand is checked every fortnight for spell usage, and anything out of the ordinary must correlate with his job. I’m told everyone in his division loves working with him.” Harry leaned forward, placing his hand on top of Hermione’s. In a softer voice, he said “Hermione, he would not be here if I had any doubts about his loyalty to the cause. And, he requested to work with you. As a Malfoy, he grew up surrounded by dark magic and artefacts. He has extensive knowledge about them, and it could be valuable to this case. And I truly believe the two of you can set aside your differences to work together.”
Harry crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Also, if he does anything wrong, and I mean anything, you tell me straight away and I’ll punch him directly in that pointy nose of his.”
“Not if I punch his posh face first,” Hermione grumbled. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself he would likely be a wealth of knowledge on dark magic, and she would greatly enjoy picking his brain.
“Ugh, fine, I’ll try to work with him. But I don’t have to like it.”
Harry snorted. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re agreeable to this partnership. While he’s on the job in the wizarding world, he’s to stay undercover. When you’re doing investigations in the Muggle world, it is up to his discretion which identity he chooses to use. I know he has C.I.s but I’m insure if they know him as Malfoy or Boucher. I’m not privy to any specifics. It is entirely up to him how much of that he shares with you.”
“Noted.” Hermione breathed in slowly through her nose, attempting to calm herself. “What if I decide I can’t do it?”
‘’We can cross that bridge if we need to. For now, just try to get along, okay?” Harry urged.
“Fine. But you owe me a drink for this,” Hermione demanded, wagging a finger at him. “Or ten.”
Harry laughed, looking more like himself than he had in weeks. “Any time, friend. As many as you want.”
Chapter 3: Partnership
Summary:
Ready for some Dramione banter???
I know I am.
Notes:
Song recs: I will Possess Your Heart by Death Cab for Cutie
Chapter Text
10 October 2008
Walking down the long, faintly lit hallway towards her office, Hermione was shuffling through the packet, skimming over the details of the events. Of all the reports in her files, three were her own murders. She had scrutinized the notes and found they had no leads. She had known there was a possibility her crimes had been logged, but she felt confident they could not be traced back to her. Okay, maybe 90% sure. 85%. Ack. At least for now, they were lumping everything together, assuming it was all connected. Worrying someone might discover they weren’t linked would have to be a problem for another day. For now, she wasn’t on the radar. She continued to shuffle through the folder. Spying some of the interesting magical signatures that had been found at other crime scenes, her brain tingled with excitement. She was looking forward to digging into them, hopeful she could recognize and identify what was used.
“Alohomora.”
Hermione entered her pitch-black office, and without looking up, pointed at the desk with her wand. “Lumos.”
A soft light emanated from her desk lamp. Eyes glued to the parchment in front of her, she went to sit behind her desk. Plopping herself down, she landed on something firm but warm that was definitely not her chair. She jumped up in shock, letting out a shriek. Eyes wide, she saw none other than Draco Malfoy occupying her seat, a coy grin on his face, his perfectly coifed hair nearly translucent in the lamp’s glow. She smacked him in the arm with the packet.
“Good Godric, Malfoy, were you just sitting in the dark, waiting for me?!” Hermione tossed her packet on her desk and put her hands on her hips.
“No, of course not.” Draco cocked his head sideways, still grinning.
“Then what, exactly, were you doing?”
“Occupying your chair, hoping you’d sit in my lap. And how about that, wish granted. I didn’t even have to ask.” Draco put his hands behind his head and rocked back in the chair. Hermione tried not to notice how his button-down shirt stretched taut over his defined chest.
“You’re such a git. Get out of my office.”
“You can’t kick me out of my office, Granger.”
Hermione scrunched her face in confusion. “This is my office, Malfoy. Obviously, you’re at my desk, in my chair.”
Draco’s eyes gleamed. “Look behind you.”
In the far corner of her space, where she used to have a small sitting area, sat a brand-new desk, covered with high end parchment and a set of expensive quills. The most ridiculously plush looking office chair rested behind it next to a set of drawers and a sparsely furnished bookshelf.
“Oh, absolutely not. This is not happening.”
“It already did.”
Hermione huffed in exasperation and made to stomp out of the room, when Draco grabbed her hand. The same hand he had so gently kissed when he was disguised as Laurent. She felt a jolt of electricity run through her at his touch, and she stopped moving, though refused to face him. He ran his thumb across her knuckles once, twice.
“Your skin is just as soft as I imagined,” he purred quietly.
Hermione shivered, both at his touch and his whispered words. She’d clearly been single too long if Draco fucking Malfoy was causing this reaction. Pulling her hand free, she turned and perched on the edge of her desk, just out of his reach, and tucked her hands underneath her.
Putting her emotions in check, she toned down her voice and attempted to come across collected. “Why did you request to work with me? We haven’t spoken in over a decade. We don’t even like each other.”
“Who says I don’t like you?” His gaze traveled from her face down to her now exposed thighs, her skirt having slid up when she sat. His eyes darkened and moved back to meet hers. “I’m definitely enjoying what I’m seeing right now.”
“Get your mind out of the bloody gutter. You didn’t answer my question.”
“What’s a bloody gutter? And how would my mind get there?” Clearly Draco’s snarky nature was still intact.
“UGH,” Hermione shouted in frustration, all semblance of being collected gone. “It’s a Muggle phrase. Forget it. Now, why did you request to work with me?”
“Does it bother you that I did?”
“Malfoy, seriously. I need to know.”
“Who wouldn’t want to work with the brightest witch of our age?”
Hermione jumped off the desk and stalked over to him. “Stop responding to my question with questions!”
Draco chuckled. “Did you come over here to sit in my lap again? Because I might be more inclined to answer if you did.” He widened his legs and patted his thigh.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “You are impossible! Why are you like this?” She crossed her arms and began tapping her foot, her high heels clicking loudly on the concrete floor.
“Hmm, they really should provide you with a rug. I guess I should say, provide us with a rug. If I have to listen to your heels click all day it’ll drive me bonkers.” He hesitated, his grin widening. “Unless, of course, those heels are the only thing you’re wearing.” Draco winked up at her.
Hermione stopped tapping and narrowed her eyes at him. He raised his arms in surrender.
“Okay, okay. You are so easy to rile up, you know that?” Draco ran his hands through his hair and cracked his neck. “The truth is I knew being Boucher on a mission for hours and hours at a time wouldn’t be feasible. Keeping your face and body transfigured takes a fair amount of concentration and is exhausting. In the past, I’ve worked primarily alone, and my previous….” He hesitated, and looked away, trying to come up with the right word. “Cases… only required short stints staying undercover. With as much time as I would need to spend with my partner, I needed someone I could trust, someone I could be myself around.” He looked back up, meeting Hermione’s gaze. “And despite our differences, Granger, I knew you would be trustworthy. Also, I knew my status as a former Death Eater would scare away most people. But not you.”
Hermione was again reminded of that day in court, his reaction to hearing her name. She could feel the anger slowly fading as she took in his words. “You assume I would be fine with you because I defended you at your trial?”
“Am I right in assuming?” he implored, his tone serious.
Hermione sighed. “Can I please sit down? My feet are killing me.”
One corner of his mouth quirked up, but before he could say anything, Hermione gave him a stern look. He slowly rose out of her chair and bowed, arms gesturing towards the seat. “Votre trône, mademoiselle.” Hermione sighed again, but had to press her lips together to prevent a traitorous twitch.
Draco leaned against her desk as she took her seat, hands in his trouser pockets, eyes distant. “Quite frankly, I was shocked anyone came to my defense, especially you. I was downright cruel at every opportunity. I was a spoiled, callous prick. I let my father’s beliefs and influences cloud my judgment.” He swallowed. “For that, I am sorry. I’ve had a long time to reflect on my actions as a boy, and I am ashamed of who I was.” He paused again, shifting his weight. Hermione stayed silent, sensing he wasn’t finished, just needing a moment to compose himself. “I know these are just words, and mean nothing without actions.” Stormy eyes turned to meet hers. “So, I beg you, Granger, give me a chance. Let me show you who I’ve become.”
Hermione felt the fight leaving her body. Everything he was saying rang true. Having been one of the few marked Death Eaters who had escaped prison time, he would not be easily welcomed by most people. “We were children during the war. Children should be able to make mistakes and learn from them.” She rubbed her face with both hands and took a deep breath. “Harry told me you’re quite respected in France. Said he thinks we would work well together.”
“I can’t believe I’m about to agree with Potter, but I think he’s right.”
“Can you explain why exactly your desk needs to be in my office, though? Surely we could find you your own space. This building is huge. And I know for a fact there are open desks in the pit in the DMLE.”
“Back to me being undercover, maintaining my façade in an open office would be challenging. Thomas explained to me that your department is in the sub-basement level, has no windows or external access points, has only 4 employees, and outside of the vaults, there are no shared working spaces. With your office being furthest from the lift, the probability of anyone just walking by is extremely slim. We chose to place my desk there,” he pointed a finger to the corner, “specifically because it cannot be seen from the hall, giving me time to lock my disguise in place should someone come knocking.” Then he smiled, mischievously. “Plus, it will be significantly easier to annoy you when I’m only a few feet away.”
“Fine,” she said, resigned. “Just remember, if you wind me up, I won’t hesitate to chuck something at your head.”
Draco threw his head back and laughed. “Challenge accepted, Granger.”
Chapter 4: The First Killing Curse
Notes:
Warning, this chapter has some darker events. Please be sure you've reviewed the tags before proceeding.
TW: death, torture, murder, bloodSong rec: I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift
Chapter Text
10 October 2008
“So,” Ginny said, “Harry tells me you’re working with Malfoy.” She tossed her long red hair over her shoulder.
Hermione gasped, taking a quick look around the bar before she slugged Harry in the arm. “Harry! No one is supposed to know!”
“Ow, Mione, that hurt!” Harry rubbed his upper arm, grimacing.
“Oh, come on, you know I get wifey privileges. He tells me everything.” Ginny took a swig of her spiced apple cider. Despite not yet showing, she was pregnant with their third child. She was taking a break from both booze and her career as a chaser with the Holyhead Harpies. “Is he still a pompous prat?”
“Ha. You know that will never change.” Hermione swallowed the last of her gin and tonic, and shook the ice at Harry. “Another round, please!” She grinned as Harry groaned.
He brushed his wild hair away from his forehead, exposing his lightning bolt scar. “You’re going to drink away my entire vault if you keep this up.” He grabbed her glass and made for the bartender, leaving Ginny and Hermione alone.
Ginny leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially. “Okay, real talk now that he’s gone. Is Malfoy still as gorgeous as a Greek god?”
Hermione reeled back, eyes wide. “What? Ginny!”
“C’mon, Hermione. Despite being a jerk, he was always good looking. And he had that seeker physique.” She put her hand to her forehead and faked fainting. “I hated the insufferable git, but I wasn’t blind.”
Hermione only stared at her, not reacting. She had, in fact, noticed his well-defined pecs, strong shoulders, and chiseled jaw line. Just because you could admit someone was attractive didn’t mean you were, well, attracted to them, Hermione assured herself. Then she remembered the way he touched her hand, his flirty comments to her in her office that afternoon, and she could feel herself getting warm. She clamped her mouth shut to avoid saying any of that to Ginny.
“Can’t tell me? Or, won’t admit he’s fit? Well then, I just might have to swing by the Ministry and see for myself.”
“He’s in disguise at work, Ginny. Only a few people even know it’s him.” Hermione could see Harry ordering their drinks, no one paying him any mind. Not a soul recognized them here in this Muggle establishment. After the war, it was too hard to spend a lot of time in wizarding pubs. They would never get any privacy or time to relax and be themselves. Someone always wanted an autograph, or a photo, or just wanted to extend their gratitude. While flattering, dealing with it day in and day out, it became something to dread.
“Ah, that’s no fun! Wait, is his disguise even hotter? Imagine the bedroom games you could play.” Ginny’s eyes smoldered and she bit her lower lip.
Hermione covered her ears. “No, stop, do not put those images in my head.”
Giggling, Ginny slapped her forearm playfully. “I’m so sorry. This pregnancy has my hormones on overdrive and I am randy as fuck. I’m wearing Harry out.”
“La, la, la, la, la, I can’t hear you!” Hermione shouted, her hands still on the sides of her head.
Glancing between the two women, Harry set down Hermione’s gin and tonic and his whiskey. “What exactly is going on here?”
“Nothing,” Hermione said just as Ginny exclaimed, “I told her we were fucking as rabbits.”
Harry closed his eyes, turning slightly pink. “Ginny. Come on now. Hermione does not want to know that. Also, it’s fucking like rabbits, not as rabbits.”
She shrugged. “Eh, close enough. They mean about the same thing.” Ginny loved using Muggle phrases, picking them up from Hermione and Harry, or when they were on excursions in the Muggle world. The problem was she could never keep them straight.
Holding her refreshed drink, Hermione said, “Your wife is interested in finding out if Malfoy is as sexy as she remembers.”
Harry jerked his head over to Ginny. “What? You fancied him? You always called him a ferret!”
“Yeah, so? Ferrets can be cute.”
“Gin, no. He was awful to all of us.” Harry shot back half his whiskey in one gulp, making a face as it burned its way down his throat.
“You were downright defending his honor at work today, Harry. Pushed me to partner with him. Talked him up like you were the one that had the school yard crush.” Hermione quirked her eyebrows at him over the rim of her glass.
Before Harry could respond, a commotion broke out behind them. Two men were shoving each other and yelling, their drunken words slurring. It was a Friday, not uncommon for unruly crowds to emerge as the night grew late. More people stood to join, and it was evident a full-blown brawl was coming.
“Ginny, we need to get you out of here.” Harry rose and reached for her arm.
“I’m not made of glass, you know.” But she let herself be lifted up and slipped her arm into Harry’s.
“I know you’re strong, peach, but I won’t risk the babe in your womb.” He gently pressed his hand on her abdomen, and the couple stared lovingly at each other. Despite how long they’d been together, their love and devotion never wavered.
An exceptionally loud shout from the crowd broke them of their reverie, and they moved towards the exit. Hermione tossed back the last of her drink before slowly following the Potters.
Once outside, they shuffled over to the side of the building and Ginny tightly embraced Hermione.
“We don’t see enough of each other, Mione.” Ginny released her and stepped back, allowing Harry to hug his best friend. “Now that I’m off work for the foreseeable future, let’s plan a catch-up, just the two of us.”
“And plan some game nights. Ginny, didn’t you want to host one next weekend?” Harry asked.
“Oi! I forgot! Pregnancy brain. Yes, next Saturday eve, get-together, our place. Bring some wine. I’ve invited Blaise and Daphne as well, and Harry said he’ll invite someone from work, to balance out our numbers.”
Ginny had grown close to Daphne Zabini, nee Greengrass, after formally meeting her last year at a gala. Daphne was hosting and Ginny was one of the guests of honor, as they were celebrating the Harpies. If she remembered correctly, that event raised funds for one of Hermione’s charities, The Muggle-born Witch and Wizards Reparations Committee. As one of the founders of M.W.W.R.C, Hermione had also attended briefly, but took her leave after less than an hour. She did not enjoy parties, as it was yet another place people felt the need to talk about the war and her part in ending it.
“I’ll be sure to come, as long as Harry doesn’t have me off on a mission.” Hermione poked his shoulder playfully.
They waved goodbye to Hermione before disapparating home. Hermione tucked her coat closer around her as a crisp autumn breeze blew through the street. It was a clear night, dark and moonless, and she could see a few stars shining through the glow of the city’s night lights. Not quite ready to head home, she decided on a stroll through the sleeping neighborhood to walk off the gin. Perhaps the cool air might help her wrap her head around of the events of the past 24 hours.
After fully reviewing the details included in her packet, she discovered their focus this week was to be on artefact signatures. Most of the instances included would need further research, though a couple were niggling at the back of her brain. She was certain she had seen something similar in her studies, if not nearly exact. One murder in particular was very familiar. The Muggle man was marked with burns in a circular pattern around his neck. Despite there being no actual ligature marks or broken blood vessels, the cause of death was determined to be strangulation. Whatever had been used scorched the skin and cut off his airway was unlike any spell or curse she knew of, leading the her to believe it had to have been an object. A magicked string or rope, maybe an enchanted ribbon, or a necklace perhaps. Monday, she would head down to the vaults and poke around amongst the confiscated items, see if anything gives her an idea.
If she was traveling into the vaults, she should probably take her new partner down there. New partner. Hermione grumbled out loud and quickened her pace. Draco Malfoy. Her memories of him from school were not pleasant. The way he spoke to her, the names he called her. Mudblood. Her arm began to itch, where she had a permanent reminder, a gift from his aunt, of that very word. She resisted the urge to rip off her coat and scratch her scar raw. How in the world is she supposed to work with him? Maybe he really had changed. Hermione decided she needed to give him the chance he begged for, even if it was the last thing she was interested in doing.
Her mind drifted, now thinking of the violent choices she had made of late, and her justification for them. Hermione was broken, her heart and soul in pieces. She had never fully recovered after the war. She allowed herself to recall the moment her entire world shattered.
Hermione and Ron sprinted around the corner of the building, dodging rubble in their wake. Curses and hexes flew around them from the wizards on their heels.
"Ron! This way!” Hermione veered right, ducking behind a freestanding wall that had once been the back of a bakery. There were scattered baked goods amongst the debris, and Hermione tried not to look too closely at the clothing laying near her feet that undoubtably housed a dead body. Ron scooted in next to her, breathing hard, his wand gripped tightly in his hand. Blood trickled into his eyes from a laceration near his hair line, and Hermione tried to wipe it away.
“We can’t hide here. We are too exposed.” Ron panted out, watching for anyone approaching over her shoulder.
“I know, I just need a second, one second, to catch my breath.” Her hair was a wild mane around her head, and her shirt was torn in several places, cuts and bruises peeking out.
Ron reached out and cupped her cheek. “We’re going to make it. We’re so close to winning this war.”
As they stared at one another, a sliver of hope in their eyes, Hermione saw a green glow slam into Ron’s temple. She witnessed the exact moment the light left his eyes, the killing curse ending him in less than a second. The world slowed as his hand dropped from her face, his body slumping to the ground. An agonized wail erupted from the depths of her soul. She spun around with her wand raised, her gaze immediately falling on the wizard who had killed her love. Shaking with fury, she aimed at him.
“CRUCIO!”
She took several slow, unstable steps in the wizard’s direction.
“CRUCIO!”
Hermione closed the gap between them, her focus narrowing until he was all she could see. He writhed on the ground in pain, eyes squeezed shut, his wretched cries a salve to her heartache. Standing over him, she pointed her wand at his head.
“LOOK AT ME!”
The moment his eyes met hers, she let the final curse go.
“AVADA KEDAVRA!”
This time when she saw the light leave a man’s eyes, she relished in it. She felt no guilt, no remorse. An unnatural calm enveloped her.
Moments later, when a hex connected with her leg, she didn’t hesitate to launch a killing curse at the offending witch’s chest. She was dead before she knew what hit her.
Hermione came back to the present, her cheeks now tear stained. She let herself cry, something she rarely allowed. The pain of losing Ron still felt so raw, so fresh. The years since had done nothing to tamper it. She had debated on finding a mind healer to wipe away the memories, had even considered obliviating herself, but she didn’t want to lose any part of her past. She’d already lost enough.
Hermione heard shouting in the distance, and observed two men in a scuffle.
“Give me your wallet! Now!” one man said, brandishing a knife.
“Sod off!” the other exclaimed, trying to break away.
“It’s either your wallet or your life, mate. I’ll take your wallet off your dead body!”
They continued to struggle against each other, neither giving in. Suddenly, the attempted mugger was plunging the knife into the other repeatedly.
Before Hermione knew what she was doing she had apparated next to them.
“Expelliarmus!”
The knife flew from the attacker’s hand into hers. He looked blankly at his empty hand then up at her, wide eyed.
“How the fuck did ya do that?” he took a tiny step back from his victim, who was holding his abdomen in shock.
“Immobulus.”
This man was not going to run away from her. The attacker was frozen, his dark eyes shining with fear. Hermione approached him and slowly slipped the blade between two ribs, pushing in to the hilt. She smiled darkly, and pulled out at the same measured speed, feeling a gush of warm, wet blood pour over her fingers. She could feel the need to hurt him burning through her veins. Turning the blade in her hand she began driving the weapon into his stomach, over and over. She funneled her torment into every thrust and lost count of how many times she stabbed him.
A gurgle behind her stopped her onslaught. The original victim was now leaning back against the building behind him in a pool of blood, his eyes unfocused. He gurgled again, as if trying to communicate something.
She let go of the knife and dropped to the ground, grabbing his hand. She heard a thud behind her, but didn’t look back.
Reaching out with her magic, she assessed his wounds. Fatal. Even with all the years of healer training under her belt, he had lost too much blood to be saved. It wasn’t fair. This man hadn’t deserved to die. She squeezed his hand tightly.
“It’ll be okay. I’ll stay with you.”
Fresh tears sluiced through the blood splatter on her face. Within a minute, he was gone. Hermione gently closed his eyelids. If you didn’t notice the dark puddle around him, you could almost believe he had just stopped for a nap, perhaps too pissed to make it home.
Hermione swiped at the blood and tears on her face before turning back to the attacker. He was on the ground, dead, facing them.
She scourgified her hands before reaching into her bag, pulling out a deck of bloodstained cards. She placed one into the front pocket of the bastard and stood, picking up the knife in the process. Taking one last look at what she had done, she disapparated home.
Chapter 5: Devotion
Notes:
It's our first Draco POV chapter!!
Continue to check triggers please!!
TW: death, bloodSong Recs: Treacherous by Taylor Swift, The Lost Art of Keeping a Secret by Queens of the Stone Age
Chapter Text
11 October 2008
Sweet.
Sodding.
Salazar.
Draco’s heart stuttered in his chest.
Hermione stood before him wearing the tiniest silk pajamas he had ever laid eyes on. They were light gold, only several shades darker than her natural skin color. The top was partially unbuttoned, the material so thin he could see the outline of her pebbled nipples. And the shorts, if you could call them that, were barely larger than a pair of knickers. He took in the sweeping expanse of her shapely legs, curved in all the right places. He wanted to drop to his knees right there and slowly, ever so slowly run his hands up those gorgeous stems, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses as he inched closer to her center-
“Malfoy!”
Draco blinked.
“I said, it is 4 o’clock in the bloody morning. What are you doing on my stoop?” Hermione said crossly.
Draco thought he saw a spark of magic in one of her wild curls.
Right. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, Potter has summoned us to a crime scene. He owled us both, but he assumed you would ignore it, so he instructed me to, ah, come over and get you.”
“Of course I ignored it. Nothing good comes from a message in the middle of the night.”
Hermione turned around and started walking back into her home, and Draco caught a whiff of lavender shampoo. His eyes dropped to her round arse and he felt a twitch below his waist. Gods, she was gorgeous.
She turned back and caught him staring at her. She sighed.
“Are you coming in or just going to stand there?”
Draco discreetly adjusted his trousers and stepped through the entryway into her cozy cottage.
“I see you’re empty handed. The least you could have done is brought me coffee.”
True, he should have thought of that. He was so used to working alone it didn’t even cross his mind. He walked through her sitting room, noting the over abundance of books on nearly every surface. How very Granger of her.
Hermione started walking upstairs and called back, “Give me 5 minutes to get changed and I’ll be ready to go.”
Draco watched her climb all the way to the top of the stairs before he shook his head and turned into her kitchen. He needed to get himself together. He pulled on his occlumency training to refocus his mind. Opening cabinets, he startled to rifle through the contents. Perhaps he could make her a cup of coffee while she dressed. He found a bag of coffee grounds and a container of sugar. Setting them on the counter he looked around for a brewing apparatus. He saw a peculiar metal contraption on the counter that said ‘Coffee Mate’ on the front. He located a large button on the side and pressed it. Nothing happened. Opening the top, he found a mesh basket. What was he supposed to do with that? Pour the grounds in? Then what? He sighed. Admitting defeat, he rummaged around some more and found her tea stash and her kettle. He got to work making them tea to go.
He added 4 scoops of sugar and a generous amount of milk to his travel mug but hesitated before adding anything to hers. Noting she was already grumpy enough being woken up at such an ungodly hour, he decided to let her doctor her own tea rather than mess it up.
Hermione waltzed into the kitchen now fully dressed in Muggle attire with her wild mane braided back.
“You made tea?” She smiled hesitantly at him. “Thanks for that.”
“I would’ve made you coffee, but I have absolutely no clue how to work that machine.” Draco nodded at the coffee maker on the counter.
Hermione chuckled. “Next time you’re here in the middle of the night, I’ll show you.” She realized how her words could be taken and blushed crimson.
“Is that an invitation?” Draco winked at her.
She blushed even more. “Oh, shut it. We should get going, I’m sure Harry is checking his watch, wondering where we are.”
Hermione added one scoop of sugar and a splash of milk to her tea before popping the lid on.
--------------------------------------------------
When they arrived at the crime scene, Draco strode toward the group of investigators, Hermione trailing after. She became unsettled as soon as they arrived, and he wondered if she’d participated in a murder investigation before. He knew about her auror training, so it didn’t occur to him she would be nervous. To avoid potentially embarrassing her by inquiring if she was alright, he decided just to take charge and give her the option to stand back and observe.
Draco spied Katarina Ivanov and Charles Robert, French aurors from his division. He greeted them both with a firm handshake. Katarina was tall, nearly his height, with shoulder length black hair and a serious demeanor. In contrast, Charles was thin and slim, the top of his head just reaching Katarina’s shoulder, with light brown hair and blue eyes. He had a trusting face, and criminals tended to tell him more than they should. While Charles only knew him as Boucher, Katarina had gone through training with him and was aware of his true persona. She was a woman of few words and as such a literal vault for secrets.
Katarina spoke up. “Boucher, thank you for joining us. I hope you don’t mind I requested your presence at the scene. The victims have been dead only a few hours, so we were hopeful you might be able to get a read on them.”
Ah, that’s why he was here. He had assumed this week would be focused on research with Hermione, not working any active crime scenes.
He took in the gruesome scene around him. Two men were dead, both appearing to be in their late 20s or early 30s. One man was leaning up against the wall of the building, his eyes closed as if in sleep. A large puddle of undisturbed blood around him, Draco could see he had wounds on his chest and abdomen. The other man laid on his side roughly 6 feet away, eyes open and facing the other victim. He also had wounds on his trunk, though the blood surrounding him was splattered and ran like rivulets towards the street.
“Always happy to help. Can you have everyone step back and give me space?”
Draco pulled out a small flask from his jacket pocket before shrugging it off, handing it to Hermione for safe keeping. He crouched down next to the closest body, the one laying on its side. He took a swig from his flask and tucked it into his trouser pocket, then conjured up a pair of latex gloves.
Placing his fingers on the man’s temple, he closed his eyes and entered his mind.
Draco felt the sluggish resistance of the dead brain as he pushed in. He saw only still images, as if looking out of the man’s eyes for just a blink, flashes from his final moments. First, he saw the other victim’s face inches from his, looking at him in anger. He then was looking down, his hand on a knife, blade deep in the chest of the other victim. The next image was the blade in his own belly, held by a smaller hand. Not the other man’s hand, the skin color was wrong. Another image bubbled up and he saw the face of the other hand's owner.
He stumbled backwards, falling out of the man’s mind with a grunt, nearly toppling over.
“Boucher, are you alright?” Katarina put her hand on his shoulder to steady him.
That couldn’t be right. Was she so prominent in his own thoughts she was now bleeding over into everything?
“I’m fine, just lost my balance. Let me go back in, I think there’s still retrievable memories.”
Draco placed his hands back on the man’s head and started again. The images came forward, in the same order. The angry man’s face, his hand stabbing the other man, and then smaller hand holding the knife, finally Hermione’s enraged face. It was her, he knew for certain. Then one last image rose to the surface. This vision was sideways, and had to have been as the man lay in his current position. Hermione was holding the original victim’s hand, tears running down her face.
Draco pulled back from his mind, standing in the process. He refused to look over at Hermione, afraid she would detect what he had seen in his expression.
Charles held a notebook, his quill at the ready. “Can you describe what you saw?”
No.
“Of course. This man,” Draco waved at the person laying down, “stabbed that man over there.” He gestured at the dead man in the sitting position. “They might have been fighting about something, I couldn’t ascertain for sure.” Draco took a deep breath. “Next image was of a hand stabbing this one,” waving back at the man on the ground, “that didn’t belong to either man. The skin tone was wrong.”
“Describe the hand, please.” Charles was scribbling hastily, zoned in on the notebook.
Tiny, delicate, sun-kissed fingers, skin as soft as silk.
“Olive skin tone, no open wounds or blemishes.”
Katarina turned to look at both deceased men. The attacker was fair skinned, almost translucent, his tone a near match for Draco. The sitting man was dark complexioned, close in color to a rich milk chocolate.
“Definitely not either of these two then.”
“We’re also missing the murder weapon. No way did it just walk away by itself.” Charles glanced up at Draco. “Can you describe the knife?”
“A basic pocket knife, silver blade, black handle. The blade was in flesh each time I pictured it, so I cannot say for sure, but I would guess approximately 3.5-4 niches.” Draco’s heart was pounding, waiting for the next question he knew was coming.
“Did you see anything else?”
The most beautiful face on earth.
“That was it. Unfortunately, this isn’t an exact science. Legilimency isn’t even supposed to work on the dead. It took me a very, very long time to figure out the spell and potion combo to allow me to derive anything at all,” Draco stated. He didn’t know how much Robert knew about his mastery in potions or his advanced spellwork. He preferred to keep that close to the vest.
“Why exactly are we involved in this case? Nothing in my vision indicated either of the men were wizards, and I don’t sense any magic in the air.” Draco kept his gaze on Charles, not ready to look at Hermione.
Katarina was the one to answer. She held up an evidence bag. “This is why.” She turned to face Hermione. “And it’s also why we needed you here, Granger.”
Through the bag, a bloodstained playing card was visible, the jack of spades. Her eyes grew large, fixed on the bag. She was frozen in place, barely seeming to breathe.
Just then, Harry walked up, looking especially disheveled. He gave Hermione a quick side hug, not noticing her stiffness.
“What do you have there?” he asked, nodding at Charles and Draco before turning back to Katarina.
“The reason this case is one of ours. This is the fourth bloodstained playing card we’ve found. The cards have some imbued magic on them, but we haven’t figured out what they do.” She looked over at Hermione. “We were hoping you had a chance to look at the other cards we’ve retrieved, and would take this one as well. We do not know why they’re being left on victims.”
“And it’s not every victim either, it seems random. Just like everything else in this damn investigation,” Charles grumbled.
“Hmmm," Harry mused, looking at the evidence bag. "I remember a time in Knockturn Alley, when I saw a set of playing cards at Borgin and Burkes. I wonder if these are the same ones.”
Harry looked over at Draco.
“Do you think you and Hermione could go over there later today and inquire about them?”
Draco finally turned to take in Hermione. She looked shaken, ghostly. He was afraid if she didn’t sit down soon, she might collapse.
“Definitely, Potter. Granger, I still owe you that coffee. I bet we could find a shop open now. We can draw up plans for the day while drinking some caffeine.” Draco approached her side and offered his arm, which she accepted without complaint. He knew she was feeling off if she didn’t even flinch before touching him.
Katarina handed Hermione the evidence bag with the card inside, and she dropped it in her coat pocket without comment. Draco guided Hermione around the corner. Once they were out of sight of the team, he stopped walking and turned to her.
“Hey, are you okay? First dead body since the war?” He knew for a fact it was not, but he wasn’t going to let on he’d uncovered her secret.
Hermione pulled her arm from his and shivered. “I’m so cold and tired right now,” she said, avoiding the question. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I think I need to go home and go back to sleep. I can barely stay awake.”
“You can barely even stand up.” Draco pulled her against him, her back to his front. She squeaked in response but didn’t pull away. He leaned in close, smelling her hair right as he disapparated them back to her house.
They landed in her sitting room, Hermione swaying on her feet. Draco didn’t let go of Hermione until she was standing steady.
Without a word, she beelined for the stairs, but stumbled when trying to step up to the second one. Draco was right there, having stayed close, just in case. He scooped her up in his arms.
“Hey, put me down!” Hermione half heartedly smacked his chest, but didn’t fight him as he carried her to her bedroom. He sat her on the edge of her bed and transfigured back to himself. He reached into his robes and pulled out a small bottle.
“Here’s a dreamless sleep draught. I really think you should drink it.”
He popped the cork and pressed the bottle to her lips. She tilted her head back and swallowed the potion, wincing at the bitter flavor. Fully clothed and on top of her covers, she crawled into bed and was asleep the moment her head met the pillow. Draco found a small throw blanket tossed over an armchair in the corner, and draped it across her sleeping form. He scribbled a quick note on parchment and left it at her bedside.
G-
Owl me when you wake.
-M
Draco stayed bedside for a few moments longer, unable to look away from her. He was shellshocked about the revelation that Hermione was a murderer. A serial killer, if the cards meant anything. She was so inexplicably good he couldn’t wrap his head around the idea. All he knew for certain was he needed to find out why, and he needed to protect her at all costs.
Chapter 6: The Manor
Summary:
Draco POV Chapter!
Theo and Narcissa are here!
Enjoy a peek into Draco's life.
Notes:
Song rec: Poplar Street by Glass Animals
Chapter Text
11 October 2008
As the molten morning sun peeked out over the horizon, Draco stepped out of the floo into the foyer of Malfoy Manor. It had been ages since his last visit. Finally feeling as if he could relax for the first time in hours, he dropped his shoulders and breathed in deeply. Aged oak and cedar, fresh cut flowers and an underlying warm, smoky scent welcomed him home. He loosened his tie and shrugged off his robes as he moved into the sitting room. The moment he fell back into one of the oversized velvet couches, he heard someone walking into the room.
“Draco, is that you?” Despite the early hour, Narcissa Malfoy was already fully dressed, hair neatly piled on top of her head.
“Yes, mum,” Draco said, rising from the couch to kiss her lightly on the cheek.
“Well, isn’t this just a lovely surprise! I was beginning to believe I would have to bribe you to come back for a visit.” Narcissa beamed at her son, delighted. “Mipsy!”
A house elf dressed in an oversized satin pillowcase popped into the room to Narcissa’s left.
“Master Malfoy, a pleasure to see you again.” Mipsy curtsied, dipping her head low. “Shall I get your rooms prepared for a stay?”
“Yes, that would be wonderful. And please, no need to curtsy. I’m not my father.” Draco would have preferred if the house elves didn’t address him as Master Malfoy, either, but he knew that request would fall on deaf ears.
“But first, perhaps a spot of tea and some of those lemon scones?” Narcissa implored. “I’m assuming you haven’t had anything this morning?” She directed the latter at Draco.
“I have not. Thank you.” All Draco wanted to do was be alone to clear his head, but he knew he needed to spend some time with his mother first.
Mipsy disappeared with a crack. Draco returned to sitting, his mother joining him on the couch.
Narcissa took Draco’s hands, squeezing them. “So, while I’m happy you’re here, your troubled face tells me this isn’t just a social visit. What’s the matter, my little dragon?”
Narcissa was aware her son worked for the French Ministry, though not in what capacity. Draco had never explained his status as a an auror, working undercover tracking dark wizards. He was certain she would not handle the details well, and didn’t want her to worry about him. After the war, Narcissa had dedicated herself to removing all the darkness from her life and the manor. Entire rooms were ripped down to the studs, furnishings completely replaced, and windows and skylights added. The introduction of natural light made the most difference, as it seemed to chase away the shadows of dark magic that had instilled itself in the walls. She donated large sums of gold to charities and organizations who were focused on restoration. Draco wasn’t sure where she stood on blood supremacy, though it was always Lucious spouting the bullshit propaganda with Narcissa simply supporting her husband.
“I’ve been asked to work with the British Ministry, specifically with the Department of Magical Artefacts, as a consultant.” This was only stretching the truth, right? “I accepted knowing I could spend some time here, with you. I’ve missed you, mum.”
Mipsy popped back in the room, balancing a tray with a full tea set and a large platter of pastries. After laying the tray deftly on the table in front of Draco and his mother, she stepped back, clasping her hands in front of her. “Your rooms will be ready for you within the hour, Master Malfoy”, she stated as she curtsied again.
Draco bit back a grumble at the gesture and simply thanked her. He fixed up a cup, dropping in an unholy amount of sugar and milk, and then grabbed a scone, shoving the entire thing in his mouth.
“Draco! Manners!” Narcissa shook her head, smiling. “Okay, back to our discussion. What about this job is concerning you?”
“You won’t like it,” Draco mumbled through the scone, crumbs falling on to his shirt. He brushed them away and swallowed. “I’m sure you’ve been reading The Daily Prophet?”
“Don’t tell me you’re working on anything with the Muggle murder cases. What would you be needed for?” Narcissa blew on her cup before taking a tentative sip.
Draco needed to be honest on this front. If she caught him researching dark magic and cursed objects in the library, she might assume the worst. “They want my expertise. On the dark world, on dark magic.”
“Oh, Draco, why you? I’m sure there are others who could assist. It took you so long to heal after the war. Investigating dark magic will surely dredge up some horrific memories. Why dive back in now?” She looked at him, distressed.
“I volunteered. It could be another uprising in the making. The wizarding world hasn’t recovered yet from the last one, the peace is too fragile. I cannot stand idly by.” He set his tea cup down and turned to her, laying a hand on her forearm. “Besides, this would be good for the Malfoy name, don’t you think? Show we no longer align ourselves with the beliefs of the Death Eaters?”
She twisted her lips, taking a few moments to study her son. “Are you sure you’ll be treated well? Will your coworkers listen to you, respect you? You moved to France because you felt you couldn’t have a life here, that people would always see you as a marked one.”
“My involvement will not be widely known, not at first. I’ll be working primarily in research, with only one other person. We… have come to an agreement.”
“Who is it?”
He hesitated, unsure if he should tell her. “It’s someone I went to Hogwarts with.”
“That’s quite vague.”
He sighed. “It’s Hermione Granger.” He studied her face, watching for her reaction.
“Oh. Oh, I see. The Golden girl, herself.” Narcissa folded her hands in her lap, her face calm. “She’s quite intelligent. I’m sure she will make a wonderful research partner.”
Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “You approve?”
“It’s only fair they match you with someone who meets your intellect.”
Well, that was unexpected.
They finished their tea, the rest of the conversation on lighter, happier topics. The urge now growing to get his thoughts in order, Draco excused himself to take a solo stroll through the gardens.
The morning was cool but sunny, a refreshing combination. The rhythmic crunch of gravel under his feet was trance like, allowing his mind to focus on the most important and exasperating part of the past day. Hermione Granger. The witch he couldn’t admit he was infatuated with as a child, the same witch who took his breath away now.
During school, she’d infuriated him, always outperforming him academically, indeed the brightest witch of their age. In his frustration, he had been relentless with his atrocities, calling her the worst slurs, playing the cruelest pranks. Deep under his father’s influence, he had believed her blood truly was dirty, that Muggle-borns were below him, less than. But her exceptional achievements rivaled that notion, throwing his world upside down. By fifth year, he had begrudgingly admitted to himself he found her attractive, and by sixth year he was heavily questioning his father’s longstanding ideologies on Muggles and purebloods. Upon seeing her in court, defending him, Draco finally accepted what had been growing in his heart. He was in love with Hermione Granger.
After his trial, he was placed on 2 years house arrest, and his mother ensured he remained busy. She hired private tutors who came to the house daily, training him in general studies, including arithmancy, potions, charms, transfiguration, and herbology. Despite the singular attention, Draco sometimes struggled staying on task. Hermione invaded his thoughts, was featured in his dreams, his nightmares. During the day, his fantasies ranged from running his hands through her hair and gently kissing her lips to caressing her bare skin, biting her neck to make her moan. The nights were a different story, however. Her starring role in his dreams were memories of her pain, filled with her screams. He had to watch over and over again her torture by his insane aunt Bellatrix, while he stood by, unable to intervene or risk his family’s life at the hands of Voldemort. And, if he was being honest, he had been a coward. That moment in time was one of his greatest regrets.
When word reached him the British DMLE was interested in starting a task force with Hermione as a member, he offered his services immediately. Just to be sure he wasn’t rejected, he asked to be submitted as Boucher, not his true self, and made certain to include his long list of feats and arrests. When his supervisor informed him of his admission to the team, he practically vibrated with excitement at the chance to see her again, hoping he would have an opportunity to show her he had made something of himself. Draco sent over a conditional request to the Head Auror, which he was shocked to find out was Harry Potter himself, to be partnered with Hermione. Acceptance granted, he waited until the morning of the briefing to meet with Potter and update him of his actual identity. The meeting was tense, to say the least, but Potter was impressed with his résumé and reluctantly allowed the contract to stand. Draco then shamefully informed him of the required wand checks to keep him in compliance, and he wished it could have been literally anyone else when the superior grin spread across Potter’s dull face.
When Hermione walked into that briefing room, Draco couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When he took her hand and kissed her knuckles, her captivated gaze gave him butterflies. He had long daydreamed of her looking at him in that way. And then Potter had to go and ruin everything by forcing him to reveal himself before he was ready. The way she reacted upon seeing him, instant anger, nearly crushed him. He had planned on informing her, eventually, once she was besotted with him, to try to avoid just that experience. Though, in the long run, her reaction may have been worse if she had felt deceived, so perhaps this was for the best.
The discovery of her extracurricular activities was shocking, to say the least. During his short stint in Azkaban awaiting trial, he had heard rumors of her ruthless behavior during the final battles, launching unforgivables without a second thought. He knew she was capable of murder, but assumed she would have left that behind when the war ended. Though Hermione did have the Gryffindor-savior complex, and he knew from the flashes of memory he’d observed, the man she killed had it coming. He had attacked the other first, and the final image showed her holding the hand of the original victim while he died, tears in her eyes. If the card hadn’t been left behind, he might have guessed it was a one-off, Hermione coming to the rescue. He would need to review the other cases with playing cards to search for a link, a reason she may have committed them. She wasn’t a bloodthirsty killer without a conscious. He had met enough of those in his life to be sure.
Lost in thought, Draco rounded a corner in the rose garden just as a brown cocker spaniel came bounding up to him. The pup jumped up on his leg and immediately began humping his shin. Draco tried backing away, pushing the dog off as he went, but the pup remained on task, relentless.
“Oi, that’s enough! Cut it out!” Draco reached down to grab them, but they scooted around to his backside, and jumped up to nip his bum.
“Ow! Theo, stop it, now!”
With a playful bark, the dog transformed into none other than Theodore Nott, who was bent over cackling. During the first few years after the war, Theo had chosen to go through the transformation process to become an animagus. It was a long and arduous process, but when Theo put his mind to something, he had the skill and patience to see it through. When Draco had questioned why he had chosen a dog, his response had simply been that everyone loved dogs. Theo’s childhood had lacked any semblance of love, so Draco knew he craved to be liked and accepted.
“You should see your face, mate!”
“Fucking hell, Theo, you bit my arse! And you were going to town on my leg!” Draco scowled at him, wiping at his backside as if he could brush away the feeling.
“Well, I missed you. Felt like an appropriate greeting.” Theo did a little dance, his dark brown eyes gleaming with laughter. “You didn’t owl to let us know you were coming by. What gives?”
The Nott Mansion had burned down during the war, and Theo’s father’s body had been found in the fire. With his death, Theo had no living relatives and at 17 wasn’t in a place to rebuild or relocate. Narcissa and Draco moved him into one of the unused wings of Malfoy Manor, and Theo had remained in their residence since.
“I can’t just come home for a visit without warning?”
“Not your style, and you know that.”
Draco sighed, then gestured towards the house. “Why don’t I tell you while we head inside? I’d like to see how the potions lab is coming along.”
“Oh, I think you’ll be overjoyed at our progress!”
As the two friends walked towards the manor, Draco informed him of his involvement with the task force at the ministry, his true role. They had no secrets between them, so Draco told him everything. When he mentioned he was paired up with Hermione Granger, Theo screamed with delight.
“You and Granger? How are you planning on hiding the tent in your pants every time she looks at you?” Theo ribbed.
“I’m not a teenager anymore, Theo. I can control myself,” Draco muttered, knowing full well he’d already failed at that when he laid eyes on her body in those gold pajamas.
Draco did hold back the knowledge of seeing her in the memory flashes. That was not his secret to share.
They entered the dungeons below Malfoy Manor, half of which had been converted into a spacious potions lab. Along one wall were racks lined with containers of various ingredients, those that could be kept shelf stable. A floor to ceiling set of cupboards took up half of another wall for those items that were air, temperature, or light sensitive. The remainder of the wall was filled with bookshelves displaying various scrolls, texts, and journals with detailed information on everything from basic potions to speculative ideas. The final two sides of the room hosted large cauldrons, most holding brews in varied states of completion. A large study table graced the center area, covered in parchment, candles, and bits and bobs from Theo’s recent work. Draco and Theo had both achieved mastery in potions, and they built this lab to research and concoct advanced and experimental elixirs, both legal and illegal.
“How is the veritaserum coming along?” The last time he and Theo worked together in the lab, they had made a list of possible additions to the potion to increase its resistance to occlumency.
“Well, I tried asphodel first, and the entire cauldron turned into a sludge that smelled like an unwashed ballsack, so I didn’t even bother with it. Tossed that in the rubbish. I took your suggestion to add knotgrass, since it has binding qualities, to increase the strength. Then I started to think about love spells and desire.” Theo paused, lost in thought. He was always prone to daydreams.
“And?” Draco prodded.
“Oh, right, yes. So amortentia uses powdered moonstone to enhance the natural properties and lacewing flies to stimulate the inclination to please others, so I threw those in as well. And voilà! I think we have a winner. It did add a slight sheen to the mixture, but still mostly clear and completely odorless. Just need to try it out on someone who is a master in occlumency.” Theo looked pointedly at Draco, quirking an eyebrow.
“You want me to be the lab rat, Theo? Seriously?” Draco scoffed.
“Well, actually, I tried it on myself and accidentally admitted to your mother I’m in love with her.” Draco coughed in surprise. “So… it clearly works, but occlumency isn’t my area of expertise so I cannot speak on that effect.”
Resisting the urge to shake Theo over his revelation, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “First, you cannot sleep with my mother. Second, why would you try it out on yourself without anyone else around? We’ve talked about this. What if something had happened to you?”
“It was fine, stop mother henning me. And your mum thinks of me as her son, so I know she would never. But a boy can dream.” Theo smiled longingly and Draco jabbed him in the ribs. “Ouch, okay, okay. I won’t mention that to you ever again.” He definitely would. “But you can’t use that excuse, as I’m here. So...” Theo pulled up a small portion of the veritaserum into a dropper. “Open up!”
They had been working on this particular potion for months, and despite his hesitation to be the test subject, he was eager to see if they’ve finally found the right combination.
“Give me the dropper. I don’t trust you not to overdose me.” Draco held out his hand, and Theo obliged. He placed 3 small dabs on his tongue. The potion had just a hint of earthiness to it now, probably from the knotgrass. He allowed the serum a minute to kick in and then reached for his occlumency walls. He felt them slipping through his proverbial fingers. Reaching out again, he was unable to pull them in place. Where they normally felt like stone, solid and reinforced, they now felt like putty, and he could not fully raise them. He tried starting from the basics, clearing his mind and forming a space to create a blockade, and his thoughts swam through the barrier, like a river destroying a dam.
“Huh. We might have done it.”
Theo fist pumped the air. “Finally!” He launched himself at Draco, giving him a giant bear hug. Draco, not one to regularly engage in physical affection, patted his back a few times before sliding out of his arms.
“Good work. Now, hand me the antidote. I have some work to do for my assignment later today, and I want to be sure I’m clear headed.”
Theo winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, we’re out at the moment.”
“What? You’re joking.”
“I’m not, mate.”
Draco started to pace. “Can you whip some up? It should only take a couple of hours.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have all the ingredients right now. And Longbottom is out of the country on business until tomorrow, so we can’t restock.”
“Of course, he bloody is. Well, how long did this last when you took it? Will it wear off in a few hours?” Draco turned to him, redness creeping up his neck to accompany the exasperation in his voice.
Theo knew Draco wasn’t going to like his answer, so he nonchalantly backed up a few steps before responding. “Oh, about 24 hours.”
“TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, THEO? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Draco started towards him.
“Sorry, mate! Good luck.” Theo disapparated with a pop a split second before Draco could throttle him.
Chapter 7: The Vigilante and the Brain
Notes:
Another check triggers warning:
TW: attempted SA, death, talk of weaponsQuick fun facts about things mentioned in this chapter: The Wizard of Westwood was a real American basketball player, and he actually hated the nickname. Also the theoretical research included at the end of the chapter is actually mostly true. Pretty fascinating to a nerd like me.
Song Rec: House of Memories by Panic! At The Disco
Chapter Text
11 October 2008
Hermione woke to the sun pouring in through her window. She rolled away from the light, snuggling back into the blanket. That was odd. Her bedroom faced west, not east. Abruptly, her eyes shot open as she remembered. The mugging, the murder, Draco on her doorstep, investigating her own crime scene.
Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck fuck.
She blew out a long breath.
She’d been careless. Irresponsible. Negligent. She’d let her emotions drive her without a second thought. Last night shouldn’t have happened. But, just like the first time she had killed after the war, it had been instinctual. Though the first time had been personal.
It was during her fourth year of healer training. She’d had a particularly challenging day, and she lost a young witch in childbirth. She managed to save the baby, thankfully, but the devastation at the loss of the mother had quite literally driven her to drink.
Out at a Muggle pub, alone, she had polished off her third gin and tonic when a good-looking man approached her. He had seemed charming at first, engaging with her, asking questions, openly flirting. But alarm bells started going off in her head only a few minutes into their interaction. He offered to buy her a drink, which she graciously accepted. When Hermione rose to accompany him to the bar, he insisted she stay at the table. He wouldn’t hear of her coming along, claiming that no gentleman would ever let his lady fetch her own cocktail. He probably wanted to come across as chivalrous, but instead it seemed sketchy. When he returned, two glasses in hand, his eyes darted back and forth between them before setting one in front of her. Hermione glanced down, noticing a slight residue in the bottom of the glass. Heart pounding, she knew he was trying to drug her. She looked like the perfect target; a woman sitting alone in a bar, several libations in.
Hermione pretended to take sips, her fury rising, while she slowly vanished the liquid in the glass until only a few unmelted ice chips remained. Rising up in feigned clumsiness, she claimed to be exhausted and needed to get home. The despicable man first offered to drive her, and when she declined, saying she’d rather walk, he then demanded to accompany her to her door. Guessing what his true intentions were, she should have turned him down. Instead, indignation roiling in her gut, she accepted and they walked out into the summer night. She purposely directed them towards an abandoned area of town, and she could feel the dark desire radiating off of him. With her own internal demon’s egging her on, she waited for him to make his move. She palmed her wand in anticipation for her moment to strike. She didn’t have to wait long.
Pretending to stumble, Hermione felt the man grasp her arm. But instead of adjusting her balance, he used her momentum to fling her to the ground. Still clasping her arm, he hovered over her, leering at her.
“Should be more careful around strangers, pretty little thing. Guess I need to teach you a lesson.”
Trembling with unbridled rage, Hermione flexed her grip on her wand but hesitated to raise it. The man mistook her vibrations for fear. Removing his free hand from his trouser pocket, he brandished a knife and leaned down closer.
“Now, hike up that skirt. Time to see if your cunt is as pretty as that face.”
The time to act was now. Hermione first shot a stinging hex at his face, causing him to lurch back and release her, hand shooting up to touch the raw skin of his cheek. She followed that up with a knockback jinx, pushing him back a few feet, and another stinging hex, this one to his groin. He doubled over in pain.
“You fucking bitch! What are you doing to me?”
Getting to her feet, Hermione raised her wand with a steady hand, determination lining her features.
“Giving you what you deserve.” Despite the white-hot anger running through her veins, she paused to smile at him, a malicious sneer.
“I carry the wrath of every woman who came before me, hurt and killed by men like you.” The man stumbled back, attempting to flee.
“Crucio!”
Screaming, her would-be assailant dropped to his knees, racked with torment. Hermione watched on with wicked glee. She sent another knockback jinx his way, pushing him on to his back and then cast a binding charm, thin invisible cords roping around his body. Casting another cruciatus curse, this one with a silencing charm, the man writhed soundlessly on the ground. Closing the distance between them, Hermione tucked her wand into her bag and set it by her feet. He didn’t deserve a quick end. She straddled the man’s chest as he fought against the bindings, trying to escape, to no avail.
“You will never hurt anyone ever again.”
Hermione placed her hands around the man’s neck and began to squeeze. Terror filled his eyes as he doubled his efforts to get free. Refusing to give him the leverage he needed to buck her off, she tightened her thighs around his chest. Hermione thought of all the woman who didn’t get away from their rapists, who didn’t survive an attack. She envisioned the young witch who died today in her care, leaving a newborn alone in this world. She thought about Ron, the war, all the senseless lives lost for one man’s ego and backwards beliefs. Righteous anger fueling her, she increased the pressure on his throat, pushing in with her thumbs, feeling a cracking sensation. The man’s flushed skin darkened to purple, his lips turning blue. Hearing screaming, she clamped down even harder before realizing the agonized sound was coming from her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, spittle flying from her mouth, all splashing onto the face of the monster below her. Pushing down on his throat with all her weight, she felt his struggling slow and finally stop. Hermione took in the moment his eyes became dull and lifeless, feeling a grim satisfaction at ending his pathetic existence.
She checked for a pulse and confirmed he was dead before moving off of him. Standing on shaky legs, she reached into her bag for her wand and her hand brushed against the deck of bloodstained cards. Pulling them out, she saw the queen of hearts staring up at her. A powerful figure, with dual meanings. On one hand, she portrayed a woman with empathy and compassion, but on the other, she was known for her angry, explosive temper. A perfect representation of how Hermione felt about herself. Hermione placed the card on top of the man’s chest, marking her kill.
Hermione finished her training year and was named a full healer two months after the murder. Her decision to become a healer was a way for her give back after all the death and destruction she had reigned down during the war. But her heart was never invested. It had just seemed like the easiest option for her. She left her position at St. Mungo’s and focused her free time on her charities and causes, including Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare (S.P.E.W), her free the house elves initiative, and The Muggle-born Witch and Wizards Reparations Committee (M.W.W.R.C), who provided support for Muggle-borns through compensation and proposed legislation to prevent further discrimination. Despite making big strides within both organizations, Hermione wasn’t fulfilled. Harry convinced her to apply for the auror training program, and she relented. He took her under his wing, guiding her through the courses, and she excelled, finishing at the top of her class. Yet once again, she decided this would not be her path (and Oliver Wood played an unfortunate part in that decision). She transferred over to DOMA, where she found having her nose in books, researching magic, and working with her hands all day was very much her cup of tea.
Throughout her auror training, she managed to keep the itch under control, and didn’t commit another murder until almost one year ago. She had spiraled a bit since then, and by her count, she had taken out seven vile souls, all of them deserving of her vengeful wrath. Acting as a vigilante, she followed a strict code when seeking a target. They had to have committed egregious crimes against another person, such as sexual assault, attempted counted in her book, or unjustified murder. Normally a planner, she made exceptions when the urge struck. She hunted them mid-act, when their crimes were undeniable. The real satisfaction came from the look in their eyes… the moment they realized they were no longer in control, and they had gone from hunting to being hunted.
She was surprised to find only three had been roped in as magical murders thus far.
Well, now four, after this morning.
Hermione felt like two different beings, trapped in one body. She knew deep down that murder was wrong, that life was precious. She believed in the justice system, that in a perfect world, everyone should be allowed a fair trial. But she also knew men have been harming others for millennia without consequences, and they would continue to get away with it, and it stoked the self-righteous fires within her. Being the judge, jury and executioner of a miscreant gave her resolute gratification.
A muffled meow broke the silence of the room. A smooshed, orange cat face peeked up from the foot of the bed.
“Hi, Crooks, old man. Want some scritches?”
It took him a couple of tries to jump up before he lumbered over to Hermione, purring. He plopped down next to her chest, and she scratched him under his chin, his favorite form of affection. Her loyal companion and familiar, Crookshanks had been with Hermione for 15 years. She wasn’t sure how much time she had left with him, but she would cherish every moment she could. As if he knew what she was thinking, he leaned down and licked her fingers, a sandpaper kiss.
Sighing, she knew she needed to get out of bed. She threw off the blanket and noticed she was still fully dressed. How had she gotten home? After seeing the bloodstained card in Katarina’s hand, everything went fuzzy.
She rolled over to face the door and saw parchment on her night stand.
G-
Owl me when you wake.
-M
Draco must’ve brought her home. And he followed her into in her room? How dare he. At least he hadn’t undressed her, but she was still going to give him hell for invading her private space.
Speaking of Draco, she recalled his reaction at the crime scene when he first entered the man’s mind. He’d only been linked with him for a handful of seconds before he stumbled back as if shocked. Did he know? Had he seen her? He hadn’t mentioned seeing a third person in the man’s memories, just the hand of an unidentified individual. Also, how exactly was he able to extract memories from a dead person? As far as she knew, and she knew a great many things, that was just not possible.
Hermione drug herself to the bathroom and took a scalding hot shower. She allowed her lavender shampoo to invade her senses, relaxing her body and mind. She scrubbed every inch of her skin pink, standing under the stream of water until the pads of her fingers wrinkled and the hot water ran cold.
Wrapping a towel around her damp body, she stepped into the hallway and walked face first into grey robes and pale skin. She started to fall back.
Draco’s arms instinctual wrapped around her, keeping her balance.
“Ack, let go of me, you prat!” Hermione shoved at his immovable chest, feeling more than hearing his throaty chuckle.
Dropping his arms from around her, Draco backed up a half a step and ran his gaze unhurriedly down and back up her body. “That was quite the greeting, Granger. I’m happy to see you too.”
“What are you doing in my house? How are you in my house?” Hermione pulled her towel tighter, not risking it slipping off her body in front of him.
“I asked you to owl me when you woke up. It’s been over 8 hours, I was worried.”
“And you didn’t think to owl me instead? Like a normal person?” Hermione ran her a hand though her wet curls, pulling them back off her face.
“Well, I learned you ignore owls while you’re sleeping, so I knew better than to try that.” He smiled at her innocently.
That cheeky bastard. Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. “So. You thought the best course of action was to break into my home?”
“Oh, I didn’t need to break in, Granger. Your house welcomed me with open… eaves. Those would be like a house’s arms, right?” he inquired, with measured seriousness. “Or we could just say open doors.”
“What? Eaves? Wait… Did you leave my door open when you left me here this morning?”
“Oh Salazar, no, Granger. This place was all locked up tight. Better than before even.” He winked and gave her his brightest smile.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. Hesitantly, she asked, “What do you mean, better than before?”
“Well, after I brought you home, I realized just how easy it was to get through your wards. And you didn’t even have your floo locked! Naturally, I didn’t want to leave you vulnerable, so I fixed them.” He beamed at her, his silver eyes shining with delight.
“You… fixed them.” She put on hand on her hip and began tapping her foot.
“Your wards, yes. Stronger than ever now. And obviously I made sure I’m one of only two people who can come in without permission. Wouldn’t want just anyone to apparate in here whenever they’d like.”
Hermione could feel a vein pulsing in her forehead. “Enlighten me, Malfoy. Who else can apparate into my home now?”
“Oh, you, of course. And me. That’s it, that’s the whole list.” He rocked back on his heels and wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Hermione turned and walked into her bedroom.
Draco started to walk in after her. “Granger, I-“
SLAM.
Hermione shut the door in his face and let out a wail of frustration. She wasn’t positive, but she thought she could make out another low chuckle from just outside her door before she heard Draco retreating downstairs.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Almost 2 hours later, they found themselves in Knockturn Alley, standing across from Borgin and Burkes. Wandering around Hermione’s home, they had spent 45 minutes going over the wards. Hermione insisted on being shown each level of security, and she reluctantly admitted they were much better than she previously had in place. She did demand giving Harry and Ginny apparation permissions, which Draco added with a flourish. They then spent another 30 minutes arguing about their appearances for the interrogation at the magical shop., Trying to rationalize a Malfoy would get preferential treatment, and it was best she was not seen with him, Draco claimed Hermione needed to disguise herself but he didn’t. She reminded him he was to stay in disguise while in the wizarding world, and Hermione protested he should be Boucher and she should go as herself, making it an official Ministry visit. Draco compromised, and they did exactly what Hermione wanted.
“Granger, just let me do that talking, okay?” Draco insisted. “These people are slimy at best.”
“I’m very capable of handling myself, thank you. We’re just going to ask after the cards and be on our way, right? What do we even need to worry about?” Hermione put on a mask of confidence, but inside she was full of anxiety. She knew damn well the bloodstained cards had been purchased from here. She’d acquired them herself through a less than scrupulous buyer years ago. Not wanting to out her middle man, she was hoping they could be in and out without actually uncovering any information. She was fairly certain Borgin and Burkes used a vow of secrecy with most of their purchases to prevent the DMLE from doing the very thing they were sent out to do.
Hermione stomped across the street towards the door, not looking back to see if Draco followed. He sighed, running his hands through his currently brown curls before trekking after her.
The door chimed as they came in, and Hermione was taken aback by the sheer number of items piled up on every surface. The shop reminded her of Muggle antique stores, with dated heirlooms cluttering the space. It was a DOMA researcher’s wet dream. If she wasn’t here for a specific initiative, she could spend hours picking through the layers of goods, trying to work out each object’s use. Spying a few trinkets she decided she would need to get her hands on, she debated on reaching back out to her libertine buyer in the near future. But alas, she was here for only one thing this evening.
Spotting Draco approaching the front counter without her, she hurried over to catch up with him. The elderly witch behind the counter eyed Draco before freezing when her gaze fell onto Hermione, her face alit with recognition.
“Miss Granger, you are… an unexpected guest of this establishment.” She moved her suspicious gaze to Draco. “I’m Regina Burke, one of the owners of this shop. Who is joining you here today?”
“I’m Draco Malfoy,” Draco said quickly, and Hermione shot him an incredulous look. He snapped his mouth shut, clenching his jaw.
“One shouldn’t joke about being a Malfoy, boy.” The witch sniggered and continued. “That family is dangerous, and has vaults so deep, if they wanted you gone, it would be like you never existed.”
“True.” The word seemed to spit out of Draco without warning. His jaw tensed, and Hermione noticed him spin a ring on his fourth finger so the band faced outward. Was that his family signet ring? Surely, he wasn’t naive enough to assume people wouldn’t know that ring on sight. With a fair amount of strain in his voice, he turned to look at Hermione. “I believe Miss Granger has some questions for you.” Draco clenched his jaw firmly shut and backed up a step, the message clear.
Unsure how she won the battle without more of a fight, she kept her eyes on Draco for a second longer than necessary before speaking. “Yes, I do. To answer your question, this is Mr. Laurent Boucher.” She turned her full attention back to the shopkeeper. “We’re here to inquire about purchasing some playing cards he’d spied in here on a trip in the past. As you probably know, I work for the Department of Magical Artefacts, and I am interested in studying them. Mr. Boucher is a researcher from Paris, who is moonlighting with me for a short while. He suggested the cards as a new project we could explore together.”
“Hmm, I do believe I remember the cards you speak of. They were a Muggle pack, bloodstained and imbued with magic, though I could not say what their use would have been. Unfortunately for you, those were sold years ago.”
“Can I inquire as to whom purchased them?” Hermione pulled out a small notebook and a quill, poised to jot down information.
Mrs. Burke scrunched her face at Hermione in an attempted smile. “We do not share purchasing information with just anyone, Miss Granger. Even a war heroine.”
“Even if the items are linked to possible homicides, Mrs. Burke?” Hermione pushed, raising her chin.
“Our store policy is to provide a vow of secrecy with all magical purchases. While not quite an unbreakable vow, the consequences are still harsh. Even if I wanted to share that information with you, I could not lest I risk paying the price of breaking a bond.”
As she expected. Hermione rummaged in her bag for a moment, pulling out a folder. She flipped through a few pages and placed two photographs on the counter. She heard Draco sigh behind her, but chose to ignore him. “Would you happen to know of any item that could cause this type of marking?”
Mrs. Burke leaned over the counter, taking in the evenly spaced burn marks upon the deceased man’s neck. “I think I might know what could have inflicted this type of injury. There’s an item called the battle whip, that’s infused with the power of lightning. It has small rounded knobs on the end, designed to stick to the flesh of the victim and jolt them, leaving scorch marks that look just like this.”
“Oh, yes! I knew these looked familiar. It was originally linked to John Dee, a wizard who was a spiritual advisor and astronomer for England’s Queen Elizabeth I. The whip was believed to have been lost in the 18th century, perhaps hidden in a dusty castle vault. The lightning effect could cause electrocution, or seizing of the muscles, which could mimic strangulation.” Hermione looked triumphantly at the witch.
“You are correct, Miss Granger. It seems you know your magical weapons.” She stepped back, eyeing Draco again. “But if you want further information, I’m afraid you will have to come back with an official request. My husband isn’t fond of the Ministry poking around our shop.”
“Understood.” Hermione slipped her folder and notebook back in her bag and handed Mrs. Burke her card. Not technically DOMA official, she had designed wallet sized business cards for herself. They were a light purple, with an ethereal shimmer on the side gracing her name. The back of the card was matte, and contained her contact information at DOMA, as well as an anonymous owlery holding box address for artefact drop off, should someone want to rid themselves of something and not be tied back to it. “If you think of anything else, you can let me know. The owlery address is available if you’d prefer not to be identified. I’m the only person with access to it.”
The card disappeared under Mrs. Burke’s robes. “Take care, Miss Granger. Mr. Boucher.”
They exited the shop, making their way over to Diagon Alley before Hermione stopped, turning to face Draco.
“What the hell was that? ‘I’m Draco Malfoy’?” Hermione had her hands on her hips, this position quickly becoming a common one when dealing with the idiot in front of her.
“I… I had to answer…. Honestly.” Draco spoke through a clenched jaw, his words slow and calculated. “Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere less public.”
“Fine. My place, then. I have quite a few things to ask you.” Hermione swore she saw fear flash through his eyes before they went back to cold steel. He disapparated away without a word.
“Yes, let’s head over there now. No, we can go separately, that’s fine.” Hermione scowled and disappeared with a pop.
Arriving back in her sitting room, she came across a stand-off. Draco, still transfigured as Boucher, was standing perfectly still, staring at the orange fluff ball on the other side of the room. Crookshanks was thrashing his tail back and forth menacingly, omitting a low growl.
“You’re both being so dramatic.” Hermione scooped up Crookshanks, and he flounced in her arms with a squeak.
Trance broken, Draco returned to his posh, blond self before making himself at home on her couch. “That ball of fuzz threatened me.”
Hermione carried her cat into the kitchen, setting him down next to his food bowl. “Good boy, Crooks.” She topped off his kibble and he eagerly dove in. “You were protecting me from the scary man.” She giggled when she heard an annoyed scoff from the other room.
Carrying a tin of biscuits, Hermione sat down at the other end of her small couch, legs tucked under her, angling herself to face Draco.
“What, no tea service?”
She gave him a flat look. “Time to start talking, pretty boy. What happened back there?”
“Oh, you think I’m pretty?” Draco deflected, batting his eyelashes.
“Really, Malfoy?”
“I am quite flattered you’ve noticed.”
Hermione threw a biscuit at his head. He deftly caught it and tossed it in his mouth, winking at her.
“Alright, avoiding that topic, I see. Despite your slip up, Mrs. Burke did give us some useful info on the battle whip. I’ll have to do some research to find out if we can trace where it went after it disappeared from court.” She took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Dead end on the cards, though, a shame.” Not a shame, actually, but he didn’t need to know that.
“We now have four cards in our possession, yes? We should do some testing on them this coming week.” Draco reached over to the tin in Hermione’s lap and grabbed another biscuit.
“Hmm. I was thinking I needed to show you the DOMA vaults. I’ll reserve one of lab rooms for us to experiment in.” Hermione took out her notebook and quill from her bag to make a to do list.
“I would love to experiment with you.” Draco quipped before biting his lower lip, silver eyes steadfast on her.
“You are ridiculous.” It took everything in Hermione to not put a hand on her hip and scowl at him. Instead, she redirected the conversation to what she was most curious about. “Speaking of experimental, how are you pulling memories from the dead? In all my studies, I’ve never come across anything even remotely close to that type of spell or ability.”
“It’s a long story, involving a ton of research, and trial and error.” Hermione perked up at the words ‘research; and ‘trial and error’. “So, you definitely want me to go into great detail about everything, don’t you, you swot?” Draco teased.
“It’s the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen.”
“Quoting the great Wizard of Westwood, are we?” Draco raised his eyebrows at her.
“Wait, you’re familiar with American sports?” Hermione looked taken aback.
“No, but I am familiar with the man who chose to leave the wizarding realm and live amongst Muggles to play basketball. He loved that sport more than magic. Despite how much I enjoy quidditch, I wouldn’t give up my entire world to play the game.”
“Fair point. Anyways, those details?” Hermione inquired, shifting back into the cushions, readying herself for the story.
“First, you must know I am an extremely talented legilimens.”
“Do you want a gold star, Malfoy?” She rolled her eyes.
“A… what?”
“Nothing, please continue.”
“Okay…” Draco paused, deciding where to start. “While in my auror training, I decided to hone my craft. During interrogations, legilimency can be vital in getting the truth, and it has saved my life more than once. Being able to read someone’s memories could be the key to solving a crime. When in the field, it can be used to see someone’s intentions and avoid an attack. However, like any skill, there are limitations. For instance, occlumency is a way to block a legilimens from reading your thoughts, by building barriers in your brain. I initially started my training and research to increase my speed and strength at tearing down those walls. I became nearly unstoppable, able to shred through every blockade while still maintaining the other party’s sanity, keeping their memories intact. I was proud of my work, but ready for the next challenge. I knew if there was a way to do memory retrieval on deceased victims, we could reveal and incarcerate the criminals at fault much more efficiently. Though as you stated earlier, everything I read said it couldn’t be done. But being the person I am, I do not like to be told I can’t do something.”
Draco paused here, staring off at her floo, jaw clenched like he was having an internal debate. After a few moments, he turned back to Hermione.
“I befriended the coroner in my department, who allowed me to come down to the morgue off record to experiment on the brains of the dead.” Hermione gasped, hand over her mouth. “Not physically, that would require too much red tape. I examined them magically. Besides, I’ve never been one for gore.” Draco shuddered slightly, then continued. “When I would try to enter the mind of a deceased person, it was like trying to see in the dark, through a pile of mud, with your eyes closed. And when my consciousness was in there, it felt… wrong. Then one day, I was there when a freshly deceased individual was brought in. She had passed away only an hour prior, tragically while out at a restaurant alone, and hadn’t been identified. This time when I tried delving in, there was still the darkness, the sludgy feeling, but there was also something else. Tiny sparks, like lightning bugs at the periphery of my sight. When I asked the coroner if he has any clue what those might represent, he just shook his head. This was also something I had never come across while studying. I decided to expand my research outside of just magic, and I acquired a collection of Muggle neuroscience texts.”
Hermione gasped for the second time. “You, Draco Lucious Malfoy, own Muggle textbooks?” He chuckled.
“There’s a great deal you don’t know about me, Granger.” Hermione tilted her head thoughtfully, then gestured for him to continue. “While magical studies tended to stop at death, Muggles are fascinated with the afterlife and near-death experiences. There is entire research facilities dedicated to studying the dying brain and perceived consciousness. I’ll summarize the findings for you now, but if your swotty heart desires, I can show you each study.” Hermione smiled, amused. She very much would like to see them. “Overall, the brain can continue to function after clinical death, though the studies showed variable timeframes. Brain oscillations, also called brain waves, surge in the first few minutes, the primary type being gamma. Gamma oscillations are involved with several high-cognitive functions, the most important one for my needs being memory retrieval. Those who are resuscitated and claimed to have had near-death experiences often describe that surge as their life flashing before their eyes. A handful of researchers claim brain oscillations can last hours after death, the longest recorded being 10 hours, though most stop between 5 minutes and 3 hours.”
“It’s my theory that leglimency uses gamma waves to magically access memories in the living, though there are not studies on brain oscillations in the wizarding realm. One of our blind spots as a society is to just accept that magic works without diving in too deep on how it works.” Hermione nodded, agreeing. In both her training as a healer and her work with DOMA, she came across that exact sentiment far too many times.
“At this point, I needed to find a way to access those after death oscillations to try to pull memories. I had already advanced the legilimency spell to near perfection, and it couldn’t bring them from the periphery to the forefront. I tried adjusting and using the obliviation charm to work in reverse, pushing memories forward rather than suppressing them, but again, this had no effect.” At the mention of obliviation, Hermione shifted on the couch, a sadness flashing briefly across her features. She stayed silent though, wanting to hear the rest of the story. “So, I turned to my next favorite topic for support. Potions. I tried taking a basic memory potion designed to enhance cognition and injecting it into the brain. The problem was, without circulation, it would just sit as a lump in the flesh and not enter the cellular structure, where it ultimately needed to be to work. I was stumped. Not ready to give up, I thought, what would happen if I took the memory potion and used it to enhance my own ability? Turns out, that’s the breakthrough I needed. With the memory potion in my system, I went into a brain that had been deceased for around 2 hours, and this time the gamma waves responded to me. I couldn’t see memories, but I could pull the lights forward, like pulling up a clam from the bottom of a murky pond.”
“Brilliant! So how did you figure out the next step?” Hermione was invested now, amazement in her eyes.
“I went into a research frenzy after that. I broke down all the ingredients of the memory potion, listing their qualities, discovering how they worked together. I then sought out Muggle research on natural memory enhancers, such rosemary, ginkgo biloba, spearmint, and lion’s mane mushrooms. I began adjusting the potion’s ingredients, brew time, temperature, anything I could alter to improve it. My goal was to create the ultimate memory elixir, allowing my own fortified brain function to access the oscillations of the dead brain, allowing me to extract memory.”
“And you did it.”
“And I did it. It’s still a working project though. Obviously, the closer to death, the easier the process. It doesn’t work on every brain, and I can only pull images, like flashes or snapshots of time, from the person’s final minutes. But it’s something.”
“I am impressed, Malfoy.” Hermione gave him a genuine smile. Draco preened at the praise. “Where did you do all of your research?”
“In my secret potions lab at Malfoy Manor.” Draco snapped his mouth shut, making it obvious he did not mean to share that.
“Oh? You have a secret potions lab?”
“Yes.” A strangled cry followed.
Hermione frowned at his reaction. “Okay… but… how do you manage it when you’re in France most of the time?”
“Theo runs things when I’m not around.” A growl of frustration this time, Draco’s face was turning slightly pink.
“Theo? As in Theodore Nott?” Draco nodded, his mouth clamped shut. “I thought they found his body in the fire at Nott Manor.”
“That was his father’s body. Theo has been living at Malfoy Manor since the war.” Draco dropped his head in his hands.
“You’re acting strange. Were you not supposed to tell me?”
“No. Theo prefers to keep his location under wraps,” Draco mumbled, his hands still covering his face.
“Then why did you?”
“Theo brewed an advanced veritaserum, and I took some to trial it. We didn’t have an antidote.”
“You’re experimenting on yourself? Without an antidote handy? That’s reckless!” Draco’s face was going from pink to red, the strain to not talk evident on his face. “I guess that explains what happened at Borgin and Burkes.” He nodded again, his lips still pressed tightly together. Hermione smirked, mischief in her eyes. “I guess I could use this time to my advantage, ask you some personal questions.”
Draco’s face became a mask of horror, and with a pop, he disapparated out of her sitting room.
Hermione let out a hearty laugh at his reaction. She thought back through their conversation, now knowing everything he said would’ve rang true. One comment stood out to her in particular. At one point, he said ‘I would love to experiment with you,’ his eyes brimming with emotion. In this light, she wondered if he meant somewhere other than the DOMA lab.
Chapter 8: Turbulence
Notes:
Couple of notes for this chapter:
1. There is almost no canon data about the Department of Magical Artefacts outside of some images I could find from a game, so everything described is completely out of my own personal head.
2. I wanted a plural for witches and wizards combined, so I borrowed a term I found from another fic, wix, from hostile negotiation tactics by ninepiecesofcrait. If you haven't read that one yet, I highly recommend it.As always, check triggers:
TW: discussion of death and murder, controlling behavior, threats of violence, mentions of PTSD, claustrophobia, nyctophobiaSong Rec: Praying by Kesha
Chapter Text
13 October - 17 October 2008
Upon entering her office on Monday morning, Hermione became aware of three things. First, despite arriving before the sun had risen, Draco Malfoy was already at his desk. Second, her previous office chair was gone and replaced with a piece of furniture that looked like it cost more than her home. Third, there was a stack of textbooks and parchment sitting in the center of her desk with a single yellow rose placed on top.
Hermione set her bag down on her desk as she stared at the extravagant chair before her. “What happened to my chair?”
“Good morning is the usual greeting, Granger.” Draco didn’t look up from the report he was reviewing.
“Malfoy, the department can’t afford to buy me new furniture.”
Still looking down at his desk, he said “The department didn’t buy you furniture. I did.”
She spun around to face him. “Why? My old chair was fine!”
“Your old chair was an instrument of punishment, Granger. Trust me, I sat in it. I know.” Draco finally looked up in her direction. “Just try it out before you continue to protest.”
Hermione huffed, shrugging off her coat. “Fine. Let’s just see, shall we?” She sat down, and, oh, wasn’t that just delightful. The light brown leather was buttery soft, not making a squeak as she settled in. The ergonomic back felt as if it was made for her body, hugging her curves perfectly. She leaned back, closing her eyes as the chair gently rocked, allowing her to feel weightless. She hated to admit it, but this was heavenly. She did a full 180, spinning the chair all the way around before opening her eyes to see Draco now standing next to her desk. He quirked one eyebrow.
Hermione sniffed, avoiding eye contact. “It’s passable.”
“You’re welcome.”
What a presumptuous arse. Well, presumptuous and thoughtful, that is. Her eyes fell on the stack of papers and textbooks. She picked up the rose that was laying on top, breathing in the sweet, floral scent of the petals. She scanned the first page of the top document and then looked up in amazement.
“Are these the Muggle studies you used for research?” He grinned at her. “I didn’t expect you to get them to me so soon!” She brought the flower to her nose again before transfiguring a mug on her desk into a vase. “And I appreciate the rose. It’s lovely.”
Draco’s eyes softened as he watched her tenderly place the rose into the vase. “My pleasure, Granger.”
Later that morning, Hermione gathered the evidence bags with the bloodstained cards and took Draco down to the DOMA vaults located one sub-basement level deeper than their office. As they rode the lift, Hermione dug her nails into her palms tightly while staring forward, her stance stiff. It was unfortunate that all of her working spaces were below ground and required elevator access. During the war, there had been times she was forced to hide underground, in cramped, dank rooms or dusty bomb shelters. Because of that, she struggled with PTSD and developed claustrophobia and nyctophobia, fear of tight spaces and the dark, both of which could be triggered in a lift car. It had taken months for her to feel completely at ease in her windowless office, but it helped she could leave her office door open when she was inside. Adjusting to the vaults took even longer. There was no telling if she would ever be comfortable in an elevator. She rushed out the second the doors slid wide.
Opening to a long hallway, lit with evenly spaced enchanted lamps, the vault level of DOMA had four doors on either side and one door at the end. The 4 doors on the left represented the four vault chambers; one for housing items of unknown origin and magical effect, one for housing known but not dangerous effects, one for known but potentially unstable effects, and one for known cursed items with dark magic effects. The doors on the right were individual laboratories, airtight, soundproof rooms with thick charmed walls that prevented the leakage of magic. They were also explosion-proof, as Hermione had discovered one unfortunate night. The door at the end housed a large coatroom and changing area. Hermione first directed Draco to the coatroom and instructed him to change into proper lab attire, while she did the same. It was a bit awkward stripping down in the same room with only a curtain barrier between them, but they managed. Though unlikely they would encounter anything that might ruin their office garments, it was protocol to be in approved clothing. Having spent ample time working in a potions lab, Draco was familiar with the risk to your clothing or person. They both stepped out in a one-piece white garment, reminiscent of the Muggle’s hazmat suits.
Hermione opted to give Draco a walk-through of the vaults before they started experimenting on the cards. Each vault was lined with compartments along their walls with one central table. Every item was catalogued and placed in its designated spot, with a manual near the door that tracked the item’s origin, type of magic, possible uses and effects, and location within the vault. They perused through the first three vaults with Hermione lecturing Draco on the policies and procedures instilled to keep everyone and everything safe and intact. When they reached the final chamber, the one with dark magic items, Draco entered first and immediately froze. Located at chest level in the compartment to his right was an opal necklace, the same opal necklace he had acquired in sixth year. Having been ordered to assassinate Dumbledore by Voldemort, Draco tried to find a way to finish the job without being too close to him. He acquired this necklace from Borgins and Burke, knowing one touch of the jewelry against skin could kill a person. He attempted to gift the cursed necklace to Dumbledore through another student, Katie Bell, who ultimately ended up touching it herself and nearly died.
“I never knew where it ended up,” he said, face pale.
“Hmm?” Hermione came around him and her eyes caught on the item. “Oh!”
Draco was rigid, just staring at it, his eyes distant. Tentatively touching his forearm, Hermione spoke to him softly. “Let’s leave that in the past, shall we?” She slipped her hand into his and he grasped her back tightly, allowing himself to be guided out of the room. Hermione didn’t drop his hand until after they had entered the lab across the hall.
They spent the rest of the day running experiments on the cards, deducing there were several spells woven into them. It would take until nearly dinnertime for Hermione to crack the first spell, an advanced luck charm. The victim cards they had in their possession were the jack of spades, queen of hearts, 10 of hearts, and 4 of diamonds. When Hermione held the queen of hearts and the 10 of hearts together, with the other two cards face down, if she lifted the jack of spades up, it would transfigure itself into the jack of hearts to match her hand. This charm was obviously designed to help one cheat. Without the full deck available, there was no way to know what hands the charm was designed to create, or what other charms could be unlocked with different card combinations.
For the next few days, they fell into a semblance of a routine. Each morning, Hermione would arrive to a single rose in her vase, a different variety every day. They would take a coffee break midmorning, going up to one of the stands in the atrium. They would bicker about who would pay, and Draco would insist on buying and Hermione would act put out, but would ultimately concede. Afternoons were filled with research in the archives and end with time in the lab. They maintained a professionally cordial relationship that Draco only occasionally disrupted with his flirty, snarky nature.
And then Friday arrived.
The second Hermione stepped off of the elevator, her eyes landed on a smirking Oliver Wood, standing next to her office door. She groaned. This couldn’t be good.
“Hermione, nice of you to show up this morning. I was mistaken in assuming you would arrive on time today.” She brushed past him into her office with a grimace, and he followed her in.
Hermione swung her gaze to the corner where Draco sat, transfigured as Boucher, his face impassive.
“Oliver, it’s a full 5 minutes before my normal arrival time.” Hermione dropped her bag next to her desk and stood up to her full height, still barely reaching Oliver’s shoulder.
“If you’re not 15 minutes early, you’re late,” he quipped.
Hermione crossed her arms. “Why are you here? Do you need something?”
“Is that any way to greet a friend? I just got back in town today. I was working on site with Finnegan and Byrne, here for the briefing.” His smile turned saccharinely sweet. “I brought you some tea,” he said proffering a steaming to go cup.
“She prefers coffee, Wood. Shouldn’t you know that after dating her for nearly a year? I’ve known her a week and I could place her order from memory.” Draco turned cool, brown eyes his direction.
Oliver walked around Hermione’s desk and approached Draco, looking down his nose. “And, who are you again?”
Draco stood, matching his height. “Laurent Boucher, auror from the French Ministry. Miss Granger’s current partner on the task force.” He did not offer a handshake to Oliver, his eyes now even icier.
“Hmph. Well. She always drank tea with me. This coffee obsession must be new.” He walked back over to hover next to Hermione, who had moved behind her desk.
“I drank coffee every morning we were together. At least, the mornings you gave me a choice.”
“That can’t be true. I would’ve noticed.”
Hermione sighed. She knew this conversation was coming when she saw him last week, though she had hoped to avoid it.
“You didn’t care to notice. You only cared about what you wanted and needed. You molded me to fit into this perfect, little box and be your obedient, doting girlfriend. I wasn’t even allowed to have a say over my free time. You controlled every aspect of my life.” Hermione heard a snap from the corner of the room, and glanced over to see the quill in Draco’s hand was now in two pieces. His eyes were shining molten silver, all the brown missing. He was losing command over his spell.
“I only wanted what was best for you. Which was obviously me, and still is. I don’t understand why you left. I offered you everything you could ever desire.”
“You offered me everything you desired. My needs were never met. Leaving you was the right decision. I just wish you would stop just showing up everywhere and let me move on.”
“I’m just here to remind you of the best thing you ever had. You will never meet anyone better.”
“Ugh! You’re such a pathetic prick! Always did have more dick in your personality than your pants.”
A loud snort echoed from the corner of the room.
Oliver’s face turned crimson. “You fucking twat. You’re being rather disrespectful to me. You never did learn your place.” He took a deliberate step in her direction.
“Not another inch, Wood.” Draco approached them slowly, his tone menacing and low, wedging himself between Oliver and Hermione. He put his hands in his pockets and gave Oliver a vicious grin. “You will never speak to any woman that way ever again, especially Miss Granger. If I find out you do, I will hunt you down, cut off your balls, and feed them to you. Now get out of our office.”
Oliver blanched, and stumbled backwards, nearly falling in his haste to leave. Snatching his wand off his desk, Draco slammed the office door shut behind him, dropped his transfiguration, and started mumbling incantations. Hermione could feel hot tears stinging her eyes as she started to shake from the adrenaline in her body. Noticing her state, Draco finished his spell with a wave of his wand and closed the distance between them. Lightly touching her shoulder, he leaned down to her level.
“Are you okay?”
Hermione felt a sob wrench free from her chest as the tears spilled over. Draco snaked an arm around her and she leaned into his chest. Rubbing soft circles on her back and murmuring gently into her hair, he let her weep. She breathed in the scent of him, oak, citrus, and something spicy, and let it wash over her. They stayed that way for several minutes, until Hermione’s sobs subsided. She stepped back, scrubbing at her face, embarrassed.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, I’m not usually such a sniveling mess. He just brings out the worst in me.” Snagging a tissue off her desk, she dabbed at her eyes.
“Granger, don’t ever apologize for how you’re feeling. Your emotions are valid, and you deserve to express them. Did he ever hurt you? When you were together?” Hermione saw a muscle feather in Draco’s jaw as he waited for her answer.
“He was nice at first, easy-going. I thought we were just having fun, but then he proposed and everything changed.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against her desk.
“You were engaged?” Disbelief filled Draco’s silver eyes.
“No, I said no. I didn’t want to be married, not sure if I ever do, honestly. But he kept pushing, and I was apathetic, so I gave in and agreed to keep dating and reconsider his proposal. After that, he became possessive, controlling, not letting me see my friends, talking down to me while also love-bombing me. It was unsettling.” Hermione took a quivering breath as another tear leaked out. “I left him, but never really told him why. His attitude made me so uneasy, I didn’t want to have a confrontation. In the years since, he’s always, conveniently, wherever I am, wavering between talking me down and begging for me back.”
Draco made a low sound in his throat. “That’s stalking, Granger. You need to report it.”
“He’s never actually threatened me. And now that he’s an auror, it’s like he has an extra layer of protection around him. He comes across so charming and loveable to everyone else, too, so I worry I wouldn’t be believed.”
Draco was silently seething.
She touched the damp spot on his shirt. “I made a mess of your shirt.”
“I don’t give a shit about this shirt. My only concern is you.”
“Who are you and what happened to that prat, Draco Malfoy?” Hermione asked, a faint smile reaching her lips.
“I told you I’ve changed.” He ran a thumb along her cheekbone, wiping away her last falling tear. Hermione turned her head, moving away from his hand and breaking eye contact.
“Malfoy, can we please open the door? I... I don’t like closed spaces.”
“Of course, Granger, whatever you need. I’ve already warded him out anyways. He can never come back in here.”
“That was very kind of you.”
“Now.” Sliding his disguise back into place, Draco opened the door as he tossed the to-go tea in the rubbish. “Let’s go get you a coffee. My treat.”
The rest of the morning continued to be chaotic.
The head curator of DOMA, Sage Bragnam, returned from leave that day. Upon learning there was a French wizard holed up with Hermione, he came by to introduce himself. As Draco was shaking his hand, a niffler scurried out of Mr. Bragnam’s robes, snagging Draco’s cufflinks, and promptly hid behind one of Hermione’s bookshelves. Nifflers were known for their propensity to find and hoard shiny objects, and could be useful on artefact retrieval missions. However, when stuck indoors with a limited area to explore, they could wreak havoc on their surroundings. It took nearly an hour, plus the bribe of a few gold coins, to coax the creature out, and another fifteen minutes to extract the cufflinks from his pouch. Apologizing profusely, Mr. Bragnam retreated with his pet to his office.
A short time later, as Hermione and Draco were preparing to head to the archives, an accident in one of the DOMA labs placed the whole department on lockdown. Annamoore Adkins, another of Hermione’s coworkers, had been testing a piece of petrified wood for magical properties when it shattered, sending a spray of rock-hard splinters in every direction. Harry and two other aurors, with Hermione’s assistance, came down to extract the witch trapped in the lab. Luckily for her, she had thrown her arm up in time to protect her face, but she would be spending a significant amount of time at St. Mungo’s removing each sliver from her body.
By the time the task force meeting commenced in the briefing room, it had felt like days had passed, not mere hours. When Hermione and Draco entered the room, Hermione paled when her eyes landed on Oliver, talking with Dean. Draco steered her to the right side of the room, away from where Oliver was perched in a chair, seating himself to her left as a barrier. As Hermione leaned over to say hi to Rowan, she saw Draco had his wand in his hand. Suddenly, Oliver fell out of his chair, landing on his side. He looked around, rubbing at his hip, and found Hermione grinning behind her hand and Draco pointedly staring straight ahead. He scowled and retook his seat.
Dean called the meeting to order. “Thank you all for being here. I’d first like to thank you all for your hard work this week. Before we get started, I want to introduce Minister Shacklebolt. He’s joining us today for the briefing, and will report anything necessary to the Muggle British Prime Minister.”
Kingsley Shacklebolt, sitting to the left of Dean, gave a royal wave to the room.
Dean continued. “Okay. Let’s go around the room and discuss your findings.”
Katarina and Charles stood first, walking to the front of the room. “We were assigned to review the Muggle homicides thus far, to look for any commonalities amongst the victims. We also attended the crime scene of one other murder this week.” Charles paused to shuffle through his paperwork.
“We may have found some connections. We have identified seventeen murders in the UK, Ireland, and France with magical residue. There has not been any consistency in the style of murder, or the make-up of the victims. Of those murdered, they range in age from 17-42, are noted to be eight male, eight female, and one non-binary, and are not related by familial ties that we can find. Six were murdered with the killing curse, one with sectumsempra, two with diffindo, four with unknown spells or artifacts, and four by Muggle means such as stabbing or strangulation.” Charles looked over at Katarina, who took over speaking. “We did discover, however, all but two of the murdered have a tie to the wizarding world. They are related in some way to a Muggle-born wix, such as a sibling or cousin, or further back like a great aunt, for example. Whether that is a factor in their deaths is unknown, but it is an interesting tidbit of information. We have roped in Auror Conner and Auror Schwartz to help us track down their wizard world relatives for further interrogation.”
“We have also connected four murders with bloodstained cards left at the crime scene. There were no fingerprints or other evidence on the cards that could lead us to the person who placed them. We are continuing to study the scenes and the bodies for any further clues. We have passed on the cards to Curator Granger and Auror Boucher to analyze this week. Let’s hear what they know.” Hermione noted they left out Draco’s participation in the memory retrieval, wondering if his skill was something they were keeping under wraps.
Charles gestured to Draco and Hermione, who rose to take their place in front of the crowd. Hermione was relieved to hear they had uncovered nothing that could link her to the cards, and as such the murders, but that didn’t help her nerves knowing the investigations were ongoing. As they reached the front, Hermione dipped her chin at Draco, hoping he understood she wanted him to speak. He gave her a curt nod back, then looked at the team.
Draco discussed the cheating charm they’d uncovered imbued within the cards, and explained there were at least two more spells intertwined within the deck they hadn’t unraveled yet. Next, he discussed the battle whip being the likely weapon for one of the murders, and how they’d spent time this week trying to track down its whereabouts since its last known location.
After they sat down, Seamus and Rowan were up. Their mission this week had been to investigate a rash of bovine deaths with crop circles at several nearby farms, which Muggles believed were caused by aliens. The cows were completely drained of blood, and initially vampires had been suspected, but there was no evidence of bites on any of the animals. The crop circles themselves were practically glowing with magical residue, though there is no known spell or artefact that might have caused them. Unsure if these crimes are associated with the Muggle murders, because of the timeframe and proximity in which they happened, they are still currently on the task force’s plate until proven otherwise.
Over the next 30 minutes, several more pairs stood and shared their work for the week before Dean finally called the meeting.
“Okay, thanks for a great first week. We still have a lot of unanswered questions. I have gathered everyone’s findings and will condense them down to distribute to you all by the end of day. I will also give you your updated assignments for the next week. Please don’t hesitate to reach out to me if needed.”
As people began milling about, Harry stuck his head in the room. “Boucher, I need to see you in my office.”
Draco glanced down at Hermione, then across the room at Oliver who was attempting to chat up an annoyed-looking Shacklebolt. He didn’t want to leave her alone with that prat so close by. Hermione waved him on.
“It’s fine, I’ll have Seamus walk with me back to my office. Not that I like depending on someone else to rescue me, but I doubt Oliver would approach me with a man at my side. I think you scared the hell out of him.”
“Good.” Draco ran a hand through his brown curls. “I’ll be back down shortly. Do not try to leave the office without me.”
“What are you, my bodyguard?”
“If the time calls for it, yes.”
Rolling her eyes, Hermione yelled over her shoulder. “Hey, Seamus, have you ever seen a niffler?”
------------------------------------------------------------
Draco rapped lightly on Harry’s office door before stepping in.
“Close it behind you.” Harry was sitting behind his desk, frowning at a pile of paperwork in front of him.
Draco pressed the door shut, casting a locking charm, and then dropped his transfiguration spell. He ran his fingers through his white blond strands before taking a seat across from Harry. “What’s this about?”
Harry met his eyes. “Wand check time. Anything you want to tell me before I look through?”
“I have nothing to hide, Potter.” Draco slid his wand out of his holster and dropped it in Harry’s hand.
Pulling up the last two weeks of data, Harry found only a myriad of mundane charms.
“There’s an awful lot of hair perfecting spells in here.”
“Yeah, well, every time I go from Boucher to myself and back, I have to make sure I look stunning.”
Harry wrinkled his brow. “You cast a stinging hex today?”
Draco crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Is that now a crime?”
Harry rolled his eyes, handing him the wand back. “You’re good, nothing concerning then.”
Draco placed the wand back in his holster. “Potter, before I go, we need to discuss Oliver Wood. I want him off the team, immediately.”
Harry scoffed. “What makes you think I care what you want, Malfoy?”
“As you and Granger are close, I am assuming you know of their history?”
“They dated, but that was a long time ago.”
“He’s still badgering her. Did you know he conveniently pops up wherever she is, regularly? I think he’s stalking her. And I wouldn’t doubt if he was abusive during their time together, emotionally if nothing else. The way he spoke to her today…” Draco paused to take a deep breath in an attempt to tamper down his rage. “He stepped towards her like he was going to hit her. I’ve warded him out of our office, but I doubt that’s enough to keep him away.”
“I had no idea. She’s never mentioned anything to me. So stubborn, that witch, never wants to be seen as weak.” Harry set his jaw. “I’ll ask Hermione to do a formal write-up of the incident. Start a paper trail to make it easier to fire him. In the meantime, I’ll talk with Dean and have him taken off the task force and reassigned.”
“Glad we could come to an agreement.” Without another word, Draco spun on his heel and headed for the door.
“Malfoy, before you go,” Harry calls after him. Draco stopped, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re, uh, mates with Blaise Zabini, yeah?” Despite the fact they only saw each other a few times a year, their friendship remained intact. Draco nods. “Well, Ginny and Daphne have become, erm, rather close lately. It’s because they’re both…” Harry trails off.
“Women?” Draco supplies.
“Yes, but...”
“Strong-willed?”
“Ha, definitely, yes, but that’s not it either.”
“Spit it out, Potter.”
“Pregnant.”
That was not what he expected him to say. “And that involves me how?”
Harry huffed. “Yes, right. Well, Ginny is throwing a party, a game night tomorrow and she wanted me to invite you over. The Zabini’s have RSVP’d. We need one more person to even out our numbers.”
“The Weaselette wants me there?” The thought Ginevra Weasley would purposely invite him to her home was befuddling.
“Watch it, Malfoy, that’s my wife. And believe me, I was as surprised as you are.” Harry chose not to mention that Ginny wanted him there as eye candy. He didn’t need to feed Draco’s already inflated ego.
Draco didn’t say anything, just raised his eyebrows.
“Look, we have to work together, so let’s try to be civil. Maybe we can find some common ground over firewhiskey and a game of charades. It’s a small gathering, and with the Zabinis there, you won’t be the lone snake in the group. Just say you’ll come.” Harry took a moment to slip off his glasses and rub at his face. “Don’t make me tell her you declined. Ginny’s hormones are out of whack right now and when she doesn’t get her way, she’s... a bit frightening.”
“Will Granger be attending?”
“Of course, she was the first person we invited.”
“Okay, Potter, I’ll be there to protect you from your wife.”
“That’s not-“ Harry started, but Draco cut him off.
“Owl me the details.” Draco transfigured himself back into Boucher as he walked out of the cluttered Head Auror office.
Chapter 9: The Hunt
Notes:
Serious trigger warnings for this chapter, check those tags
TW: baiting, attempted SA, blood, violence, death, mention of stalking, negging, and controlling behaviors
Song rec: Killer Queen by Queen
Chapter Text
17 October 2008
When the time came to leave work, Draco in his Boucher get-up walked Hermione to the floo network in the back of the atrium, staying exactly one step behind her. She initially fought him about leaving by herself, but was grateful he refused to let her walk out alone, as Oliver was lurking in the atrium center, clearly waiting for her. One look at Draco’s stony face and he rushed to the closest floo and jumped in. The piece of shit coward. Draco suggested he travel with her, to be sure he wasn’t at her home, but Hermione reminded him of the enforced wards he placed last time he was there. Mollified, he conceded but instructed her to reach out to himself or Harry if Oliver made any attempt to contact her.
Arriving home, she felt the rollercoaster of the day catch up with her, and once again tears spilled down her cheeks. She was angry, frightened, and felt completely out of control of her life. Forever haunting her in the shadows, Oliver was like an energy vampire, always sucking away her life force. She was so tired of his negging, his stalking, and wished for him to permanently leave her alone. She thought about the way his face contorted as he took that step, like he might harm her. Oliver had never gone that far before, and if Draco hadn’t intervened, he may have put his hands on her.
That’s when the thrum in her blood started up, pulsing through her system. Her nefarious desire was rearing its ugly head. She needed to harm someone, make someone else pay for her foul mood. She considered Oliver, but knew despite his recent actions, he didn’t fall into her code. Plus, it could be too easy to trace his demise back to her.
Slipping off her work clothes, Hermione thumbed through her wardrobe, searching for the most scandalous outfit she could find. She found a dark red dress, the color of blood, cut in style to mimic lingerie, and paired it with black stilettos. Donning a mid-thigh length black trench coat, she picked up her beaded bag and headed for the floo. This time, she would act as the quarry, teasing out the wicked, bringing her victim to her.
It had been too easy. After only a couple of struts down the avenue, she sensed the man following her. Tracking her alone, his heavy footsteps and her tapping heels echoed off the buildings as they turned into a dark alley, him only steps behind her. Hermione purposely slowed her pace, creating the illusion she was struggling to walk. In mere seconds, he had caught up with her, calling out in a cadence slurred from too much alcohol.
“Where is such a beautiful lady going on this fine night?”
Hermione shifted sideways, taking him in. His hair was unwashed, overdue for a cut, and hung languidly around his face. He had several days of dark scruff on his jaw, and a lit cigarette balanced between his teeth. A stained jumper, dirty jeans, and trainers completed his look.
“Nowhere you need to know about,” Hermione scoffed, being sure to ‘accidentally’ flash open her coat, giving him a peek of the dress underneath. She saw his eyes darken, and he took a surprisingly steady step towards her.
“Shouldn’t be out here by yourself. Never know who you might cross your path.” He took one last puff on his cigarette before flicking it away. Another step closer.
“And you’re one to protect me?” She cast him a doubtful smile, backing up with a false wobble.
“No, love. I’m the big bad wolf, and I’m ready to see that little red dress you’ve got hidden under your coat.” He was close enough now she could smell the booze wafting off of him.
She let out a small, spastic laugh. “I’ll pass. Get lost.”
Another step. “Not your choice, love. I always get what I want.”
A flash of hatred filled her gut. Those words were too close to what Oliver had said to her that morning. “You can try. You’re pissed, and you look too weak to handle me.” Hermione shuffled back a couple more feet.
“Stop backing away and I’ll prove I’m not.” He lowered his head, cold malice in his eyes and stepped even closer.
“Fuck you, arse hole.” Hermione attempted to turn away as if she was trying to leave when the man grabbed her arm.
“Watch what you call me, you mouthy slag.” He backhanded her across her face, before shoving her up against the brick wall.
Hermione temporarily saw stars and tasted metal. Her head lolled about on her neck as she licked her lip, finding it split. The man spun her around and tore her coat off in one pull before flattening her against her wall, his body flush with her backside.
“I’m going to make you pay for talking to me like that, bitch.” He licked up the side of her face and ran his hand down her body, pulling at the hem of her skirt.
Pushing against the wall with all her might, she bucked him back enough she could turn to face him. She had palmed her wand before he ripped her coat off, but before she could raise it, he put his hands on her shoulders and slammed the back of her head into the wall.
“Don’t fight me and this will be over faster.” He moved one hand to her throat and the other back down to her hemline.
Slightly dazed, Hermione gave him a maniacal smile, blood staining her teeth crimson.
“It’s already over.” Hermione pushed the end of her wand into the underside of his jaw. “Avada Kedavra!”
Green light lit up her face as the man’s soul left his body, his hand dropping away from her neck, his body landing in a heap at her feet.
She would’ve preferred a messier death for him, but she felt satisfied another worthless scumbag was no longer able to hurt anyone. She picked up her bag and tucked a playing card into the neckline of his jumper. Shrugging into her coat, she spit on his face, and then faltered. She shouldn’t leave evidence; Muggles could use DNA to track her. She scourgified the saliva and blood from his corpse and the alley before disapparating away.
Moments later, Draco stepped out of the shadows at the entrance of the alley and spotted the deceased man on the ground. As he approached, he noticed the playing card peeking out from under his chin. Sighing, he crouched down and plucked the card out, placing it into his own pocket. He stood and looked to be sure he was alone before disappearing with a loud crack.
Chapter 10: Remorse
Notes:
Triggers, triggers, triggers, my friends.
TW: talk of death, pain, lossSong Rec: One More Light by Linkin Park (RIP Chester)
Chapter Text
18 October 2008
The filtered afternoon light flickered across Hermione’s face as she lay on her couch, Crookshanks purring on her chest. Seemingly all knowing, like he knew she needed comfort, he hadn’t left her side since she came home last night.
Friday night.
Green light lit up her face as the man’s soul left his body, his hand dropping away from her neck, his body landing in a heap at her feet.
She had baited a man. Taunted him. And killed him with the killing curse.
She had never drawn out a target like that before. They’d always come to her, their dark intentions evident, or she had caught them in the act. She was escalating, and she knew it.
The last time she had avada’d anyone was during the war. Wartime murder is different, accepted, expected. She understood her soul had taken significant damage from her flippant use of the curse, but she had compartmentalized it, locked it away, laser focused on winning each battle. This time, there was no war, only the lines crossed that she had drawn.
In the moment, she had felt satisfied, her itch scratched. But it was mere seconds upon arriving home that she was overcome with the weight of the curse. A soul crushing ache filled her, and she had dropped to the floor, weeping. Curled into the fetal position, it was hours before her tears dried up and she was strong enough to move to the couch.
Was this what regret felt like? Guilt, remorse? She didn’t know.
Had she finally gone too far? Was she no longer a vigilante, just a cold-blooded murderer? She would be no better than the people she hunted.
She couldn’t accept that.
If it hadn’t been her, he would’ve found someone else. Surely, he would have.
“I’m the big bad wolf, and I’m ready to see that little red dress you’ve got hidden under your coat.”
Shuddering, the hungry, deviant gleam in his eyes came back to her. He had wanted to hurt her. To take her, maybe kill her. Who knows how far he would’ve gone.
Hermione threw her forearms across her face, blocking out the sun. She felt a single tear leak out of her eye, sliding down to the cushion below her.
But she put them in that situation. It shouldn’t matter what a woman wears, but the world is cruel and life isn’t fair. If you show up half-dressed, in a notoriously unsafe neighborhood, it’s not surprising if becomes about survival. And she had gotten the result she sought.
Lifting her arms, she caught sight of her scar, a parting gift from Bellatrix LeStrange.
Mudblood.
Reddened edges and purple irritated centers, the scar had never properly healed. The knife Bellatrix had used was a goblin blade, and dark magic had oozed into her wounds with every slice. Over time she had learned to ignore the constant throb, the compulsion to scrape at the letters until they bled. It was just another part of her that was damaged, but unlike her soul, this one was visible for all to see.
Still staring at her scar, she thought perhaps today could be put to better use than wallowing in her own self-pity. Gently placing Crookshanks on the ground, she sat up and had to fight off a wave of dizziness. She realized she hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours. First food, then projects.
Hermione climbed the stairs holding her coffee and a sandwich, careful not to spill a drop. She entered her office, setting her plate and mug down on her desk between a large pile of books and a stack of letters she had written to her parents over the years.
During the war, she had obliviated them, erasing all memory of her from their lives. Despite the emotional damage it had caused her, she knew it had been the right thing to do to keep them safe. After Voldemort’s defeat, she had sought them out several times, trying unsuccessfully to reverse the curse. She might have been the brightest witch of her age, but the obliviation she had caused was so deep, the memories were probably gone forever. To keep her sanity, she wrote them weekly, jotting down her life happenings, and kept them close by, just in case of a miracle.
She walked over to her bookcase and pulled out her copy of The Tales of Beetle the Bard, the one Dumbledore had left her after his death. As soon as the book was free from the case, the wall next to it shimmered and dematerialized, and a small work area popped into existence. An empty wooden table ran the length of the wall to the left, with a rack next to it, housing various potions, tools, and trinkets. A trunk sat on the floor to the right, the lid open, holding the weapons she had used in her murders. Not in a place to think about her crimes, she shut the lid tight.
She yanked her office chair into the space and grabbed her snack, setting them on the far end of the table. She pulled on a thick pair of gloves and took a small trinket off the rack. It was a locket, dark magic infused into it. Opening the locket, she found no pictures inside, but the gold walls quivered as if they were alive. Hermione placed the tip of her wand against the jewelry and began citing spells, starting with finite incantatem. Next was deletrius, followed by protego, and then a blocking spell, as the magic tried to lash out. There had been no reaction to the first two, which was expected, but it was interesting the locket attacked after a protection spell. She took down her notebook from another shelf on the rack and flipped to a clean page, jotting down her observations.
Hermione had a theory. If it was possible to remove the dark magic or curse from an object, she might be able to remove the curse in her scar and finally heal her arm. Even though she worked in DOMA, she couldn’t technically complete her experiments in the lab. Though that didn’t stop her from testing a hypothesis here or there when she was working with a dark object from the vaults. She knew if she really wanted to experiment, she needed a private space at home she could use in her free time. And Hermione’s mastery of the undetectable extension charm didn’t just work on bags, it created this tiny lab.
Checking the time, she noted she had 3 hours until she needed to get ready for game night. Plenty of time to run through more spell work. Sandwich long forgotten, she leaned back over the locket and started murmuring.
Chapter 11: Game Night
Notes:
A fluffy chapter :)
TW: light stalking?
Song Rec: Dance the Night by Dua Lipa
Chapter Text
18 October 2008
Squinting at the address on the house, Draco was fairly sure he had arrived at the correct residence. With Harry’s inherited wealth and Ginny’s quidditch success, the Potters could afford to live in one of the most posh neighborhoods of Muggle London. Draco flooed to a pub a few streets over and had taken his time walking in the cool, clear evening. In his hand, he carried a bottle of firewhiskey, aged 15 years. His mother had taught him from a young child to never show up to a party empty handed.
During his stroll, he ran through the events of yesterday. Oliver fucking Wood made his blood boil. His recollection of Oliver from Hogwarts was of someone who excelled at quidditch, was a bit socially awkward, but never outright mean. The man he had become was arrogant and condescending, though not in a charming way like himself. Draco hoped he came across charming, anyways. Acting like a tough guy to a woman half his size, it had only taken one spoken warning from Draco, and he had practically shit his pants. Draco had shown immense restraint by not breaking Oliver’s nose after hearing him speak down to Hermione. He’d avoided temptation by shoving his hands into his pockets when Oliver made the threat.
He wished Hermione had allowed him to follow her home, to make sure he wasn’t lurking somewhere on her property. The wards he’d set up would notify him if someone other than himself, Hermione, or the Potters crossed the threshold, so he knew she was alone. He hadn’t told her about that part of the security add on, and he’d bitten his tongue until it bled to not spit it out while he was on veritaserum. Perhaps it was a bit sneaky to keep it from her, but no worse than what he did yesterday.
After the showdown with Oliver, Draco had spelled several paper clips on his desk with a tracking charm and dropped them into Hermione’s bag. He knew the beaded bag had an illegal extension charm on it, and the clips were so tiny, they’d slip to the bottom, and she would never know. At home that evening, sipping on firewhiskey to calm his nerves, he kept incessantly checking the clips to see if there was movement. When he discovered she was in Muggle London late into the night, he quickly tracked her down, apparating to a safe location within a couple of blocks of the last known trace. Making his way onto the main thoroughfare, he spotted her, wild curls, bare legs and stilettos under a trench coat, ducking into an alley with a man on her heels. The street was too busy to apparate to her, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself by running, so he walked at a clipped pace towards the alley. When he was within a half a block, a green glow flashed against the walls. He knew that could only mean one thing. He hurried the rest of the way to the opening and peered down the dark corridor. He could see a crumpled person on the ground. His heart jumped into his throat and he forced his feet to move. As he bore down on the body, he knew it wasn’t Hermione, and his heart rate began to slow. But if that wasn’t her, that means she took another life, and based on her outfit, it seems like she’d lured him out. And she had used her wand, her own damn wand, to avada him. She might not have to undergo regular wand checks like him, but that spell can be traced, and there is no viable reason a researcher at DOMA should be casting it. Sighing, he had crouched down and pulled the playing card from the dead man’s shirt. At least he could prevent this one from being linked to her other murders.
“Oi, Malfoy, you just going to stand there all night?” Blaise’s voice sliced through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. Blaise Zabini and Charlie Weasley were passing a smoke back and forth on the dark front porch.
“You tossers just hanging out in the dark? Bit creepy if you ask me.” Draco cut across the front lawn, making a beeline for the stoop.
Blaise flicked the cigarette into the yard and clapped Draco on the back. “Good to see you, mate. Been awhile.”
“Never long enough,” Draco teased, and they both grinned.
Charlie threw an arm over Draco’s shoulders. “Hiya, Malfoy. Let’s get inside and crack open that fancy bottle you’ve got there.”
When they walked into the main room, Charlie’s arm over Draco’s shoulder, everyone stopped to gawk. “Weasley and I, we go way back.” Draco punched Charlie lightly in the ribs and they smiled at one another.
“What?” George asked as he walked over, eyeing Draco suspiciously. “Is this a joke?”
Charlie released Draco and stepped forward to his brother. “Malfoy spent a year in Romania, working with the dragons. We built up a friendship.”
Draco handed off the firewhiskey to Harry, and looked over at George. “It wasn’t love at first sight, just so you know. We hated each other for the first few months.”
“You were accepted into the dragon riding program? That’s extremely exclusive!” Her eyes full of wonder, Hermione practically danced over to the men in her bare feet. She looked incredible tonight, her hair twisted into a half-up do, a simple but elegant azure blue dress that hugged her in all the right places. Draco knew he was staring, but he couldn’t break away, and found his tongue wasn’t working either.
Charlie answered her instead. “Oh, no, definitely not. He just showed up, right after he was released from his house arrest, pleading to be put to work. We gave him the worst of the worst jobs, cleaning up dragon dung, mucking out cow stalls, tending to the chickens.”
“You had cows and chickens?” Hermione implored.
“Cows were for feeding the dragons, chickens were for feeding us.” Draco supplied.
“What took you to Romania?” George asked, still not at ease.
“Honestly, I needed to get as far from here as I could. I wanted to suffer, to live without my privilege, earn my keep. I needed to prove to myself I wasn’t just a spoiled sheep who believed whatever his father said. Romania was the first place that came to mind.”
“After a few months, we felt sorry for him and let him join in the training sessions. He was a quick study. While not official, this here is a certified dragon rider.” Charlie gave Draco a friendly jab to the arm, and they smiled at one another again.
Hermione caught Draco’s gaze, amber eyes locked with silver. “Well, color me impressed.” The sparkle in her eyes took his breath away.
“Oi, is that the ferret I hear?” Ginny rounded the corner into the room, Daphne on her heels. “It is! Everyone step back, let me get a good look at him.” Harry followed Daphne in, now carrying a very full glass of whiskey.
Draco found himself in the middle of the room on display, Ginny giving him the once over.
“Do a full turn for me.” Ginny demonstrated what she meant by spinning her finger in the air.
“Wha...” Harry caught Draco’s eyes and made the same gesture. “Okay…” Draco slowly turned all the way around, arms out. He had chosen Muggle wear for the evening, a pair of tight black trousers and a simple charcoal jumper. When he completed the circle, he gave Ginny his most dazzling smile.
Ginny smiled back. “Yep, still fit.” The room erupted in groans.
“Gin, no-“
“You’re only feeding his ego!”
“His head is big enough!”
Draco laughed playfully. “Why thank you, Weaselette. You’re looking quite good yourself.”
The ice now broken, the evening fell into laughter, drinks, and games. Despite George’s initial uncertainty, he and Draco were poking fun at each other before the night was through. Draco and Harry were acting more than civil after a few glasses of firewhiskey, and Draco found himself inviting him over to the manor for pick up quidditch. Of course, the Weasley brothers overheard and invited themselves, with Blaise saying he’d be there too. Feeling the warmth of inclusion, Draco thought perhaps there was a chance he could make a life here and be respected, accepted. Perhaps someday even loved, he mused, his gaze on Hermione.
When he wasn’t actively engaged in a game or conversation, Draco spent his time watching her, finding her glancing his way often. He couldn’t help but notice a tightness in her features, though, that hadn’t been there earlier in the week. A tiny seed of worry took root in his gut. Perhaps the curse last night had done more damage to her than expected. She was still cheerful and laughing with her friends, but he couldn’t help wondering if some of it was for show.
Chapter 12: Matters of Course
Notes:
TW: Aggressive behavior
Song rec: Protection by Massive Attack
Chapter Text
20 October 2008
When Hermione stepped off the floo on Monday morning into the Ministry atrium, she felt a hand grasp her upper arm. Panicking, she dove in the opposite direction, nearly losing her balance in her high heels.
“Calm down, Granger, it’s only me,” Draco said, transfigured as Boucher, hand still firmly on her arm to keep her upright.
“Damn it, Malfoy! Warn me next time!” Hermione swatted him in the chest with her bag, her heart rate still sky-high.
“I am not sure who that is, as I’m Laurent Boucher,” he said, a light warning in his tone.
“Ugh, my mistake. You can let go of me now, I’ve got my balance.”
Draco dropped his hand and smoothly slid it into his trouser pocket. With his other, he handed her a single rose, this one a deep red, ironically the color of her dress from Friday night. Her face flushed pink, though there was no way for him to know. She took the rose, turning sideways before breathing in the sweet scent.
He gestured towards the elevators. “Shall we?”
When they stepped into the lift car, instead of going down, Draco pressed the level for the auror offices.
“Why are we going to the DMLE?” Hermione shifted her bag on her shoulder, turning to him. Some of her earlier panic started rising to the surface.
“You,” he said, looking down, “are going to file an official complaint against Wood for his actions Friday. I already arranged a meeting with Potter this morning.”
Hermione frowned and tucked a wild curl behind her ear. “I will be doing no such thing. I do not want a target on my back.”
“Retaliation after a complaint is grounds for forced leave, Granger. It could work out in your favor if he tries it.”
“I will look like the vengeful ex-girlfriend! And if word gets out, you know it won’t just be Oliver giving me grief!” She put her hands on her hips, glaring at him.
The lift stopped, doors dinging as they slid open. Draco stepped halfway off, preventing them from closing. Hermione didn’t budge, still staring daggers at him.
Draco sighed. “I told Potter what happened Friday when he… called me to his office.” He knew she was aware of his wand checks, but still preferred if it was something they didn’t speak about. “He is the one requesting the report, not me. If we don’t meet him now, he will just come to us later.”
Hermione sniffed, shifting her weight. If Harry was asking, then there is no possible way he would let it go. Plus, her best friend would not tolerate anyone on the force giving her hell. She crossed her arms and gave in.
“Fine.” Hermione stomped off the elevator, relenting, but refusing to look at him.
“So dramatic,” Draco snarked. Hermione blatantly ignored him, raising her chin a little higher as she continued forward. Smiling, he fell into step right behind her, his eyes peeled for Oliver.
They safely made it to Potter’s office sans a run-in with her ex.
Harry sat behind his desk, looking frazzled and exhausted. Hermione took the only seat across from him, while Draco hovered over her shoulder.
“Harry, you look terrible.” Hermione reached across the desk to grab his hand. “Are you even sleeping?”
“Thank you, Hermione, as if I didn’t know. I sleep when I can, which is never.” He tore his eyes away from the current report on his desk and noticed the rose in her hand. He looked sharply at Draco before asking, “Where did you get the rose?”
Pink returned to Hermione’s cheeks but she didn’t answer. Neither did Draco.
Sighing, he reached into his desk and pulled out an official looking form. “Alright then, I need you to tell me what happened with Wood.”
Feeling her anxiety kick up knowing she was about to relive the event, she took a long shaky breath. She felt a firm, warm hand land on her shoulder. He must’ve known she needed support to help her relax. She looked back at Draco grateful, but jumped a little when she saw he had dropped the transfiguration. Stormy eyes met her amber ones, empathy shining down at her, and he squeezed her shoulder in reassurance.
She relayed the event as close to word for word as she could remember, starting with stepping off the lift and ending with Draco slamming the door shut. She left out how after, she had sobbed, pressed into Draco’s comforting chest, or how he reverently brushed away a tear from her cheek.
Harry assured them both Oliver would be removed from the task force. However, one offense is not enough to get him kicked out of the DMLE, but he would be on very thin ice. If he slipped up, Harry would personally file the paperwork to put him on administrative leave.
The rest of the day Draco refused to leave Hermione’s side, standing by the office door if she left her desk, walking directly beside her down the halls, even standing watch outside of the loo. At first, she found the protective act soothing, but by her second trip to the bathroom, she’d had enough.
“M-Boucher, I can relieve myself without an escort,” she said, almost calling him Malfoy.
Draco only leaned against the wall, legs neatly crossed, hands in his pockets, unaffected by her complaints. “If I thought you needed assistance, I’d follow you in. I’ll be right here.”
She threw her hands in the air in aggravation, her hair sparking with magic. “You can be so infuriating, you know that?”
“I don’t care if I’m downright insufferable, as long as you’re safe.” He picked at a piece of imaginary lint before smoothing down his impeccable black suit jacket.
By the end of the shift, Hermione was ready to be by herself, wine in hand, on her couch. She was feeling smothered, and every protest was brushed aside. Her hair was beyond bushy from repeatedly running her fingers through it in frustration.
“Are you going to hover like this all week?” Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder, pulling her outer robes tight around her.
“I will, yes, for as long as is needed to be sure that arse hole doesn’t ever come near you again.” Draco stopped at the office door, holding his work bag. “The sooner I escort you home, Granger, the sooner you can be rid of me.” He winked at her.
“You are absolutely not following me home!”
Tromping out into the hall, she tried to run to the elevator before he could catch up. She underestimated how long his legs were, and he kept up effortlessly.
“There is no sense fighting this, Granger. It’ll be easier for the both of us if you’d just let me protect you.” They stepped into the lift together, squeezing in amongst the crowd.
“There is no way he will bother me now, I’m certain of it. So lay off.” Hermione whispered at him.
When the door swung open at the atrium level, she ducked under the other passengers and scooted out before Draco could snag her. Ha, sometimes it does pay to be smaller. She made it fifteen feet before she regretted her decision, as Oliver Wood was standing not five feet away, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“You had me removed from the task force? You’re not even an auror, just a stupid researcher.” He entered her personal space, leaning down. Quieter, he spat, “Who do you think you are? Pulling strings because you used to suck Potter’s cock when you were teens and he’d do anything for you.”
Hermione gasped, raising her hand to slap him when he was abruptly yanked from her view.
Draco had him held a half foot off the ground by the back of his robes, a volcanic expression on his face, moments from eruption. Oliver struggled against him, but Draco’s grip was solid, strong. Hurrying to his side, she grabbed his free arm.
“No, not like this. Think of the consequences.” If Draco hurt him, he could lose his job. Or worse. With his history, it wouldn’t take much for the Wizengemot to send him back to Azkaban and throw away the key. Oliver was a well-loved ex-athlete turned auror, and most people would still see Draco as a Death Eater. And there is no way his Boucher persona would hold up to scrutiny in an internal affairs investigation.
He held him aloft for a few more seconds before dropping him roughly to the ground.
“Never, ever, talk to her again. Do not even look her way. And if I ever see you outside of this facility, my previous threat still stands.”
Oliver scrambled backwards, knocking over several people in his haste to get away. Draco stood, watching him until he disappeared in the masses. Still with a hand on his arm, Hermione could feel tension radiating off of him. Fury was evident in his every feature as he turned to face her.
“Granger. Do. Not. Run. From. Me. Again.”
“You were smothering me, and I really thought you’d scared him off.” Stepping back from him, she wrung her hands, looking down.
His face softened. “Like I mentioned earlier, multiple times, I just want to protect you, to keep you safe. Please let me.” Draco reached out and lifted her chin. “He’s shown he’s unstable. I will not let you get hurt.”
She held his gaze, noting determination. “Fine,” she huffed, giving in.
Draco placed a hand on Hermione’s low back and guided her to the closest floo. “Let’s get you home.”
She tossed the floo powder in the fire and stated her address. As she jumped in, Draco’s hand grabbed her robes tight and he leaped in with her. They landed in her sitting room in a pile of limbs and robes.
“Ugh, Malfoy, what were you thinking, jumping in with me?” Hermione was below him, his robes encircling the both of them. She tried to shimmy out but could barely move under his weight. She shoved against his chest, but they were tightly wrapped. Draco put his arms on either side of her, lifting up, just barely holding himself an inch above her. A crooked smile graced his lips, and he winked at her.
“Well, isn’t this quite the predicament? Stuck underneath me?”
“Ugh, get off, you pig!” She pushed against him, but he didn’t budge. Frustrated, she kicked out at his leg and his hold collapsed, sliding him down along her center. They both gasped in unison. Hermione bit her lip; that should not feel as good as it does. They stayed unmoving for a few seconds, staring at each other, barely breathing.
Hermione tried to shift her hips to the side, but the tangled robes just further ground them against each other. Closing her eyes, she forced her lips together to contain a second gasp.
“Shit, Granger.” He dropped his forehead down to her shoulder and groaned. “Just… hold still. Let me fix this.”
Not moving his body, he tugged at the clothing below her, pulling with a steady grip. Finally, his robe tore free from under her and he sprang up, putting a hand down to help her. She smacked it away, rolling to her side and pushing herself upright.
“Homenum Revelio!” Draco swung his wand around in a circle. The spell detected only two bodies inside the cottage, thankfully. He knew his wards were strong, but now he had confirmation her ex hadn’t found a way through. Satisfied, he turned to Hermione, who had her hands-on-hips pose on display. He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. “Just checking,” he said with a sly grin, then disapparated away before she could react.
Chapter 13: Sanguis Damnum
Summary:
Things are beginning to heat up, on more than one front.
Notes:
Check those tags!
TW: dead bodies, mention of blood, scars
Song recs: Stagger Lee by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Safe and Sound by Capital Cities
Chapter Text
21 October 2008
An explosion near her head threw Hermione to the ground, and she clutched her arm, now gushing blood. A curse whizzed past her ear and she rolled onto her back, wand pointed out.
“Stupefy!”
The Death Eater locked up, falling sideways. Another ran up to take his place, his mask red with blood. “Avada Kedavra!”
“Granger, I need you to wake up.”
Hermione screamed and barely dodged the curse, lunging to her right at the last second. She raised her arm and cast again.
“Avada Kedavra!”
“Granger! Wake up!”
The ground was rumbling beneath her. Was that an earthquake? Was she about to fall into a sinkhole? Is she going to die?
“GRANGER!”
Hermione’s eyes flew open and she gulped for air. “GET OFF ME! GET OFF!” She tried to wrench away from the arms on her, flailing in the dark. She made contact with something soft and heard a crunch.
“Ow! Granger, I think you broke my nose!”
She stilled, and finally came to. She was in her bedroom, not on a battlefield. But she lived alone and there was someone in here with her. Her heart started to pound. Sending a wandless lumos to her lamp, her room lit up and she saw Draco, one hand cupping his bleeding face. She breathed a sigh of relief it wasn’t Oliver.
“What are you doing here? What time even is it?” Being that he was now warded into her home, and his inability to give her privacy, she wasn’t too surprised to find him standing over her.
Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Sorry about your nose. Sit down, let me take a look.” She sat up, her blankets falling to her waist, forgetting she was only wearing a thin slip.
Draco went rigid, eyes on her chest for a split second before he looked away, turning to sit. “We’re being called to another crime scene. I was knocking for a full 5 minutes before I came in. You were… having a nightmare.” He turned his head towards her keeping his eyes on her face as she prodded at his nose.
“Yeah, I have those. Doesn’t everyone who lived through the war?” She grabbed the edge of her blanket and placed it in his hand. “Hold this over your nose and lean your head back, it’ll slow the bleeding. I’ll need my wand to heal this.” She slid out of bed and started walking for the door.
Draco groaned. “You don’t sleep with your wand? Are you serious?”
She pivoted around, hands on her hips when she caught his eyes. They were burning, as he took in her form, and she wasn’t sure if it was outrage or hunger she was witnessing. She looked down, seeing the thin short nightdress she was in and crossed her arms over her chest, self-conscious.
“I thought the wards you put up were all the protection I needed?”
He closed his eyes . “Touché. But even the best wards can be broken. It would soothe my mind if you could at least keep it on your nightstand.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Hermione walked to the top of the stairs.
“Accio, wand.”
It flew into her outstretched hand, and she started to make her way back into her room. Remembering her current state of dress, she paused and pointed at the bathroom.
“Accio, robe.”
Her bathrobe landed on her arm, and she quickly slipped it over her body, tying the belt around her middle. She padded back into her bedroom. It looked like a bloodbath. Nosebleeds were always so messy.
Standing in front of Draco, she put her hand on his shoulder. “I need you to hold still, this is going to hurt.”
“I’ve had a broken nose fixed before, Granger. In fact, even one that you caused 15 years ago.”
Hermione huffed out a little laugh. She had completely forgotten about that.
“Episkey.”
Draco’s cartilage popped back into place, the bleeding stopping. Draco let go of the blanket and dropped his head forward.
“Tergeo.”
All the blood from his face and clothes vanished.
“Much better.”
“You’re welcome, you git. Hopefully you’ve learned not to shake me awake. Now get out, while I get changed. You can tell me where we’re going when I meet you downstairs.”
----------------------------------------------------------
After four floo transfers and an apparition, they stood outside of a small farmhouse in central Ireland at nearly 2am. Rowan Byrne was speaking with the local officer, the squib who had called them in. Seamus was directing them inside through the backdoor.
“Never seen anything like it. It’s like the cows, but it’s humans. No bite marks, no cuts, but… no blood.”
Draco held the door open for Hermione before ducking under the low frame to follow her in. He could instantly feel the dark magic crawling over the interior walls. They came across the body of an older man, probably the man of the house. He was lying in the main room, eyes open, mouth agape. No visible wounds, not a single drop of blood anywhere, and he was pale and ghastly in death.
“When I spoke with Potter, he told me to contact you two right away. Said you,” Seamus turned to Draco, who he saw as Boucher, “had a way of seeing the dead? I think?”
Draco said nothing, just shrugged off his outer robes, handing them to Hermione, and clutched his flask. He screwed off the top, took a long swig, and passed it to her as well. He crouched down, and taking a deep breath, closed his eyes and touched the man’s temple.
At first, he saw nothing. He wondered how long the man had been down. He pushed his way deeper, like wading through wet sand, until he saw a spark. He focused on the spark and an image surfaced. He saw a gold chalice sitting on a small table in the center of the room, a worn couch behind it. The image floated back into the ether and another rose. He was staring down at two hands, covered in beads of blood, as if it was leaking out of his pores. One final snapshot surfaced, and it was again the chalice, but this time the cup was full to the rim with blood.
Draco pulled out of the man’s brain slowly, making sure no other images came through. He stood up, glancing around the room. An older couch, lumpy with overuse, sat along one stone wall. There was a fireplace adjacent to it, currently cold and empty. Several unmatching chairs faced the couch, a coffee table between them. He recognized the furnishings immediately. This was where the visions had been. He spotted the chalice, lying on its side to his left, just beside the coffee table. Stepping across the space, he leaned down to better study the cup, noting a crack along the side, and no evidence of any blood within. It appeared to be made from solid gold, and was simple in its build, no jewels or intricate carvings. This close, he could feel dark magic radiating off of it in waves.
“Granger, take a look at this chalice with me.” Hermione brushed past Seamus, crouching down next to Draco.
“Wait, Boucher, what just happened?” Seamus looked confused, eyes darting between the man and Draco.
Draco ignored his question, still staring at the overturned chalice.
“Was this in your vision?” Hermione asked, pulling a thick glove out of her bag. “Did you see it doing anything?” She donned the glove with her right hand and picked up the chalice, setting it upright on the ground.
“Yeah, in my first snapshot, it was just sitting in the center of the table, whole. My last image showed it filled with blood.” Hermione jerked her head towards him, but he was entranced with the cup before him. “It was intact, not cracked down the side like now.” He reached out a tentative finger and Hermione pulled his hand back with a glare.
“You have no idea if touching this will kill you!” She searched through her bag, digging around for several seconds, and pulled out a hat box. “Let me secure it and we can study it in the lab.”
“You’re using a hat box? Why does that not feel very safe?” Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“It’s just transfigured to look like a hat box. It’s a portable container, designed like the ones in the vault. It’s airtight and magic proof, so I can assure you, it’s safe.” She delicately lifted the chalice into the box and closed the lid with a sealing hiss of air.
“Hello? Did ya forget I’m here?” Seamus stood above them, watching their exchange.
“Of course not, Finnegan.” He stood back up, towering several inches above Seamus. “To answer your question, using legilimency, if I tap into a brain that hasn’t been dead long, sometimes I can pull images from their final moments.”
“Well, that’s neat, isn’t it?” He said, his eyes lighting up, a grin on his face.
“Are you smiling right now? We are standing next to a dead body,” Draco scolded.
“Right. Sorry about that.” Seamus said, sobering. “So… what did you see?”
“The chalice, first empty, then full of blood. I also saw this man with blood seeping out of his pores.” Draco slung his robes back on, the chilly air in the drafty room cutting through his shirt.
“What could that mean? And where did all the blood go?” Seamus pondered. “Do you think the same thing happened to the others?”
Hermione and Draco both swiveled their heads to look at him in shock.
“There are others?” Hermione squeaked.
“Almost the whole family is like this, dead in their beds. The only one who survived was the youngest child. She’s 4 years old, mind you, and the reason we found them as fast as we did. She ran through the fields to the closest neighbor a full kilometer away, screaming about a demon killing her family.”
They walked systematically through the house, Draco testing the minds of each body. He was only able to see images through one of the children, and the lone image he was shown was another child in bed, blood bubbling up out of the pores of their face. Presumably everyone else was asleep, negating any final conscious moments. That’s a blessing in itself.
Six people dead of an unknown curse, a single father and five of his children. The chalice had to be involved, though it wasn’t clear how. What had happened to the blood in the chalice from the man’s final image? Why did it crack? And how did the youngest child survive?
They met Rowan back outside of the house and discussed their findings with him. He nodded along, scribbling down notes. Seemingly even keeled, he didn’t react to anything Draco told him, including about his visions. The man was unflappable, an admirable trait for an auror.
It was nearly 3am when the local police officer took off, leaving just the four of them and the coroner’s team. Hermione was stumbling, she was so tired.
“I don’t think I can floo all the way home. Seamus, is there a hotel nearby I could get a room?” A jaw cracking yawn escaped her lips.
“Correction, where we can get rooms.” Draco gave her a defiant look, just waiting for her to object. Too exhausted to fight him, she just nodded.
“Well, this late you probably can’t get anything in any of the local towns.” He twisted his mouth to the side in thought. “But you know, my grandma has a B&B on her property, a short ways from here, right outside Rathdowney. It’s usually booked full all summer, but this time a year, no one ever rents it. I can let you in for tonight.” He stood up straighter. “I’ll just need to leave my gran a note so she doesn’t panic if she sees you walking out in the morning.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Hermione yawned again, this time covering her mouth bashfully.
“Hold out your hands, I’ll apparate us there.” They all linked hands and popped out of existence.
Calling this a bed and breakfast was generous. It was more like a glorified shack. One main room and one bathroom made up the entirety of the inside. The only furniture present was a single tufted armchair, a small dresser with a lamp, and a tiny bed.
“It’s not much, but it’ll be warm and safe for ya.” Seamus walked over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. “Here’s a couple of extra blankets,” He glanced at the small bed. “Looks like one of you will need to sleep on the floor.”
Hermione reached for the blankets, but Draco snatched them from Seamus’s hand, giving her a quizzical look.
“Do you think I would let a lady sleep on the floor? C’mon, now, Granger.”
Seamus looked between them again, a curious gleam in his eyes. “Well, you two have gotten rather comfortable around each other in the past couple weeks, haven’t ya?”
“When someone acts like a barnacle, it’ll happen.” Hermione pouted. Draco snickered. “Thank you, again Seamus. I’m kicking you out now so I can collapse into the bed.”
“There’s a nice breakfast place up the road you can stop at when you rise. Farm fresh eggs, and they load up the plates with potatoes.” They thanked him again. He said his goodbyes and stepped out of the door.
Immediately dropping his transfiguration spell, Draco groaned. “I’m so exhausted, this floor will feel like a cloud.” He started pulling off items of clothing, taking a full minute to notice Hermione hadn’t moved. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have anything to sleep in.” He took in her simple trousers and small t-shirt.
“Here.” He shrugged off his undershirt, holding it out to her. “This will be big enough for you to wear as a night shirt.” Hermione took in his alabaster skin, noting crisscrossed faded scars. One cluster she knew has to be from Harry’s sectumsempra spell, the others likely the war. She thought about gliding her fingertips along each one, tracing out his past. As she moved her gaze away from his bare chest, she stretched her hand out for the shirt.
Just then, the door to the outside swung open, and Seamus walked back in. “Here’s an extra pillow, I saw the bed only had one…” His voice trailed off as he took in a shirtless Draco Malfoy standing in the middle of the room.
“Death Eater!” He yelled raising his wand.
“NO!” Hermione shouted, jumping between them. “He’s with me, Seamus!”
“…what?” he said, confused, still not lowering his wand.
“He’s Boucher. He’s… undercover.” She glanced over her shoulder at Draco, who hadn’t moved a muscle. “He’s harmless. I swear. He isn’t a Death Eater, he left all that behind.”
“I don’t believe you.” His hand started to shake as he tightened his grip on his wand.
Hermione took a step forward, empty hands in the air. “You trust me, right? And Harry? He knows too.” She inched closer. “I promise. You know I wouldn’t associate with anyone who wasn’t on our side.”
Seamus relented and lowered his wand. “Fecking hell. I thought you were dead, Malfoy. No one has seen you in a decade.”
“To most of the world, I am. And that’s fine by me.” Still in the same spot, Draco started to breathe again. “And you must keep this a secret. Even from your partner. I’ll let Potter know you found out, so you can confirm with him that I’m legit. Tomorrow. Right now, it’s really bloody late and I just want to get Hermione in bed.”
Whipping her head around, she caught the corner of his mouth quirk up. “Shut it, Malfoy.” She took the pillow from Seamus. “Thank you, I’ll happily take two pillows and that sod can sleep without.”
Seamus snorted. “Sounds like a good plan.”
After Seamus made his exit, Draco went into the loo to give Hermione space to change, though he desperately wanted nothing more than to stay. He knew the right thing to do was allow her privacy. When she called out for her turn in the bathroom, he opened the door, and his eyes went feral at the sight. Her hair was in a loose bun on the top of her head, and she was wearing only his white undershirt, the hem stopping just above mid-thigh. She looked incredibly sexy, in an effortless way. It was going to be a struggle to sleep on the floor next to her knowing she was three feet above him, housed in his shirt, no bottoms to speak of.
He made his nest between the bathroom and the bed, snagging one of the pillows Hermione had laid by the headrest. No way was she keeping both. He waited awkwardly, needing her to exit before getting under the covers, though he had debated making her crawl over him. She probably would have just kicked him in the side until he moved, which honestly, he could count as foreplay in his current state.
When Hermione came back into the main area, she was scratching at her forearm. Up to this point, Draco had avoided mentioning her scar, but he could see it now, raised and purple, irritated. He reached for her arm and she pulled it into herself, turning away.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, holding out his left forearm.
She shifted her weight and eyed his dark mark with curiousity. “Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes, though not as much as it used to. When Voldemort called for us, it would burn like a cruciatus curse.”
Wide eyed, Hermione fully faced him. “Can I… touch it?”
Draco snorted softly. “Of course. I don’t mind.”
Running her fingers over the scar, she felt raised ridges in every line. It seemed to pulsate, like the dark magic inside was a sentient being with its own life force.
“I never wanted it, you know.” Draco lamented. “I only did it to please my father. Now I’m stuck with this reminder of the terrible deeds I did for the rest of my life.”
Hermione covered the mark with her hand and caught his gaze. “You aren’t that person anymore. Don’t let the bitterness of old scars taint your future.”
Draco swallowed hard. The heat of her hand and the fierceness in her eyes was mesmerizing. This woman was the only thing he desired in this world, what drove him to become a better man. He wanted to believe he was good enough for her, that his past mistakes no longer defined him. Hearing her say those words to him filled his heart with hope.
“Let’s see yours now, Granger.”
Hermione released his arm and lifted hers. With careful movements, he grasped her forearm and traced the word.
Mudblood.
He had watched his aunt attack her the night she carved this slur into her skin.
“I wish I had done something to stop her.”
Hermione knew he meant Bellatrix. “I don’t blame you. At all.”
“I could have tried blocking her spells, or jumped in the way, or… Something. Anything.” He let out a shaky breath. “I was a coward.” He met her eyes, fingers still faintly caressing the letters.
“If you had, you might have been killed. You, your mother, your father, any or all of you could have been murdered by Voldemort.” Placing her hand on top, she slipped her fingers between his, stilling his movements. “I survived. So did you. That’s what matters.” They stayed locked in that moment, fingers intertwined, eyes latched on one another for what felt like an eternity. Hermione broke first, averting her eyes, tugging her arm back against her stomach.
“I really need some rest. Good night, Malfoy.”
Still rooted to the floor, he watched her walk over to the dresser, unable to tear his eyes away from her form. He waited until she glanced back his way before answering. “Night, Granger.”
Hermione flicked off the lamp before climbing under the covers. Just like the last time he’d put her to bed, she was asleep within seconds of lying down, her breathing slow and even. He even heard her murmuring into her pillow. Apparently, the Golden girl talks in her sleep.
Closing his eyes, Draco beckoned for sleep to find him. He reached for his occlumency training to help him clear his racing mind, thinking of a lake, the water calm. Just as he was drifting off, he heard a soft cry, followed by a whimper. He shot up, snatching his wand, and scanned the small space through the dim light from the moon. The room was empty outside of the two of them. Then he heard another whimper followed by a muttered “no…. just run… RUN!” Another nightmare, just like when he’d arrived at her home a few hours ago. She wailed loudly, the sound full of sadness, followed by a short sob.
Draco did the only thing he could think to do. He climbed into bed behind her, wrapping his body around hers, shushing her, running a hand down her cheek.
“It’s okay. You’re just having a nightmare.” He leaned close to her ear. “Granger, you’re okay. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
Feeling her body tense, he raised his head, waiting for her to buck. She didn’t this time, just relaxed back into him.
“Draco? Is that you? You’re so warm.” Her voice was thick with sleep.
He froze. She’d called him by his given name. It sounded so wonderful coming from her. Settling his head back down on the single pillow, he gently grazed the shell of her ear with his lips. “Yes, Hermione. You’re safe. Get some rest, darling.”
She snuggled closer to him with a sigh, her breathing slowing. Draco smiled into her hair.
This was the best moment of his life.
Chapter 14: Inception
Summary:
AHHHHH!
After setting up the one bed trope, we are finally earning that smut tag.Enjoy!
*Also, I am just a silly American who has never been to Ireland, so please forgive any references (in both this chapter and the last) I may have gotten incorrect. XOXO
Notes:
Song recs: Ivy by Taylor Swift, Head over Feet by Alanis Morissette
Chapter Text
22 October 2008
She could sense the early dawn light tickling her eyelids, but she didn’t want to move. She was so warm, cozy, like she was enveloped in a giant cocoon. Something heavy was draped over her hip, and she could feel a hot breeze intermittently ghosting across her neck. Her eyes fluttered open, and Hermione took in her unfamiliar surroundings. She was facing a small window, the curtain not quite long enough to block out the morning light. The walls were bare, and she could see a small dresser by her feet. The delectable warmth she was feeling? It was Draco Malfoy, draped around her, and surprisingly, she didn’t hate it.
His scent was everywhere, oak, citrus, and spice, and she breathed in deeply, wiggling back into him. She heard a soft groan at the same time she felt something hard slotted against her backside, and the combination sent a twinge straight to her core. Oh. Oh, my gods. His fingertips were just barely touching the sensitive skin on her stomach, where the shirt had ridden up in the night. She traced a line across the back of his hand and shifted her hips, rubbing against his hardness. Another groan, and this time his hand pressed flat against her stomach, pulling her flush with his body.
He tilted his head towards her ear and whispered, voice low and rough, “If you do that again, I’ll consider it an invitation.” He nipped her earlobe and she gasped.
Hermione had always been one to play with fire, and it had been a very long time since she’d been touched by a man. Too long. She placed her hand on top of his, sliding it an inch lower on her stomach while rocking her hips against his erection. He let out a soft hiss.
“Fuck it,” he growled, grinding into her. He licked up the column of her neck and kissed her just behind her ear, taking in her lavender and vanilla scent. “You smell like heaven,” he breathed into her hair, sending shivers down her spine. He slid his other arm around her, gliding up under the shirt to cup her breast while kissing back down her neck.
Moaning, Hermione arched against him, pushing his hand on her belly even lower. He chuckled, a gravelly, deep sound.
“Needy, are we? I’ll get there, Granger. Don’t worry.” He brushed his thumb back and forth over her nipple and she gasped, heat pooling in her abdomen. Draco bit her collarbone then gently licked over the same spot, giving her nipple a pinch.
“Malfoy, fuck, that feels good.” She felt him twitch against her back at the sound of his name.
He rubbed tiny circles along her abdomen, grazing lower each time, brushing the edge of her panties. With his other hand, he squeezed her breast, and slowly rolled her nipple between his fingers. His mouth left lazy, tantalizing kisses along her shoulder. Her breathing kicked up, and she squirmed under his hands.
He slid his lower hand over her lace knickers, slowly tracing down her slit, and then rubbing over her center.
“Is this where you want me, little lion?” he purred. He continued rubbing lazy circles over the top of her panties, kissing back up her neck. Her hips started to buck, seeking more friction. He was so close to where she needed him. She let out a soft whine, opening her legs wider.
She started to reach under her waist band and Draco caught her wrist.
“Oh, you’re greedy too.” He pulled her arm above her head and cast a wandless sticking spell, securing her wrist to the headboard. He slowly ran his hand back down her arm, watching her sideview as he grazed every inch. When he looked back down, her knickers were gone, her curls glistening.
“Wandless vanishing spell?” He grinned.
She smirked. “You’re not the only one with wandless magic.”
He rolled her nipple again, eliciting a sharp intake of breath, before sliding her onto her back. Securing her other hand to the headboard, he vanished her shirt, and took in the glorious sight before him. Dangerously smoldering eyes, need burning in them, her lower lip caught in her teeth. Soft, plump breasts with dark pink nipples, pebbled to a peak, swaying with her heaving chest. A long expanse of olive skin, with a jagged, faded scar running along her left side, abdomen slightly rounded with health, ending in a mound of wet curls. Freckled, curvy legs, bent at the knees, one sliding up and down against his shin. He moved his perusal back to her scar, and with his finger, faintly traced along the line from the side of her ribs to just below her navel. She arched her back at his touch, softly whimpering. The scar was certainly a product of the war. It made her even more attractive to him.
His eyes traveled back to her face, catching her hooded gaze as he ran his hand the length of her inner thigh, from her knee up to her apex. He slowly slid a finger into her wetness, parting her at her center. Hermione leaned her head back, another deep moan, and her knees dropped all the way open. Draco was thoroughly enjoying the show. He wanted to take his time with her, savor every second. Flicking her other nipple with his tongue, he took it in his mouth, swirling around the tip, while dipping his finger down to dance languidly around her entrance. Merlin, she was so wet for him. She squirmed against him, making soft, delicious sounds.
He sucked her nipple deep into his mouth and came off her breast with a pop, kissing his way up her sternum towards her throat. Adding a second finger to his lower ministrations, he gathered up her wetness and slid both fingers up near her clit, but still not quite where she needed him.
“Fuck, please,” she begged, lifting her hips. Draco ground himself into her side, enjoying the friction.
“Please what, darling?” He began kissing along her jaw, open mouthed kisses, tasting the saltiness of her skin. He kept his other hand just below her bundle of nerves, lightly teasing her soft flesh.
“Please touch me, Malfoy. Higher,” she pleaded, trying to glide down into his touch.
“Since you asked me so nicely, pet…” He moved both fingers over her clit and pressed down. She arched her back at the contact. He smiled into her neck, grazing his teeth along her throat. He began rubbing circles around her clit with both fingers, and she gasped, trembling. He sucked over her pulse point, feeling her heart rate increase. Licking her lips, she let out several soft, throaty whimpers.
Keeping his fingers at an even pace, he sucked on her earlobe, rubbing himself into her hip. “Does this feel good, Granger?”
Her response came in a long moan and she rocked her hips in rhythm with his movements. Sliding the fingers of his other hand along her scalp, he tugged on her roots, pulling her head back to open her throat to him. Starting from the center of her chest, he began nibbling and sucking, moving towards her chin, enjoying the feel of each gasp she made.
“I need more, Malfoy. Please.” She was starting to pant, a flush creeping into her cheeks.
Draco, slid the tips of two fingers into her entrance, reaching a thumb up to press onto her clit.
“Yes,” she cried, pushing up against his hand. “Deeper!”
He chuckled, nipping at her earlobe again. “So demanding.” Pushing his fingers in past the first knuckle, he circled her clit with his thumb and bit down on the crook of her neck, hoping to leave a mark. She howled, enjoying the combination of pain and pleasure. He pulled back a little and thrust his fingers in further, past the second knuckle. Hermione could feel her climax growing, the heat in her belly a raging fire.
“Oh, fuck, you feel good. So tight around my fingers.” Draco plunged them all the way in, bringing out another cry from Hermione, her walls clenching, her hips bucking involuntarily. He started pumping them in and out, flicking rhythmically at her clit with his thumb. He leaned in, alternately nibbling and licking along the underside of her breasts.
Hermione was so close to going over the edge. Her movements picked up, and she was riding his hand, seeking her release. She was panting, keening, the wire inside her was so taut, ready to snap.
“I want you to come for me, Granger.” Draco crooked his fingers, caressing the rough spot inside her walls, just as he bit down hard on her neck.
Hermione screamed, seeing stars, as her orgasm ripped through her. Waves of pleasure racked her body as she went boneless.
“That’s a good girl,” Draco murmured, kissing over his bite marks. She quivered against his hand as he slowly pumped in and out of her, his thumb pressing softly against her swollen clit, helping her ride out her aftershocks.
Finally coming back down to earth, she melted into the bed, sweaty and sated. Draco liberated her wrists from the headboard. He slowly pulled his fingers out of her, and brought them up to his mouth, sucking off her release. He nearly came himself at her taste; salty, musky and a little sweet, exactly as she should be.
Hermione opened her eyes, reaching down for his erection, but he jumped back as if burned. Without saying anything, he ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it. She heard the shower come on in seconds.
Hermione was dazed. What the fuck just happened?
While Draco took the longest shower in history, Hermione sat with her thoughts, becoming increasingly anxious and upset. He made her feel so fucking good. His long, talented fingers were perfect, as if designed for playing her, plucking and pulling in all the right places. Usually, men just touch a woman enough to warm her up before taking their own pleasure. Draco was a giver, and had accepted nothing in return. But the way he had retreated from her, as if her touch would’ve scalded him… Was he ashamed about what he just did? Did he still think of her as a dirty mudblood, and that’s why he wouldn’t let her return the favor? Had she said something wrong during it all? She’d been so worked up, she could barely remember anything that came out of her mouth, though she knew there had been some begging.
By the time Draco walked out of the loo, hair damp, wearing only a towel, Hermione had worked herself into a frenzy. She pushed past him silently, cheeks red with embarrassment, and slammed the door behind her. As she stepped into the shower, she groaned. No hot water. That arse hole had used it all. She washed up quickly, avoiding getting her hair wet. After dressing back into yesterday’s clothes, without her knickers, as those were a lost cause, she plaited her hair away from her face, artfully pulling a few strands loose. Holding her wand, she healed the visible marks he had left on neck, internally scolding him. What was he, a teenager? She absolutely did not feel a low warmth start up again just thinking about the way his teeth felt. She reached into her bag, rooting around until she found her mascara and her vanilla perfume. Hermione rarely wore make-up, but today she felt like she needed the armor. Two quick swipes to the top lashes of each eye, several strategically placed squirts of perfume, and a layer of tinted lip gloss later, she felt ready to face Draco.
As she exited the bathroom, she found him sitting in the small armchair, his face a stony mask. He hadn’t put on his Boucher disguise, but seeing as they were in a Muggle area and far from anyone who knew him, he shouldn’t need it right now. He stood, gathering her robes, and met her by the front door. He tried to place them on her shoulders, but she snatched them away.
“I can dress myself, thank you.” She stormed out into the cold morning air, her outerwear billowing in the wind. Draco took a deep breath, blowing it out through puffed cheeks before getting in step next to her.
“Let’s get some caffeine in you, yeah? Finnegan mentioned a breakfast place.” Draco was staring straight ahead, not making eye contact.
Hermione looked down the road, seeing a gathering of low buildings. She knew the town was small, so finding the restaurant should be easy enough.
She wasn’t interested in small talk, and it seemed Draco wasn’t either as they trekked down the hillside to town. The country air was fresh, free from the scent of too many bodies in close quarters that often lurked on the streets of London. She took in the rolling green pastures around her, breathtaking in their simplicity. Her mother had loved Ireland, and they spent a lot of time here when she was a child. Thinking of her mother brought tears to her eyes, and she blinked them back, forcing her train of thought elsewhere. She sniffed into her robes as silently as she could, hearing as Draco’s steps faltered next to her. She refused to look over at him, still hurt at his reaction.
Once in town, Hermione transfigured their robes into Muggle jackets to match the local fashion. The restaurant Seamus had recommended was easily spotted, a rusty, welcoming sign over its front door. Hermione pushed inside before Draco could open the door for her, and she saw him grit his teeth and take a deep breath. Good, so he was upset too.
Silently, they sat across from each other in the corner, only a handful of other people in residence. Steaming mugs of coffee sat untouched on the table, as Hermione stared out the window and Draco stared at Hermione.
“Granger-“ Draco started, but Hermione cut him off.
“Do you regret touching me?” She turned her fiery gaze on him, her cheeks pink.
Draco’s eyes widened. “No… no! Why would you think that?” He tried to reach across the table for her hand but she moved it to her lap. He sat back, sighing.
“As soon as we… as I… was back to myself, when I tried to…” Godric, this was hard. “When I reached for you, you jumped away like I was… L-like you didn’t want me to touch you.” In a softer voice, she added, “Like I was dirty.”
She could see in his facial expression when understanding clicked into place. He smiled impishly. “No, Granger, that’s not it at all. I regret nothing.” He leaned in closer, dropping his voice an octave, his eyes glowing. “This morning, what we did, it ranks in the top three moments of my life.”
“Then why did you pull away from me? I wanted to return the favor.” Her cheeks darkened. She wasn’t used to talking about sex this openly, and especially not in public.
Draco clearly did not share that sentiment. He smiled, this time a sinful grin. “Hermione Jean Granger.”
Hermione sat straighter upon hearing her full name.
He let out a ragged breath, licking his lips. “The way you felt… The way you tasted… fucking hell, Granger, I was one single graze away from exploding in my pants. That’s why I jumped away from you and into the shower. One stroke and I came undone. I took so long in there because I had to get myself off twice more to feel like I could function without trying to jump your bones.”
Hearing these words in his low voice, his heavy gaze on her, caused a deep throbbing to start between her legs. “Why didn’t you want to… to jump my bones?”
“Because, Granger, when we do shag, I plan on us spending a significant amount of time exploring each other’s bodies. And there was no way I was going to fuck you in that child sized bed. The first time you get a proper fuck from me, it’ll be in my bed, under my roof, where I can spend hours finding out every way to make you come.”
Hermione’s face flushed an even deeper red, the throbbing intensifying. Merlin, was she turned on right now.
As if sensing what he was doing to her, he scooted in closer to the table, sliding one long leg between hers. “You just let me know when you’re ready for that.”
Just then, the waitress dropped off two plates of food.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Without breaking eye contact with Hermione, Draco said, “Just the bill. Thanks.”
After breakfast, ignoring the ache in her core, Hermione requested they travel back to the farm house, so they can do one more walk through before returning to England. Draco obliged, apparating them to a field nearby. The coroner was long gone, the house covered in police tape, devoid of activity. The walls of the main room still held a light magical residue, but the rest of the house felt empty. Satisfied they hadn’t missed anything, Draco apparated them back to Rathdowney. One of the local pubs had a floo they could use to start their journey home.
Before they made it down the street, Hermione was pulling Draco into a shop that sold electronics. His eyes were huge, overwhelmed by all the different devices. She sent him to wander amongst the aisles while she spoke with the clerk. Fifteen minutes later, she brought him over to the counter as the clerk set up their brand-new mobiles, giving Draco a basic lesson on how to place a call and send a text. Hermione preprogrammed her number into his phone.
“Next time you need to wake me up in the middle of the night, you can call me. I’m much more likely to wake to ringing instead of knocking, and it’s more efficient than an owl.” Hermione grinned at him, slipping her phone into her bag. They stepped out onto the street.
“That will only work if you keep your phone on your nightstand, next to your wand, Granger.” He stared at the screen for another half minute. “How can we be sure this will work in the wizarding world?”
Hermione answered promptly. “I have a spell for that. It’s the same spell I used for my coffee maker. When we get back, I can set the phones up.”
Dropping his new phone into his pocket, he put an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “You’re amazing, you know that?” She leaned into him, feeling the happiest she’s felt in ages.
Suddenly, Draco threw his hood up, and grabbing Hermione’s hood, pulled it over her head as he slammed her back against the closest building. He leaned in close, panting slightly, their breath mingling, before his eyes fluttered shut. He closed the distance and pressed his lips gently to hers, once, and again before increasing the pressure. Hermione felt the ache come soaring back and she grabbed the front of his coat, pulling him closer. Slanting her head sideways, she opened her mouth to him, and his tongue darted in, licking at hers. Hermione moaned as Draco grabbed her jaw, drawing her face up for a better angle while caressing her hip with his other hand. After a few long strokes of his tongue, he eased back, gently biting her lower lip between his teeth before stepping only inches away.
“As far as first kisses go, I’d say that one blows all the others out of the water,” Hermione drawled, her head swimming. Despite the activities of the morning, their lips hadn’t met until now.
“As much as I want to say it was motivated by sheer desire, I had to make sure we weren’t seen.” Hood still up, Draco craned his neck behind him. When he turned back to her, he was transfigured as Boucher. “Keep your hood up and walk next to me, and do not panic.”
He grabbed her hand, turning them in the opposite direction of the pub, and they walked along the rows of buildings. Hermione had yet to see what the fuss was about, but if he was in disguise, something must be concerning.
“Malfoy, please give me a hint as to what’s going on,” she pleaded in a whisper.
“I just spotted Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey leaving the pub. I don’t think it’s a coincidence two former Death Eaters are in this small town the same day an entire Muggle family is mysteriously murdered by magical means.” Draco turned his head slightly, looking at her. He discreetly pulled out his wand, pointing it at her face. He murmured under his breath, and she detected her hair shifting, her nose twitching.
She tightened her grip on his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Just a few changes to be sure they won’t recognize you.” Draco’s wand disappeared up his sleeve and he was back to facing forward. “We need to follow them, and if they saw either one of us, the real us, who knows how they might react.”
They tracked them to the edge of town, in the direction of the farmhouse. As soon as Flint and Pucey were outside of town proper, they apparated away. Unable to follow any longer, Draco turned to Hermione, his face unreadable.
“We need to get back home. I have some work to do.”
Hermione didn’t love the cold look in his eyes, the hard set to his jaw. “What’s the plan, Malfoy?”
He looked down at her, and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “I have some errands I need to run. You need to report to Potter immediately, tell him what we found. And get that chalice into the lab. This is starting to look like my old friends are up to something, and I want answers.”
Nodding against his chest, Hermione sensed his search for the truth might take him to a world he no longer belonged in. Or, she worried, one he might get lost in.
Chapter 15: Schemes and Things
Summary:
Time to meet Pansy and Neville!
Notes:
Song rec: Eat Your Young by Hozier
Chapter Text
22 October 2008
They popped out of her floo around noon on Tuesday. While Hermione took both of their phones into the kitchen to do the necessary spell work, Draco double checked all of her wards, reinforcing where he felt there could be weaknesses. After fifteen minutes, Draco said his goodbyes with another toe-curling kiss, promising to message her that night through his new device.
Apparating directly into his rooms, Draco quickly sent out three owls, requesting a meeting in two hours. While waiting for responses, he allowed the first act of the morning to replay in his mind. Waking up to her cuddled against him, surrounded by her sweet scent, it felt like a dream. Unreal. Watching her fall apart was the most exquisite sight he’d ever witnessed. He would never forget the dulcet sounds she made or her incredible taste. He ached to experience it all over again, to explore more. In the privacy of his own room, he took himself in hand, allowing himself to drown in the memories, giving in to the pleasure.
Within a half hour, he received his replies, all in the affirmative. Reluctantly, he left dreamland and brought his thoughts back to the current task. Needing to take his best friend with him to the meeting, he searched the property for Theo before finding him having lunch with his mother.
“Hello, mum,” he greeted Narcissa, with a peck on the cheek. “Hi Theo,” this greeting paired with a slug to the shoulder. He sat down at the table and snagged a cucumber sandwich off the center plate.
“Shouldn’t you be at the Ministry, dear? It’s the middle of a work day.” Narcissa looked her son over, checking for anything amiss.
“Field day.” He smiled, taking a bite. “I have some meetings to attend later, and I need to take Theo with me. Hopefully you two didn’t have a full day planned.” Draco switched his gaze over to Theo, who was looking at him askance.
“You need me for a meeting today?”
“I do, very soon. So, unfortunately, you’ll need to finish up lunch in haste.” Draco popped the last of the sandwich in his mouth, standing up. “Meet me in the lab.”
Theo found Draco rummaging around the cabinets in the potions room when he came down ten minutes later. Spying a parchment and quill on the table, he peeked at the sheet. Dittany, knotgrass, Mandrake root, wormwood, and lion’s mane were written in Draco’s perfect aristocratic handwriting.
“Are we heading to Longbottom’s for some shopping?”
“Yes, but that’s not all.” Draco turned around, holding a glass jar with ‘Essence of Greg’ written on the side. “What is this?”
Theo grinned. “It’s some hair from an ex-boyfriend. I like to be him when I polyjuice myself and go into the city.”
Draco looked closer at the contents. “Theo, are these…” He set the jar down so fast he almost tipped it over. “Are those pubic hairs?!”
Staring off dreamily, Theo sighed. “Yeah, he let me shave him and keep them. He thought I had some weird fetish. He was a Muggle, had no idea what I could use them for.”
Draco was scrubbing his hands on his robes, shuddering. “Do you think you could keep them, oh, I don’t know, anywhere else other than our supply cabinets?”
Theo scrunched up his brow. “But they’re literally supplies for my potion?”
“Theo, it’s gross. You shaved these off of some guy’s dick.” Draco was now scourgifying his hands.
Theo clicked his tongue. “Draco. You have a dick, you know that’s not where the hair grows.”
“THEO! Are you daft? It’s disgusting!”
“If you think pubic hair is gross, you clearly haven’t been having enough sex.”
“That’s, ugh, that’s not the point.”
“Maybe I should owl Granger, see if she’ll give you a pity fuck.”
“I swear to Merlin, do not do that or I’ll cut off your balls.”
Theo walked over to the cabinet, leaning up against the side. “You wouldn’t. You’d have to touch my pubic hair and we both know you clearly won’t do that.”
“Is this what it’s like to have siblings? Fucking hell!”
Theo cocked his head, then changed the subject. “Where were you last night?”
“What do you mean, where was I? I had to report to a crime scene. In bloody Ireland.”
“It doesn’t take that long to floo to Ireland and back.” Theo narrowed his eyes. “Did you have Granger with you?”
“Of course I did. We’re partners.” Turning back to the cabinets, Draco continued to check ingredient levels.
“How long were you at the crime scene? A couple hours?”
“About.” Draco added milk thistle to the parchment.
“Did you stay at her place, afterwards?”
Moving over to the next set of cupboards, Draco yanked the first one open with more force than necessary. “What’s with the inquisition, Theo?”
“You smell like vanilla.”
Draco stopped moving. Flashes of Hermione from that morning filled his mind, her vanilla perfume filling his nose.
“Busted. When were you going to tell me?” Theo threw his arms around Draco, giving him a squeeze. “You finally got your girl!” Theo leaned back, and gave him a stern look. “You do realize you’ll need to get over your aversion to pubic hair if you plan on sleeping with her.”
“Oh, sod off, Theo.” Draco was smiling at this point. “I don’t have a problem with her pubic hair.”
“Oooh, details, please.” Theo jumped up on the table, sitting cross legged.
“Absolutely not.”
“Aw, you’re no fun.”
“Just know I now have plenty of material for the wank bank when I need it.”
“This is just so exciting! You’ve been pining after her for years. YEARS.”
“Not because I am refusing to talk to you about it,” he was, “but we have other things we need to discuss.”
“I’m all ears.” Theo leaned forward, his head resting on his hands as Draco went over the events of the last 12 hours, minus the time spent in bed with Hermione. Theo’s face showed a range of emotions as the story unfolded. Wild disbelief at the weird images of the chalice and the bloodless family, rage at hearing that Finnegan called him a Death Eater, and cold calculation upon noting his discovery of Pucey and Flint in town.
“So. You have a plan?” Theo asked, his hands templed in his lap.
After one last read-through, Draco tucked the list in his pocket. “I have some ideas.”
“I’m assuming this meeting will be to flesh those out?”
“Indeed.”
“Good.” Theo climbed down off the table, grabbing the jar of pubic hair. “I should tell you, Flint reached out to me a couple days ago, asking for potions.”
Draco gave him a slow grin. “Well, that could help us out here, couldn’t it?”
“Add it to the ideas pile.”
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When they walked into the greenhouse on Longbottom’s property, Neville was elbows deep in the soil under a large devil’s snare. The plant was thrashing above him, but surprisingly not trying to strangle him. Draco and Theo kept well away, and quiet, not wanting to interrupt what looked like a fragile situation. They could hear Neville murmuring in a soothing tone to the plant as he worked.
“Isn’t that just one of the sexiest things you’ve ever seen?” Pansy Parkinson strolled up, making herself at home between the two wizards. Smaller than Hermione, Pansy was the definition of pint sized, but she housed enough vitriol and sass for all of the people in their friend group. Draco always found it strange she was in love with the subdued giant in their midst.
“Hiya, Pans!” Theo gave her a squeeze from the side and kissed the top of her head. He was the only wizard Draco knew who could regularly get away with kissing everyone’s partners and not end up with a black eye.
Pulling a brown root free from the soil, Neville finally stood, covered head to toe with dirt. The plant’s movements slowed as it started to coil around itself. Tossing the root into the far corner, Neville picked up a large tarp and threw it over the plant before turning our direction. Pansy sighed dreamily when he gave her a toothy smile.
As he approached, he nodded at Draco and Theo. “Sorry, we’re going to have a little bit of a late start. I need to wash up.”
“I’ll help,” Pansy cooed, following Neville towards the small cottage on the property.
Blaise walked up to them from the far side of the greenhouse, eyes following Pansy and Neville. “What’s going on there?”
Draco smirked. “Pans is going to climb him like a tree in the shower. We have some time to kill.”
An hour later, Neville’s hair still wet and Pansy’s cheeks still flushed, they gathered around a table in Neville’s kitchen. Draco went over the same events he discussed with Theo earlier that day with nearly identical reactions from the newcomers. Everyone had heard about the Muggle murder spree that was taking over Europe, but the mass murder of a whole family was new. He left out all mention of Hermione, and the fact he was working undercover, just let them assume he was being pulled in from the French Ministry to assist.
“Has to be some sort of blood curse, don’t you think?” Blaise asked. “Using the chalice, I mean.”
“Feels a bit on the nose though.” Draco mused, rubbing a finger across his lips.
“Yeah, but if the shoe fits,” Theo added. “Though I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
Pansy cut in. “You know, my mother mentioned the library was missing some books on spells.”
The four men turned to her. She raised her chin and continued.
“And when she says spells, it’s possible they’re curses, or blood rituals.” She grimaced. “And she told me she’s dating Dolohov.”
Draco peered at her sharply. “I thought he was dead.”
“A lot of people think you’re dead, but you aren’t. And his body was never accounted for after the war.” Blaise raised his eyebrows at him. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he was involved in killing Muggles. Not sure what his endgame would be, though.”
“Pansy, do you think you could find out what books were taken? Your library has a log, right?” Draco bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. “I bet the manor’s library would have copies of the same books. We could read through them, perhaps find out what spell or ritual they used for the murders.”
Neville gave Draco a hard stare. “If Dolohov is at her mother’s estate, I don’t want Pansy anywhere near there.”
Pansy placed a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. “Nev, I would take you with me. He wouldn’t touch me if you’re there.” Neville softened a little, giving her a small smile.
“Okay then.” He kissed her forehead. “Malfoy, if I come across him when we’re at the estate, anything specific you want me to do?” During the war, Neville hadn’t been afraid to fight fire with fire, using unforgivables as needed. He came out the other side with Slytherin-like morals, and wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty when necessary.
Draco took out a stoppered vial and handed it to Neville. “Here’s some of the advanced veritaserum Theo and I brewed up. Two drops in his drink and he’ll tell you his deepest, darkest desires. Ask him anything you think might help.”
“Got it.” After placing the serum in his pocket, Neville pulled Pansy into his lap, tucking her against his chest. She landed with a squeak, smiling up at him.
Draco turned to Blaise next. “This ask is a bit delicate, so you can say no if you’d like.” Blaise steeled himself. “Your wife has a vast network of social connections, thanks to her event planning career. I’d like Daphne to put out some feelers, maybe implying she’s still loyal to the Death Eater’s cause, see if she gets any bites. It’s risky, but her parents were notoriously high in the organization. It wouldn’t be a stretch for people to believe she’s in line with them.”
Leaning back in his chair, Blaise considered the request. “It wouldn’t be my choice, of course. If I’d known you wanted her involved, I would’ve brought her.” He sighed. “But she’s a bleeding heart, has been torn up about the murders. She’ll do it, I’m certain.” Blaise’s wife was quiet and reserved, but fierce in her determination and loyalty. After the war, she’d distanced herself from her family and spent time volunteering with Hermione at M.W.W.R.C. He knew as soon as Daphne heard Draco wanted her help, he wouldn’t be able to keep her away.
“Excellent. Thanks, Zabini.” Removing the list from his pocket, Draco spoke to Neville. “Theo has an in with Flint. He’s asking for more potions, so we need a reup on some ingredients.”
Plucking the list from Draco’s fingers, Neville nodded. “Consider it done. I’ll have everything delivered tomorrow morning.”
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Hermione sat across from Harry in his office, noticing his dark circles appeared a deeper shade of purple than even a day ago. She’d just finished reporting the events of Ireland, conveniently leaving out that she stayed in a one room shack with Draco and he gave her the best orgasm of her life. Despite being best friends, she was certain he didn’t want the sordid details.
“They’re escalating. An entire family? We really need to figure this out. The death toll is too high as it is, and it sounds like it’s going to get much worse if we don’t stop them soon.” Harry sighed. “Be sure to send a report to Thomas today, so he can get people researching the family. And blood curses.”
“I think Byrne already sent one in, but I can add the details about spotting Pucey and Flint in Rathdowney.” She took a deep breath. “I have one more thing to talk to you about.” Dreading their next topic, she twisted her hands in her lap.
“There’s more?” Harry rubbed his temples. “I’m listening.”
“This is more… personal. For both of us.” Harry’s eyes snapped up. “Oliver approached me last night, in the atrium as I was trying to leave.”
“Bloody hell. What happened?” Harry reached into his desk to grab an occurrence report form.
“He was upset about being removed from the task force. Blamed me for having your favor because, and I quote, ‘you used to suck Potter’s cock when you were teens and he’d do anything for you.’”
Seeing the moment the words registered, Hermione took in the outrage that filled Harry’s eyes. “That fucking wanker! I want to strangle him with my bare hands!”
“You and Malfoy both.”
“He was there?”
“He walked up right as Oliver said that to me.” Shifting in her seat, she let out a deep breath. “He was holding him above his head. I thought he was going to throttle him.”
“Why didn’t he?” Harry asked, his face red with anger.
Intrigued, Hermione gave him a studying look. “You would’ve let that slide?”
Harry huffed. “I would’ve had to write him up, but I would have also thanked him. No one should ever talk to you that way, Hermione.”
She pondered if Harry and Draco were starting to form a friendship, or at the very least, an understanding. At the game night, she’d overheard Draco invite him out for pickup quidditch, but they were several firewhiskeys deep, and alcohol fueled plans didn’t always come to fruition. If she and Draco continued down the path they started on this morning, she would need to have her best friend on board. She didn’t want to live in a world where her partner and her friends didn’t get along.
“He seems to care about me. Wants to protect me. It’s strange, considering our history.”
Harry gave her a knowing smile. “He’s obsessed with you, Hermione. He spent the entire night Saturday watching your every move.”
“That can’t be true.”
“It is.” Harry paused, sitting upright, his emotions back in check. “Just be careful. It seems like he’s changed, but he’s only been back in our lives for a couple of weeks. I don’t want another Oliver situation on our hands.”
Hermione knew he was nothing like Oliver, but she decided to let Harry figure that out on his own. “Speaking of Oliver,” Harry’s eyes grew a shade darker. “Can you walk me to the vaults? I need to drop off the chalice and Malfoy is out doing… well, I don’t know, talking to his contacts, I guess. And I don’t want to risk running into him by myself.”
“Anything for you. Let’s go now before someone else needs me and I get trapped.
Later that night, as promised, Hermione received her first text message from Draco.
She set her phone on her dresser, laughing to herself, as she snuggled into bed for the night.
Chapter 16: Mors Incremento
Summary:
Another crime scene, and some classic overthinking
TW: murder, blood, panic attacks
Notes:
Song Recs: See You Again by Wiz Khalifa and Charlie Puth, Fools in the Rain by Led Zeppelin
Chapter Text
23 October 2008
A loud ringing noise filled Hermione’s bedroom. She was so tired, it needed to stop. Eyes still closed, she flung her arm out at her bedside table, trying to find the source. Her hand connected with something cool and rectangular. Oh, her new phone, that had to be it. She pulled it close to her face, seeing the obnoxious photo Draco took of himself at the shop staring back at her, and noted in the corner of the screen the time was 3:17 am. Rolling her eyes, she pressed accept.
“What?” she mumbled into the receiver, startling a bit when she heard her voice echoing back to her.
“Rise and shine, Granger. We have work to do.” She saw through the moonlight Draco was standing next to her bed, the phone at his ear. Hermione disconnected the call and threw her pillow at him.
“Perhaps I wasn’t clear about the mobiles. You’re supposed to call before you come over.”
“But then I wouldn’t get a chance to watch you sleep first. Lumos.” Her lamp lit up the room. “Plus, I needed to check if you were really keeping your wand and mobile next to you at night, like you promised.”
She took in the navy suit he was wearing that fit like glove. Merlin, he truly was built like a Greek god. She felt warmth forming in her core at just the sight of him.
“As you can see, I was a good girl, both right where they should be. Now this work we need to do… Does that involve exploring my body?” Hermione gave him her best bedroom eyes, rolling over onto her side seductively.
Draco’s eyes darkened and he fisted his hands at his side, taking a long inhale through his nose. “As much as I would like to crawl into that bed with you and do just that, there’s been another incident.” He closed his eyes, drawing in another slow breath. “Besides, I said my bed, not yours.”
Patting the space next to her, she bit her lip. “Are you sure? You’re already here.”
Exhaling, he looked at only her eyes. “I am going to head downstairs and… compose myself. Join me when you’re dressed.”
“Fine,” Hermione pouted.
Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside of a house in Birmingham with Katarina and Charles.
Charles gave them the rundown. “Three victims this time, and one survivor. Two children and were found deceased in their beds. The mother was found in the kitchen by the grandmother, who had been asleep upstairs and woke up when she heard a commotion. By the time she came downstairs, the woman was dead on the ground next a large misshapen vase. No one else was on the premises when she came down, no evidence of a break-in. Grandmother swears the vase isn’t one they owned.”
“Okay. I’d like to see the vase. I’m hoping no one has touched it yet.” Hermione took out her thick protective gloves from her bag.
“No, we haven’t let any crime scene investigators in yet. We were waiting for you two. Boucher, you think you can do your mind trick?” Charles asked, walking them inside.
“I’ll try my best.” He already had his flask in hand, ready.
When they entered the kitchen, a woman was lying crumpled on the ground, her skin so pale it was translucent. Next to her was the silver vase, scrunched in on itself. Hermione knelt down, and gently lifted the item off the ground. Just as with the chalice, there were no visible markings or engravings. Though the vase wasn’t cracked, small fissures had formed near the bent areas. It appeared to be comprised of pure silver, though further testing would need to be done to confirm. Removing another hat box from her bag, she carefully placed it inside and sealed the lid. She tucked the box under her arm and stood, joining the team.
“I’ll get it to the lab today, start some testing. Definitely can feel something dark radiating off of it.”
“Looks like I’m up.” Draco grimaced, then took a swig from his flask. He crouched down next to the woman and placed her head in his hands. Unlike the last time, where he had to search through the muck, a flash of light immediately floated into his vision and he focused on it. An outline of a man was visible in the kitchen, though he was backlit by the incoming moonlight from the window, and his face was shadowed. From what he could determine, he was of average height and thin, not bald, likely with short cut hair. Another image bubbled up showing the man setting the vase on the ground, his wand in his hand. In this image he could clearly see dark hair, either a deep brown or black, and his skin was a lighter color. He waited for another picture to rise up, but nothing came. Draco tried pushing through the darkness, but there were no more pinpricks of light.
“Any success?” Charles had his notebook out, poised to write. Draco gave him his insight, short as it was. Charles mentioned the children were in positions that implied they died in their sleep, but Draco decided to try checking their minds anyways. He had no luck with either.
“Okay, well that’s done. We do have the grandmother heading to the Muggle police station for questioning. Katarina and I are planning on making our way there, if you two would like to follow.” Hermione and Draco locked eyes, and she gave him a small nod.
“Lead the way.”
At the station, the frail grandmother, named Mary Barnes, sat wrapped in a blanket, a cup of tea in her hands. Charles sat across from her, his gray suit rumpled, tie undone with a stoic Draco at his side. They were in a bare interrogation room with a one-way mirror, and Katarina, Hermione, and Officer Joseph Watson watched on from the other side. Joseph was the squib who called in the event, and he was able to wrangle a private interrogation room for them, telling the squad they were NCA. Of the three aurors, Charles had the best bedside manner, so he was chosen to go through the necessary questions with Mrs. Barnes.
“Okay, from the top, tell me everything you experienced prior to calling us. And take your time, I know this is hard.”
With shaky hands, she set down her teacup and wrapped her blanket tighter around her. “Is it always so cold in here? How do you stand it?”
“We drink a lot of tea,” he said, giving her a small smile.
“You’d have to.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I woke up, I think it was around 12:30am, because I heard clattering. As I got out of bed, I heard a strange whooshing sound, and then Annette started screaming.”
“And you’re certain it was Annette?” he asked gently.
“I am. I’ve heard her wails before, when her husband died. He was my son, you know.” Her eyes were watery, but she sniffed and continued. “We lost him 2 years ago.”
“I am truly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Barnes. No one should ever have to lose a child. Or grandchildren, for that matter.” Charles reached across the table and squeezed her shoulder.
“He really is good with people, isn’t he?” Hermione asked out loud.
Katarina nodded. “He’s always the good cop, if you know what I mean.”
Back in the interrogation room, Mary continued. “I peeked in on the children, but they looked like they were asleep, so I went downstairs. And that’s when I found her, on the floor in the kitchen.” Not able to hold it in any longer, tears began to fall down her cheeks. “I tried to wake her up, but she was so cold. Dead. There was no one else in the kitchen, or anywhere else in the living area. I called for help, but I knew in my heart she was already gone. I… I thought we could spare the children seeing her like that, so I didn’t even go back upstairs to wake them. That policeman who came first, he went to check, and…. And he’s the one who… who told me… they were gone too.”
Her words were now broken up by intermittent sobs. Charles handed her a tissue, squeezing her shoulder again before sitting back to let her cry.
“They were all I had left! Who could do this? How? WHY?” She had her face in her hands. Scooting his chair to the other side of the table, Charles put his arm around her.
“Just let it out. We will do everything we can to find the people responsible, I promise.” He looked over at Draco, who shook his head.
“She doesn’t know anything... Is that what Malfoy is saying?” Hermione inquired.
“Boucher, yes.” Katarina quirked up a corner of her mouth. “So, you know too.”
“Ugh, yes, I keep slipping up. Don’t tell him I did that, please.” She squinted at Katarina. “Wait, is he using legilimency on her? Isn’t that illegal?”
“With Muggle investigations, it’s a gray area. And Boucher is so smooth, the memories aren’t disturbed or destroyed and most people cannot tell anyone was in their head.”
“He really is smooth.” Since she had the opportunity to watch him unabashedly, Hermione studied Draco. Really studied him. She took in his flawless, porcelain skin, his angular features, his perfectly tousled white-blond hair. His silver eyes were at this moment empty and stony, but she knew could brim with emotion, glittering like gems. She ran her eyes down from his wide shoulders to his long graceful fingers, and shivered thinking about what those fingers had done to her not that long ago.
“Huh.”
Hermione turned her attention to Katarina to find her already facing her.
“You fancy him.”
Hermione felt her cheeks heating, but she stayed silent.
Katarina smirked. “He is quite handsome. A real catch, as they say. But, fair warning, for as long as I’ve known him, he doesn’t date.”
Hermione felt a pang in her chest at that. “He… doesn’t date? At all?”
“Well, he sees women from time to time, but as far as I know, it’s only ever casual. We are pretty close, so I would think he would tell me about a girlfriend.”
Hermione’s heart began to sink. “Did the two of you ever…?”
Katarina barked a laugh. “Oh, no, never. My wife would murder me.”
A tiny bubble of relief.
“She thinks he’s not over an ex. I think he just likes playing the field. We have a bet between us as to how long before a witch can capture his heart.”
Not over an ex? Playing the field? Neither option was what Hermione wanted to hear. She didn’t know if she wanted to be his girlfriend, but she also doesn’t want to get further along in… whatever they were starting and not have the option. Maybe Tuesday was a mistake. This is Draco fucking Malfoy. He probably just wanted to sleep with her so he could brag to his friends he’d bagged the Golden Girl. She was just going to be another notch on his bedpost.
By the time Charles and Draco met them outside of the interrogation room, Hermione had spiraled so far down the rabbit hole she was close to hyperventilating. She didn’t take in anything that was discussed, and refused to make eye contact with Draco. When he tried to put a hand on her back to guide her out of the station, she jumped so far to her right to avoid him, she nearly knocked over Charles. Pretending she needed the loo, she ran into a stall, and sat down to breathe. She dug through her bag and found a single dose of calming potion and downed it.
“Hi, Granger, are you ok?” Katarina’s voice echoed off the tiled walls.
“I-I’m fine. I just get panic attacks sometimes. I took a draught, just need a minute for it to kick in.” Hermione forced herself to slow her breathing, counting in her head.
When she exited the stall a couple minutes later, Katarina was waiting for her. “He sent me in after you. He looked worried.” She smiled. “Perhaps he fancies you too.”
Yeah, he fancies an easy lay. She’d been putty in his hands, giving in and letting him touch her after only two weeks of flirting. Two weeks of flirting but many years of bullying. What is wrong with her? Was she so starved for connection that she gave in to the first man to show her any romantic attention? She took a deep breath. She needed to stop this train of thought right now.
“We knew each other, as children, he’s probably just sentimental.” Hermione checked her reflection in the mirror, making sure her face was a normal color again.
“Really? So, you’ve been friends a long time?” Katarina had her head cocked, like she was puzzling out something.
Hermione laughed. “Oh no, not friends. We hated each other.”
“Love and hate are both powerful emotions, two sides of the same coin.” Katarina raised her eyebrows, a grin on her face.
Hermione just shook her head and started walking towards the door. “I think we’ve made them wait long enough, yeah?”
Draco apparated them to just outside the ministry. Hermione was quiet, pretending to be tired to avoid conversation with him. He escorted her to the vaults, where she deposited the vase for safekeeping. She knew she should work today, spend some time in the labs studying the vase and chalice, but her heart wouldn’t be in it. Instead, she faked a headache, and said she needed to take the day off. Draco could tell something was amiss, but he chose not to question her. They went to the atrium where he bought her a to-go coffee, and he made sure she safely exited via floo before heading out himself.
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Arriving home, Hermione found Crookshanks howling at the window.
“What’s all the fuss about?” Reaching down to pet him, he shifted away from her hand, still focused on the window. “Oh, fine, I’ll check, okay?” She moved the curtain to the side and found a large owl staring back at her. “Well, that’ll do it.”
She plucked the scroll from his leg and gave him some nuts for the road. Opening the message, she saw it was from one of her associates at M.W.W.R.C.
While a theft in itself was alarming, Hermione was concerned with what a thief would want with that data. It included their Muggle-born status, current home location, occupation, and their Muggle family’s information. Didn’t Katarina say at the last briefing that all but two of the victims had wizarding world connections? This couldn’t be a coincidence. How long ago did the data go missing? Hermione grabbed her bag and ran to her floo. She would need to contact Daphne when she arrived at headquarters, to have her help sort through this mess. Archie was a lovely person, but his organizing skills were atrocious. Daphne’s management skills were top tier, plus she knew she could trust her with anything.
The M.W.W.R.C. headquarters was in a small office building off of Diagon Alley. When Hermione arrived, the offices were in a state, boxes and paperwork scattered everywhere, as if a tornado had ripped through. Archie and the two of her regular volunteers were picking up parchment, scrolls and folders and sorting them into boxes and haphazard piles on the desks in the main corridor. Hermione had stopped by the owlery down the street to send for Daphne, and looking at the mess before her, hoped she could come straight away.
Setting down her bag on the closest desk, Hermione pulled out a notebook and a quill and sighed. “Okay, Mr. Baskins, fill me in.”
Archie was an older gentleman, well past retirement age, but still had his health and a desire to keep busy. His late wife had been Muggle-born, so he felt very passionate about the cause. When he had approached her about volunteering with the organization, she decided to have him manage the records keeping department, assuming it would be the easiest job, little to do but basic paperwork filing and note transcribing. Now she was wondering if she had underestimated the importance of the job, that giving him that responsibility had been a mistake on her part.
“Well, about a month ago, I arrived to open up the office and found the door ajar. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, only assumed that I must’ve forgotten to lock up. I’m getting older and I can be a bit absent minded.” He blushed, smiling sheepishly.
A month? A MONTH? And she was just being told now? How long had it been since she checked in with her team, her advisors? Her legislation board? Racking her brain, she realized it had been in the heat of summer, probably late July, so three months.
“We’ve been slow lately, all our litigation moving like molasses, tied up in technicalities in the Wizengamot. It’s been ten years since the war ended, so the Muggle-borns needing urgent assistance has dwindled down to a trickle. I haven’t had to file or pull anything in weeks, so I had no reason to check the file room until yesterday.” He shrugged his shoulders as if this wasn’t a huge deal.
Feeling her cheeks flushing with resentment at his flippant responses, Hermione forced herself to take a long, deep inhale to try to calm down. She has never been successful at keeping her emotions off of her face, and showing discontent right now wouldn’t help the situation. She waved at him to continue.
“We received a request from the court to pull documents from an older compensation record, so I went to the back of the room and saw several boxes were missing. No one admitted to taking them, and that’s when I remembered the day I found the door ajar and realized someone must’ve broken in. We pulled out everything to see what was still here to determine what had been stolen. That’s when we discovered it was the personal information for all of our clients, both their past and current records, like occupation, legal assistance granted, compensation received, and their Muggle family data. I owled you as soon as we were certain.”
Biting her tongue to keep a hate-fueled speech from leaving her mouth, she simply nodded at him. This was bad, very bad. The files had been taken prior to when the surge of Muggle deaths started, meaning they very well could have been using her data to track Muggle-born’s family members and attack them.
Just then the outside door opened and Daphne Zabini breezed in, all long willowy limbs and graceful movements. Her layered, dark blond hair was perfectly styled in cascading waves, and her emerald green dress was flowy, hitting just below mid-calf.
Hermione stood, giving her a tight hug and a peck on the cheek, while Daphne returned the favor.
“Thank you so much for coming. We are entering crisis mode and I really need your help.”
Daphne smiled, squeezing her hand. “What are friends for?”
Hermione turned back to Archie, irritation now evident on her face. “I appreciate your honesty here. This is not a good situation, for several reasons, so Daphne and I are going to the privacy of my office to strategize. Please get this mess cleaned up and have everything re-filed.” She turned away, not waiting for an answer, and picked her way through the boxes to the back, Daphne following. Once in the cramped space, Hermione closed the door, locking it and casting a muffliato charm.
She sat, leaning her head back and rubbing at her temples. “Ugh, Daph, this is not good.”
“Fill me in. What happened?” She grabbed a notebook and her quill from her bag.
“Well, apparently, we were broken into a month ago, and some files were stolen. At the time, Mr. Baskins assumed he had just left the place unlocked, and didn’t bother inspecting to look for a crime. He, as you know, is in charge of keeping up with the records, and realized only yesterday that some files had been taken. Turns out, it’s our records of every single Muggle-born’s personal information. I wasn’t notified until today, or I would’ve jumped on this sooner.”
Daphne frowned, jotting down a few notes. “Okay, well, that is a problem, but we can just send out notification of the breach. I can reach out to our legislation team to write something up.”
“If only it were that simple.” Hermione brought her head back up, meeting her eyes. “The Muggle murders that have been occurring? I would bet my entire vault's galleons that nearly all of those killed will have been connected to the Muggle-borns in our records.”
Daphne’s mouth dropped open, her face pale. “I see. Please tell me you have a back-up list.”
“Hold on to that thought.” Unlocking her top desk drawer, she removed a slim laptop. She popped it open, entering her passkey, and double clicked on a folder. Daphne didn’t flinch at seeing the Muggle technology, having been exposed by Hermione in the past. “Yes, here we go. I don’t have a way to print it off here, so we will need to re-write it by hand. Over ten years of information.” She groaned, her hand already cramping at the thought.
“Oh, Hermione, no we don’t. I have a spell for that. Do you think I plan my events strictly with a quill and parchment? My fingers would be knobby and ink stained, and that just wouldn’t do.” Daphne held her hand out for the computer, and Hermione gladly handed it over.
“There are scrolls and parchment in the corner here. If it’s possible, I need the list copied by tomorrow at noon, so I can present it at the briefing.”
“I’ll get it done.” She then looked closer at her friend, and a worried expression crossed her features. “Have you been sleeping? You look exhausted.”
“I’ve been up since just after 3am. I am exhausted.” Closing her eyes, she crossed her arms, laying them on her desk, her forehead right on top.
“Go home, get some rest. I can manage this here. I’ll send the final list to your office by owl in the morning.” She set the laptop on the edge of the desk, pulling out her wand.
“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?” Rising up, she hugged Daphne and exited the office.
Chapter 17: Dark Angel
Summary:
Dark Hermione is back, check the tags
TW: torture, blood, death, grief
Notes:
Song rec: Fuck Your Sunshine by Laszewo (Adventure Club Remix)
Chapter Text
23 October 2008
The hex hit her in the back of her shoulder, causing her to stumble and twist her ankle. Searing pain spread through her wand arm and her lower leg throbbed as she hit the ground, the grass unable to cushion the fall. She didn’t have time to process or deal with either right now.
Stop moving and you’re dead.
Hermione rolled onto her back, struggling to lift her arm, pointing her wand back towards the tree line. The Death Eater emerged, slowly stalking her way.
“Stupefy!”
He easily blocked her spell, sending a silent but painful slicing hex into her stomach. Hermione screamed in distress, crawling backwards. She could feel blood already seeping through her shirt.
“Stupefy!”
This curse went wide of the wizard, and he kept coming at her, same speed, almost leisurely. As if he wanted to take his time watching her suffer.
She raised her wand at the same time as him, but before either could send out another spell, he fell sideways in a splash of green light. Running out of the forest, Neville reached her in seconds.
“Hermione! Are you okay?” He dropped to his knees next to her.
“I’m hurt, Neville. Bad. I think this is it. I’m going to die. I’m bleeding out.”
Hermione jerked upright, her body sweaty and tense, her arms wrapped around her waist. Just another nightmare, just another memory. Forcing slow inhales through her nose, Hermione began counting, trying to calm down. Crookshanks, in tune with her misery, was head-butting her arm, his idea of comfort. She raised up her shirt, tracing over the faded scar where that curse had hit her. Neville had saved her life that day, first by killing the Death Eater attacking her, and a second time by apparating her immediately to a field hospital, where a med witch could heal her wounds. It had been a risk, as apparating with an injury can make things worse, like causing splinching, but for her it had been life or death.
The nightmares were getting more frequent, and she was waking up incrementally more terrified and unsettled each time. Would the torment of the war permanently haunt her? Could she ever find tranquility, or would her subconscious always revert back to her times of pain? Sorrow crashed through her, and a deep sob erupted from her throat. She wished at that moment for the warm embrace of Draco’s arms. How odd was it she already craved him after such a short time, his spicy scent, his perfect shoulders, his ridiculous flirting? Crawling into her lap, Crookshanks rubbed against her stomach, purring loudly. Taking in gulping, stuttering breaths, Hermione held her cat against herself tightly, and considered calling him. Snagging her phone off the end table, she opened up to his contact and held her finger over the call button, hesitating. The conversation with Katarina found its way to the forefront of her mind, and she dropped her mobile on the bed, screen dark.
A churning in her gut paired with a burning in her veins caught her attention. It was the urge trying to surface. She knew in her current state, she couldn’t fight it, wouldn’t be able to resist it. Trying to would only extend her own personal misery. She allowed it to rise, gaining in intensity until it took over, and her tears stopped, her breathing evened out. She knew this meant she needed to go out tonight, to satisfy the dark desire, and get some reprieve. Setting Crookshanks to her side, she slipped out of bed to prepare.
Three hours later, Hermione found herself walking through the loud club, her heart beating in time with the deafening house music. Known for its rampant drug scene and criminal activity, she chose this spot hoping to find an easy target. When she arrived a couple of hours ago, the crowd was sparse, and she sat in a corner sipping a cocktail, waiting for the place to fill up. It gave her time to work out some tentative strategies, depending on what was presented to her. Now, the place was full, booze flowing, sweaty bodies packed in like sardines. She’d worn a tight one shoulder dress, the single sleeve long enough to cover her personal dark mark, strappy high heels, flamboyant jewelry, and had twisted her curls away from her face. Tonight, she wanted to feel beautiful when she took a life.
She observed crowds of people in VIP sections, enjoying bottle service and watching the scantily clad women dance hypnotically in cages. She took in the large central dance floor, filled up with ostentatious people writhing against each other. A kaleidoscope of neon lights glinted off mirrors on the walls and ceiling, the only source of illumination outside of the dimly lit bar counters. It felt ethereal in here, dangerously seductive, like the atmosphere could swallow you whole. This place was a circus without a ringleader. She loved the chaos of it. If she wasn’t here on a specific mission, she knew she could lose herself in the crowd, letting the music guide her movements, dancing until her legs could no longer hold her up.
Scanning over the edge of the crowd, she found her target. She saw a couple dancing, the woman holding a drink, her other arm raised in the air, her eyes closed as she swayed with the music. The man deftly pulled out a small vial and tapped powder into her drink, the vial back in his pocket in a matter of seconds. She was reminded of her first murder, the man who had tried drugging her, and she was instantly fuming. Walking over to them, she pretended to trip, upending the woman’s drink right onto the shirt of the unscrupulous man.
“Oh, I am so sorry, sir, so sorry.” Hermione placed one hand over her chest. “I just lost my balance. It was truly an accident.”
The man looked furious, wiping at his expensive top. “You’ve ruined it, you know,” and Hermione wondered if he meant the shirt or the crime he wanted to commit. The woman barely noticed, already so pissed she just melted into the dancing crowd still holding the empty glass.
“Let me make it up to you. I work here, and we have some high-end bottles in the back. I can take you back there, and you can pick one, on the house. I’ll personally serve you all night, whatever you need.” Hermione leaned into him, pushing out her chest and running her fingers down his arm, giving him her most alluring smile.
His eyes narrowed slightly, unsure, but Hermione grabbed his arm and started guiding him towards the staff area. Once they were no longer facing the crowds, finding herself in a shadowed hallway, she halted, her target stopping with her. She had her wand resting just inside her sleeve, and she slipped it out enough to brush against his chest.
“Imperio.”
His body relaxed, his face falling slack.
“Follow me.”
Casting a disillusionment charm on them both, she walked into the back with him behind her, directing them into a stock room. After peeking through the shelves, ensuring they were alone, she shut the door, locking it with another spell. Rotating back around, she dropped her sexy façade and allowed the rage to fill her.
“Back up to the wall and place your hands above your head.” The man obliged, taking measured steps until he was flush with the wall, his arms reaching up. Hermione cast a strong sticking spell to hold each limb in place, followed by a silencing spell, so no one could hear him scream. Finally, she dropped the imperio curse, and she felt a thrill when trepidation filled his eyes.
“I saw what you did. With the powder. It looked practiced, so I’m guessing this isn’t the first time. What we’re you planning to do? Rape her? Traffic her? Kill her?” She raised her wand.
“Doesn’t matter which, I don’t really care, now that she’s safe from you. Crucio!”
His whole body quivered, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. Hermione basked in the terror he projected, wondering how many times he had seen that same horror in a woman’s eyes. The world would be better without him, without all men like him.
“Crucio!”
A single tear escaped from his wide eyes as a wet spot appeared on the front of his trousers. Hermione gave him a lopsided smile.
“Oh, you’ve made a mess.” She sauntered forward to within a few feet of him.
“Are you terrified?” A pregnant pause, a wicked smile.
“You should be.” She raised her wand, a devious glint in her eyes.
“Diffindo.”
A slice appeared across his cheek, the blood welling up and running down his jaw, small drops falling onto his wet shirt.
“Perhaps I’ll slowly bleed you out. Death by a thousand cuts. Diffindo.”
Another slice, the other cheek. Tears were now streaming through the blood on his face, his silent mouth pleading for mercy.
“Diffindo.”
This cut took off the tip of a finger.
“Diffindo.”
A shallow scratch down the side of his neck.
“Diffindo.”
The removal of an earlobe.
He was now panting with fear.
“You don’t deserve a swift death.” She sighed. “But I know someone will need in this room soon, so our time together must end.”
Backing up, she raised her wand, aiming at his chest.
“Sectumsempra!”
The curse slashed across his ribcage, cracking bones, opening his chest cavity to her. Blood poured out of him past broken ribs, splashing down his front, puddling near his feet instantly. He took several more breaths, the blood surging out with each exhale before he finally stilled. Hermione freed his limbs, and he fell to the floor with a wet smack. Digging inside her bag, she pulled out a playing card and dropped it on top of his body.
“Good riddance.”
Opening the door, she again cast a disillusionment charm over herself and walked back into the lights and sound of the club, making her way to the exit to return home.
Back in the stock room, Draco dropped his notice me not charm and stepped out of the shadowed corner. He stared down at the dead man, now engulfed in a lake of blood. He’d watched him try to drug the woman, and he agreed with Hermione’s assessment; this was far from his first time.
“Accio, card.” The playing card floated into his hand.
But once again, Hermione had used her own wand to cast dark spells. By the look in the man’s eyes when Draco slipped into the room, he’d been under an imperius curse. And the torture? Cruciatus curses and diffindos, the depraved build-up to her final blow, sectumsempra. Fueled by a righteous anger, like a gods damn vigilante, it had been… frighteningly, hauntingly beautiful.
Hermione Granger looked magnificent in shades of gray.
He shouldn’t be in awe of her after witnessing her torture and kill a man. But Merlin, he was. The bastard’s intentions were immoral, unethical. His actions, practiced and precise. Trafficking was common in the Muggle realm, he knew, and suspected that was the likely outcome for the inebriated woman had Hermione not intervened. She had swooped in like a dark angel, saving the woman and damning herself in the process.
All that aside, she needed to be more careful, or else she was going to be caught. Removing the cards would only go so far to cover for her. And this crime? Her target was taken in front of hundreds of Muggles, and she hadn’t hidden or altered her appearance. But unless he admitted he knew her darkest secret, and had been keeping that knowledge to himself, he didn’t know how he could help. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have that conversation, if ever.
Click, click, click.
Whipping his head back around, Draco saw the door handle jiggling.
A muffled voice called out, “Is someone in there?”
Draco disappeared with a crack.
Chapter 18: Flash Point
Summary:
Check those triggers, as always
TW: Abusive behavior, violence, blood
Notes:
If any of you have read my one shot The Distraction, it was an inspiration for the end of this chapter. *wink, wink*
Song recs: Nico and the Niners by Twenty One Pilots, bad guy by Billie Eilish
Chapter Text
24 October 2008
She should have waited to come into her office this Friday morning. Hermione had promised she would let Draco protect her, escort her, keep her safe. But she hadn’t seen Oliver all week, after Harry put him on administrative leave. She didn’t expect him to be waiting by the elevator doors on her very empty departmental floor.
She’d had trouble sleeping last night, thinking about the two murders she’d committed since the last briefing. Would they be discussed today? Had she left any evidence that could be tied to her? Why was she so damaged that the only way for her to feel alive was to take the lives of others? And what about the other murders… are they connected to M.W.W.R.C.? What would that mean for the future of her organization?
And the whole Draco situation. She was still torn on what he wanted. His actions showed interest, but their history was marred. Running through the facts and her suspicions over and over again was getting her nowhere. A discussion was essential. But would a conversation after one sort of hook-up be too overbearing? Would she come across needy? Was she needy? He’d changed, she could confirm that, and she could feel herself becoming besotted. But the last thing she wanted to do was fall for a man who only wanted something physical, or worse, just wanted to use her for his gains.
Knowing sleep was a lost cause, she decided to go into work early and throw herself into research. If Daphne had the list completed, she could start working through the known victims, seeing if they match her records. Perhaps she could finish before the briefing this afternoon.
When she stepped off the lift, two large hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her into the wall. Her head connected first, and she slid down to a sitting position in a daze as Oliver loomed over her.
“You’re done messing with my livelihood, Hermione.”
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Draco walked through the rose garden just before dawn, selecting a bright, fiery orange bloom. The crinkled edges of the petals gave the flower layers, just like the beauty he would present it to this morning. He had dressed in his dark blue suit, knowing she loved him in that color, and his hair was styled to perfection. He didn’t know what happened to cause the rift he felt between them after the trip to the Muggle police station, but he wanted to look as irresistible as possible.
Last night, he had witnessed a side of Hermione he knew existed but had never seen. He knew he should be horrified, but he wasn’t. It made him love her even more, something he didn’t think was possible. A woman with flaws, passion, and conviction. She was a type of savior, delivering lethal punishment to the monsters of this world, in a morally ambiguous and unconventional way.
His dragon leather boots crunched on the gravel as he made his way back to the manor. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he checked for any messages from her. None. Not that he expected anything, he was just hopeful. Considering dropping by her home to escort her to work, he decided to peek in on the spelled clips in her bag. Casting the tracking spell, his heart skipped a beat when he saw she had already arrived at the Ministry. Letting out a growl, he shoved his phone in his pocket. She had promised she wouldn’t be there alone, would let him protect her. She might think Oliver was done trying things now that he was officially on administrative leave, but Draco didn’t trust him to stay away. The man had proven he was a stalker and was unstable.
Draco apparated outside the ministry with a crack.
In less than a minute, the elevator doors opened on the DOMA office level and he saw Hermione cowering on the ground with Oliver standing over her.
“WHAT THE FUCK, WOOD?”
Oliver spun around, and he stumbled back, gasping. “Malfoy? You’re alive?”
It was at that moment Draco realized he hadn’t transfigured himself into Boucher in his haste to get to Hermione. A wicked smirk spread across his face. This was going to be even better, Oliver knowing it was him, not Boucher, who was about to rain down hellfire on his worthless arse.
The first punch connected with his eye socket in with a brutal thwack, and Oliver fell back against the wall. A satisfying crunch came with the next, blood spraying as his nose nearly flattened to his face. Oliver landed on his side with a cry, and Draco kicked him hard in the jaw with a spray of blood, and a few teeth were liberated. The next kick landed in his ribs, another to his abdomen.
Draco stood over him, silver eyes alight with hatred. Oliver was curled in the fetal position, whimpering, streaks of blood on his face. “I warned you, Wood. You’re lucky we’re in the Ministry, or you’d be dead.”
“What are you on about? I haven’t seen you since the war.”
He started to sit up and Draco put a boot on his chest, pushing him down on his back. Draco slipped into his Boucher persona, sneering down at him.
Oliver tried to wriggle out from under his foot. “Fuck, Hermione! You’ve been hiding a Death Eater in your office?”
Draco kicked his ribs again, harder this time. Oliver screamed, again curling in on himself.
Approaching Draco on shaky legs, Hermione watched Oliver, a sniveling, pathetic excuse for a man, with a look of disdain. She placed a clammy hand on Draco’s arm. His jaw tensed and he swung his head in her direction, expecting to see contempt, outrage at his actions. Instead, she looked up at him with need and adoration, and grabbed his shirt, pulling him down. Their lips met in a crushing kiss, teeth clashing, and Draco’s hand went to the back of her head, holding her in place. Draco moaned into her mouth as their tongues danced, and Hermione melted into him. He reached down and caressed her cheek as they broke apart, panting. Draco leaned his forehead into hers, eyes closed.
“Go to your office, Granger. Please. Let me clean this up, and I’ll be back.” He leaned down for one last kiss, this one featherlight and tender.
Hermione released his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles before stepping back and nodding. She picked up the rose Draco had dropped on the ground, sniffing it as she walked down the hall.
Attention back on the blubbering mess in front of him, Draco’s eyes grew hard again.
“Get the fuck up, you piece of shit.” He reached down, yanking him upright by his collar. “I think it’s time you, me, and Potter all have a chat together.”
Ten minutes later, Oliver sat in the Head Auror office, still bleeding, Draco bristling with hostility behind him, across from a fuming Harry.
“Malfoy, tell me again, blow by blow, what happened this morning.” Harry narrowed his eyes at Oliver. “I want to make sure I have it down, for my own personal memory.”
Draco placed his hands on the back of Oliver’s chair, leaning forward with a smirk. “I’ll do you one better and share my memory, save it in a vial for you to have as a keepsake.”
Lips curving upward, Harry crossed his arms across his chest, tilting back his chair. “Excellent. Now. What should we do with this rubbish in front of us?”
Prior to arriving in Harry’s office, Draco had bound Oliver’s arms and silenced him with a charm. Neither were removed when he slammed him into the chair, and he added binding to his legs to keep him from escaping. Now, Oliver sat quaking in front of the two wizards.
“Unfortunately, we can’t kill him.” Draco walked around the chair to lean against Harry’s desk, facing Oliver, whose tears had started up again.
“Unfortunately, not.” Harry took in a deep inhale. “There’s also the little problem of your face in his memories. We will need to obliviate him, but I would rather not have him lose the mental anguish of your beating.”
“Well, as you know, I’m an amazing legilimens.”
Harry groaned. “Really? You’re bragging about that now?”
Draco chuckled. “It’s important to my next point, Potter.” He stood up to his full height, hands in his trouser pockets. “I could easily alter his memories, removing or adding elements to fit the story we want to tell.”
A flicker of surprise crossed over Harry’s face. “Seriously, you can do that?”
“You’ve always underestimated me.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“Absolutely not.”
They grinned at each other before turning in unison to face Oliver. He was currently screaming against the silencing charm, begging for mercy.
“Here’s what I’m thinking. I’ll just blur the moments he saw me, essentially making myself anonymous, but still have him remember the attack. No need to heal his injuries then, either.” Draco sneered at Oliver, a calculating glint in his eyes.
“I like that. Do it.” Harry reached into the file box behind him. “While you work, I’ll officially fill out the paperwork to fire this fucking wanker.”
“A perfect plan.”
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Walking back onto the DOMA level, Draco vanished the leftover blood and teeth in the hallway. He took a minute to settle his thoughts before traipsing over to the office door. He was nervous. He didn’t know which Hermione he would see when he entered their office. She could be angry at him, having had time to rethink her reaction to his beating of Oliver. She could also be a sobbing mess, in a puddle of tears on her desk. Or perhaps she would be the confident, controlled woman most of the world saw, her personal disguise. When Draco finally laid eyes on her, she was none of the above.
A stack of parchment sat on the edge of her desk, and she was frantically reading over the top page. She had their task force case files laid out over the rest of the available desk space, and was intermittently glancing between them and going back to the parchment.
“What have you got there, Granger?” Walking around her desk, he caught the name of her reparations committee at the top of the sheet. He took in her solemn demeanor as she turned to face him.
“Well, there’s a chance the M.W.W.R.C. might be linked to the Muggle murders.”
Hermione gave Draco a rundown of the break-in, the stolen data, and her theory.
“Thank Godric I had a back up list on my laptop. Daphne transcribed it for me last night and sent it over this morning,” she said as she pointed to ream of parchment on her desk. “Any chance you want to help me go through it before the briefing today?”
“As soon as you explain what a laptop is,” he said, eliciting a weak smile.
They spent the entire morning and early afternoon checking every single name in the murder cases with her files, working through lunch. The results were grim. Hermione had been correct, there were only two known victims whose names were not associated with the M.W.W.R.C. through a Muggle-born wix. Both of those cases were playing card murders, which Draco knew were not technically connected anyways.
Shame and guilt racked Hermione’s features as she gathered up all of the data to take to the briefing.
"I've essentially gift wrapped a target list for some dark wizard out there." She looked broken, defeat and pain etched onto her face.
“This is in no way your fault, Granger. I can tell you’re blaming yourself. Don’t.” Draco reached for her but she sidestepped his advances.
“If I had been more careful with the records, better security on the building, a more responsible caretaker, this might not have happened.” She pressed the papers to her chest, staring at the floor.
“While searching the names, I read through the verdicts and settlements listed by each person. Your organization has helped hundreds of Muggle-borns and their families. You cannot allow the crimes of others to destroy all the good you’ve done.” Draco placed a finger under her chin, raising her eyes to his. “We will solve this case, and whoever is responsible will be punished. I will personally never give up until the victims and their families have justice. I swear it.”
Arriving at the briefing room, they took seats in the center, Hermione antsy about what she needed to present. Draco rested his hand on her bouncing leg under the table, gently rubbing the inside of her knee. Her movements stopped, her breathing slowing at his touch, and he kept his hand there until it was their turn to go over their weekly findings.
Dean called the meeting to start by announcing Minister Shacklebolt was again in attendance. He stood in the back of the space, arms crossed, clearly anxious for any updates. Seamus and Rowan were up first, discussing the bloodless bodies of the Irish farmhouse and the mysterious chalice found within. Katarina and Charles followed with their haunting tale of bloodless bodies and the crumpled vase in a suburb of Birmingham. Both teams left out Draco’s mind reading again, having likely been instructed to do so by Dean or Harry. Another set of aurors relayed finding a Muggle man avada’d in an alley. Through his grasp on her leg, he felt Hermione stiffen at the mention of the man. He watched her from the corner of his eye, and noted confusion on her face when there was no comment about finding a playing card with the body. Her other murder was not brought up in the briefing, meaning the crime hadn’t been reported as magical, at least not yet. Draco hoped it never was, as there were hundreds of potential witnesses that saw Hermione speaking with him before his tortured death.
Finally, it was their turn to speak. Giving one last reassuring squeeze to her knee, Draco stood and offered her a hand, which she accepted. Standing in front of the room, Hermione took a deep breath and started with the easiest topic first.
“As mentioned previously, two potentially cursed objects were found at crime scenes this week. I have unfortunately had very little time to study them, but thus far I can say they both have dark magic instilled into them, and whatever function they were designed for is no longer possible based on the damage to the vessels. They were likely part of a ritual using blood magic, though again I cannot confirm this yet. Perhaps they were built to be a one-time use, and once the damage was rendered, they became useless. I do plan on continuing testing to be certain.”
Hermione squared her shoulders, preparing herself for the next revelation.
“I did discover something in the past 24 hours that could help break this case open.” She took a trembling breath. Draco leaned into her just enough she could feel his body heat, hoping to calm her. “I was informed of a recent break-in and theft at my organization, The Muggle-born Witch and Wizard Reparations Committee. The only items stolen were personal data on the Muggle-born wix we’ve helped, including their Muggle familial data. Luckily, I had backup lists saved and was able to recover everything. This morning, Boucher and I cross referenced our team’s cases with the stolen information and found all but two of the victim’s names were in my records.” She took a shaky breath. “I believe whoever is attacking Muggles is using my organization’s information to pick their targets. My organization has helped hundreds of Muggle-borns and their families, and the potential victim list is in the thousands.”
Hermione could feel panic starting to rise, and tears were attempting to surface. As if he was in tune with her emotions, Draco brushed against her shoulder, taking over speaking.
“We believe it would be best to get copies of the lists dispersed to both Auror and Muggle departments throughout Europe, and if possible, set up surveillance or protection for the potential victims. Being that there are so many viable targets, it’s not necessarily feasible to do this with everyone. However, if we can start now, we may get lucky and catch a culprit in the act or even save a life.”
They handed the list off to Dean, who immediately called the meeting to a close. He promised updated information on everyone’s desk by the end of day, and he and Shacklebolt left together, presumably to find Harry and determine a plan.
"Boucher?" Seamus was walking over, alone, his face a mask.
Draco put himself between Seamus and Hermione out of habit. Whispering, Hermione poked his back. "Of all the wizards here, he's the least likely to hurt me." Draco didn't care, and didn't move.
"I heard about Wood." Stopped in front of Draco, Seamus held out his hand. "Thank you for being there for Hermione. She's a tough witch, but everyone needs help sometimes. Glad you stopped him."
The men heard a soft snort from behind Draco, but neither acknowledged it.
Shocked, Draco shook his hand firmly. He hadn't expected a thank you from Seamus, especially since he knew his true identity.
In a quieter tone, only loud enough for Draco's ears, Seamus continued. "And I met with Harry, who confirmed everything. Nice to have you on our side. Your secret is safe with me."
Who would've thought, another lion accepting him?
"Appreciate that, Finnegan."
With a curt nod, Seamus walked back over to his partner, who was conversing with Charles.
“I think we should spend the rest of the day in the lab. I really want to untangle the magical signatures on the vase and chalice. We’ve been so busy this week, I feel like I’ve been neglected my responsibilities.” Hermione was wringing her hands, worry in her eyes.
Turning around, Draco responded. “Whatever you think is best, Granger. To the lab we shall go.” Without a further glance around the room, they made their way to the vault level in silence.
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Many hours later, after yet another failed experiment, Hermione was beside herself with anxiety. They’d been working diligently since the end of the meeting with only one short break, when Draco had to force her to stop and eat. If Hermione had been alone, she would have skipped yet another meal, so she was grateful he was there.
“I’ve reached the end of my knowledge of blood magic. There just isn’t much here in the library or the archives, and this must be a very intricate curse.” She let out an irritated breath. “Do you have any idea what else we can try?”
He gave her a weighted stare. “Should we try… blood?”
She turned sharply towards him. “Blood?”
“Yes, Granger. If it’s likely blood magic, it might need blood to give up its secrets. We’ve been sending spells its way all day without a single reaction.” Draco rolled up one sleeve, exposing his bare forearm. He took his wand and cut a slice into the sensitive skin.
Hermione gasped. “Are you sure that’s wise? We don’t know how it will react!”
“This room is soundproof, magicked to keep reactions in, and literally designed to test artefacts.” Draco held his now dripping arm over top of the chalice. The second a drop splashed into the interior, a gust of wind pushed out from all sides of the cup, sending Draco and Hermione flying into the wall.
“Ooph,” he grunted, barely landing on his feet. He rushed over to Hermione, who had fallen onto the ground. She waved away his attempt to help her.
“I’m fine. Go check on the chalice, you git.” She righted herself easily without his assistance.
Draco peered at the oversized cup. The structure remained the same, still sitting upright on the table, the crack along the side unchanged. But when he peeked on the inside of the structure, he was floored. Blood-lined runes were etched into the interior surface.
“Granger, come take a look. There are runes inside.”
Straightening her robes, she hurried over to his side. “Oh, that’s incredible.” She snatched her notebook off the floor where it landed after the blast, attempting to sketch the visible shapes.
“They’re already fading.” Draco observed them as they seemed to melt into the gold of the chalice.
“Godric, I didn’t have time to get them down!” She was drawing as quickly as she could when the final rune disappeared.
“I could add more blood?” He raised his arm, leaning towards the chalice.
“No! We don’t know what a second round of blood could do. We should research these runes first, and see if any of them tie into specific blood rituals or dark magic spells.” Hermione cast a quick healing charm on Draco’s cut, and a tergeo to vanish the blood. “Do you think you could draw any from memory?”
“I’ll do my best, but my drawing skills would rival a 5 year old’s.” Draco looked at her sheepishly. Hermione bit her lip to stop a smile.
“Just… try your best. You could earn a reward from me.” He raised his eyebrows, and Hermione grinned. “Maybe I’ll explain that gold star thing to you.”
"Not sure we have the same idea on what's considered a reward."
She chuckled. "The quality of the work affects the type of reward, Malfoy."
Her smile started to fall as she looked back at the chalice. “Ugh. I’m certain the Ministry’s books on runes and dark magic will be no help.” Hermione sighed. “I can try going through them again, but I’m not optimistic.”
“So... I know where we can find books to research with substantially more information on dark magic than the Ministry’s paltry collection.”
Hermione perked up for the first time that night. “You do?”
“Yes… though I’m not sure you will be as interested once you hear the location.”
“Well, do tell.” She set down the chalice and took off her work gloves.
“Malfoy Manor. The library is extensive, much bigger than the Ministry’s.”
Hermione blanched, her thoughts traveling back to the last time she was at the manor. Bellatrix LeStrange’s face danced in the forefront of her mind, and she shuddered involuntarily. Even in death, the witch haunted her.
“I know what you’re thinking. I can assure you the manor has been completely renovated, and you wouldn’t even be able to tell it’s the same place.” He attempted to take her hand is his, but she stepped away from him. He sighed. “Plus, I would be there with you.” He took on a teasing tone. “And I know how much you love a library, Granger. I promise you, this one will knock you off your broomstick.”
“Renovated? Dark magic gone?” He nodded. She chewed on her lip, lost in thought. Bellatrix was dead, and Lucious was in Azkaban. Hermione had a feeling Narcissa wasn’t the blood purist she was originally made out to be, with her very public donations to Muggle-based causes, including Hermione’s organization. After an internal debate, her desire for knowledge overcame her fear.
“Ok, Malfoy, I’m in.”
“Sunday, then. I’ll add you to the floo permissions. I’ll be home all day, come over when you’re ready.”
They’d worked late into the evening, hours past when the Ministry typically empties out. Walking back to their office, Hermione averted her eyes, fisting her hands at her side, as she passed the location of her attack that morning. Draco had assured her everything was taken care of, and Oliver had officially been fired. His assault on her was also filed, and he would be paying for that crime as well. Who would have ever thought the Oliver Wood of her youth would have turned into the villain in her story? And that she would be saved by her childhood bully, who was so gentle and protective of her now?
They stepped into the lift on the DOMA office level, heading to the atrium. Draco took a position in the back, leaning against the wall. Hermione stood in the middle, her nails digging into her palms. This day had been so stressful, and she just wanted to be out of this tiny box and back at her house.
All of the sudden, the elevator lurched to a stop, the lights flickering off. Hermione cried out, her heart in her throat.
“Afraid of the dark, Granger?” he kidded. “Lumos.” A soft light filled the car, and Draco took in the fright in her eyes. He dropped his Boucher disguise, presenting his true self to her.
“Oh, whoa, hey.” Dropping his still lit wand, he opened his arms and she threw herself at him, panting, near tears. She pressed herself into his warm chest, inhaled his spicy scent. He wrapped his arms around her, shushing her. “You’re okay. Just breathe. Can you do that for me?” He eased back from her, hands on her shoulders, leaning over to meet her eyes. “Just watch me, match your breathing with mine. Breathe in… two, three, four. Blow out… two, three, four. There you go, Granger.”
With the comforting weight of his hands on her shoulders, his captivating silver gaze holding hers, she felt her anxiety receding. They breathed together for several more breathes, Draco coaching her along.
“Good girl, Granger. You’ve got this.” Standing upright, he let go of her shoulders.
Her anxiety came soaring back the instant they lost physical contact. Without hesitation, Hermione grabbed his tie and yanked his mouth down to hers, capturing his lips. It only took a split second for Draco to respond, guiding one hand into her hair, another pressing her body into him. Yes, this is what she needed, to focus on his touch instead of the dark, small space they were trapped in.
Hermione prodded his lips with her tongue, and he opened up for her with a moan. Dropping both arms down, he scooped her up, and she wrapped her legs around his middle, draping her arms around his neck. He turned around, pushing her up against the wall of the cabin. One hand snaked under her shirt, squeezing her breast through her lace bra, and she gasped into his mouth. He kissed along her jawline while grazing his thumb over her nipple, feeling it pebble up under the lace. When he reached her ear, he nipped her lobe, bringing out another gasp.
“I love that sound.” He sucked on the flesh just behind her ear, still grazing against her nipple. She arched into him, moaning. Tilting her head to the side, she gave him access to her neck and pushed his head down against her. He chuckled into her skin.
“I do enjoy instructions, verbal or otherwise.” He nibbled down the side of her neck, evoking breathy sighs. She slid her fingers into his hair, pulling him back up to her. Hermione took his lower lip into her mouth, sucking and licking, causing a loud groan to escape his throat. He pushed his lips into hers with devastating pressure. Hermione could feel him hardening between her legs.
Breaking the kiss, he placed his forehead against her temple, and pulled his hand out from under her shirt, holding himself up against the wall. His other hand was still underneath her, keeping her in place.
“This lift is even smaller than that bed, Granger.” He leaned into her, grinding his erection against her center, bringing out a whimper. “But if it’s a distraction you need, I can provide that.”
She reached up to his face, tracing along his jaw. “Yes, Malfoy. Make me feel good.”
“Anything for you, pet.” He left one light kiss on her neck. “I’m setting you down, release those legs for me.” Steadying her with his hands on her waist, he lightly kissed her lips before reaching for the hem of her shirt. She raised her arms as he removed her top.
“Take off your bra.”
Reaching behind herself, she unclasped the white lace bra, and it fell off her shoulders, landing between their feet. Draco took her breast in his mouth, swirling his tongue around her peaked nipple, his hands grasping either side of her ribcage. He moved to the other nipple, taking the peak between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth. Hermione’s chest heaved with a long moan, arching into him.
Dropping to his knees, he unbuttoned her trousers, allowing them to drop to her ankles. He looked up at Hermione, adoring fervor in his eyes. She ran her fingers through his silky blond strands as he leaned in, kissing her abdomen. He gripped the top of her knickers, inching them down, following with open mouthed kisses until he reached the top of her curls.
“Step out of these, love.”
Hermione obeyed, opening her stance wide. Draco leaned back onto his haunches. His eyes darkened as he took in her naked form in the soft glow from his wand.
“So beautiful.”
He kissed the inside of one knee, then the other. He ran his hands up the outside of her legs while his tongue traced a path up her inner thigh, stopping just short of her center. Hermione watched with heavy lidded eyes, an ache growing in her lower belly. He inhaled her scent, letting out a soft growl. He dipped his tongue in between her folds, one long swipe, tasting her.
“Your taste. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” Palming her backside, he shifted her hips forward and began to feast on her, rough licks and gentle nibbles. Hermione groaned, her hands going to the top of his head for balance.
“So good, Granger.” He tongued her entrance, lapping at her arousal.
“So wet for me.” He flattened his tongue, gliding it up to her swollen clit.
“Oh, fuck, yes, Malfoy.” Legs trembling, she pressed his face tighter against her. He chuckled into her, eliciting a moan. Circling her clit, his mouth tight against her, he hummed into her flesh.
Another moan escaped, her legs quivering, her cunt throbbing. “Oh, gods. I... I can’t stay up.”
Draco pulled back, kissing the inside of her thigh. “Let’s make this easier for you then.”
Hermione tried to lower herself to the ground but Draco held her firmly up.
“No woman of mine will lay on a public floor. Give me a second.” Letting go of her backside, he slid to the ground, positioned on his back, placing his head just shy of the wall. “Drop down and take a seat, Granger. Use the handrail for balance if you need to.”
Hermione hesitated, standing over him, unsure. “I don’t want to smother you.”
He tongued her ankle. “Please smother me.” He caressed her calf. “Right now.” She bit her lip, staring down at his flushed face.
“Granger,” he growled, “Do not make me tell you again.”
Grabbing the handrail, she slowly crouched down. As soon as she was within a few inches, he clutched her hips, shoving her down the rest of the way, his tongue driving up inside of her. She whined, rocking against him, her knees dropping to either side of his head. Using her hips like handlebars, he moved her over his face, his tongue claiming her.
He angled her forward, catching her clit with his mouth and sucking while flicking the tip with his tongue. Hermione’s grip on the railing tightened as she jerked against his face, crying out. Moving her again, he moved down to tongue at her entrance.
“Feels so good.” Her throbbing was building, heat intensifying in her abdomen. She moved a hand to Draco’s head, yanking on his hair, feeling his nose rub along her clit.
“Oh, my gods.” She pulled again while shifting her hips, chasing the same response. Draco licked along the inside of her walls as his nose again grazed against her bud. Hermione started rocking over top of him, so close to release. Guiding her along, he tilted her hips forward as she chased her orgasm, his tongue again lapping, his chin pushing against her center. He gave her one firm smack to her bare arse cheek, then squeezed, pulling out another deep moan. She ground down into him, and with a cry, she shattered, falling apart. Holding her in place, he gently tongued inside of her, coaxing out her pleasure, drinking up her release.
Shifting back onto his chest, in a satisfied euphoric state, she observed Draco. His face was glistening, flushed, and he was licking at the remnants of her on his face.
“A new addition to my top three, Granger.” Blushing, she leaned down and kissed him, tasting herself on his swollen lips.
Just then, the elevator lights came on, and it shook to life. Hermione scrambled off of him, pulling on her bra in a panic. She threw her shirt over her head, looking around for her panties. Meanwhile, Draco had picked up the white lace knickers, and he used them to wipe down the wetness still on his chin and cheeks. She watched him slide them into his pocket with a smile. Hermione rolled her eyes and yanked up her trousers just as the doors sprung open.
They stepped into the atrium, expecting it to be empty at this time of night. Harry and Dean turned to look at them, taking in their flushed faces and rumpled clothes. Draco had remained his blond self, and he wore a haughty smile. Hermione’s face grew an even deeper shade of red as Harry smirked at her, understanding plain in his features. Without even a friendly wave in Harry’s direction, she launched herself at the closest floo, fleeing before she was roped into a conversation she most decidedly did not want to have.
Chapter 19: Secrets and Stacks
Summary:
Hermione returns to Malfoy Manor
Notes:
TW: hurt/comfort
I struggled to write this chapter. I had an outline, I had a plan, but I was fighting writer's block on how to actually build the scenes. I trashed the first draft, ripped apart the second, changed even more the third time around, and now you're getting the fourth try. That I edited several times. Eeks.
Sidenote, I'm taking applications for a beta reader, heh. :)
Glass Animals got me through. I listened on repeat the entire time I wrote.
Playlist rec: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2MP2OYle2oSq00RdeN24t5?si=CjLJLkNdRNeruSaQ3Loecg
Chapter Text
26 October 2008
The owl arrived at half past six in the morning. Draco had fancied himself a lie-in, but clearly the universe had other plans for him. After sending back a prompt reply, he hopped in the shower, excited for the potential to finally get some answers. At 8 am sharp, with Narcissa officially warned, company arrived via floo. Pansy and Neville entered the foyer with Draco and Theo present to greet them.
Theo bounded over, kissing both of them on the cheek.
With a side hug to Pansy and a nod to Neville, Draco waited until the greetings subsided before speaking. “The elves are over the moon at the prospect of feeding guests, so I hope you didn’t have breakfast yet.”
Pansy grinned up at Neville, who gave her a diffident look. “You were right, my love.” Neville turned to Draco. “Tell them we’re starving.”
After breakfast, they gathered in the potions lab.
Neville whistles. “So, this is it. Impressive, I must say.”
“With my work, Theo spends more time here than I do, but the creations are both of ours.” Draco was walking along the wall of cauldrons, inspecting each brew.
“The organizational aspect is definitely you, Draco.” Pansy waved at the cupboards and shelves. “We all know the king of chaos over here would never be able to maintain something like this.”
“Hey, I represent that name, Pans.” Theo blew her a kiss. She scoffed.
Taking a seat at the center table, Draco motioned to his friends to do the same. “Alright, let’s get caught up. Theo, do you want to fill us in on your visit with Flint last night?”
Hopping into the chair next to Draco, Theo gave the group a sly grin. “Sure thing. That man is like an open book, I tell you. Terrible at secrets.”
“Is that because you slipped him some veritaserum?” Draco raised his eyebrows at his friend.
“Who me? I would never…” Theo winked. “Though some may have accidentally slipped into his wine glass, which was a huge benefit to me. Us, really.”
“Well, go on then. What did you find out?” Pansy urged. She was again sitting in Neville’s lap, seemingly her permanent perch.
“Well, he asked for essence of dittany, veritaserum, and felix fidelis, as you know. I inquired what he needed each for, and a few of his plans rolled off his tongue. Turns out he and Pucey, amongst other former Death Eaters, are attempting to bring back some of the Dark Lord’s beliefs.”
“Voldemort,” Draco interrupted. “When we aren’t with them, he’s Voldemort. Calling him the Dark Lord gives him too much power, even after death.”
“Fair point. Anyways, they are stuck on the fucking blood purity shite again, wanting to remove all connections between Muggles and wix. Sounds like until last week, they were haphazardly attacking Muggles with Muggle-born family members, killing them anyway they could. Spells, curses, their own bare hands…” Theo shuddered. Draco squirmed a bit in his seat, thinking of Hermione’s trail of bodies. “Apparently the veritaserum is what they use on new members, to be sure they're loyal to the cause. Felix fidelis they give to anyone out on a murder run. Though the way he worded his reasoning for the murders didn’t make sense. He just kept saying their blood is dirty, we must remove it. Like he was talking about the blood, not the person? Could explain why we're finding bloodless bodies, but not how they're removing the blood.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders. “Not sure how they knew the Muggles were connected to the wizarding world either.”
Draco took a deep breath. “I do.” They all turned to face him. “Granger’s organization. The Muggle-born Witch and Wizard Reparations Committee.”
Neville’s features darkened as he fisted a hand at his side. “Are you accusing Hermione Granger of killing Muggles because of a connection to our world?”
“No! No, of course not. She’s…” he sighed. “Okay, full disclosure. I’m working undercover for the ministry, not just as a consultant. With Granger. As my partner. I left her out of my previous explanation because, well I just didn’t want her name mixed up with all of this.” Pansy gasped, Neville’s face softened into a studying look, and Theo grinned from ear to ear.
“And he’s fu-“ Theo started, but Draco kicked him in the shin before he could finish his sentence. “Ow!”
“And I’m finding out,” he gave Theo a hard stare. “That her organization had some data stolen, essentially all of their information on the Muggle-born wix they’ve assisted and their Muggle family data. Meaning, someone out there has an entire list of thousands of Muggles who would have a connection to our world.”
“That’s a huge problem.” Neville’s face was stony.
“It is. And as of the past week, we now have two murder scenes that involved entire families being killed, with no visible markings, completely drained of blood.”
“Two?” Pansy asked sharply.
“A mother and her two children were found Thursday morning, early, just outside of Birmingham. Another vessel, destroyed, this time a vase.”
“Fucking hell.” Neville ran a hand through his hair.
“Fucking hell is right.” Draco addressed Theo once again. “Did you get anything else from Flint?”
“He said they’re changing their names from Death Eaters to Blood Eaters.”
Pansy snorted. “So creative, that lot. Clearly masterminds.”
“Masterminds or not, people are ending up dead. And they’ve figured out a way to take out whole families, draining them of their blood. Some sort of curse or blood ritual.”
“Speaking of…” Neville prodded Pansy.
“Oh right. Luckily, our library log wasn’t erased, and I was able to ask it to search for missing books. We’re missing 23, most very old, some dating back hundreds of years. All the books are on dark curses, spells or blood magic.”
“Brilliant.” Draco looked somewhat relieved. “I’m assuming you brought the list?”
Pansy nodded.
“Should we move this party to the library?”
_____________________________________________________
Narcissa was relaxing in the sitting room on her favorite velvet couch, reading a novel, when she heard someone come through the floo in the foyer. Knowing her son’s guests had already arrived, and were all now down in the dungeons in the potions lab, she was curious who would be arriving this morning. The floo had very few permissions built-in for someone to come through at will, and she racked her brain, wondering who she might have invited over.
Setting the book on the end table next to her, she stood, hands clasped in front of her, awaiting the person to round the corner into the room. The woman who stepped into her sitting room was quite possibly the last person she ever expected to arrive in her home.
Hermione was nervous to go to Malfoy Manor, bouncing from one foot to the other in front of her floo. Her only memories of the place were painful, literally. She still bore the scars of her time there, deeply engraved into her arm, her soul.
Mudblood.
Bellatrix LeStrange’s face floated above her, her evil cackle assaulting her ears, as she plunged the knife into Hermione’s arm.
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She’s dead. Bellatrix is dead. She won’t be there waiting for her.
When she was being tortured, she didn’t focus on the décor, the set-up, the build of the manor. She remembered it was foreboding, seeping with dark magic, heavy in the air and the walls. There were family portraits that mocked her, screamed at her, filthy comments. It had felt like a tomb, like hell minus the fire and brimstone.
Bellatrix was gone, the remnants of her body long since buried. Lucious was in Azkaban, never to be released. And Narcissa? She always found the woman to be more concerned with her son’s well-being than the Death Eater cause, and had tried to somewhat protect her in the past. She’d also donated personally to Hermione’s organization, whether for show or because she truly was repentant, only Narcissa would know. She was certain Draco didn’t have the blood purity beliefs any longer, if he truly ever did.
Draco told her the place was fully renovated, all traces of dark magic gone, per Narcissa’s doing.
Despite his assurances, she continued to fidget in her main room, building up the courage to go over. She had texted Draco this morning, twice, with no response. Realizing she never explained battery life to him, or gave him a charging charm, she decided the mobile was probably dead and he wouldn’t have received anything from her. Something she would have to remedy as soon as possible.
Thoughts now on Draco, she again pondered his motives, and hers on the matter of him. When they were together, he seemed so sincere, caring, protective. Was it all an act? Did he actually care about her? His speech about feeling regret and shame at his younger self, his plea for forgiveness, his actions since have all pointed to a changed man.
But again, Katarina’s words bounced around her skull
He is quite handsome. A real catch, as they say. But, fair warning, for as long as I’ve known him, he doesn’t date.
Did Hermione even want that from him?
Well, he sees women from time to time, but as far as I know, it’s only ever casual.
Could she do casual? Realistically, no, she wasn’t a casual dater. She valued monogamy, refused to be one of many on a roster. She really, truly needed to speak with him about this. Maybe today, she could find time to have a chat. Perhaps talking it out with him could give her some insight on what she actually wanted.
Ha. Who was she kidding? She shivered at his touches, melted in his gaze, craved his mouth on her. The problem was she needed him to feel the same way or else she would need a clean cut. No more flirting, touches, kisses… no more of his tongue inside her. Merlin. Feeling a warmth in her lower belly at just the thought of his long fingers caressing her most intimate parts, she ached for it again.
This trip to the manor would not be easy, for all the reasons she’d mulled over this morning.
Raising her chin, she grabbed the floo powder from her mantle. She could do this.
“Malfoy Manor,” she said, ignoring the quiver in her voice, as she stepped into the green flames.
Now she was frozen in place, eyes locked with Narcissa Malfoy, the only two present in the sunny sitting room. She was aging gracefully, her once blond and black hair now streaked with silver, the same color as her son’s eyes. Her face was free from lines, still regal and elegant. She was fully dressed as if she would be off for tea at any moment, in spite of the early hour. Hermione thought she might be someone who kept to a schedule, early to rise, dressing every day as if she was prepping for a job. Or for a war.
“Miss Granger, what a lovely surprise. I wasn’t aware you would be stopping over today.” Narcissa took several unsure steps in her direction.
“Mrs. Malfoy, hello. Your son… he invited me over. To see the library.” Not positive how much Narcissa was aware of their case or situation, she left her reason vague.
Narcissa smiled, broadly. “Yes, he mentioned he was working on a research project with you at the Ministry. I’m thrilled you will be spending some time here with us.” Narcissa took two more steps towards Hermione, now within arm’s reach. “You’re very brave, Miss Granger, for coming here today.” She took one more hesitant step towards her. “Please forgive me for this.”
Hermione’s eyes went wide as Narcissa flung her arms around Hermione, dragging their bodies together in a tight embrace. Stunned, Hermione was still, unable to react. Letting out a soft sob, Narcissa let go, stepping back, brushing away a tear from her eye in the process.
“I owe you everything, Miss Granger. Everything. If you hadn’t spoken for Draco in court, he would be locked up in Azkaban next to his father.” Swiping at a second tear, she gave Hermione’s hand a squeeze. “And you did that despite the torture you received at the hands of my sister, the insults from my family. That said, I want to apologize for the distress you experienced here, by my blood. I know words mean very little, but I’m hoping you will accept them, and allow my actions to speak louder.” Another squeeze, and a big smile. “You are always welcome in my home. I will do whatever it takes to make you feel comfortable here. And if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, please don’t hesitate to owl me. I have more galleons than I could spend in ten lifetimes, an entire world of connections, and an immeasurable amount of free time. I will be at your beck and call.”
Taken aback, Hermione remained anchored in place. She knew there had been a chance she would run into Narcissa while she was here, but she expected a cold woman, a simple greeting. Not this warm, tear-stricken, emotional witch who had thrown her arms around Hermione like she was her long-lost daughter.
Narcissa let go of her hands and gave her some space, backing up a few feet. Her face returned to a blank canvas as she took in Hermione’s lack of response. “I realize that might’ve been a bit too much, and I apologize.”
“No, please.” Hermione cleared her throat. “No, thank you. I wasn’t sure how you would feel about me being in your home. You’ve made it evident beyond a doubt.”
“My husband was the one with the blood purity beliefs. Not me. Nor Draco, though he spouted off nonsense to try and impress Lucious as a boy. He grew out of that before even becoming a man.”
“Is he here?”
“He is, he and a few guests are down in the dungeons.”
Hermione blanched at the statement.
“Oh, forgive me. They are not actively used as dungeons, and his guests are friends. They should be up shortly. Would you like something to eat? Drink? Perhaps, some tea?”
“Actually,” Hermione raised her chin, putting on a brave face, “I would like to take you up on your offer. I am in need of something.”
“Of course, dear. What can I do for you?”
“I need to see it. The… drawing room. I need to see where it happened. Get it out of my system.”
Narcissa studied her, a meaningful pause in the conversation. “Are you certain?”
“I am. I’ve been thinking about it since Malfoy, erm Draco, invited me over. I will live in fear of that space until I can see it again in a new light.” She paused, taking in the sitting room. “This place is so full of color and sunlight, and the décor is cheery and welcoming. Your son mentioned you redid the entire manor, to chase away the darkness.”
“You will find the drawing room to be a completely different feel than when you were here before. Perhaps you’re right, seeing it as it is now could be healing.”
At that, Narcissa began moving towards the hall, beckoning Hermione to follow. No conversation occurred between the women as they trekked through the manor, their footsteps whisper soft across plush rugs, echoing sharply when crossing marble. Along the way, Hermione noted the absence of the ghastly portraits that used to line the walls, now replaced with stunning works of art. She recognized the hand of some of the artists; a lovely Degas painting depicting graceful ballerinas, a realistic beach scene from Monet, a colorful distorted depiction of a woman that could only be Picasso. Skylights were installed along the corridors they passed through, providing a pleasing natural glow. Victorian fainting benches were interspersed along the way, as if you might need to relax, or faint in delight, mid stroll.
Finally, they arrived to the closed door of the drawing room. Turning to Hermione, Narcissa stepped to the side.
“Whenever you’re ready. No rush. I’ll be right behind you.”
She could hear her heartbeat, racing away. Her hands were clenched at her side, cold and damp.
“You filthy mudblood. Now no one will ever question your lineage.” Bellatrix smiled, a deranged chortle echoing off the walls as she drove the knife into Hermione’s flesh again.
Closing her eyes, Hermione shuddered involuntarily. She swallowed, took a deep breath, and wiped her sweaty hands on her trousers.
Searing pain, the smell of iron, screams she didn’t realize were coming from her.
Deep breaths. Inhale, and exhale. Bellatrix is deceased, departed, buried.
She opened her eyes, and pushed back her shoulders, steeling herself. Dead and gone, Bellatrix would not be waiting behind this door.
Warily, Hermione grasped the door handle and turned it slowly, stopping when she heard a distinct click. On a shaky exhale, she closed her eyes and yanked it open, like ripping off a band-aid.
Gentle birdsong and the gurgling of running water tickled her ears. A mellow, warm humidity wafted out of the door, caressing her face. Hermione pried her eyes open and gasped at the sight.
In front of her, a stone path led into the room from the doorway, winding through a path of lush greenery. A large fountain was in the center of the room, featuring a beautiful woman wearing only an ornamental necklace and a long cape lovingly petting a noble horse. Water escaped her other hand, risen at her side, and streamed from the mouth of the horse, open as if neighing into the sky.
Hermione took a few tentative steps into the room.
“Rhiannon, the goddess and her horse. She’s known for quite a few things, such as motherhood, femininity, and forgiveness.” Narcissa was just at her shoulder, gazing at the fountain.
“And rebirth, if I remember my mythology correctly.” Hermione gave her a small smile. “An appropriate choice for this renewed space.”
Taking in the rest of the room, Hermione noted the path forked several times, to venture into different areas. Fragrant citrus trees were sprinkled throughout, and delicate ferns and wildflowers decorated the ground. A few large evergreens grew near the walls, their pine needles dancing in a breeze that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Creeping phlox, a muted purple, lined the paths. More plants than she could identify filled in around them. Winding ivy could be found all along the walls, some proudly displaying ornate white flowers. Several trellises interrupted the paths, vines of vibrant flowers growing over them, and musical birds danced along their tops. The exterior wall was now nearly one large window, a peek into the forest behind the manor. A light emanated from the walls, soft and bright at the same time. She walked aimlessly through with Narcissa staying close, touching plants as she went, listening to the birds. It was a resplendent marvel, exquisite perfection.
Leaning back, Hermione’s eyes took in the spelled ceiling, showing the night sky, a bright moon and a dusting of stars. One prominent constellation was on display.
“Draco.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Narcissa, this is brilliant. Magnificent.” A tear fell into the corner of Hermione’s smile.
“I had Draco in mind when I designed it. And you. And all the children who didn’t deserve the pain they went through here. Something innocent and beautiful to replace the imprints of those vile atrocities.” Narcissa rolled her lips, then continued. “I didn’t know if you would ever see it, or even know. But I am so glad you’re here.”
More tears fell as Hermione wrapped her arms around Narcissa. “Now it’s my turn to be too forward.” A choked laugh escaped her lips.
Narcissa held Hermione close, stroking her hair.
Still in their embrace, Hermione spoke into Narcissa’s hair. “I almost didn’t come today.” She broke their contact relaxing her arms and moving back. “I’m happy I did.”
“As am I.” Draco spoke loud enough for the witches to hear him from his position, propped up against the door jam.
“Oh!” Hermione jumped. She swiped at her tears, her head facing away from him. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess.”
Draco pushed off the doorway, and traipsed over to her. He held out a handkerchief, murmuring softly as he reached her side. “You feel everything, Granger. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t have a cry here, in this transformed space.”
She finally looked up, and taking the handkerchief, she gave him a crooked smile. “Its not like you haven’t seen me in my feels before.”
One ringed finger swiped at a wayward tear on her cheek. “And hopefully this won’t be the last time.”
Hermione blinked at him, unsure how to take that comment. Luckily for her, Narcissa interrupted the moment. “Draco, darling, have your other guests left?”
Draco broke his gaze on Hermione, turning to his mother. “No, mum, they went on to the library. I stopped off here when I saw the door open.”
“We have company for our research today?” Hermione perked up.
Draco grinned. “An old friend of mine and an old friend of yours.” He held out a hand. “Come, Granger, let me take you to the biggest, most impressive library in all the lands.”
She rolled her eyes, brushing his hand away with a grin and breezed past him out of the room. He huffed, following her closely.
Narcissa watched them leave, an assessing glint to her eyes.
__________________________________________________________
“Who is here, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, as she was escorted down the hallway.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” He knew she and Neville had been close in their time at Hogwarts. He was hopeful she would be excited at the prospect of seeing him. Glancing her way, he took in her voluminous hair and casual clothes, her relaxed and happy posture. A sight for sore eyes after her fragile and manic states on Friday.
Before they arrived at the library doors, Draco directed Hermione over to one of the hall’s fainting benches, prompting her to sit.
“Granger, are you okay?” He reached for her hands and she pulled them back, twining them in her lap. She traced along the pattern in her trousers, floral, chewing on her lip.
“Your mother, she has been very welcoming. She went above and beyond to make me feel comfortable in this place. She’s… brilliant and incredible, Malfoy. Though I’m sure you know that.” She lifted her head to catch his gaze. “The changes she’s made to the manor? I know you told me she’d transformed the place, but it didn’t sink in until I witnessed it with my own eyes. The natural light, the new art, the colors… it feels downright inviting now. Cozy, intimate, despite the grandeur of it all.” Finally, another smile formed on her face. “And the drawing room? The best transformation. Rhiannon was a perfect choice for a center fountain, as the space has undergone a true rebirth. To answer your question, yes. I’m okay, better than even. I faced my fears and conquered.”
Letting out a relieved exhale, Draco grinned. “Good. I’m sorry I wasn’t waiting for you when you flooed in. Honestly, I thought you would send me a text message.”
“I did, a couple actually, but I’d bet your phone is dead.”
“What do you mean dead? I’ve been so careful with it!” He yanked it out from his pocket, pressing the power button on top. Nothing happened. “Oh. How did I break it?”
Hermione chuckled, taking it from him. Sliding her wand into her dominant hand, she placed the tip on the screen. “You didn’t. I forgot to explain how Muggle technology requires charging or it shuts down, becoming useless.”
She tapped the darkened screen twice.
“Vivificans.”
The screen lit up, making Hermione’s eyes shimmer in the bright light.
“Let me turn on a function here, hang on.” She tapped through several screens, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay, I’ve set up our phones to be able to track each other using a function called GPS.”
“GPS?” Draco tilted his head in confusion.
“It stands for global positioning system. Using satellites—wait you probably don’t know what those are, let me explain those first. So, in the skies outside of the Earth’s atmosphere in space, Muggles have created these metal structures that contain an energy source, like solar panels, with an onboard computer, like my laptop, and scientific instruments that allow for communication and tracking with objects on the surface. Satellites orbit the earth and ping off of each other to help pinpoint locations, usually within a few feet. Solar panels power them by processing sunlight into energy. With our phones linked, we can now open an app,” she pushed on the screen, demonstrating, “and see precisely where the other person is located.”
Draco palmed the mobile, staring in amazement. “I see.” He didn’t. Muggle science was so fascinating to him. With his research into neuroscience, he knew he’d only scratched the surface of what there was to learn. “This will work immensely better than the spelled clips.”
“The… what?”
Blushing, Draco powered on, as if she hadn’t asked. “Perhaps we can discuss this technology more in depth later? These… satellites?… sound fascinating.” He knew asking her to go on a deep dive into a Muggle topic was a favorite pastime of hers, and he loved to watch her speak passionately on, well, any topic.
She beamed. “Yes, I’d love that!”
Draco looked back down at his mobile, noting he had two missed messages from ‘Wild Curls’, his name for Hermione in his phone. He’d be sure to charm this phone nightly so he wouldn’t miss a single further communication from her.
“So… Friday.” Draco glanced back up at her.
A blush began to creep into her cheeks, and Hermione bit her lip. Draco would bet 500 galleons she was thinking not of the attack but of his tongue inside her. She tilted her head forward, looking at her hands in her lap, her curls falling into her face. Oh, how he wanted to reach over and tuck them behind her ear and kiss her breathless. But now was not the time.
“With Oliver.” Draco noticed her stiffen. “We didn’t get a chance to debrief. What happened before I got there?”
Hermione bit her lip, clasping her hands together so they wouldn’t tremble. “He… He told me I would no longer threaten his livelihood. Told me I had a choice, stop with the nonsense, quit my job, and be with him again, or….” She met Draco’s eyes, which were flashing molten silver.
“Or what, Granger?”
“Or… he would remove me from the world to permanently silence me. Keep me from being with anyone else.” Her voice wobbled on the last sentence.
“How. Dare. He.” Draco’s jaw ticked and he clenched his fists at his side. “I’m glad I arrived when I did. And he deserved every bloody blow he got.”
“And then some,” Hermione agreed. “I didn’t thank you properly.”
“That kiss was thanks enough, Granger.” One side of his mouth turned up as he met her eyes.
Hermione’s blush returned. “If you would’ve told 13 year old me that Draco bloody Malfoy would be my savior in the future, I would’ve died laughing at the thought.”
“Maybe you wouldn’t have slapped me then.” He raised his eyebrows at her.
She snorted. “Nah, you deserved that.”
“I did. I was such a twat.”
“Truly.” A huge smile split her face, her eyes dancing.
“I do think that was the moment my fascination with you started to change, though. You awakened something in me.” Draco bit the side of his lip, now a touch of red creeping up his neck.
Slapping his shoulder, she snorted again. “Sure, whatever you say, Malfoy.”
He chuckled but left it at that. Standing again, he slipped his phone into his trousers. “Okay, the moment you’ve been waiting for… library time. Be prepared to be blown away, Granger. It’s huge.” He winked at her. She rolled her eyes at his innuendo, rising off the bench.
As they stood, a man stepped out of a nearby hallway, pausing when he saw the two of them.
“Greg?” Hermione looked at him in confusion.
Greg? What the hell was she on about? Draco spun around and saw someone he didn’t recognize in his home. How was that possible? He pulled out his wand, raising it at the person.
“Hello, Miss Granger! Mr. Malfoy, pleased by your essence—I mean, presence, of course.”
Then it clicked. Essence of Greg. This was Theo, polyjuiced for an adventure into the city. But how did Hermione know him? He lowered his wand but didn’t holster it.
“Malfoy, how do you know Greg? Is he… Is he who was meeting us in the library?”
“Oh, no, Miss Granger. I was simply stopping by to give Mr. Malfoy something I’d acquired for him.” Theo smiled and bowed with a flourish, bringing out a laugh from Hermione.
“Ah, I understand now.” She turned to Draco. “So, he’s one of your contacts? Your underworld dealer as well?”
Not wanting to out Theo until he knew more, he nodded. “He is. Why don’t the three of us head to the library? Then I can get you settled in before Greg and I slip away for a bit.” He gave Theo a hard look, Theo wilting slightly.
They made their way further down the corridor, reaching two large ornate French doors. Hermione was buzzing with anticipation, and looked to Draco for permission to enter. Wandlessly, he unlatched the door and it swung out, Hermione gasping as she peered in. The room was enormous, with three floors of books, a winding staircase in the middle. She could see several alcoves along the walls with small couches and spelled lights.
Neville and Pansy emerged from behind one of the stacks on the second floor, walking to the railing.
“Hermione? Is that you?” Neville beamed, a grin from ear to ear.
“Neville! Oh, my gods!” She sprinted into the room as he bounded down the staircase. They met at the landing as he scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around. Her melodic laugh was music to Draco’s ears.
“How are you here?” she asked just as he said, “I didn't expect you to walk through those doors!” They both smiled broadly at each other as Neville set her back on her feet.
The snakes watched the interaction from their posts, Draco and Theo by the door and Pansy from the second level railing. Draco was fighting his jealousy at seeing her spun in another man’s arms, her genuine smile directed at him. He knew Neville was with Pansy and Hermione wasn’t technically his witch… at least not yet. He would need to remedy that in short order. Hermione and Neville were old friends, nothing more.
“To answer your question, Hermione, I’m here with my partner, Pansy Parkinson. We’re helping out Malfoy on the case you’re working on.” Neville took this moment to glance up at his love, who was slowly making her way down the staircase.
“You and Pansy? Oh, Neville, I’m so happy for you! And you’re working… on our case?”
“Who’s here with you, Draco?” Pansy called out as she descended the stairs, interrupting Hermione and Neville.
“This is… Greg. He’s trustworthy.” He gave Pansy a look only she could read, and she angled her head, studying him before nodding.
“Granger, I roped them in recently. Pansy’s library was recently… relieved… of some books on blood curses and rituals, and we have a suspicion it could be related to the bloodless bodies we’ve discovered.” Draco felt Theo starting to back out of the room, so he shot a hand out, grabbing his sleeve. He wasn’t getting away without an interrogation.
Pansy was now at Neville’s side, and squeezed his arm. “My mother is dating a sodding Death Eater, and I think he might be involved. The fucking piece of shite.” She scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. “I would bet he took the books. I was able to obtain a list of the ones missing, and we’re checking Malfoy’s library to see if there’s a copies here. Thought we could scour them and figure out what dark magic is at use on the Muggles.” She assessed Hermione from head to toe with one raised eyebrow. She pursed her lips but kept her thoughts to herself.
“Oh, that’s… yes. Good call. Are the books here?” Hermione’s eyes scanned back around at the room, wide with wonder.
“So far we’ve found 16 of them.” Neville floated a stack down from the second level landing to a table near the fireplace. “There were 23 missing from the Parkinson’s library.”
Pansy procured the list, handing it to Hermione. “Would you prefer to start digging into the books, or help me locate the last seven?”
“Let’s see if the rest are here first, because I could always check the archives at the Ministry. It’s not likely they would have them but worth a shot if we can’t find them.” Hermione took the list from Pansy and noted lines through the ones already on the table.
“While you all are working, Greg and I are going to have our meeting. I’ll be back shortly.” With that, Draco moved his grip to Theo’s forearm and apparated them to his quarters.
Noting they’d landed in Draco’s bedroom, Theo grinned mischievously. “If you wanted a quick shag, you only had to ask.”
Draco steeled his jaw, moving over to his chest of drawers.
“Is it Greg’s gorgeous body that does it for you? I can understand, I was positively addicted to him. He does have his pubes intact in this form, though, I will warn you.”
“Shut the fuck up, Theo.” Draco slammed the drawer shut, a dark gray wand in his hand. “How long?” He pointed the wand at Theo’s chest.
Theo’s eyes grew large, a glint of fear evident. “H-How long for what?”
Taking an angry step in his direction, Draco’s wand arm remained steady. “How fucking long have you been meeting Granger in secret?”
“Well, the key word, Malfoy, is secret.” He raises his hands in the air, shuffling backwards.
Draco narrowed his eyes and flicked his wrist.
“Ow!” Theo jumped, rubbing his arm where the hex made contact. “Really? Is that necessary?”
“Did you fuck her?” Another step toward Theo, his silver eyes icy. Gods save him if he touched her.
“Wha—ow!” Theo rubbed his arm again.
“DID YOU FUCK HER?” His arm was beginning to shake with rage.
“NO!” Theo dropped to the ground as a hex met his knee. “Why are you hexing me?”
“You’re lucky we’ve been friends for over 20 years. I want to do much worse.” Draco was now standing over Theo, wand still in the air. “Answer the first question. HOW LONG?”
Theo caved, wincing as he answered. “Three years, I believe.”
“THREE YEARS, THEO?” Draco snarled and shot another stinging hex, this time at his abdomen. “You know how I feel about her. How long I’ve wanted her.” The next hex hit him in the shoulder. “You couldn’t tell me?”
Theo howled in pain. “Malfoy! You’re hurting me!”
Another hex, landing on the side of his head. Theo fell onto his side, tears now leaking out.
“Draco! Stop!” Theo cried out.
Hearing his given name, Draco blinked and ceased his onslaught. Lowering his wand, he observed Theo, crying on the ground, curled into the fetal position. His childhood friend, his best friend, who spent years being tortured at the hands of his father who didn’t love him. And here he was, inflicting pain, being his aggressor. What the fuck is wrong with him?
He dropped the wand and fell down to the floor. Wrapping Theo in his arms, he tucked his head into his chest.
“Salazar, Theo, I’m so sorry.” He stroked Theo’s hair, letting him cry into his shirt. “I just… I don’t know what came over me.” He rested his chin on Theo’s head, now rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Please, Theo, be okay. I’m so sorry, so sorry. Please forgive me.”
His sobs lessening, Theo shifted out of Draco’s hold. Staring at the ground, he wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I never thought you would be one to hurt me.”
“I’m serious, I’m really sorry. It’s just...” he sighed. “Anything to do with her, and I lose myself.”
Theo finally looked up. “Of course you do, you prat. You’re in love with her.”
Draco smiled, relieved to hear the taunt from his friend. “I am. And while I don’t think she loves me, yet, I do think she cares for me. Hopefully. I’m getting mixed signals.”
“She’s here, in the manor, that says something right there. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have some sort of feelings for you.” Theo’s tears had stopped, though his eyes were still red rimmed.
“Maybe someday it will be love.”
“We can only hope.” Theo punched his arm, a hesitant grin forming.
Draco stood and offered a hand to Theo, who accepted. “I can’t believe you went three sodding years without telling me about your meetings.”
“You were living in France, and it was purely transactional. I didn’t think you’d care.” Theo was scratching at his head where the last hex landed. Draco cast a healing charm on him, and Theo grunted in thanks.
“Well, it’s in the past now. And I have a favor to ask.” Draco turned the wand around in his hand and held it out to Theo. “Give her this.”
Taking it from Draco, Theo asked, “Unregistered?”
“Yeah. She needs it. Trust me.”
“Yeah, okay, sure thing, boss. I’ll set up a meeting, find something to give her in the meantime that will peak her interest, throw in the wand as a bonus.” Theo slipped it under his robes. “Speaking of meetings… I didn’t mention something about my conversation with Flint in front of the others, wasn’t sure how much you wanted them to know.”
Draco tilted his head, intrigued. “Well, let’s hear it.”
“Turns out, the Blood Eaters are planning a big gathering on Samhain, Muggle Halloween night. I have a feeling it’ll be important to attend. I was invited, but wanted to run it by you before I accepted.” Theo paused, grimacing. “If something big happens, I could end up mixed up the mess. I’m afraid of what that might mean, legally, for me.”
Draco chewed on his cheek, thinking. “Well, you’re registered as my C.I., so that gives you some leeway. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Me? I would never.” Theo feigned innocence, a hand on his chest.
Draco snickered. “Sure, Greg.”
Theo started for the floo, before turning back to Draco. “You’re forgiven, by the way.” Draco visibly relaxes in relief. “But you owe me, Malfoy.”
“You name it, whatever you need, it’s yours.”
Back in the library, Hermione, Neville, and Pansy were working diligently to locate the last few books.
“We’ve found all but three. I say we start reading and worry about the rest later. We might have the answers we’re searching for already, and we just don’t know it.” Neville, always a voice of reason, called up to the women who were side by side scanning a shelf on the third level.
“Yeah, okay, Nev. Good point.” Hermione sighed, then moved towards the staircase, a large stack of books in her arms. Pansy followed on her heels.
“I found some books on runes I want to look through. I think the artefacts were spelled using runes with the blood ritual, so figuring them out could lead us in the right direction.”
Just as they landed on the first floor, the doors flew open and Draco waltzed in.
“Everything good with Greg?” Hermione inquired.
“Yes, of course.” Draco eyed his companions, then called out for his house elf. “Mipsy!”
She arrived with a crack, her pillowcase shining in the candlelight. “Yes, Master Malfoy?”
“Can you bring us some tea, and coffee for Miss Granger?”
“Yes, of course, Master. Right away.” Bowing, she disappeared with another crack.
Hermione scowled. “I didn’t realize you still had slaves here, Malfoy.”
“Mipsy is paid, Granger. And has been offered clothes but refused to take them. And I have asked repeatedly for her to not bow or curtsy, but she insists. It makes her happy to serve our family.”
Hermione sniffed, only somewhat appeased at his answer. Her S.P.E.W. organization had adapted from wanting to free the house elves, to ensuring they were paid and had rights and the option of freedom. Seems like the Malfoys took her decree to heart.
“Let’s take a short break before we dive in, yeah?” The three nodded at Draco.
Mipsy returned with a full tea set and a steaming carafe of coffee. They all made their cups up in silence, then settled into an alcove together, Neville and Pansy on the small couch and Draco and Hermione in chairs facing them.
“So, Hermione, are you in contact with your parents?” Neville sipped his tea, the cup looking like a toy in his large hand.
“Jumping straight into it, I see.” Hermione responded, holding her mug with two hands, absorbing the warmth.
“Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Neville looked abashedly at her, his cheeks reddening.
Hermione gave him a small smile. “No, Nev, you’re fine. I am not. They’re still in Australia. I wasn’t, erm, I wasn’t able to restore their memories.”
Pansy and Draco looked at each other before turning their gazes to Hermione. “What do you mean, you couldn’t restore their memories? What happened?” Draco’s stare was fierce, concerned.
“I… well, I obliviated them. Removed myself from their life.” She sipped her coffee, giving herself a moment before she continued. “During the war, Muggles connected to our world were being attacked, and I wanted to keep them safe. I implanted memories of a pending move to Australia, and arranged for a home there for them. I didn’t want to lose them, and I believed that was the only way to keep them safe.” Sadly, quietly, she added, “I didn’t realize I’d lose them either way.”
Pansy scrunched her eyebrows. “You didn’t undo the curse?”
“I tried. I was inexperienced, a child, and it was my first time using the spell, and I think I was too aggressive. No matter how many times I attempted to reverse it, I was unsuccessful. And then I’d have to re-obliviate them to remove the knowledge of me trying.” She sniffled, feeling her eyes brimming with moisture. Fighting back the tears, she took another swig from her mug.
“That’s tragic, Hermione. I am so sorry. I know what it’s like to lose them, and still have them be... present.” Neville’s own parents were in St. Mungo’s on the Janice Thickey ward, lost inside their own minds. They’d been tortured by Death Eaters with extensive use of the cruciatus curse, rendering them insane. Neville was only a baby at the time, and was then raised by his grandmother.
“Thank you, Nev. That means a lot.”
“Granger, I had no idea.” Draco reached over to rub her shoulder. Hermione felt the touch and leaned slowly away. He let his hand drop. “When was the last time you saw them?”
“A couple of years ago. I haven’t been able to bring myself to go back after my last attempt. It nearly broke me.” A single tear escaped, dripping into her coffee.
“I’m sorry. If you ever need to talk it out, I’m here. Maybe we could find something else to try? I did study neuroscience, after all.”
One tiny quirk of her lips. “Yeah, perhaps, Malfoy. Thanks for the offer.”
Noting the tension, Neville changed the subject. “Malfoy, I didn’t mention my interaction with Dolohov at Pansy’s mother’s estate.”
All three focused on Neville.
“Dolohov is alive?” Hermione looked taken aback.
“Unfortunately.” Pansy scowled. “I wish I could get away with murder, he’d be dead in a heartbeat.” Neville slipped his arm behind Pansy, pulling her into his side.
Hermione met her eyes, and in a soft voice, nearly inaudible she said, “You could. No one would miss him.” She smiled wickedly. “I could help.”
Draco knew damn well she could, too. And she’d give him the torture he rightly deserved. He was tempted to set up a meeting.
“I knew I liked you, Granger.” Pansy sent her an devious grin.
Fighting a smile, Draco huffed. “Ladies, before we plan his demise, let’s see if he can be useful. Neville, what did you find out?”
“Even on the veritaserum, he was cagey. But I did discover he’s been on contact with a large group of former Death Eaters, presumably these Blood Eaters, though he didn't say that specifically.” Neville took a deep breath. “He was speaking some nonsense about taking their blood, which now I assume has to do with the Muggle families that were found bloodless.”
“He’s definitely connected. We might need to use him for information.” Draco turned to Hermione. “I don’t know if we should share this tidbit with the task force just yet. Let’s do a little exploring on our own first, re-evaluate before the next briefing.”
“Okay. If you think that’s best.”
“Anything else, Longbottom?”
“No. The man was so pissed, he literally fell over and knocked himself out after only a couple minutes of chatting. I may or may not have left him with a few bruised ribs from my steel toed boots.” Neville gave the group a sheepish grin.
“Proud of you, baby.” Pansy leaned back and kissed his jaw.
The group moved back over to the tables to start studying the tomes, in search of anything that might be related to their victim’s curse. Draco attempted to sit next to Hermione, but she kept shifting away or moving, claiming she needed another book, or wanted to refill her coffee. She would then conveniently end up in a different seat. Draco sighed internally, knowing next time they were alone, they were overdue a conversation.
Chapter 20: Adoration
Summary:
Just our favorite couple, doing their thing
Notes:
Thank you to everyone who has subscribed so far! :)
I also really appreciate the kudos and the nice comments I've received.
This chapter is mostly fluffy, though one part does include a Hermione spiral, just fair warning. Our girl's anxiety is out of control.
Song rec: Labyrinth by Taylor Swift
Chapter Text
27 October 2008
As Hermione was getting ready for work, she heard Crookshanks howling from the sitting room. That cat was always in a tizzy lately. Perhaps there was another owl at her window, or the old man was just hungry and impatient. She slipped into her skirt, tucking in her button up blouse, looking around for everything she needed to take downstairs with her. Wand, check, mobile, check, earrings, check. Shoes and outer robes were by the front door, and her bag was on her end table downstairs.
Hands full, she started down the staircase.
“Okay, you grouchy man, I’m coming. You’ll get your breakfast soon enough.”
“Well, that’s kind of you to make me breakfast, Granger.”
Hermione stumbled and nearly fell down the last few stairs. “MALFOY! What the fuck are you doing here?” She had dropped her wand and phone, barely still clutching her earrings in one hand. Her heart was hammering in her chest.
“You know why. I don’t trust that tosser Wood to not show up, so I’m escorting you to work.” He was lounging on her couch, one arm along the back, one knee bent, foot resting on the far seat and the other on the floor, with Crookshanks purring on his chest.
“You seriously have to stop just showing up. Call me or text me first! What if I had been naked?”
“Honestly, I’m thoroughly disappointed that you weren’t.”
She scoffed.
Crookshanks finally noticed Hermione and jumped down to wind between her legs. “I see you made friends with my cat.”
“That fluff ball jumped up and claimed me, I had no part in that decision.” Malfoy stood, walking over towards Hermione. “Now, about that breakfast…”
“Sod off, you prat. Coffee is the best you’ll get.” Draco chuckled.
Walking into the kitchen, she pulled out the cat's kibble.
“Perfect. You did promise to show me how your Muggle coffee maker works. Even though it’s technically not the middle of the night, I’m still interested.” He walked in behind her, watching as Hermione stooped down to give her cat his morning feast.
Sighing, she stood and turned around to find him only inches away. “Yikes, Malfoy, do you need to be so close to me?” She put her hands on his chest to push him away and he grabbed her wrists.
“Morning Granger is my favorite Granger. Well-rested and feisty, and…” He leaned in closer, breathing in deeply. “Heavenly scented.”
“Be careful, I’m also more likely to bite.” She yanked out of his grasp.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
Pink starting to creep into her cheeks, Hermione, turned around, heading for the cupboard with the coffee grounds. “Ugh, I need caffeine to deal with you this morning.”
Draco snickered, then glanced around her kitchen. His gaze paused on a vase in the center of her table. Each rose he’d given her over the past few weeks were bunched together, appearing to be stasis charmed at the perfect moment in time to highlight their blooms.
“Granger. You… saved them? All of them?” He sprinted back into the sitting room, returning with another fresh rose, this one a pink reminiscent of the color of Hermione’s lips. “Here’s another for the collection.” Draco offered her the flower, a genuine grin and a pleased blush gracing his face.
Unable to resist his contagious smile, she grinned back. “Yes, I love them. Roses are my favorite flower, though you probably know that by now. I adore that you bring me a different variety every time.” She took the rose, bringing it to her nose, deeply inhaling. Her eyes closed as she relished in the floral scent.
“I’d buy you an entire rose garden if it means I get to see you like this, blushing, smiling, and happy. Ten rose gardens. Hell, I’d roll up my sleeves and plant them for you myself if I had to.”
When Hermione looked up at him, his eyes were gleaming with emotion, shining as bright as the moon. They stared into each other’s souls for seconds, or an eternity, time felt irrelevant. Draco reached up to caress her cheek, and Hermione stepped back before he made contact, breaking the moment. She noted a flash of hurt before his eyes flicked to stone.
“How about that coffee now?” One last sniff of the rose before she added it to the vase. She didn’t want to accept any affection from him until she was clear on his intentions. And she wasn’t ready for that conversation this early in the morning.
“Yeah, Granger. Show me how your ridiculous Muggle machine works.” His snarky armor was back.
They made coffee together before flooing into the Ministry.
As they approached the lift to head down to the DOMA level, Hermione tensed. She didn’t know when she would ever get used to the cage, and despite the fun activity they’d engaged in to distract her, Friday had definitely been a setback.
“Granger, I’ll be with you.”
He didn’t reach for her, but just hearing those words and sensing his presence at her shoulder helped to ease her anxiety. He leaned down to her, bringing his spicy citrus scent with him.
“I don’t think we should try to repeat our performance from Friday with other people in here though.”
Gasping, Hermione smacked his chest. He smirked, standing back up, but still close enough she could feel the warmth of his body next to her.
They made it to the DOMA level without incident, and walked to the end of the long hall to their office. Hermione stepped in and set down her bag, shrugging off her robes. When she went to hang them on the coat rack, she noted Draco didn’t follow her in.
“I need to take care of something this morning. Please, Granger, please do not leave this office without someone with you.” He shifted on his feet. “He can’t come through this door. But I don’t trust him to not show up again at the Ministry.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to chance running into him again. If I need something, I can send a memo and have it brought to me. Go, do whatever you need this morning.” She sat at her desk, opening the latest packet from Dean.
A flicker of surprise flitted across his face at her quick agreement to his request. “One more thing.” He hadn’t moved out of the doorway. “I-I think you and I need to talk about us. Our personal relationship. I know you don’t like surprises, so I’m giving you notice now. Go ahead and make your lists of talking points, pros and cons, of our friendship, or… whatever you need to keep you from spiraling. I’m ready when you are, but…” He paused taking a deep breath. “It happens today. Okay?”
Biting her lip, afraid to open her mouth, she nodded.
“Good. I’ll be back soon.”
What did he mean, personal relationship? That sounded so stiff, so formal. He was right about her, though, she hated a surprise. And she liked time to prepare, make a list, evaluate pros and cons. But in this case, when it came to her heart, she didn’t need to. She wanted him, she was certain. If this was real for him… If he was willing to commit to her, monogamy, she was all the way in.
But what if he wasn’t interested in being exclusive? What if he only wanted the physical parts, the touching, the sex? And friendship? Is that all he wanted? Friends with benefits? She was unable to separate her emotions, and there was no possible chance she could manage being friends and having casual sex. Cold turkey, that would be the answer. She’d tell him not a single caress of a finger, no heated gazes, no flirting. Ha, he might combust if he couldn’t flirt with her, it was such second nature for him these days. And yet… That was her boundary. If he didn’t want to date, then he would have to respect it.
She felt nauseous at the prospect he didn’t want her.
She shuffled through her paperwork, trying to focus, but had no motivation to work this morning. Not with the threat of the conversation hanging overhead.
Suddenly, she froze. If she started dating Draco, would he expect to know all of her? Every dirty, dark, deviant part? Images of bloody scenes she’d created flashed across her mind. Her other persona, the vigilante, her morbid secret, the villainous part of her, could she tell him? Would she even want to, be able to? Would he judge her, hate her? Turn her in?
Would she need to stop? Did she want to stop or… could she stop?
Oh, gods, she was going to have a panic attack. This was too much to just rattle around in her brain. She could feel herself starting to hyperventilate, her heart racing, flying into her throat, trying to escape. Pushing her chair back, she put her head between her knees, gasping for air. Bile was rising in her throat as she started to wheeze, tears pricking her eyes.
“Granger? Bloody hell, are you okay?” Draco came flying around the desk, crouching down next to her. He started rubbing her back, small circles, the warmth of his hand coming through her shirt.
“I-” She swallowed back the bile and saliva in her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Accio, rubbish bin,” Draco said hand outstretched as the small office bin promptly flew to him. He placed it beneath her and didn’t move away, hand running up and down her back. “Do what you need to do, Granger. I’ll be right here.”
With only coffee in her stomach, there wasn’t much to come up. Retching, the tears leaked out, dampening her cheeks. Godric, she hated puking. After a couple rounds, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and forced herself up. Draco vanished the bin, handing her a warm, wet cloth. She had no idea how he acquired that, as he didn’t move from her side the entire time she was getting sick. Shaking, she wiped her face down, attempting to breathe normally, but being unsuccessful.
Merlin, she was a mess.
“I’m assuming it was nerves, yes?” Draco reached into his robes and pulled out a calming elixir. “This will help. Drink the whole thing.”
He placed the open vial against her lips and she tilted her head back, allowing him to pour the viscous liquid in. Wincing, she swallowed it and asked hoarsely for water. He handed her a glass of cool water, which she tossed back, washing away the taste of her acidic vomit and the bitter elixir.
One last tear escaped, and Draco gently wiped it away. Ugh, why was he being so kind right now? Shouldn't he be disgusted? She took a few more breaths, counting with each one, and felt the potion kicking in.
“Feeling better?”
Nodding, unsure if she should try speaking, she gave him her best attempt at a smile. It was more like a grimace.
“Ha, that was almost convincing.” Draco patted her back then stood up, waving at the door. “Alright, you can start working.”
Hermione noticed they were not alone, as several men in maintenance uniforms stepped into her office. An embarrassed flush lit her cheeks and she stared down at her hands.
“Don’t be ashamed, I cast a disillusionment charm around us as soon as I figured out what was going on. They didn’t see a thing.” Draco spoke only loud enough for her to hear.
Sweet relief.
The last thing Hermione wanted was for anyone to see her this weak, outside of a few choice friends. A tiny twinge in her stomach made her realize she trusted him enough to be at minimum a friend. And deep down she understood that just being friends was never going to be enough with him. Well, she was fucked if he didn’t want her now. She was attached.
“I didn’t know the prospect of having a serious conversation with me was enough to make throw up, Granger.” His teasing tone made her huff out a laugh. Music to his ears.
“What...” She cleared her throat. “What are they doing here?”
“Installing a floo.” He was watching the men replace her current mantel with one much taller and adapted for travel.
“A floo? Why?” Alarmed, she turned to watch the progress.
Rubbing her shoulder absently, he exhaled deeply. “Because if I have to watch you panic in that elevator one more fucking time, I might lose my shit.” He chuckled. “Despite how much fun I had in there with you on Friday.”
Her eyes were wide as she turned back to him. “I was told they couldn’t have them on the sub-basement levels.”
“No, Granger, they wouldn’t allow it not couldn’t allow it. I threw around my weight, as a Malfoy.” He looked back down at her. “And threw some money at it too, made a donation big enough to sponsor this department for about a decade.”
“You rich prat.” She was fighting a smile. She noticed he wasn’t in his disguise, meaning he’d made his presence known at the Ministry today. Idly, she wondered if he’d have to face consequences for dropping his Boucher persona while on duty.
“At your service.” A smile bloomed on his lips. “I’m having one installed on the vault level, too. And they will be locked, for your use. This one will connect to your home and to the vault level only.”
“Oh,” was all she could manage.
Yep, she was royally fucked. She was falling hard for this man.
“They put their foot down at putting one on the DMLE level though, so unfortunately, that will be two rides a week, until this case is solved. But I’ll be with you every time, every single time.”
Her heart was literally swooning right now. Doing laps in her chest. Dancing with glee.
“This is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me, Malfoy. Thank you.” She bit her lip, her eyes now rimmed with moisture for an entirely different reason.
He placed a soft kiss on her temple and murmured into her hair. “Please tell me those are happy tears, Granger.”
“Yes, Malfoy,” she laughed. “Tears of joy.”
It took the workers about an hour to install the floo. They would need to complete the one on the vault level before she could set up the locked access points, and the head engineer said he would report back personally when they could proceed.
As soon as they cleared out, and Draco and Hermione were alone, Hermione approached Draco’s desk. She perched herself up on the edge, feet dangling, drawing his attention to her.
Neither spoke for a full minute, both just assessing the other with trepidation. Finally, Draco cleared his throat and spoke up.
“Did you make a pros and cons list?”
“Not officially.”
“What about a pie chart of my personality disorders?”
Ice broken, Hermione chortled. “That pie chart would have so many slices.”
“Too many.” His dimples were on display with his beguiling grin.
“Honestly, I didn’t need to do any of it.” Her demeanor became serious.
Draco’s smile fell. “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.” Nervously, he began chewing on his cheek.
“It’s simple, really.” Letting out a deep breath, she met his eyes. “I don’t do casual. For me, it’s all or nothing. Either we are together, really dating, monogamous, or everything needs to stop. No flirting, no touches, nothing.”
“What do you want, Granger? Do you want me to stop flirting, touching you?” The last few words came out strained, like it was hurting him to ask.
“What do you want? I can’t read you.” She was wringing her hands anxiously in her lap.
“I thought I was being clear. You, however, have been sending me mixed signals. Hot as hell one minute, then ice cold the next.” On edge, his face was emotionless, eyes shuttered.
“Mixed signals? What? I haven’t been sending any signals! You’re the one who gave me the best orgasm of my life but then didn’t let me reciprocate. You told me you wanted me in your bed and yet it’s been a fucking week, Malfoy, and no invitation.” Her cheeks were heating up with her temper. “I was even in your home yesterday!”
“And you were acting like I had the fucking plague, Granger! Every time I tried to touch you, grab your hand, you pulled away. I thought you didn’t want me!” His voice was getting louder, his frustration evident. “The way you kissed me Friday in the hall, the need in it, Salazar, it was electric. Then you spent the rest of the work day avoiding my touch until you needed a distraction.” He ran his hands through his hair, a large chunk flopping onto his forehead. “And then the second we were off the elevator, you disappeared. Silence from you on Saturday. All day Sunday you were… fucking cordial and polite but not… Merlin, I don’t know what but you still avoided my every attempt to be close to you. It was off-putting and confusing as hell!”
Hermione blinked. She had, in fact, done exactly what he said.
“Malfoy.”
He just looked at her, not answering, face red.
“Draco.”
That got his attention.
“Yes, Hermione?”
Butterflies in her stomach, she blushed at hearing her given name from him.
“Are you interested in me to improve your status?”
He scoffed. “Seriously? You think that?”
“It would though, dating the Golden Girl.” She paused, and he chose not to respond. “Do you just want me so you can brag about me?”
“Really? What kind of a man do you think I am?” He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly cross at her questions.
“I don’t think any of those are true, to be honest. But they were things that I’ve thought about.”
He took a deep breath. “Granger.” Another deep breath. “Hermione. I do not care about my status. My name still carries plenty of weight and I can make up for the places it doesn’t with the gold in my vault. If you would have me, dating you would be purely selfish on my part. I think about you all the time, every minute of every day. You’re so smart, driven, and as beautiful as the night sky. What man in his right mind wouldn’t want you?”
She took in his words, rolled them around in her head. He seemed sincere, and his actions lately have shown his willingness to care for her and protect her. If it had been just a façade to get in her pants, they wouldn’t be here, having this discussion. “Okay then. Let me be crystal clear. I want to be with you. If you can commit to me, only me, I’m yours.”
One second. Two. Three.
Draco scooped her off of his desk, dropping her into his lap. She squeaked in surprise.
“Only you, Hermione. You’re who I want, no one else. Yes, absolutely, fucking, yes.”
Then he kissed her. Not the crushing kiss of the hallway from Friday, or the desperate kiss from the elevator, or even the toe-curling kiss from Rathdowney. This one was tender, gentle, almost chaste in nature. He broke the kiss and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into him. She slipped one arm around him, the other flat against his chest, her legs falling to either side of his hips, and tucked her head under his chin. He let out a contented sigh, one hand running lovingly up and down her spine.
Inside, she was jumping up and down, screaming in delight.
Hermione closed her eyes, absorbing his warmth, enveloped in his scent, listening to his rapid heartbeat. She couldn’t stop the huge smile splitting her face. He wanted her, had chosen her. All that panicking for nothing. Story of her life.
So, apparently the great Draco Malfoy does date. A soft giggle escaped her lips. She couldn’t wait to tell Katarina.
“What’s so funny, Hermione?”
A fresh round of fluttering in her stomach. Her name sounded exquisite on his tongue.
“I think we need to set up a double date with Katarina and her wife.” She sat back, still giggling.
Narrowing his eyes, he shifted his hands to her hips. “While I’m happy to arrange that, I’m not sure why that’s so amusing.”
“Oh, just something she and I talked about last week.”
“Are you willing to share?”
She tapped his nose playfully. “Set up that date and you’ll find out!”
“You’re terrible at being mysterious, you know that?” He squeezed her hips, one corner of his mouth quirked up. “But yes, I’ll set something up. Eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“I’m not going on a double date with my friends until I’ve taken you out on a proper date, just us.” He reached up to brush a curl away from her face.
Hermione grinned at him. “Of course, that makes sense. We’ve just spent so much time together lately, I didn’t think about the fact we haven’t done that. Perhaps tonight?”
He grimaced. “Sorry, darling. Tonight, I have committed to an event with my mother. But I’m free tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow it is then.”
Leaning into him, she swept his loose locks off his forehead before catching his gaze again. His eyes were smoldering with desire. She tilted her head, catching his lower lip in her teeth, a soft nibble, before sucking it into her mouth. Eyes still locked, he moaned, and yanked her hips forward, rubbing against the now evident hardness in his lap. How is this man hard and ready, all the time? Her turn to moan, Hermione dropped her hold on his lip, eyes closing. Draco swallowed her sound, crashing his mouth over hers. Their tongues tangled, and Hermione rocked against him again, feeling heat pooling in her abdomen. One hand gripped his hair, the other his shirt as she lost herself in the taste of him.
His hands began roaming over her body, loosening her shirt from her skirt, one snaking underneath to scratch down her back, another gliding up to her jaw to hold her at just the right angle for his plundering. His hands left trails of heat along her skin, igniting her arousal. He unsnapped her bra and brought his hand around to squeeze her breast, still licking into her mouth. She moaned again, pushing into his hand and rocking her core over his erection. With her skirt bunched up around her hips, only a thin piece of fabric separated her from Draco’s trousers. She bucked her hips, searching for friction as Draco dropped his mouth to her jawline, nibbling his way to her ear.
“Hermione,” he breathed. He sucked on her earlobe, and Hermione bucked on him again, tightening her hold on his hair. She loved the sound of her name coming from him.
“Hermione, darling.” He kissed behind her ear. “My beautiful witch.” Another kiss, down the column of her neck. “My angel.” He sucked over her pulse point as he pinched her nipple in between his fingers.
She cried out, grinding herself against him. “That feels fucking amazing, Draco.” A twitch under her indicated he enjoyed his name on her lips just as much.
He leaned back, removing his hands from her to unbutton her shirt slowly, while he watched her squirm in his lap. She was biting her lip, rubbing against him while emitting breathy sighs. She ran her fingers along his jaw then over his lower lip. She dipped one finger into his mouth and he flicked his tongue over the tip, sucking. With a whine, her hips hitched forward involuntarily and she felt herself pulsing with need. He vanished her bra, but when Hermione started to pull her arms out of her button up, he halted her.
“Leave it on, open for me.” Capturing a nipple in his mouth, he swirled his tongue around one peaked tip. Using his shoulders for leverage, she pushed into his mouth, swiveling her hips forward to find the perfect friction against her clit.
The warmth in her was now a furnace, blazing. She found a rocking rhythm while Draco devoured her breasts, one after another, sucking and biting. One hand moved to her hip, aiding in her movements while the other wound into her hair, pulling her head back.
Fuck, she loved having her hair pulled. She tilted her head forward hoping he’d yank her back in response and was awarded a sharp tug. She stuttered in her movement, the pleasure in her rising.
“Oh, you like that, huh?” He moved up to kiss along the front of her throat, a firm hold on her head.
“Mmm, yes.”
With his guidance pushing her down, her center found even more delicious pressure and her movements became frantic.
“I’m so close. Oh, gods.” Any second, she could tumble over the edge. She was burning up from the inside out. She moved in a fast rhythm against him, chasing her pleasure.
“Hermione, let go.” Draco captured her mouth just as she exploded. He kept his hand steady on her hip, guiding her through her release, consuming her screams with his lips, his hand in her hair loosening.
She came down slowly, pulling back from the kiss to rest her forehead on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, his nose in her hair, breathing in her scent.
She felt him twitch again beneath her, still hard as a rock. “You didn’t come with me.”
“An astute observation. Ten points for Gryffindor.” She sat up, smacking his chest. He groaned at the movement against his erection.
“Can I help you out with that?” After the last time he rejected her, she wanted to ask before acting.
Eyes closed, he clenched his jaw. “No, no, it’ll go down. In due time.”
Caressing his shoulder, she leaned in close. “What if you just… take care of yourself here?” She licked the shell of his ear. “I could lay back on the desk, let you finish on my stomach.” She sucked his earlobe into her mouth, nipping it, and felt him stir again. After coming three times in his presence, she wanted him to get off as well, even if he wouldn’t let her help.
His hands reached up under her arms and he lifted her onto her feet.
“Skirt and knickers off. Now. Top stays on.”
While Hermione obeyed his orders, he pulled off his top and stepped out of his slacks, standing completely naked. His cock was jutting straight out, the tip wet with precum.
With a quick swipe of his arm, Draco cleared everything off his desk, items crashing to the ground. “Up on the desk.”
Hermione hopped up, laying back seductively, toying with her own nipples. She took in the titillating specimen before her. Draco was lean but firm, muscular, a light dusting of dark blond hair trailing down to his perfect cock. His pupils were blown, his chest heaving as he drank her in. Seeing him so aroused was riling her up again, a low pull tightening in her belly. “Would you like to see what you did to me?”
Fisting his cock, he nodded. “Show me.”
Hermione widened her legs, her knees bent, feet on the edge of the desk. She could feel her wetness practically dripping out of her, creating a puddle. Draco’s eyes darkened even further, his cheeks pink, and he began shuttling his hand up and down on his cock.
“Fucking gorgeous, Hermione.”
She bit into her lower lip, one hand still playing with her nipple as she reached her other down to slide two fingers through her soaked core. She traced around her entrance before bringing her fingers back up to her clit, circling the swollen bud. Between the sight of Draco in front of her, his eyes lasered in on her, and the feel of her hands on her body, she could sense another orgasm rising.
Groaning, Draco’s movements increased in speed over his shaft, the tip leaking.
“I love watching you touch yourself, pet.” His voice was low, gravelly, strained. “Fuck yourself with those fingers.”
Hermione heeded his request, pushing both fingers inside of herself. Gasping, she curled them, rubbing along her inner walls with each slide in and out.
“So obedient.”
Draco’s movements were now close to brutal and he slammed his free hand down on the desk next to her thigh.
“So perfect.”
He was panting, his rhythm becoming jerky.
“All mine.”
With a growl, he came, shooting ropes of cum across her stomach and chest, pumping until every last drop was painted over her skin. He dropped his other hand to the desk and leaned over her, breathing hard.
Fingers of one hand still moving inside of herself, she let go of her nipple, moving one digit through Draco’s release. She made eye contact with him, her eyes hooded, and placed it into her mouth. She hummed in delight, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked off his taste, salty and a touch tangy.
“Sweet Salazar, Hermione.”
Draco dropped to his knees, removing her hand from her body holding it up next to his face.
“Eyes up here”
Hermione met his gaze as he was sucking her wetness off her fingers. She moaned at both the loss of fullness and the sight of him tasting her.
She wasn’t empty for long. Draco plunged two of his fingers into her and practically slammed his mouth on her cunt, sucking at her clit. Crying out, Hermione nearly came off the table as she arched into his face. It was only a matter of seconds before she climaxed for the second time that day, and Draco took his time lapping up her release.
Both now sweaty, sexually satiated, Draco kissed her hip before helping her standup. He scourgified them both, as well as his desk, cleaning up their fluids. As Hermione started to dress she notices the door to her office was wide open.
“Draco! You didn’t close the door?” She quickly buttoned her top before shimmying back into her skirt.
“No one ever comes down here, Hermione.” He tucked his shirt into his trousers before buckling his belt. “Also, I just assumed you would be a bit of an exhibitionist.” He had dressed quickly and was now attempting to tame his mussed hair.
She clicked her tongue. “What? Why would you think that?” Placing her ruined knickers into her bag, she walked over to her office chair before glancing back at him, awaiting his answer.
He raised one single eyebrow. “You give off those sexy librarian vibes. All modest and uptight until your clothes come off. Felt like a logical solution.”
Her cheeks reddened. He wasn’t wrong, but damn him. What if someone had walked in?
Not even a minute later, the head engineer was knocking at her door, there to inform her the floo was ready to be programmed. Holy hell, they had been seconds away from being caught in the act! Draco was failing at hiding a smirk, and Hermione’s cheeks remained crimson as she and the worker set up the floo together.
Chapter 21: Des Indices
Summary:
Some light moments, but yet another tragedy is uncovered
Continuing with the same tags, mind them
Notes:
Song Rec: It Won’t Kill Ya by The Chainsmokers
Chapter Text
28 October 2008
The next morning, Hermione was dressed and ready when Draco flooed into her home to take her to work. He arrived with two matching roses, this time a deep red that was almost purple.
“One for here and one to leave at work.” He handed them to her with a gentle kiss, so tender it made Hermione blush.
“Thank you.” She left Draco in the sitting room as she placed the rose in her kitchen with the others, returning to see Crookshanks rubbing against his legs.
“I told you he’s claimed me.” Draco frowned down at his trousers. “And it looks like I’ll be bringing pieces of orange fur with me everywhere now.”
“How dare something take away from your pristine appearance.” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“I’m so glad you understand.” He eyed her outfit which was suspiciously fur free. “How do you keep yours free from a small collection of fuzz?”
Lifting her wand, she pointed at Draco’s trousers. “Capillus repellere.”
As Draco watched, mesmerized, all of Crookshanks fur floated off of his clothing and onto the floor.
“Tricky witch.” He grinned up at her. “I’ll have to remember that one.”
“You know,” Hermione started as she grabbed her bag, “now that my floo is direct, you don’t need to escort me.”
“Don’t take away my fun, Granger.” He caught her by the waist as she approached the fireplace.
“Oh, we’re back to Granger?” She lifted her arms around his neck.
“Hermione.” Pulling her close, he brushed a curl away from her face. “I like being the first person to see you in the morning.” A howl from Crookshanks at their feet made them both giggle. “Okay, besides the orange fuzz ball, then.” He leaned in for another kiss, this one with more heat. Draco cupped her jaw as he held her close. Hermione flung her arms around him, tasting him, breathing in his scent, savoring the moment. Him being hers still didn’t feel real, so she planned to take advantage of every kiss, every touch, every glance, just in case it was all a dream.
Pulling away, Hermione put a small hand on his chest, smoothing out his tie. “While I’d love to spend hours in your arms today, I do think we need to get to the Ministry.”
“Hmm. One of those things sounds appealing and it isn’t going to the Ministry.” He winked at her.
“People are depending on us, Draco.” She picked up the floo powder, giving him a disappointed look.
Draco sighed. “Must you be so responsible?” He reached down and gave Crookshanks a scratch behind the ear. “Be sure to leave a nice hairball on you mom’s pillow today, okay fuzz ball?”
She put a hand on her hip, giving him a glare. This infuriating man. Grabbing some powder from her hand, he gave her a dazzling smile and jumped ahead of her into the floo.
They spent their morning in the lab, running experiments on the crumpled vase. Dripping blood into the center created the same effect as with the chalice, and they were better prepared this time to brace themselves as the gust of wind blasted out.
“You know, the wind might explain the crops flattened into circles near the dead cows.” Hermione was sketching down the runes she had missed previously. “But they didn’t find any objects at those sites. And there wasn’t evidence of a blast of wind at either of the crime scenes.”
“They could have retrieved them, or they could have been fully destroyed upon use.” Draco was healing the cut on his arm, having set aside a small vial of blood for experimenting. “Dark magic can eat away at objects if it isn’t properly instilled. And perhaps the wind is what happens instead of the actual curse when the item is broken?”
“Hmmm… or if the curse wasn’t properly instilled.” Having requested all the books on runes the Ministry had, which was a shockingly small amount, she was now flipping through the pages, searching for the symbols.
There was a knock on the lab door. They both looked up at each other, before Draco strolled over to open it. Harry stood before them, an apologetic grimace on his face.
“Malfoy, Hermione. I need you to go to Paris this afternoon. There’s been another family murdered.”
________________________________________________________
A handful of floo transfers later, they were walking with Katarina and Charles to the crime scene, a large home now cordoned off with brightly colored tape. Several Muggle police officers were standing outside, trying to avoid the light drizzle of rain, and Charles nodded at a stern looking female officer as they approached.
“Bonjour, Robert. Ivanov. Boucher.” She nodded as she addressed each person. “Qui êtes-vous?”
“This is my partner, Curator Granger.” Draco spoke, just as Hermione held out a hand. “I’m Hermione Granger.”
The officer looked at her hand for a long moment, a flash of disgust, before shaking it limply. “I see. I am Detective Archard. Well, I shall give you the rundown, yes?” Her English was crisp, only a slight accent noted. She turned, walking towards the cordoned off home.
“We were called in about two hours ago by the husband, hysterical. He had arrived home for lunch and discovered his wife and children all dead. No evidence of a break-in, no obvious signs of burglary. The wife was still wearing her rings, worth a large sum. No markings on the bodies that we could find. The mother was discovered in bedroom, the first child in the kitchen, the other two in a back play room.” She paused in the foyer of the home, turning back to the four wix behind her. “Please close the door behind you, Curator.”
Hermione obliged, and they were alone, and she could feel the dark magic filling the home, crawling all over every surface.
Detective Archard continued. “According to the rest of my team, you are all special investigators called in from an international task force. Which is true, but I had to make up a cause, so if any of you want to do a quick obliviate on your way out the door, it would be helpful.”
Quirking a grin, Draco nodded at her.
“Merci. Now, only yesterday I was informed by the local DMLE about the case you’re working on, and when I arrived, I knew it was linked. All four bodies are bloodless, and we recovered a cracked quartz bowl near the mother.”
Resuming walking, she led the group upstairs to the main bedroom. A woman who appeared to be in her thirties was sprawled across the mattress, dressed in a nightgown, hair wrapped in a silk cap, as if in slumber. The room was decorated in a spartan manner, and pristine, not a stitch of clothing laid out or thrown on the floor, the bed was neatly made on one side, the only ruffle of the sheets covering her lower body. It made the quartz bowl on the floor seem even more out of place.
“The husband said they have another daughter in school, and he was trying to reach her. I’ll keep you updated on that situation.” After an emotionless glance at the woman on the bed, she turned to the door. “I will head downstairs and keep the other officers occupied. Take your time.” She left quickly, leaving the foursome to take in the scene.
“If she is still in bed, unless she was having a lie-in, I’m guessing she’s been gone for some time. I might not have much luck looking into her mind.” He removed his flask from his jacket pocket. “Plus, if she was asleep, I’ll find nothing. But I’m willing to give it a shot.”
“I’ll secure the bowl while you try,” Hermione supplied, already digging into her bag for her gloves.
“In the meantime, Charles, should we check out the playroom, look for any clues?” Katarina gestured to her partner, who gave an affirmative tilt of his head. “When you’re done here, we can swap, Boucher.”
Draco nodded absently, his eyes on Hermione as she stooped down to observe the bowl.
His witch, officially.
Even the presence of a dead body couldn’t keep his thoughts off of her. Her hair shimmered gold in the gray light from the rain covered window, falling into her face as she turned the bowl from one side to the other. Face scrunched in concentration, she was more beautiful today than even yesterday, her skin glowing, her lips pursed. Setting the bowl down, she stuck her hand into her bag and noticed his stare.
“Can I help you?” Raising her eyebrows, she smirked at him.
“Oh, you will, help me that is. Later, love.” He licked his lips and winked at her.
Blushing she shook her head, removing a hat box from her bag. “Get on with it, Draco. I’d prefer not to flirt with you in front of a dead woman.”
“Again, so responsible and boring.”
Hermione snorted at his words.
Swigging from his flask, he approached the far side of the bed. Not wanting to disturb the woman’s position, he touched only one temple, diving into the darkness.
He felt like he was attempting to wade through a tar pit. Complete obsidian, not a single fleck of light, whether because she was asleep or had been deceased too long, he wasn’t sure. Receding back slowly, he rejoined Hermione in the bedroom, who was now standing, bowl and hat box hidden in her beaded bag. He grimaced and shook his head.
“Okay, now the hard part. Seeing the children.” Hermione bit her cheek. “It’s always harder to see the young, the innocent ones.”
Draco put and arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head against him, winding her arm around his waist. Gods, she smelled delicious. Internally, he scolded himself. Not now, focus on the job at hand.
“You don’t have to see them. I can check them alone, you can wait outside with Detective Archard.”
“The woman who looked at me like I was actual human garbage, you mean her? Yeah, no thanks. I’ll accompany you.”
Draco chuckled. “She looks at everyone that way. It’s just her permanent face.” Starting towards the first floor, they disentangled their limbs. “We’ve just worked with her long enough, we know her. She’s a squib from one of the more prominent wizarding families here, so it’s natural for her to look down her nose at all times.”
Katarina was exiting the back room, the kid’s playroom as they entered the hall. Having heard the end of their conversation she agreed. “She’s actually quite kind, just a tough exterior.” She held out her arm. “Hermione, I think you and I should talk with the Muggles gathered outside the crime scene tape, see if we can find out if the neighbors saw anything. Midday is ballsy, so I’m hopeful there’s a nosy neighbor on the block, one with nothing but time and a pair of binoculars.”
She perked up, and took the offered arm. “Yes, I’d rather not see another dead child for the rest of my life, if I can avoid it.”
“Charles is still in there. We hadn’t moved to the kitchen yet, either.” The pair exited out into the wet afternoon, Katarina chattering in Hermione’s ear.
Charles was crouched down in the center of the room when Draco entered. Red rimmed eyes, but a dry face, he was staring intently at the two small boys, laying nearly side by side on the floor. Sitting down on his haunches, Draco joined him. Likely twins, 4 or 5 years old, brown curls and light brown skin. They looked so peaceful, their little arms stretched out, hands clasped, toys scattered around them. Reverently, the aurors took in the heartbreaking scene in silence.
Without looking up, Charles spoke in a hoarse voice. “They’re the same age as my girls.” A sniffle. “So young, so precious.” Another sniffle. “This is what makes our job difficult. Seeing the murders of such pure souls.” He looked over at Draco. “Please tell me they went peacefully.” Then in a softer voice, he said, “if nothing else, at least they had each other.”
Putting a supportive hand on Charles shoulder, Draco remained quiet, but stayed there as Charles finally let his tears fall. They rose, Charles walking to the window to have some space. Taking out his flask, Draco prepared to check the boys’ minds. With a deep breath, he laid his hand on the first boys curls. One singular speck floated into his vision. He focused on it, pulling up the image. He saw the twins’ hands clasped, bubbled blood on their skin, blood dripping onto the floor. He waded through the mud for another minute, but nothing else floated up. The second twin’s brain let go of no secrets.
Back in the room, he looked at the floor, noting not one blood spot marred the beige carpet. How was that possible? Was someone coming through and casting tergeo after each murder? Or a different spell? Wouldn’t there be residue of that magical signature if so? No evidence of any spells was found in this room, thought the walls still held a lingering dark magic aura. Something killed them, removed the blood, and he was determined to figure it out.
He and Charles moved into the kitchen where a young girl of 9 or 10 years old rested in a chair, upper body slumped over a plate of food, probably her breakfast. Her mind was also blank, nothing to find. Charles poked around the kitchen but found nothing out of sorts. Moving back to the foyer, Draco gave Charles another reassuring pat on the back, their eyes meeting, the two men sharing an unspoken conversation.
As they walked outside, Draco noted the rain had stopped, the sun trying shine away the clouds. He found Hermione wringing her hands, a tortured look on her face. He quickly strode over to her side, concerned.
“What’s wrong?”
“The other daughter, they’ve found her.” She was starting to shake.
“Isn’t that good?” Alarmed, he reached out to steady her.
“She was a student at Beauxbatons.”
“Was?”
She took a deep breath. “They found her deceased in her bed.”
Draco worked his mouth, though it was a few seconds before he made a sound. “….how?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you two can find out.” Katarina walked up to them, her features drawn and serious. “I’ve reached out to Detective Thomas, and the Head Auror of the French DMLE, and informed them both Boucher and his partner would investigate. Hope that’s okay with you.” She looked between them, waiting for an objection that never came. “Charles and I are going to hunt down extended family, see if there are any other deaths. Let’s reconvene at the French DMLE in a few hours.”
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Nestled in the majestic French Pyrenees, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic was a large chateau surrounded by magically created lush gardens and lawns. Hermione was taken by the setting, gasping as she clutched onto Draco’s arm in the back of the carriage.
“Oh, Draco, it’s breathtaking!” A genuine smile spread across her face, eyes glinting with delight.
“I agree,” he said, his heated gaze only on her.
“Have you been here before?”
He tore his eyes away, taking in the scenery around him. “Once. My mother and I toured the school, when she was trying to decide where I would attend classes.”
“Oh? I didn’t know you considered other magical academies.” Her attention now on him, she had a calculating tilt to her head.
“Yes, several, actually. My father wanted me to attend Durmstrang. There were Death Eaters associates of his there he wanted me to train with. My mother refused to have me so far away. My father always caved to her whims, so it was off the table. She was torn between here and Hogwarts, and well, you know which school won out.”
“I’ll have to thank you mother for her decision.” She lifted his arm over her head, snuggling into him.
So would he. How different would his life had been if he’d been molded by some of the worst Death Eaters in the world, he would never know. And he couldn’t imagine not having this enticing witch at his side. Who knows if they would have ever crossed paths without Hogwarts? Setting his chin on her head he closed his eyes and breathed her in, lavender and vanilla, and something that was all her.
“Seems like you two bonded on Sunday.”
“She owled me yesterday, inviting me over for tea. I think I forgot to tell you after all the… excitement of yesterday.”
He didn’t need to see her face to know she was turning red. She could be so forward in the midst of chasing her pleasure, but as soon as her clothes were back on, she would blush like a schoolgirl at even the implication of sex. He held back a chuckle and tightened his grip around her.
“You should go. She doesn’t extend invites to the manor often, so it’s clear she likes you.”
“Does your mother… does she know about us?” Hermione asked apprehensively.
“Last night I described to her in detail our office escapades, so you won’t need to go over it again with her.” This time he had to physically bite his lip to keep the laugh back.
She sat up, and her hand found her hip. “Draco Lucius Malfoy, you did NOT!”
“We’re very close. We share everything.”
“You’re joking!” When he didn’t respond, she turned further crimson. “Wait, you’re not joking?”
He couldn’t hold back any longer. The laugh exploded out of him. “You are so adorably gullible, you know that?”
“Oh, fuck off, Malfoy.” She turned forward, crossing her arms.
“Malfoy, eh? Okay, Granger.” He leaned in and kissed her temple. “But I’m still Boucher right now.”
“Hmph.” She was fighting a smile. “I’m just too trusting with you.”
“I love it. Never change.” Playing with one of her curls, he drank in her profile, her glowing skin dusted with freckles. “But to answer your question, no. I did not bring it up last night. I wasn’t sure how out you wanted to be about us. Thought we should discuss that first.”
“It’ll be shocking news, to anyone.”
“I can already see Rita Skeeter’s article in The Daily Prophet. ‘Draco Malfoy Back from the Dead: How the Death Eater Imperio’d Our Golden Girl’.” Draco sneered. “I am sure it won’t be well accepted by the public.”
Hermione chewed on a hangnail. “I didn’t even think beyond how our friends would respond. I try to spend as little time out in public in the wizarding world these days, I forgot how sensationalized news like that could be.”
The carriage came to an abrupt stop, nearly tossing the couple onto the floor.
“Think about it, Hermione. We can have a discussion later.” Draco knew whatever she decided, he would agree to. He might argue with her, just to put on a show, but he knew he could never again not give her what she wants. He’d travel to the stars and bring her back the moon if she so desired.
As they exited the carriage, Headmistress Maxime was waiting for them. The half-giantess had aged in the years since the pair had met her during the tri-wizard tournament. She now wore her silver hair in a tight bun on the back of her head, fine lines crinkled around her eyes and mouth. She wore a fur coat over her modest blue outfit that flowed to the ground, dusting over her black shiny boots. Prepared for the cooler temps in the mountains, Hermione had transfigured their Muggle jackets into fleece lined robes, and had found gloves and scarves stashed in her bag. Draco hadn’t even complained when she wrapped the Gryffindor red scarf around his neck.
“Hello, Headmistress.” Hermione gave her a small curtsy.
“Bonjour. I wish we were reuniting under happier terms, Miss Granger.” She held out a hand to Draco. “Headmistress Olympe Maxime, and you are?”
“Auror Laurent Boucher, madame.” He kissed the back of her hand. “I also regret we are visiting due to such unfortunate circumstances.” He let go of her hand, straightening back to his full height. They began walking towards the chateau. “Your school grounds are magnificent. Perhaps one day I will be back, bringing my young children to learn magic here.”
Hermione stumbled upon hearing his words, and he deftly reached out a hand to right her, his lips twitching. He would pay half the gold in his vault to know what she was thinking right at that moment. Was she imagining mini Granger-Malfoys with ice blonde curls and freckles running amok, too smart for their own good? He certainly hoped so.
Draco’s mood changed immediately upon entering the chateau, as the somber faces of the young witches and wizards surrounded them. There were pockets of young students, huddled together crying, hugging. The Headmistress directed them down the long main hall and up a back shadowed staircase to the third floor. As they entered the first bedroom on the right, Draco’s eyes fell upon the girl. Her blankets had been thrown back, and she was dressed in a long sleep dress, her braids draped across the pillow, one arm tucked under her chin. Her dulled skin had a gray hue to it, reminiscent of her mother’s coloring when they found her.
“We assumed she passed in her sleep. Her bunk mates all left for classes, assuming she was sleeping in, so it wasn’t discovered she had passed until her father called to check on her.” Headmistress Maxime had to crouch slightly in the small space, and was clasping her hands in front of her. “We are rather lenient with our students as far as class attendance, as we encourage good mental health and self-care. We rarely have to step in, so it isn’t unusual for a witch to take a day in bed, in case you were wondering why it wasn’t until after lunch time we found she had passed.”
Turning to the half-giant, she placed a small hand on her arm. “We are not here to judge.”
“Who would’ve had access to this room, to the chateau, outside of students and faculty?” Removing a small pad and quill from his robes, Draco began taking notes.
“No one. We have very strong wards here, and any intruder would’ve set them off the second they crossed them. And no one can apparate within the walls of the chateau.”
“Did she have any enemies, any students who would’ve wanted to cause her harm?” Draco’s face was unreadable as he took note of the room.
“Before you arrived, myself and our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher sat down with her friends and roommates, and they couldn’t come up with anyone. They said nothing was out of place in here, and she was completely normal yesterday.” She exhaled, sadness racking her features. “It’s been hundreds of years since we lost a student on the grounds.”
“Do you mind giving us a few minutes alone, Headmistress?” Hermione gave her forearm a squeeze before stepping back. “And would you gather her friends and roommates for us?”
“Of course, Miss Granger. I’ll be at the bottom of the staircase when you’re finished.”
Sitting on a chair next to the bed, Hermione found Draco’s eyes. “There’s no object here, nor any evidence there could’ve been one. Nothing in the room seems out of place, as far as I can tell. However,” she observed the small child in front of her, “she’s so gray, pale, I would guess she’s bloodless as well.”
“Can you run a diagnostic? Check for anything?”
Hermione agreed, standing next to the bed. She waved her wand over the body, and purple lines appeared above her. Chewing on her cheek, she studied the lines, her brow furrowed in concentration. They looked like nonsense to Draco, so he was waiting for her to give him an explanation.
“Well, cause of death was blood loss, and subsequent organ failure.” Looking down, they both noted not even a single drop of blood on the body or bedding. “There is dark magic emanating from her as well, but not evident in the room, which is different than the previous crime scenes.” She dropped the spell, purple light fading away. She looked at him sharply. “I might know what’s going on.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Think about it. She died her sleep, head on the pillow, under her covers. But Draco, she was drained of blood, completely, not a drop anywhere.” She was staring intently at him, letting him ruminate.
“Right, we’ve established that.”
“It’s probable she died at the same time as her family, minus her father,” she said, adding another detail.
“So let me talk this out. If she died at the same time as her mother and siblings… no one broke through the wards, and there wasn’t an object here, so it was either taken or completely destroyed.” He was tapping his lips now, and started pacing across the floor.
“Or, there wasn’t any object ever here.” Hermione was still, hands now clasped behind her back, watching Draco. “We don’t feel magic in the air or on the walls, like the other crime scenes.”
“How would that be possible?”
Not providing an answer, she simply watched him.
“The father wasn’t killed. But the mother and all of her offspring died, at the same time, completely drained of blood.” It took him a moment but his eyes widened. “We’re looking at a bloodline curse.”
She let out a deep breath. “That’s what I think too. And it isn’t restricted by geography.”
He continued pacing, lost in thought. “Okay. Good. This is good.”
“What?!” Hermione exclaimed, shock on her face.
“Huh?” He stopped pacing to face her, and ran his hand though his hair.
“Good?!” She practically shrieked the word at him.
“Oh! No, I mean, we can narrow down the blood magic they used, not that what’s happening is good.” He grimaced. “I skipped over a few thoughts I should have expressed out loud.” He blew out his cheeks. “We should go back to the Ministry. Share what we think with Kat and Charles, send an owl to Thomas.”
Hermione started for the door, but Draco stood in the center of the room, staring at the young girl. When she sensed he wasn’t following, she asked, “Are you coming?”
He brought out his flask. “Just be to absolutely certain, I’m just going to do a quick check. Go ahead and let the Headmistress know we will need the carriage prepared for our return.”
The carriage ride back to the floo point was silent, both lost in their own thoughts. Draco had his arm around Hermione, absent-mindedly stroking her shoulder with his thumb, while she laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His dive into the young girl’s brain hadn’t given him anything new to work with, as expected, but he just wanted to be sure no stone was unturned. Hermione had spoken with the students in his absence, and she detected no deception or animosity. Hermione had promised Headmistress Maxime they would get more answers for the school, and had requested for a team to retrieve her body to return it to her grieving father.
When they arrived at the DMLE within the French Ministry, Katarina and Charles were already there, working on paperwork. Walking over to them, Draco had his Boucher disguise in place and a hand on Hermione’s lower back. Charles normally soft, kind eyes looked stormy, his features tight, his face haggard. Seeing the twins today was seeming to take quite a toll on him. Katarina sat back in her chair as they approached, an assessing gaze in her eyes.
“Welcome back. How was Beauxbatons?” She set her quill down, rubbing her cramping hand.
“Outside of the reason we were there, lovely. I’ve never spent time in such an idyllic location before.” Hermione sat in the metal chair across from her desk as Draco leaned against the wall beside her. “I would love to go on a tour sometime, when this is all wrapped up.”
Smiling, Katarina nodded at her. “It is quite impressive, the views there. I’m sure I could help arrange something for you. My wide has a cousin who’s a teacher there.”
“Thank you! I’d love that.” Hermione’s tone became serious. “But on topic, the young girl died in her sleep. Of blood loss and organ failure, per my diagnostic.” Katarina raised an eyebrow. “I am a fully trained healer, I just chose not to practice.”
“Ah, I see. I was curious how you would know the proper scans.”
At that moment, Charles slid his wheeled chair over to join Katarina behind her desk. “Can you describe the scene? What did you find?”
Draco continued where Hermione left off. “Just like with our previous victims, no blood was found anywhere, not a drop inside her, nor on her, nor on the furnishings. Her roommates and friends said nothing was out of place in her room, and no one was seen entering or leaving. The wards in the chateau were not triggered, so if anyone was involved, it was an internal kill.”
“It would be one hell of a coincidence for her to die at the same time and in the same manner as her family, and it also be a hit from inside the school.” Charles didn’t look up from his notebook as his quill scratched along at a high speed.
“We don’t think it was a coincidence.” Hermione glanced up at Draco before continuing. “We think she died at exactly the same time as her mother and siblings. By the same curse.”
“Really?” Katarina angled her head, narrowing her eyes in concentration. “That could only be possible if…” She trailed off, and Draco took over.
“If we are looking at a blood curse that kills off entire bloodlines.”
“Specifically, targeting the offspring of the witch or wizard hit. Which is why the husband, the children’s father, wasn’t killed. He doesn’t share blood with his wife.” Hermione exhaled loudly. “And I think, personally, they’re using my list to try and wipe out Muggle bloodlines that have shown to produce magical wix. It’s one way to try to rid the world of Muggle-borns. I’ll need to check the family name in my records.” Her voice shook with a touch of rage during her final sentences, and Draco placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
“Miss Granger, where are your parents?” Charles was looking at her, eyes full of worry.
“Australia. Far from here, and hopefully safe.”
Charles and Draco shared a glance, and Charles abruptly stood. “I have contacts in Melbourne. Can you write down their names for me and their current city of residence? I’ll send it over and they can reach out to the local aurors and have someone keep an eye on them.”
“I can but…” Nervously shifting in her seat, she spoke now in a lower voice. “They don’t know about me, anymore. I obliviated them during the war to protect them from Voldemort. I was unable to restore their memories after, so they believe they’re childfree.”
Both Katarina and Charles gazed at her with pity in their eyes.
“I’m sorry, Hermione. That was very brave of you to do at the time. Regardless, we should have surveillance on them, to keep them and also you safe.” Charles handed over a sheet of parchment and his quill, and Hermione dutifully wrote down the information.
As he walked away, Katarina removed fresh parchment from her drawer. “Have you informed Detective Thomas or Head Auror Potter of your theory?”
“We haven’t had a chance. Came straight here from the academy.” Hermione took the sheet and a quill from Katarina’s outstretched hands. She began jotting down her thoughts in a succinct order, starting with the family murders, then moving onto the young girl’s death, and finally her conclusions.
Meanwhile, Draco started pacing behind her, his mind again wandering at the possibilities. With the runes, the blood magic had to be ritualistic in nature, but he doubted it was done at the time of the murders. Which means there were at least two components to the process, instilling the objects and deploying the curse. It was odd the objects were one time use, but not entirely unheard of. And why were the items left? Why wouldn’t the culprit take them back?
He stopped as a thought rose up. “Wait, the youngest child at the Irish farmhouse wasn’t killed.”
“The father was the target that time, correct? That would mean the child wasn’t his by blood. The mother ran off with a lover, per Rowan’s investigating. That child was likely the product of an affair.”
“Was the child given back to the mother?” Hermione looked up from her notes, alarmed.
“No, she’s being raised by extended family.” Katarina pursed her lips. “The mother refused to take her back. Probably best for the child anyways.”
Just them, Hermione’s stomach growled, long and loud. She turned crimson with embarrassment. “Sorry! We skipped lunch to get here and now it’s nearly past my dinner time.”
“Why don’t we all get dinner together? My wife can make arrangements for us. Amelie, I’m sure, would love to see you, Laurent.” Katarina emphasized his fake first name, winking at him.
Draco did always love spending time with Katarina and her wife, as they were his closest friends in France. Remembering Hermione’s comment about wanting to have dinner with them, a double date, he knew he couldn’t say no… even though he had wanted to take her out alone first, and they were supposed to have a date night tonight. He glanced down to see Hermione already nodding her head at Katarina and smiled.
“Sounds lovely.” Draco answered, his hand on Hermione’s shoulder again.
“Perfect.” Katarina took in their clothes. Draco was wearing his official auror robes today, and Hermione was dressed business casual, in basic trousers and a button up blouse. “You don’t happen to have any other clothes available, Hermione? Amelie will want to meet somewhere on the nicer side.”
Draco snorted, knowing her wife was absolutely a food snob. Katarina chose to ignore him.
“I know Draco has a place close by, and he could easily change, but I understand your home is back in England.”
“Give us an hour or so, and I’ll buy her something fitting.” His hand squeezed her shoulder.
She whipped her head around at him. “That’s not necessary, I can buy my own things.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Of course you can, but I have better taste.”
It was Katarina’s turn to snort. “Just let the rich prat buy you a dress, Hermione. Get something expensive.”
Hermione grumbled under her breath, but she knew she would cave. Her salary wasn’t high, and she knew Draco enjoyed spending money on her. “Fine. Should we meet back here?”
Taking his phone out of his pocket, he walked behind Katarina’s desk. “You can send Hermione a message on here with the place and time, and we will be there.” He hit the power button, lighting up the screen.
Giving him a sly smile, Katarina pulled out a mobile of her own. “Or you could just give me your number.”
“You sly witch, how long have you had a phone?” Scrunching up his eyebrows, he looked back at his own. “And how do I find out my… number? I’m clearly a 10, but I bet that’s not what you mean.”
Hermione groaned across the table as Katarina snickered. Grabbing his phone from her hand, she opened his messages app. “I can message myself from your phone, start the text chain.” She paused seeing the only other person in his phone. “Wild Curls? That has to be you.”
She looked pointedly at Hermione, who blushed slightly. Katarina tiled her head, a knowing gaze in her eyes. Hermione gave her a sheepish smile and blushed further. Katarina raised her eyebrows, and gave her a big smile. These witches were having a conversation without him, right in front of him, and it was definitely about him.
“Well get on with it. We have shopping to do, and I’m certain Miss Wild Curls will be difficult to please, so we should start sooner rather than later.”
Katarina laughed out loud, typing on his phone, as Hermione scoffed, putting her hands on her hips.
Chapter 22: Under My Skin
Summary:
Paris Adventure
Notes:
Hi lovelies! Hopefully someone is reading along, or I'm just doing a whole lot of talking to myself, lol.
Enjoy a little smut this chapter. Kisses!
Song Recs: Change (In The House of Flies) by The Deftones, Knee Socks by Arctic Monkeys
Chapter Text
28 October 2008
She walked out of the dressing room, tugging at the thin pink fabric that barely covered her bottom. The dress was only wisps of fabric, one shouldered and sleeveless, exposing a significant amount of her olive skin. She felt self-conscious, especially of her scar, but had promised to model each option to Draco. The dressing room attendant followed her closely, holding several other expensive dresses in her arms.
As she made it out to the triple paneled mirror, Draco took in her form from the plush couch in the center of the room. He sipped on his champagne, angling his head to view all of the dress.
“You look… uncomfortable.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, watching her.
“I am. This is not the one.”
She hurried back to the dressing stall, the attendant handing her a different option, a longer red dress. She ripped off the pink disaster and held up the maroon silk option. Long sleeves, high neck, nearly floor length. It couldn’t have been more different than the previous dress. The fit was tight and despite the full coverage, showed off every curve of her body. This was better, but she couldn’t say she loved it.
As she modeled this one for Draco, he stayed silent, his expression bored. Clearly this one didn’t excite him, either. That makes two of them. Okay, try again. The next dress was wrap style, falling to her knees in front and just below in the back, the skirt flowy and arms three quarter in length. At first glance the dress was navy blue, but as the light hit it, it shimmered like dragon scales in an emerald green shade. The bodice was V-necked and low cut, highlighting her cleavage, one of her best physical assets.
This time when she stepped out, Draco sat up, his eyes focused on her. “Do a spin for me, Hermione.”
Obeying, she twirled around, the skirt rising to mid-thigh as it flared out. She let out a small laugh, enjoying the feel and fit of fabric.
“That’s the one, wouldn’t you agree?”
Hermione bit her lip, smiling. “Yes! I feel beautiful. Much better than the last two.”
“Beautiful doesn’t even come close, love.” His eyes were burning into her, making her blush. “Pick out some heels. Preferably something strappy.”
She started towards the back to change, but Draco stopped her. “No need to change, you’ll just have to put it back on in a few minutes anyways.”
“Good point.” Hermione and the attendant made their way to the far corner of the shop where a small collection of high heels and sandals were on display. She could feel Draco’s eyes on her, and she tossed a glance back at him, enjoying the sight of him wearing his formal dark gray auror robes. For being so pale, he wore dark colors exceptionally well. His eyes were perusing her backside, and he raised them to catch hers just before she turned back to the attendant, who had several pairs of heels in her hands already.
“You partner, he is very handsome, Miss.” The attendant’s English was heavily accented, but Hermione was thankful she could speak it.
“He is. And he knows it.” Hermione giggled with her as she slipped her foot into the first pair.
The heels were gold and strappy and fit her perfectly. Opting to choose them, she forgoed trying anything else. The less time she had to spend in a store, the better. They clicked obnoxiously on the ground as she made her way to the dressing room to gather her bag and her work clothes. Meeting Draco by the register, she nearly fainted at the cost of her outfit. She was very thankful he was paying, even if she wouldn't admit it. The total was an entire month’s salary for her.
Wanting her accessory to match, she transfigured her beaded bag shades of gold to mirror the color of her shoes. They exited the store and Draco directed them to a shop two doors down. It wasn’t until they were inside that she realized they were in a jewelry store. Panic rising in her, she grabbed his arm.
“Draco, I don’t need jewelry, it would be too much.” She licked her lips and attempted to back out of the store.
He placed a firm arm around her shoulders, hauling her forward. “Nonsense. You need jewelry to complete your look. Plus, I want to buy something for you.” He kissed her temple. “Please let me, love.”
She melted at his pet name, probably why he used it. “Fine." She raised her chin. "But I have veto rights.”
He chuckled but agreed.
The first necklace he picked out was way too showy, dripping in diamonds and emeralds. Before the owner could even remove it from the case, she shot it down. Hermione preferred simple but elegant. The next one was just as gaudy, and she scrunched her forehead, implying he was bonkers if he thought she’d ever wear something that huge. Catching the look, he stepped back, hands up, and let her peruse the options.
Spying a delicate gold chain with a sapphire pendant and matching earrings, she asked to try it on. The gem nestled perfectly at the base of her throat, glinting as it caught the light, simple but glamorous.
“You sure, Hermione? This is what you want?” His hand was on her lower back, and he leaned into her ear as he spoke.
“I am. They’re perfect.” She admired herself a moment longer in the handheld mirror, before Draco caught her jaw with a finger. As he raised her chin to him, he placed a claiming kiss on her lips.
“Then they’re yours.”
He paid the shopkeeper, and then he directed them to the floo in the back, sending the couple to Draco's French manor.
Compared to Malfoy Manor, the home was small, though it would still be considered a sprawling mansion by normal standards. It was elegantly decorated in creams, grays, and dark wood, with various plants scattered about. The leather couches looked comfortable and lived in, and there was evidence of Draco’s presence throughout the main room. A pair of reading glasses on the side table, a quidditch magazine on the coffee table, a dark green throw rug piled on the love seat closest to the fireplace as if just cast off.
“Do you need something to drink while I change? Need the loo?” He was walking towards the back of the house, Hermione following a few steps behind. “Kitchen is here,” he said waving to the left, “though I can’t promise there’s more than wine or water, unless you want to make tea. Toilet is at the end of the hall. I’ll just be a few minutes.” He sauntered up the stairs while Hermione found her way into the large kitchen, gasping at the beauty. The floors were a rich hardwood, polished to a shine, the cupboards the same dark hue, and the counters boasted an intricate marble, the grain matching the floor. She found some open wine, charmed to stay fresh, and poured herself a glass. Of course it was perfect, berries and oak on the front with a dry finish.
Carrying her glass with her, she found the loo and went in to freshen up a bit. Digging around in her bag, she discovered her lip gloss and mascara, reapplying both. A quick spritz of her perfume at her pulse points and behind her knees and made her feel more put together. Her hair was a wild mess, as always, but it was a lost cause and she left it as is. Admiring the dress, she swished side to side, watching the shimmer of the dress in the mirror, knowing already it would become a favorite.
“Hermione?”
Throwing her things back in her bag, she headed out into the hall, her breath catching in her throat. Draco was standing at the end wearing a charcoal gray suit, fitted to perfection. Paired with it was a navy tie, the same color as her dress, and his cuff links sparkled in the glow from the kitchen. His hair was combed back, and he’d opted to leave his stubble, and Hermione felt a heat building in her lower belly imagining that scratching between her legs.
Forcing herself to walk, she ambled over to him, their eyes locked. He offered her an arm, and she slipped her hand around his bicep, smiling up at him.
“Amelie has secured us a table. Are you ready?” He had reapplied his cologne, and Hermione leaned into him, taking in the scent.
“I will be once you kiss me.” That wasn’t what she meant to say, but apparently her heart spoke for her.
Without hesitation, Draco cupped her jaw and bent down, capturing her lips. Oh, he tasted delicious and she was starving. She pushed into the kiss, clutching at his arm, arching her back. He groaned into her mouth, reaching beind her to drag her body against his. She caught his lip in her teeth and promptly sucked, hard. Abruptly, Draco released her, moving back just a few inches.
“If we continue that, we won’t make it to dinner.” Rubbing her hand, he escorted the pouting Hermione to the floo, calling out the restaurant name.
The reservation was at a Muggle restaurant, one of the top rated in the city. Dimly lit, beautiful bouquets were displayed along the walls, and soft piano music filtered through the space from a baby grand in the center of the room. Hermione was ever so grateful now for the change of clothes, though regretting not doing anything with her hair. As they approached the booth, Draco’s hand on the small of Hermione’s back, Katarina and her wife stood to greet them.
“Draco, a pleasure to see you again. And who is this bewitching woman with you?” Amelie kissed his cheek as he leaned down, gazing at Hermione. She was a small witch, short cropped blond hair, thin, delicate build, and practically oozed femininity.
“Hermione Granger, my… partner.” The word felt loaded with dual meaning.
“Partner?” She raised one eyebrow. “Professional or personal?”
“Both, and please, call me Hermione.” She grasped the smaller woman’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as a smile spread across her lips.
“Oh, both, I see.” Amelie caught Katarina’s eye and twinkled mischievously. “Well, I’ll have some questions about that once we’re settled.”
As they slid into the booth, a maître d’ arrived with a bottle of chilled sparkling wine, pouring each of them a glass. He informed them their server would be by shortly.
Amelie smirked across the table, raising her flute. “A toast to the happy couple. Never thought I’d see the day you settled down, Draco.”
Unable to contain a smile, he draped an arm over Hermione’s upper half, pulling her into his side. Clinking his flute with the three witches’ drinks, he met Amelie’s eyes.
“Obviously, she was the one I was waiting for.” After a sip of his bubbles, he placed a delicate kiss to Hermione’s hair as she snuggled into his warmth.
“Aw, how precious.” Amelie’s gaze softened at the loving display.
Katarina looked at her wife, head tiled, eyebrow raised. “They went to school together.”
“I was just about to ask how you met.” She took another sip of champagne. “Wait, did you two date when you were younger?”
Hermione snorted, face contorted with amusement. “Gods, no! He was a right prat. I hated him.”
“Hate feels like a strong word, Hermione,” Draco curled his lip.
“No, it’s definitely the correct word. At first, anyways.” She shifted in her seat to angle towards him. “By sixth year, though, it was less hate, more… dislike, but also concern for your well-being.”
“Hmm.” He side-eyed her, eyebrows scrunching up. “You didn’t show any of that concern.”
“Would you have accepted it?” She looked on, incredulously.
“No. Fair point.”
“Now, I tolerate you.”
He flicked her nose. “Ha, is that what you call this?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “You scratch an itch.”
“I do more than scratch, love.” His eyes darkened at the implication.
Hermione blushed bright red, thinking about his teeth leaving marks of ownership on her body.
“Yeah, ma chérie, you win. Dinner on me, tonight.” Amelie shoulder checked her wife, smiling.
Draco and Hermione, having temporarily forgotten they had an audience, returned to the present. Just then the server arrived with their first course. Draco’s eyes moved from Amelie to Katarina, assessing them. As soon as the server left, he spoke up, wariness in his tone.
“What’s that about?” He narrowed his eyes at his friends.
“We’ve had a longstanding bet about your most eligible bachelor lifestyle. Whether you just preferred casually dating around or you were hung up on an ex.” Raising her eyebrows, she pointed a fork at Hermione. “Hung up is correct, though not an ex.”
“You meddling witches.” He tried to look outraged but struggled to hide a smile.
“Only because we care.” Kat kicked him under the table, her eyes glimmering with satisfaction.
“So, Hermione,” Amelie asked, changing the subject, “Tell me about yourself.”
The conversation meandered throughout the multiple courses, and Hermione found herself smitten with Amelie and Katarina, understanding why Draco had chosen them to be his closest confidantes while living in France.
“I apologize, I need to use the loo.” Hermione gently tapped her napkin against her lips then placed it on the table. Draco slid out of the booth, offering her a hand as she rose. His eyes fastened to hers, he kissed her hand before letting it go.
“You’re awfully sappy tonight, Draco.” His only response was to scan her body before letting her hand go with a raise of his eyebrow.
Shaking her head, she walked away, heading to the back of the restaurant.
When she came back out, peeking in from the entrance to the dining area, she spotted the women at the booth but Draco wasn’t present. Perhaps he also needed the loo? But as she scanned the room, she found him at the piano, playing a beautiful, melodic piece. Mouth agape, Hermione was unaware he had any musical talents, and she was transfixed. He looked ethereal in the spotlight over the piano, his hair shining white, his cheekbones highlighted, his long fingers flying over the keys.
He was captivating.
Hermione leaned against the doorframe, not wanting to miss a second of the show. She didn’t recognize the song. The notes were soft, the song melodic and enchanting. She let the music wash over her, speak to her, tell its story. As the piece ended, Draco found her in the crowd. He made his way to her, not breaking eye contact despite patrons attempting to thank him.
“I had no idea you were so talented.” Hermione raised a hand to his hair, brushing it off his forehead. He spun her into the hallway, out of sight of the dining room.
“You’ve witnessed my fingers in action. Where did you think the dexterity came from?”
His arms bracketed her, backing her into the wall.
“Hmm, I don’t know if I remember exactly how dexterous you are. I might need another demonstration.” She bit her lip, running one hand across his arm, the other landing on his chest.
Draco leaned closer, sliding one leg between hers, hands moving down to grasp her hips. “That can be arranged.”
Hermione grabbed his collar, yanking his mouth to hers, already feeling her arousal rising. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush with him, his leg rubbing in just the right spot along her core. Hermione moaned into his mouth, wiggling against him. Draco smiled into her lips before diving his tongue onto her mouth, angling his head. Godric, he always knew just what she needed. She met his tongue with her own, her hand moving up to clasp the back of his neck. She rocked against him again, now feeling him half hard rubbing against her thigh. This time Draco groaned, and she took advantage of the break in the kiss to lick up the column of his neck.
Draco tightened his grip on her. “Hold on, love.”
“Wha-“ Hermione started, but a second later she was gasping as they landed in the front room of his manor. “Draco! That was a Muggle establishment! What if someone saw-“
Her words were cut off as he crashed his mouth over hers, his hands roving over her midsection.
She pulled back, starting again. “What about Katarina and her wife?” Draco moved to her neck, sucking hard on her pulse point, causing Hermione’s knees to buckle as she cried out.
“They’ll figure it out.” He was untying her dress, now kissing down to her shoulder.
“We didn’t pay! We need to go back!” Hermione tried to push him away, but he held her firm.
Succeeding in undoing the knot, Draco pushed the dress off her shoulders and Hermione took advantage of his release of her body. She jumped back, and in the process her dress slipped down her arms and onto the floor. She now stood before him in only heels and a black satin bra.
His eyes darkened. “If I had known you weren’t wearing knickers, I would’ve had my fingers inside you in that booth.”
“DRACO!” She put her hands on her hips. “Can we at least call them?”
“No.” He took one step forward, loosening his tie.
Hermione stepped back, nearly tripping over her own dress. “W-What?”
“I don’t care about them right now.” He pulled the tie off, keeping it in one hand as he started unbuttoning his shirt.
“I don’t want them to think we’re the type to dine and dash!” She stepped out of her heels, scooting to the side. Draco followed her, his eyes never leaving her body.
“I have no idea what that means, Hermione, but I still don’t care.” He shrugged out of his jacket and button up at the same time, leaving him bare chested. His erection was obvious, his trousers tented below his belt. “The only thing I care about right now is getting my mouth on you.”
Not aware of her surroundings, Hermione tried to back up again, and ended up falling onto one of the couches. “But-“
“Hermione. Do shut up.” Draco grabbed her arms, holding them above her head and kissed her before casting a sticking spell, securing them to top of the couch. He took his tie, wrapping it around her mouth and knotted it behind her head. He kissed her cheek, then ghosted his breath across her ear. “They’re smart. They’ll figure it out.”
He began moving his lips down to her chest, kissing and sucking, his hands unclasping her bra. Her anxiety over their hasty exit melted away with his caresses. Closing her eyes, Hermione reveled in the way his mouth trailed along her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. When his lips reached her breasts, he dropped one hand down to her center, tracing along her seam, teasing her as he flicked his tongue over her nipple. His other hand he kept splayed across her stomach, keeping her from coming off the couch. Embers of desire came to life inside her, fueling her arousal. Pushing one finger into her wetness, he barely grazed her clit before slipping down to her entrance, teasing her opening.
Hermione groaned through the tie, arching into his touches, desperately seeking more but he held her firmly against the cushions. He removed his lower hand, running it up the inside of her thigh as his mouth fully latched onto her nipple, sucking hard. Whimpering, Hermione’s internal warmth was becoming a fire, aching for pressure. His teasing grazes caused her to squeze her thighs together, seeking friction.
Draco came off her nipple with a pop, chucking. “You’re always so impatient, pet.” He licked up her sternum before kissing his way back down. “Let me savor you, beautiful.”
He positioned himself between her legs, on his knees, eyes roving over her, admiring the woman before him. He licked his lips in anticipation of tasting every inch of her body. A surge of arousal rose through her at sight of his tongue, his dilated pupils. She could feel how wet she was, practically dripping onto the cushion, and let out a soft whine. It was time for action, the sooner the better.
Draco lifted her right leg, kissing her ankle, caressing her calf. Her ankle balanced on his shoulder, he slowly kissed up to her knee, his other hand resting on her inner thigh. That hand was so, so close to where she desired him, needed him, and she whined again, squirming. He bit her thigh, licking soothingly over the mark, grinning up at her. If she could talk, she’d be begging, pleading for him to hurry up and bury his face into her center.
"You truly are the most impatient woman."
Continuing his forward progress, he left hot, open-mouthed kisses along her inner thigh, stopping just short of where she wanted him. Reaching behind him, he grabbed her other leg, kissing that ankle, following the same torturous path as previously. Rocking against the couch, groaning, Hermione would combust if he didn’t touch her cunt immediately.
As if sensing she had reached a breaking point, he finally settled down, kissing her curls, the blowing a cool stream of air onto her. She bucked into his face, and he rewarded her with a tongue on her clit, circling, tasting her. Fluttering her eyes closed, Hermione moaned through the tie, quivering.
Finally. An involuntary sigh crooned out of her.
“Your taste.” He licked a long stripe. “I could drown in it.”
He dove back down, his tongue lapping at her as he grabbed her breast, rolling her nipple. His other hand slid beneath her, grabbing her arse cheek, pulling her closer to the edge of the couch. He licked and sucked as Hermione panted, her chest heaving.
“So fucking delicious, Hermione.”
She could sense her orgasm was close, she just needed a little more… something. And Draco gave that to her, as one finger slid deep inside her, rubbing against her walls. She clenched around that finger, crying out against her binding as she came. Draco eased her through her orgasm with slow strokes of his finger and tongue. After her body calmed, he rose and removed the tie.
Releasing the spell on her arms, he hoisted her up, and she threw her arms around his neck. Her body was jelly, loose and pleased. He kissed her once, almost chaste, before carrying her up the stairs to his bedroom.
Setting her gently on the bed, he removed the last layer of his clothing, undoing his trousers and dropping them and his boxers to the floor. Hermione shed her dangling bra while watching hungrily, and reached for his cock the second it sprung free.
“I can finally get my hands on you.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, and looking up at him, ran her tongue along the underside of his cock up from the base, pulling the head into her mouth. He shuddered, his hands falling into her hair, his eyes closing. Gently sucking, she licked the tip in a swirling motion, his salty precum leaking out into her mouth. She fisted the base of his cock as she pulled off of him with a pop, and rubbing him against her cheek.
“As much as I fucking love what’s happening here, I need you to lay back.”
Eyes now open, Draco’s jaw tensed as Hermione gave him one last swipe of her tongue, then she shimmied back to the center of the bed. She rested her head on a pillow, and reached down to touch between her legs, finding her still sensitive swollen clit. Rubbing along the side of it, she let out a breathy gasp, and watched as Draco’s cock twitched at the sound. Giving him a sultry gaze, she knew he went feral at watching her play with herself. He crawled up the bed, his eyes on her ministrations, before he moved her hand, placing his mouth over her once again. Several well-placed licks later, she could feel tension building inside her, as another climax loomed in the distance. Draco brought himself up over top of her and she leaned up to catch his mouth in a desperate kiss, plunging her tongue inside.
He positioned himself at her entrance, practically vibrating with excitement, before sliding into her just an inch. The cry that escaped his lips was earth-shattering. Wrapping her legs around his back, she pushed with her feet, trying to move him in further, and he obliged, sliding in another inch before pulling back. This time it was Hermione’s lustful shriek that filled the air. His shallow movements became deeper with each thrust, until he was fully seated in her, and he held himself still, resting his forehead on hers.
“I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a very long time, Hermione.”
Plunging into her, he found a quick, nearly punishing rhythm that pulled out breathy moans from her and rapidly built the pleasure inside of him.
“Salazar.” His mouth was near her ear, his panting sending jolts of lust through her. “Fucking, oh, Hermione, you feel so good. So tight!”
Sex was not new for Hermione; she'd had a handful of partners in her past. But he felt indescribably more thrilling, like no one had ever filled her up quite like he did, as if everyone before him was just a placeholder until the perfect cock came along. He felt exquisite, superb. He reached under her, tilting her hips up and suddenly he was even deeper than before, and she screamed as the blistering orgasm unexpectedly hit her. Her legs shook around him, her walls fluttering, her vision blurring from the intense feeling. Draco tumbled just seconds after her and she thought she heard him murmur “thank the gods” under his breath.
He collapsed next to her, nibbling her shoulder, brushing her hair from her eyes. Hermione snuggled into him, licking at the sweat on his throat, nipping gently.
“We, uh, didn’t last long.”
Draco chuckled. “No, we didn’t. But we will have more chances to beat our record.” He lazily squeezed her breasts, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. “I plan to practice every chance we get.”
She traced her fingers down the grooves of his chest, placing kisses along the trails.
“Hmmm… I do like a project.”
He caught her chin, pointing her face up towards his.
“We’ve already proven we work well together.”
Her heart stuttered, her stomach fluttering. This man would be her downfall. Never in her life had she felt this strongly about a partner, and it was unbelievable to feel this way after only a few weeks. They did say when it was right, you would know, even if it happened fast.
He met her lips with his, tenderly, grazing his thumb over her cheekbone. Hermione felt so cared for, appreciated, safe in his arms. She deepened the kiss, pushing against him, throwing her arm around his back. The slide of his perspiration-covered body against hers, his tongue in her mouth, his hand still on her breast had her arousal rising again, and she nipped his lower lip as she dragged her nails down his back. Groaning, his cock twitched along her inner thigh.
Grinding herself against his softened cock, she groaned falling onto him, kissing up his neck to his ear. “How long until you’re ready to go? I’m burning up again already.” She felt another little twitch underneath her and smiled against the shell of his ear.
“Don’t read into that, love. I’ll need a little more time after what you just did to me.” He bit her neck, before sucking over the mark. “But my fingers can take care of business in the meantime.”
He rolled off the bed, leaving Hermione cold and alone in the center of the mattress.
“Come here, my witch.”
His witch. Her heart somersaulted. Scrambling to her hands and knees, she crawled over to him, biting her plump lower lip.
“Here I am, my love.”
Draco stood at the edge of the bed, prompting her to rise up kneeling to kiss him.
“Turn around slowly, and stay on your knees.”
Perusing her body as she obeyed, Draco’s hands roamed over her curves until her back was to him. Pulling her flush to his front, her legs slipped to either side of his, and one large hand splayed across her stomach while the other brushed the underside of her breasts.
“Ready for number three, pet?” His breath danced over her ear, sending goosebumps across her skin.
“Yes, please.” Reaching back, her hand brushed along his jaw as he moved his mouth from her ear to her throat, nibbling his way down. A heavy throbbing started up in her cunt, and she pitched back into him. Tilting her head, she gave him better access and desperately keened when he sucked hard at the crook of her neck. His hands, his mouth, they were absolutely intoxicating. His fingers slid through her folds, finding her clit, bringing out an appreciative moan.
“The sounds you make.”
A lick across her collarbone.
“Sweet music.”
A kiss to her jaw.
“I’ll dream of them tonight.”
He moved one hand up to her throat, grasping lightly.
“Hermione.”
The throbbing was getting insistent, and her hips began to rock with the movements of his hand. Another squeeze of her throat had her arching back, begging for more.
“Draco.” Panting, rocking, moaning. “I need your fingers inside me.”
He nipped her earlobe. “Beg for them, pet.” He rolled and pinched at one of her nipples, and her breathing hitched.
“Please.”
“Please what, pet?”
“Please, will you fuck me with your fingers, Draco?” She bucked at the air, her inner walls clenching on nothing. “I need them. I need you.”
“That’s the right way to ask. Good girl.”
Plunging two fingers inside her, Hermione cried out, her body quivering. Wet, squelching sounds filled the space as he moved in her and she bounced on his hand. Normally those sounds might make her embarassed, but with him, she felt only more passionate. A tightness was building in her spine and abdomen, and she was lost chasing her desire. Soft “ohs” and wordless mews were escaping her mouth with every thrust.
Kissing back up her neck, he pressed his palm against her bundle of nerves, giving her the friction her body craved. A few seconds of the new pressure was all she needed to fall over the edge. She quaked as the tight ball inside her burst, and Draco held her up while she rode out her release.
“I will never tire of seeing you, hearing you fall apart in my hands, Hermione.”
He kissed her temple before scooping her up like a princess, carrying her out of the room.
She squeaked, throwing her arms around his neck. “Draco! Where are we going?”
“To shower. We are sweaty, sticky messes.” He kicked open the bathroom door. “Besides, I’ve been dying to see your naked body dripping wet.”
He helped her stand up on the tiled floor before walking over and turning the faucet.
Hermione wrapped her hair into a high bun, charming it into place. No way would she get her hair wet in a place that didn’t have the proper hair products to manage her mop of curls. It would barely be manageable as is. She would have to remedy that for future visits.
Within a minute, steam filled the small room, and the two stepped under the hot spray of water.
Gathering the soap and a cloth, Draco began reverently scrubbing Hermione’s shoulders. She took the bar of soap from him, rubbing it between her hands before swiping it slowly across his chest. His soap smelled intoxicating, like a forest, fresh pine and rain, with a hint of eucalyptus.
Draco moved the cloth down her arms, one at a time, then hung the cloth on a hook on the shower wall. His soapy hands found her breasts, gently caressing, his thumbs gliding over her nipples. Her hands glided down to his stomach, soaping up his abs in small circular motions. He was all lithe muscle, and she wanted to feel every groove. His half-hard erection was prodding against her leg, and with a devious smile, her fingers found his base. He bucked into her hands as those fingers slid up to the tip, teasing tiny swirls around his slit.
His grip tensed on her chest, his eyes closing. “Keep doing that.”
Wrapping her hands round his shaft, she moved up and down, twisting at the end and thumbing his tip. Her movements were languid, teasing, and he hardened quickly from her efforts. Opening his eyes, his hands moved down her body, but she pulled away from him. Giving him a seductive smile, she dropped to her knees, his body blocking the flow of water from her form.
His cock in both of her hands, she licked the precum from its tip.
“Draco.” Another swipe of her tongue, this along the underside. “Please.” A swirling lick around the tip.
Straining, one hand on her head, Draco bit out the words. “Please, what?”
“Please fuck my mouth.” Her hands dropped away from the shaft as she opened her mouth wide, looking up at him, pleading, as her tongue licked at him again.
“Fuck, Hermione. You’re just the perfect little witch, aren’t you?”
Both hands now held her head, fingers threaded around her bun, as he guided his cock between her bruised lips. With restraint, he glided back and forth, Hermione licking around him with each thrust. His movements were slow and shallow, too shallow for Hermione’s liking, so she opened her throat, leaned forward, and guided him down further. He twitched as he let out a strangled cry. She wanted him to fall apart in her mouth, lose himself, come down her throat. His grip tightened in her hair, and oh how she fucking loved that, and the actual mouth fucking began. Tears streamed down her cheeks, saliva leaked out from the corners of her mouth, and her jaw started to ache, but she ignored it, reveling in the way Draco was coming undone above her. She gently caressed his balls, feeling them pulling up into himself, knowing he was seconds away from release. Sensing it himself, he tried to pull out of her.
“Hermione, oh, fuck… I… I’m going to come.” He panted, driving in faster. “If you don’t want it in your mouth, tap my leg.”
Instead of tapping his leg, she tilted her head even further, taking more of him, and she gripped his thighs to steady herself.
Just a few thrusts later, he growled, hot cum shooting down her throat, filling her mouth, spilling out onto her lips. Hungrily, Hermione swallowed what she could, milking him for every last drop. Releasing him from her mouth, her lips cleaned his spend from his shaft in the process.
“I didn’t think you could be more incredible, but seeing you on your knees, worshipping my cock... Hermione, that was a transcendent experience.”
Satisfaction and adoration glinted from his eyes while he watched Hermione rise from the floor, one of his large hand’s wrapped around her bun, the other gripping her fingers, assisting her. Kissing her deeply, with no regard to his release still clinging to her lips, he pressed their wet bodies flush.
“You can’t be real. Is this a dream?”
She pinched his hip, and he yelped, laughing. “Guess it’s real.”
He grabbed the washcloth from the wall and tenderly cleaned her face.
“Let’s head back to bed. I cannot wait to wake up with you in my arms.” Hermione nodded her agreement.
They finished their shower, completing with a drying charm. Draco scourgified the sheets before they collapsed together, still unclothed, into the large bed.
Chapter 23: Love Always, Hermione
Summary:
Draco discovers more secrets about Hermione.
Things are heating up at the Ministry.
Notes:
No trigger warnings that I could find for this chapter, but if you discover one, as always, let me know!
Song rec: Every Other Freckle by alt-J
Chapter Text
29 October 2008
Morning came too quickly, their entwined bodies wishing for more time for both sleep and play.
Kissing her jaw, Draco’s hands explored along her torso.
“Draco.” A warning tone in her voice had him pausing.
“Are you going to do that thing where you make us be responsible again?” He returned to his ministrations, his tongue now licking under her ear.
“You know I am.” She tried to roll away, but he yanked her back into him.
“Draco!” She squealed, laughing as he held her tight, his smile pressing into her neck. His fingers danced along her stomach, and Hermione tried to fold in half, her laughing growing in volume.
“Oh, my love is ticklish?” Increasing his movements, he moved over her, an excited grin on his face.
“St-stop!” Hermione’s face was turning pink, her laugh now breathy. “Please!” She was nearly snorting. “Draco!” Trying to push him away, he brought his fingers up to her underarms, and her breathing stalled, her body still racked with laughter. Tears pricked her eyes, her pink face turning red.
Chuckling, he relented, and Draco reached up to cup her face. Taking in a gulping breath, she swatted his chest.
“How dar-“ Her words were cut off by Draco’s lips, kissing her deeply. Attempting to take advantage of the moment, her hands found his sides to tickle him, and he practically jumped off the bed.
“Oh no you don’t, witch.” He made a beeline for the bedroom door, Hermione scrambling after him in haste.
“Get back here!” Sprinting into the hall, she rounded the corner just in time to see him slam the bathroom door behind him. Wrenching at the handle, the door was locked and stayed firmly shut. “Hey! Not fair!” She pounded against the wood with her fist.
“I never said I played fair, Hermione,” His voice was muffled by the door. “Could you make us some tea, while I’ll get myself ready?”
She huffed in frustration. “Fine, you git. But, mark my words, your time will come!”
_______________________________________
It took several floo transfers to travel to Hermione’s home. When they arrived, Crookshanks gave them both hell for leaving him alone all night, his angry howls bouncing off the walls. Hermione picked him up, snuggling him to her chest, his sounds cutting short.
“Oh, old man, you’ll be fine. I’ll get your breakfast now.” She started for the kitchen, but Draco stopped her, scooping him out of her arms.
“I can take it from here. Go get yourself ready.” The cat’s purrs rumbled against Draco’s chest, and though he would never admit it, he secretly loved it.
She smiled appreciatively. “Thanks! I’ll be a bit, I need to wash this mop.” She pointed at her messy hair, frowning.
“Do what you have to do. Your boys will be fine for awhile without you.” Crookshanks growled, swatting at his chin. “Hey now, I just promised to feed you. You could be nicer to me.” Draco tapped his nose, and Crookshanks settled, as if he understood.
After getting the kibble down for the grumpy cat, Draco decided to peruse Hermione’s home. It wasn’t big, the downstairs consisting of a small entryway, a sitting room, and a kitchen. There were two rooms and a bathroom upstairs, Hermione’s bedroom and a spare. Letting himself in, it was clear the space was used as an office. He took in her desk, which was covered in organized stacks of parchment. He picked one piece up, reading.
His lips quirked up, and a soft blush reached his cheeks. The best thing to ever happen to her, eh? His smile faltered when he considered the rest of the letter. Taking in the remainder of the stack, he noted the next sheet was also a letter, dated the previous week. Has she been writing them letters since she obliviated them? He shuffled through the stack, seeing they went back a full year. Opening the drawers in her desk, he found the top drawer contained several old quills and some paperclips. The middle drawer contained blank parchment, but in the bottom drawer he hit paydirt. Hundreds of letters filled the space to the top, going back years. He flipped through, reading a few lines here and there.
It was heartbreaking.
While he’d never been close to his father, he couldn’t imagine not speaking with his mother for years. They barely went a few days without a floo call or an owl, and she’d been there for him after the war when the world was falling apart. Hermione had been forced to survive on her own. Where had she lived? Who had fed her, clothed her? Why had he never thought about this before?
He shut the drawer quietly, being sure not to catch any of the parchment in the process. Heart rate increasing, his insides twisted. He leaned against the desk, palms flat, breathing hard. No wonder she had accepted Oliver when he gave her attention, even if it was controlling and obsessive. Not shocking she still struggled with demons, lashing out in a twisted way that made sense, punishing others. She need security, stability, comfort; someone who would be there for her, who would love her, always. He could be that for her. She also needed a mind healer and therapy, but one thing at a time. Maybe he should inquire if she knows occlumency. He doubted she did, as every emotion she feels is prominently displayed on her face, and she’s always quick to anger.
Draco straightened, observing the rest of the room. He walked over to her overstuffed bookshelf. Many of the rows were dust-covered, the books unlikely had been touched since being filed there. However, he noticed one book was pulled out recently. The Tales of Beedle the Bard. His mother had read those stories to him as a child. Feeling nostalgic, he slid it out into his hand, but before he could open it, the wall dematerialized, exposing a small workspace. Mouth agape, the book dropped from his hand to the floor, bouncing once. That sneaky witch had a secret work area. Of course she did, master of the undetectable extension charm. He crept into it, observing the tower of small objects, feeling dark magic radiating off the shelves. Her notebook was open on the tabletop, and he quickly glanced through her shorthand. Huh. Seems like she was running experiments on cursed objects at home as well. Interesting, though he wasn’t sure why she would run tests outside of work, unless it was for a reason not Ministry approved.
Hearing the water shut off in the bathroom, Draco quickly scurried out of the extra space, placing the book back in its slot. The wall reappeared, thankfully, and he raced into her bedroom, making himself comfortable on her bed just as the bathroom door opened.
Shuffling into the room, wet hair stuck to her face, towel wrapped around her middle, Hermione stiffened when she found him on the bed. “I thought you’d wait downstairs.”
“Clearly, you still don’t know me.” He winked, quirking one corner of his lips.
“Can you please go? I need to get dressed.”
“Oh, I know. I’m here for the show.” Placing his hands behind his head, he settled in further into her pillows.
Huffing out an exasperated breath, she stomped over to the wardrobe, yanking it open with more force than necessary. After tossing her bra and a pair of knickers on the bed, she grabbed a modest green dress off the hanger.
“Excellent choice. Is the green for me?”
“You do know the world doesn’t revolve around you, right?”
“Of course not, but I’m certain I’ve caught you in my orbit.”
Spinning around, she threw the towel from around her waist at him, landing directly over his face.
By the time he freed himself from the confines of the wet towel, Hermione’s knickers were already on and she was clasping her bra.
“Aw, you’re no fun, Granger.”
“No free shows, Malfoy.”
“I’m happy to pay, whatever price you request. You’re worth every galleon in my vaults.”
Her posture softened, a blush creeping into her cheeks. “You’re insufferable.”
“You love it.”
“I really do.”
____________________________________________________
Draco was hunched over his desk completing his report from Beauxbatons, while Hermione continued studying the runes. She’d positively identified three of the fifteen they had found, and their origin was Egyptian. Two referred to binding and one to blood, possible genetics or bloodlines, but the translation into English wasn’t clear. Hermione paused in her search every so often to take in the scent of the stasis charmed rose on her desk. This was the first morning together Draco hadn’t been able to pick her a rose from the gardens, so she was thankful she’d left this one here yesterday.
“Once you’re done writing up your report I’d like to go down to the lab and test the quartz bowl. See if there’s anything different from the two previous vessels.”
“Ten minutes, and I’ll be ready.” His quill scratched furiously over the parchment.
Nose back in the Egyptian rune tome, Hermione was focusing on sections related to blood, family, heritage, and bonds, searching for any additional matches to her sketches. She’d been at it all morning, and after a few more minutes, the pictures were beginning to blur together. She needed to take a break.
Peeking up across the room, she let her gaze settle on Draco. Chewing his cheek in concentration, he looked compelling and studious. His hair was flopped over onto his forehead, and her fingers itched to swipe it back. Broad shoulders strained the fabric of his Muggle suit jacket, today a warm brown, and she noticed his simple dark green tie and beige pinstriped button up gave the outfit a rugged look. She imagined pulling that tie slowly off him, and using it to secure his hands to her headboard. Unbuttoning his shirt and licking her way down his chest before undoing his belt with her teeth. Shivering, she shook off the images, tamping down her arousal. Now was not the time for daydreams.
“Can we grab coffees before heading down?” What she really meant, could Draco get coffees for them from the atrium while she waited in the safety of her office, avoiding the elevator.
“Of course, love.” Stretching his arms over his head, he leaned back, chest muscles pulling taut against his shirt. Hermione hungrily took in the scene, mouth falling partly open, that arousal rearing back up. She heard a dark chuckle and found him looking at her with raised eyebrows and a slow grin forming.
“Like what you see, Hermione?”
“Mhm. I like what’s underneath even more.”
“Well, in that case…” He rose from his chair, making his way around her desk. “I should let you know,” he stooped, lips brushing the shell of her ear, “there are no free shows, Granger.”
Swatting his chest, she giggled at his callback. “Just go get me a coffee, you prat.”
He kissed her cheek, fighting a grin, then headed out, report in hand.
_______________________________________
An hour later, after initial testing on the quartz bowl was performed, they’d discovered no new runes. The markings present on the bowl were the same they’d found on the chalice and vase, in the same configurations.
Sighing, Hermione leaned back from the table. “We really need to figure these runes out and find this curse. I don’t think studying these objects are doing much good at this point.”
“You’re right.” Draco was sitting at her side, chin resting on one fist, lost in thought.
Hermione huffed out a laugh. “Oh, can you say that again?”
“Ha.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “I can bring in some of the books from the manor’s library tomorrow for us to work through.”
“Good idea. We can spend the rest of the day going through the tomes from the Ministry archives.” She stood rolling her neck. Staring down for hours on end can create quite the crick. “Should we head upstairs?”
“Not just yet.” He stopped her with a hand on her arm. She turned back to him with a questioning look, finding him standing with a mischievous grin. Pulling her into his chest, he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“We can’t leave until we take advantage of this room.”
“What do you mean?” Her forehead crinkled, a crease forming between her eyebrows.
“Hermione,” he chided. “We work in a windowless, soundproof box. What do you think I mean?” His voice was low, and he licked his lips.
A blush instantly stained her cheeks. “Oh.” Her stomach flipped as his lips brushed against hers, not quite a kiss.
“I want to hear you scream my name, loud enough to echo.”
Another flutter in her stomach, coiling low. This time his lips pressed firmly on hers, and she returned the kiss with heat. Running her hands through his hair, she held his head close, sliding her tongue into his parted mouth. He groaned in response, his hands finding the zipper on the front of her jumpsuit. In mere seconds, his hands were blazing hot trails down her bare abdomen, leaving goosebumps behind. Reciprocating once his zipper was down, she left light scratches along the front of his chest, eliciting a shudder.
He unclasped her bra, relieving one breast of its confines, leaning down to catch her nipple in his mouth. Arching into the contact, she moaned, feeling another zing in her lower abdomen. Good Godric. She was so easily worked up with his touch, more than any man before him. Her hands tightened in his hair, and the vibrations from his groan against her sensitive peak had her soaking her knickers.
Fuck, she wanted him inside her now. “I need you, Draco. Now.”
Releasing his head, she pulled out of the arms of her suit, dropping her bra on the ground. The outfit pooled at her ankles. Chucking, Draco kissed his way up to her neck.
“Always so impatient, love.” He bit and sucked over her pulse point.
Groaning, she reached between them, grasping his hard length, squeezing. A strangled cry left his mouth, and he straightened, panting.
“Okay, you win.” He cupped her sex, rubbing his palm over her clit. She bucked into the friction, keening. His pupils dilated.
“Already so wet for me.”
Spinning her around, he steadied her with hands on her waist as she fell forward, her arms falling flat onto the table. He kicked her legs wide, pushed her face down to meet her elbows. His words in her ear had her shivering. “Hold this position, no matter what I do. Got it?”
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice higher than usual.
As he backed away, the cool air hit her body in his absence. She whined, but held her position, hearing him unzip his suit behind her. She felt fingers grip her thighs just before the roughness of his tongue scraped against the gusset of her panties. Moaning, she attempted to slide down, but his hands held her firmly in place.
“No moving, Hermione.” A smack landed on her arse cheek, stinging through the silk. Her inner walls clenched as a heated pulse went through her. Another swipe of his tongue.
“Delicious, even through fabric.”
Kissing her thigh, his hands grasped the elastic band of her panties and ripped them right in half.
“Hey-“ she started to protest, but her words were cut off with a cry when his mouth made contact with her again. He swiped in deep, humming in satisfaction against her. Her past partners were not into eating her cunt, but it seems to be Draco’s favorite thing. His eager licks and nibbling had her quaking, struggling to hold herself up. And she lived for it.
His tongue plunged deep into her as his fingers found her clit, creating a rhythm that had her climax rising in no time. Her cheek was pressed into the table, her palms sweating, legs shaking. She was trying her best not to rock against his face. But before she could find her release, he disappeared. She let out another whine in complaint.
Moments later, she felt the head of his cock gliding through her folds. Thank the gods. He leaned his back flush with hers, twining their fingers together. He nipped at her shoulder, licking over the bite mark.
“How do you want me?”
“Hard. Fast and hard.” He smiled into her neck, leaving a wet kiss in its wake.
He backed them up a few inches, guiding her hands around the edge of the table.
“Then hold on tight.” And he slammed all the way into her in one push. Their combined cries echoed off the walls, heightening the experience. He wrapped her hair around one palm, the other at her hip, pulling back only to snap roughly into her. His thrusts were deep and punishing, pulling her head to keep her in place, ensuring she felt every inch of him.
“You’re so tight for me.”
Every drive into her brought with it a wave of pleasure, her stomach tightening.
“So fucking beautiful.”
The hand at her hip was gripping so hard, there would be bruises tomorrow. The pull on her hair was close to painful. They only added to her arousal, deepening it.
“Harder, Draco.” Hermione panted out, needing more for her release.
A feral growl left him as he drove almost violently into her.
“Say my name again.”
“Draco.”
He snarled, the thrusts even harder. She was so close.
“Again.”
He let go of her hair.
“Draco!”
Fuck, so close, so close. Something cold and metal pressed against her clit. Oh. Oh yes! His Malfoy signet ring.
“Oh, Draco!”
He circled his signet ring around her clit once, and that’s all it took. She came undone, walls fluttering around him, shrieking out his name over and over.
A few beats later his movements became jerky, and his orgasm followed quickly after hers, moaning her name.
He collapsed over the top of her, both of landing on the tabletop, breathing hard.
“Salazar, Hermione.”
“Agreed, love.” She sucked in a breath. “ And that ring? Feel free to use it again.”
“Noted.” He kissed slowly down her spine before lifting them upright.
Grabbing her wand, Hermione scourgified them both before seeking out her bra.
Draco pulled up his pants before zipping his jumpsuit. Pinching the ruined knickers between two fingers, he glanced her way.
“Sorry about these. Heat of the moment and all.”
“No, you’re not,” Hermione deadpanned, finishing dressing.
He smirked and slid them into his pocket. “No, I’m not.”
Rolling her eyes, she pocketed her wand and grabbed the bowl.
“Let’s get this registered and get back to researching runes.”
“Lead the way, love.” When she turned towards the door, he smacked her arse again, and she yelped.
“Draco!” She whipped around, her cheeks flaming.
His response was a deep chuckle and a push to move her out the door.
They crossed the hall, Hermione opening the door to the fourth vault that contained dark artefacts. But before she could enter, a gasp escaped her. Draco hauled her back, jumping in front, wand at the ready. His eyes widened at what was before him.
The room was ransacked, items strewn all over, the log ripped to shreds.
“Homenum Revelio!” Casting the charm the response came back as only the two of them in the room. He spun around, taking Hermione by the shoulders. His eyes were silver steel, his face contorted with fear and anger. For her, Hermione realized.
“Go back in the lab. Cast a locking charm. Do not, I repeat, do not open for anyone but Potter or myself.”
Nodding, she knew better than to argue, and dashed back across the hall. He waited until she was secure before checking the other vaults and labs on the floor. None of the other rooms appeared to have been touched, and all were empty of a human presence. He transfigured himself into Boucher, quickly changing back into his brown suit. With one last peek down the hall, he stalked off to the lift, heading to the DMLE.
Several long minutes later, Draco called through the lab door, letting Hermione know it was safe. Swinging it open, she could see the hall was swarming with aurors and her coworkers from DOMA. Harry, in his Head Auror robes, was speaking with Curator Bragnam, who was wringing his hands nervously.
“Not many people come down here, and we’ve never had a problem before.” Bragnam was sweating profusely, his salt and pepper curls sticking to his forehead. “We used to keep the doors locked, but it became a hassle to unlock them every time we needed to enter.”
“You mean you hated having to unlock them. The rest of us didn’t mind it.” Hermione crossed her arms, glaring at her boss.
He shifted nervously, mopping at his face with a handkerchief. “We assumed-“
“You assumed. Be honest.” Hermione’s hair sparked, a dead giveaway she was angry. Draco stood behind her, a menacing look directed at Bragnam.
“You mean to tell me, you okayed leaving precious artefacts completely available for anyone to simply waltz in and access them?” Harry raised a single eyebrow.
“Well, it’s not like that. Most people don’t even know our department exists, and no one ever comes down here.” A twitchy smile formed on his face, but no one else returned it.
“The lift literally drops off on this floor.” Draco’s tone was flat.
“Yes, the staff lift. Not the public lift.” He was pleading with them to understand.
Harry tilted his head, thinking. “The staff lift. So, whoever did this works within the Ministry, or was able to fool the elevator into letting them ride.” He scribbled a note to himself. “That’s somewhere we can start.” Harry tapped the quill against his lips. “Do you keep a log of everyone who enters the vaults or the labs?”
“No, unfortunately, we don’t have the funds to keep a secretary.”
“Yes, you do.” They all turned to Draco, though he was transfigured as Boucher. He continued, his words clipped. “Rumor has it, Draco Malfoy made a rather large donation to this department, plenty enough to hire more staff.”
Blanching, Bragnam fumbled for words. “Erm, well, yes, we haven’t had time to, ah, determine how the funds would be spent.”
“Well, start with a secretary, and perhaps some security.” A vein bulged in his forehead, and Hermione subtly rested her hand on his arm.
“Boucher, why don’t you and I help sort the mess in the vault, hmm?” Before he could protest, she had dragged him away and further down the hall.
“Starting a fight will help no one right now.” Pulling him into the entrance of the vault, she pushed him up against the door jam. “Now, I’m going to help Annamoore clean up this space and salvage what we can. It’s too dangerous to use magic, or have anyone unexperienced in here, so between the two of us, it will likely take the rest of the day.”
“I can help, Hermione. I’m not an idiot, I know these things need handled with care.”
“Absolutely not.” Hands on her hips, she somehow stared down at him from below. It was impressive.
“I’m not leaving you down here.” His protective streak wouldn’t allow it.
“I won’t be alone. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t care. I’m. Not. Leaving.”
She sniffed. “Fine. You can sit at the table and log items for us as we recover and stabilize them.”
Draco visibly relaxed. “Yes, that will do. I’ll go change.”
Just as they were to part ways, Harry called out for them. “I need to speak with you both, privately.”
They crossed the hall and entered one of the private labs, all gathering around the table. Dark circles and sallow skin graced Harry’s face, and it was clear he still wasn’t resting properly. The added stress of an internal debacle wouldn’t help in the slightest.
“I reviewed your report, Malfoy, and your correspondence from last night, Hermione. I think you’re right, we are looking at a bloodline curse. This could escalate rapidly.” He took a deep inhale. “I was hoping I’d be sharing better news, but we had a possible setback yesterday.”
Alarmed, Hermione rubbed the back of his hand. “Is everything okay, Harry?”
“We raided the Flint residence last night.”
Draco abruptly stood, his chair screeching across the concrete. A muscle feathered in his jaw, his teeth grinding. “You raided Marcus Flint.”
“Well, we tried to.”
“You raided Marcus Flint without informing me? Informing us?” He waved at Hermione. “I’m the fucking Death Eater in your midst, and you didn’t run this by me first?”
“Hermione shouldn’t be involved in raids.”
She huffed, yanking her hand back to her lap.“I’m fully trained, Harry. Just because I chose research instead doesn’t make me incapable.” Hair sparking again, she narrowed her eyes at her best friend.
“Hermione, you are a Ministry worker, but not an actual auror. It’s a liability issue.” Harry pleaded with her to understand.
“Still haven’t answered why you didn’t talk to me, Potter.” Arms crossed, danger in his eyes, his voice was deceptively calm.
“Gods. You were both still in France! It was a last minute decision by Thomas and I approved it. I had no idea you weren’t informed.” Harry rubbed his temples.
“Were Ivanov and Robert aware?” Draco’s face was stony. He was clearly occluding, trying to avoid lashing out further at the Head Auror.
Harry’s head snapped up. “It didn’t cross my mind to ask.”
“Alright, guess it’s best I take my rage out on Thomas, then.” Cracking his neck, he shifted his weight, eyes still laser focused on Harry.
“Malfoy, please don’t. It was a bust anyways, the place was squeaky clean, and Flint was nowhere to be found. It was almost as if he was warned.”
Chewing on her lip, Hermione tapped her chin. “Perhaps he was.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Elaborate.”
“Well, someone from the inside likely caused the damage in the vault, who’s to say that same person didn’t also warn Flint of the impending raid?”
“Well, if that’s true, it narrows down the suspect list to the task force.” Draco hadn’t moved, but his breathing was still heavy. It was obvious he was trying his best not to throttle Harry. “Prior to his removal, was Oliver aware we were considering a raid? And for the love of Merlin, that better be a no, because if that sodding piece of shit knew and I didn’t…” Draco trailed off, the threat unspoken.
“I doubt it, but I’ll discuss it with Thomas. His wand has been flagged, so it wouldn’t let him on the staff lift either way. The wards would’ve pushed him out.”
“What if he was without his wand? Or had borrowed someone else’s? He could have tricked the wards.”
Letting out a long groan, Harry closed his eyes. “I guess that’s not out of the question. In any case, we need to be careful with our information. Please send things only to me or Thomas directly, and don’t discuss anything with other aurors, unless positively necessary.”
With a curt nod, Draco turned on his heel and stormed off.
“Hermione, I’m sorry.” Harry reached across the table but she jerked back.
“Save it, Harry. I’m cross with you.”
“Can I make it up to you? Dinner with me and Gin tonight? She’d love the adult company. She’s been couped up at home with the littles and is going nuts.”
She eyed him, considering the offer. “Only if you ensure there are potatoes with dinner. I’m craving comfort food.”
“Deal.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Oh, I almost forgot. You have something waiting for you at the owlery. A package.” He pulled a letter from his pocket, the seal broken. “The mail elf delivered your note to me by accident and I didn’t realize it until I’d already opened it.”
Plucking the letter from his fingers, she saw it was a generic notice from the owlery, updating her she had received an anonymous package. Probably someone sending an artefact they didn’t want tied back to. Curiosity piqued, Hermione tucked the note away for later.
“Thanks, Harry. I’ll pick it up after work.”
When they made their way back into the hall, Draco was waiting for her by the vault door back in the white DOMA jumpsuit. Harry said his goodbyes, and Hermione prepared herself for a long and arduous task. Annamoore handed her a thick pair of gloves as at the door, and they both sighed at the mess.
“Boucher will help us keep record as we salvage, is that okay?” She placed the gloves over her hands as Annamoore hand Draco a pair to wear.
She patted her shoulder. “Of course, Hermione. Let’s get on with it.”
All three cast protego charms around themselves as they walked in, preparing for disaster.
Chapter 24: Friends or Foes
Summary:
Making plans
Notes:
No triggers this round :)
Song rec: Criminal by YZMN
I've been listening to this song on repeat like the little ADHD monster I am. I hope you like it as much as I do!
Chapter Text
29 October 2008
Upon entering the owlery, Hermione was informed she had a letter and a package waiting. After signing with her wand for pick-up, the attendant handed them over. The package was medium sized with a hefty weight and the letter was sealed with wax. She thanked the post worker and quickly flooed home, eager to open her correspondence.
The letter was short, barely a scroll.
Intriguing. She wondered what he may have found for her. Didn’t feel like a coincidence they just ran into each other at Malfoy Manor and now he was reaching out. Jotting out an agreeable response, she tucked the note into her pocket. She would use Harry’s owl this evening at dinner to send it off.
Setting the package onto her kitchen table, she carefully unwrapped a corner, peeling back the brown paper. It was a simple wooden box, no markings visible. Hermione grabbed her work gloves, to be on the safe side, and finished removing the covering. She unclasped the box, gently opening it with one hand, wand in the other. As soon as she realized what was inside, she let the lid fall back, gasping.
Nestled in the bottom of the box amongst a cotton cloth rested the missing battle whip. The handle was carved wood, stained dark with from years of being handled. The remainder was supple leather, black and shiny, knots spaced evenly along the way. With steady hands, she reached into the box and lifted the cursed item up. Allowing it to uncoil as she studied it, the dark magic pulsed with menace. She could sense it through her gloves, causing her to shiver. It was as if the magic breathed, a living thing, waiting to strike.
Who could possibly have sent this? Was it a member of the Blood Eaters feeling remorse? One of Draco’s C.I.s? Whoever they were, she was grateful for what had spurred them to send it on. Placing the whip carefully back in the box, she securely closed the lid, hiding it inside her kitchen cupboard. She didn’t want to risk Crookshanks accidentally knocking it over and hurting himself.
A clothing change and floo transfer later, she found herself on a couch with two young boys draped across her.
“Aunt Mione, want to see our new dance?” James was already sliding off her lap before she could answer.
“Dance, dance, dance!” Albus roared, swinging his hips.
“Not yet, silly, we have to start together!” Scolding his younger brother, James moved to the center of the living room, getting into position. Albus waddled over to his brother, his toddler body wobbling.
“Okay, Al, ready?”
Albus giggled in response, and both boys started swaying their hips and waving their arms, no rhythm in either.
“Oi, you two! Stop bothering your aunt!” Ginny entered the room, her baby bump having finally popped out. “Go wash up, James, supper is almost ready. And help your brother.” The boys took off at a run, laughter trailing after them.
Groaning, Ginny collapsed on the couch next to Hermione. “If this one is another boy, I’m going to cry. It’s already a damn zoo here.”
“Honestly, Gin, boy or girl, they’re just going to add to the zoo, regardless. They’re part Weasley, it’s second nature.”
“I know you’re right, but let me just pretend for a few more months. It’s the only thing keeping me sane.”
Hermione snickered and hugged her friend.
Dinner was shepherd’s pie, one of Hermione’s favorites, and also clearly James’ as well. Despite being only 5 years old, he ate with a gusto unmatched to anyone else at the table. Albus tried, though at least half ended up on his face and the floor. Once the boys were finished, Harry took them upstairs for a bath, leaving the women to enjoy a little peace and quiet together.
“Tell me, Mione, how’s work going? You fucked Malfoy yet?” Ginny joked. When Hermione blushed and didn’t answer, Ginny shouted with glee. “NO! Gods, you did! How was it? Tell me everything.”
“It’s not, erm, it’s not like that, exactly.” Wringing her hands in her lap, Hermione rolled her lips, gaze downcast.
“Then you didn’t sleep together?”
“Oh, we did.” Hermione bit her lip, her cheeks darkening. Ginny waved her on, eyes sparkling with delight. “We’re actually dating.” She finally met Ginny’s stare. “He’s lovely, Gin. Words I never thought I’d say, but they’re true.”
A wide grin split her face. “I knew he’d changed. I actually found myself liking that ferret when he was over.” She picked up her pumpkin juice, frowning. “Godric, I wish I could drink with you right now! You deserve a cheers.” Flopping back on the couch dramatically, she flung an arm over her forehead. “How did this happen? When?”
“You aren’t upset with me?”
Sitting up, she grabbed her friend’s hand. “No, of course not! Honestly, I could tell he was smitten with you at game night. He only had eyes for you.”
“I’m nervous how Harry will take it.” She shifted against the cushions, taking a sip of her wine.
“Oh, he will be fine with it. Eventually.” Ginny patted her hand. “Plus, he’s afraid of me and my attitude right now, so one side eye from me and he’ll shut the fuck up.”
Hermione guffawed, relieved. “Well, then, I’m glad I have you on my side!”
“So…. The sex?” Ginny bit her lip.
“It’s incredible. He’s very…. Generous.”
Raising her eyebrows, Ginny smacked her arm. “That’s the descriptor you’re going with? Generous?”
“Generous and… talented.” Her blush was back, and she fought a grin, avoiding Ginny’s gaze.
“You’re not going to give me the nitty gritty details, are you?” Ginny poked.
Hermione took another drink of her wine. “I am not. Just know I’m satisfied, every time.”
Throwing her arms around her, Ginny pulled her into a tight hug. “You deserve someone who’s crazy about you, and not just crazy.”
“You’re dating, Hermione?” Harry stepped off the stairs, coming into the sitting room.
Ginny’s eyes danced. “Want to take a stab at who, Harry?”
He narrowed his eyes, considering the options. “It’s Malfoy, isn’t it?”
Mouth agape, Hermione scoffed. “Are we that obvious?”
“Yes.” Harry chuckled. “But only if you’re looking.”
“And you’re okay with it, with us being together?”
Harry sat beside her, on the opposite side from his wife. “Mione, if he makes you happy, and treats you well, then I’m okay with it, yes.” Sighing, he fell back into the couch. “But I have to say, he wouldn’t have been my first choice for you.”
“Harry-“
“No, I know he’s not the same person from Hogwarts. It’s obvious in the way he presents himself, in his actions. And today, the pure terror in his eyes when he found me. When he told me about the trashed vault… I know that was concern for you.” He pulled Hermione into him, tucking her under his arm. “He loves you, it’s clear. Even if he hasn’t said it to you, it’s true. He’s one hell of a protector too. I’m happy for you both.”
“I needed to hear that from you, Harry.” Hermione snuggled into his embrace.
“Besides, I know Gin would murder me in my sleep tonight if I disagreed with her. And I know she’s pro-Malfoy.”
“Damn right, love!” Ginny yelled from Hermione’s other side.
Chuckling, Hermione sat up, slipping out from Harry’s arm. “Well, I do have one item of actual DMLE business to discuss tonight.”
Harry straightened, at attention. “Go on.”
“Someone sent me the battle whip, the one the task force has been searching for.”
Harry grabbed her arm, eyes wide. “That was the owlery package?”
“Indeed. I haven’t sent in a report, yet. With everything that happened today, I wanted to run it by you first.”
“Good call. Bring it by my office in the morning, and I’ll have Thomas meet us there.”
Glancing at the floor, Hermione took another sip of her wine. “Oh, I am taking a personal day tomorrow.”
Ginny put a hand on her forehead. “Are you sick?”
“What? No! Just taking a day, that’s all.”
“You, Hermione Granger, workaholic, are taking a personal day? Did pigs freeze over?”
Hermione and Harry burst into laughter.
“Love, it’s did hell freeze over.” Harry quirked a grin at his wife.
“When pigs fly is another Muggle term of disbelief, though.” Hermione added.
“Eh, you knew what I meant.” Waving them off, she shifted back into the cushions.
“I’m taking the day to work at the M.W.W.R.C. I’ve been woefully absent and in the wake of the break in there, I really need to be more present.”
“There’s our girl. Taking off work to… work.” Harry chided.
She flicked his ear. “My organization is very important, Harry!”
“Ouch! I never said it wasn’t!” He rubbed at the spot she made contact. “Fine, I’ll floo to you in the morning to grab the whip and take it in myself. I’ll have Annamoore register it for us.” Hermione nodded her agreement with the plan. “Did you let Malfoy know you’re taking the day? Did he have a heart attack when you did?”
She smacked his arm this time, hard. Having forgotten to mention it to her partner, she would need to text him later. She hoped he was remembering to use his charging charm.
_______________________________________
When Draco arrived home that evening, he was surprised to find Theo with Daphne and Blaise in the sitting room, sipping on cocktails.
“Ah, our prodigal son returns!” Theo danced over to him, kissing his cheek.
Clapping him on the back, he asked, “Did I miss an invite?”
Daphne and Blaise greeted him as well, her with a kiss on both cheeks and Blaise a firm hug.
“No, we invited ourselves over. Owled Theo this afternoon.” Blaise put his arm around his wife. “Daph has an update on your request for her.”
“Wonderful. I’m starving, should we discuss this over dinner?” Draco slipped off his robes.
Theo nodded energetically. “Yes! I’ve already informed Mipsy to have dinner for four. Your mother is out this evening, so we won’t be interrupted.”
They gathered in the informal dining room, the fire stoked to supply adequate warmth. Darkness clung to the corners of the room. Theo spelled the candles in the table’s center to alight all at once, casting a soft glow, blending with the weak light from the fireplace.
Mipsy popped in with a crack, carrying a tray of fresh cocktails.
“Masters and guests, please sit. Dinner will be served shortly.” She curtsied as she pushed the tray towards Draco, who handed the drinks out to each person.
“Thank you, Mipsy.” With another flourish, she disapparated away with the empty tray.
Sitting around the table, the group chattered with small talk for several minutes, avoiding the heavy topics looming. Finally, Theo cleared his throat.
“I have an update on my meeting with Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint.” He sipped his cocktail.
Draco swung his head in his direction. “Let’s hear it.”
Theo slouched in his chair, resting his half empty drink on his knee. “Okay. We met up on Sunday. After my…” He glanced up at Draco, remembering their last interaction in his bedroom. “After my adventure through the city.”
“He means, once he’d enjoyed his afternoon delight with a Muggle lover.” Blaise quipped, shaking his rocks glass.
Smirking, Theo raised his glass to him, his other hand over his heart. “You know me so well, love.”
Rolling his eyes, Draco waved him on. “Come on, let’s get to the good stuff.”
“Muggle sex is the good stuff, Draco. You’re missing out.” Then he grinned mischievously. “Or are you? You and the swot Muggle-born-“
He threw his napkin ring at Theo, hitting him in the shoulder. Feigning injury, Theo fell out of the chair, dramatically. “Oof, you wound me!”
Daphne gasped. “Draco, you’re seeing a Muggle-born? Who? Witch or wizard?”
“Theo said swot, my galleons are on Granger.” Blaise’s smug grin was directed at Draco.
Eye wide, Daphne clapped with glee. “Oh! Hermione? She’s lovely, Draco! We’ve become good friends.”
Rubbing his reddening face, Draco sighed. “Yes, yes. Hermione and I… we are officially courting.” He sent a dirty glare Theo’s way. “We haven’t talked about letting people know just yet, so please, keep it under your vest for now.” Theo’s answering grin was not apologetic.
Just then, Mipsy and one of the kitchen elves apparated back in holding plates heaped with food. The scent of roast chicken hit Draco’s nose and his stomach growled. His lunch had been a paltry tuna sandwich from the Ministry canteen and that was hours ago. He was starving.
The group tucked in, enjoying their food in silence for a short time before Draco attempted to return to the original topic at hand.
“Theo, let’s get back to your meeting. I want every detail.” Draco stuffed another bite of chicken into his mouth, chewing with vigor.
Setting his fork down delicately next to his plate, Theo sat back in his chair, rubbing his belly.
“Of course. Originally, I was under the impression it would just be me and Pucey, discussing the Samhain gathering.”
Daphne and Blaise whipped their heads towards each other before turning back to Theo in unison. Eyes on Draco, he didn’t notice.
“However, Flint was there. We met at a Muggle pub, some hole in the wall without a real name, just a one room shack. I couldn’t even tell you where we were, other than it was in Scotland. Last time I saw Pucey, he gave me a portkey and it took me there.”
Draining his cocktail, he called for Mipsy. She popped back into the room and he handed off his empty while requesting a fresh one.
“Anyways, they made me take veritaserum and answer some questions to prove my loyalty.”
Draco’s posture went rigid with worry.
“I assumed they would do something like that, so I drank the counter-potion before leaving. I had them eating out of my hand. Told them exactly what they wanted to hear. Ah, thank you, Mipsy.”
The house elf placed a refreshed drink in front of him.
“Those two never were very bright. Whoever is truly leading this new uprising can’t be one of them. After a couple drinks and my completed interrogation, they apparated me to some underground dungeon turned lair. Couldn’t tell you where it was for sure, but it was rank in there. Smelled like old socks and B.O. Why is it if you’re evil you decide showers aren’t necessary?” Theo’s face scrunched up in disgust, and he took a long swig of his cocktail. “But I digress. I tried to pry, find out their plans, but I was left at arm’s length. Pucey just kept telling me I’ll find out on Samhain. The only thing I did discover is they are still wearing the same bloody masks, but have decided on maroon robes. You know, the color of blood, for the Blood Eaters. So creative.” He rolled his eyes, and tossed back his gin and tonic.
“Were you three the only people in the dungeons?” Draco inquired.
“No, in fact there were quite a few other witches and wizards there. Most I didn’t recognize, but a few I did. Pansy’s mother was there, with Dolohov. Augustus Rookwood, Greg Goyle,” Draco snarled, throwing his fork down on the table, “and…” Theo hesitated, catching Daphne’s gaze. “Your mother and sister, Daphne.”
Instinctively throwing an arm around his wife, Blaise pulled her close. Tears shimmered in her eyes, her knuckles turning white on her grip around her fork.
“I don’t care about my mother, she made it clear after the war, I was no longer part of their family. but..” She licked her lips, taking in a shaky breath. “How was my sister? Did she look well?”
Theo lifted a corner of his mouth, the gesture not reaching his eyes. “She looked defeated. I don’t think she was there of her own free will. Her cheeks were sunken, her skin paler than this arse hole’s over here.” He hooked a thumb at Draco.
Astoria, Daphne’s sister, suffered from a blood curse that would someday take her life. The last time Daphne had seen her was five years ago, and she looked like a ghost of herself at that time. It was a miracle she was still alive.
“Well, that decides it then.” With her free hand, she grasped Blaise’s. He nodded at her. “I’ve also been invited to the Samhain event. My invitation and robes arrived by owl this morning.”
“I see discreetly reaching out within your network was successful.” Draco resumed eating, stuffing a forkful of vegetables in his mouth.
“Yes, but I’m not certain who sent them. The note wasn’t signed.”
“Theo?” Blaise addressed his friend. “Would you accompany my wife? I know she’s strong and capable on her own, but I’d feel better knowing someone had her back.” Daphne kissed his cheek, squeezing his hand.
“Of course! I would never turn down an opportunity to have a beautiful blonde on my arm.” He sent a cheeky grin in her direction. “I’ll be sure to double my potions for the trip, an antidote for everything and anything.”
Visibly more at ease, Blaise smiled for the first time that evening.
After dinner, Blaise and Daphne called it a night and headed home. Theo and Draco made their way to the potions lab, each with a project on their minds. Theo started with maintenance on the current brews, ensuring everything was as it should be.
“Polyjuice is ready for bottling, Draco. Can you help?” Theo lifted the cauldron onto the table.
“You bet.” Draco set down his notebook and walked to one of the cupboards. He pulled down a basket full of vials and stoppers, careful not to jostle it.
Using extra-large droppers, they filled the vials in a comfortable silence. Draco allowed his mind to wander, falling on his favorite subject; Hermione. Eleven years of writing her parents weekly. She had said she’d tried to fix the obliviation, multiple times, but hadn’t been successful. The brightest witch of our age, failing at something, it was unheard of. Perhaps that’s what she was working on in her secret lab, though honestly, her notes he’d observed didn’t exactly fit.
“Draco, darling?” Theo rested his dropper down.
“Yes, Theo?” When Theo didn’t answer right away, Draco looked up from the vial he was filling. “You alright?”
“I sent the battle whip to Hermione.”
Leaning back in shock, the dropper fell from his hand. “What?”
“I sent-“
“I heard you the first time. Explain.” His tone was harsh.
“When I was in the dirty dungeon, I spotted a weapon that sounded like the battle whip you described that Hermione had been researching. Figured it was probably the same thing, decided I needed to steal it. So, I pretended to need the loo. Flint, the disgusting twat, just told me to pee in the corner. Seriously, what is wrong with those people? I had to feign a nervous bladder to get permission to walk into a separate part of the dungeons. I disillusioned myself, snuck back into the other area and put it underneath my new bloody robes.” He grinned smugly. “It was like taking candy from a baby. I sent it anonymously to her DOMA owlery address.”
Satisfied with his explanation, Draco picked the dropper back up. “When did you send it?”
“That same night, Sunday. It was pretty late.”
Draco wondered if there was any correlation to the vault room destruction. How long would it have taken for someone to notice the whip was gone? If someone suspected the whip was stolen and sent to the Ministry, and they worked on the task force, they would know it would be taken to the vaults. To that specific vault. Yet another clue that pointed to someone on the force being wrapped up on the wrong side of this mess.
They finished filling the vials and stored them.
“What’s next on the agenda?”
“I’m just doing some tinkering. You know me, my mind is always working on ten things at once.” Theo set down a tray containing metal rings and chains.
“Theo, is that a time turner you’ve taken apart? Where did you even get one?”
“Found it in the Nott vaults when I was looking for something to give Hermione yesterday. It was broken. Thought it could be fun to try to rebuild.” He winked up at Draco, his dimples on display.
Draco shuddered. He couldn’t even imagine the depraved things that were hidden in the Nott vault. Nott, Sr. had been a disgusting man with a taste for the macabre.
“Did you get the wand to her yet?”
“Nah. I requested a meeting tomorrow. She owled back earlier this evening, accepting.” He paused, looking over at Draco. “What’s your project for the evening?”
Hands in his pockets, he was propped up against the wall. “I’m going to tinker with my brain potion. There’s always room for improvement, right?”
_______________________________________________
Chapter 25: Mercy
Summary:
A meeting between Greg and Hermione. Draco heading down a darker path.
Notes:
TW: torture, death, same triggers as before.
Song Rec: Play with Fire by Sam Tinnesz
Chapter Text
30 October 2008
“HERMIONE!”
The scream ripped through the rumble of sounds around her, past the zings of curses flying through the air, the moans of the dying, the screams of their loved ones.
Running at full force, Harry shoved her hard, tumbling them both into the ground just as the green stream of a killing curse whizzed overhead.
“Stupefy!”
Harry’s wand was out above them, pointing at a group of Death Eaters stalking them.
Blood trickled from his temple, and his hands were covered in scratches as they held her down. Rolling out of his grip, she fumbled for her wand, her hand shaking. Raising it next to his, she allowed all her rage and pain to fill her, to shoot forth from her wand.
“Avada Kedavra!”
One Death Eater crumpled, tripping the two next to him. Still, more advanced in their wake.
“Avada Kedavra!”
“Stupefy!”
Their combined spells knocked out two more, one dead, one stunned. A red laser smacked into Harry, knocking him to the ground, still as stone.
“Harry! No!”
He was breathing, not dead. Just stunned, stupefied. She briefly closed her eyes, searching for her inner mantras.
Breathe, Hermione. Fight, Hermione.
Eyes burning with unshed tears, Hermione roared, rising to her feet.
“AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!”
The final advancing enemies hit the ground, unmoving.
Jolting upright, Hermione panted, wrenched from her nightmare. Soft morning light trickled into her room. She was safe in her bed. The war is long over, Harry is alive, she’s alive.
Blowing out a deep breath, she rubbed her hands over her face. She hadn’t had a nightmare in a week. Her thoughts, outside of the singular panic attack at work, had remained primarily organized and calm. These past few days, she’d kept her monster at bay, trapped deep behind bars in her mind. She was determined to keep them there. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she ran through a breathing exercise, slowing her heart rate, easing her mind.
Crookshanks howled, twisting around her feet. Smiling, she picked him up, his calming purrs pressing into her chest.
“C’mon sweet boy, let’s get you breakfast and coffee for mum.”
Two coffees and a shower later, her mind was focused on her tasks for the day. She bounced from foot to foot, waiting for Harry to floo in so she could take off. But when the floo glowed green, it was Draco who entered her home.
He scooped her up in his arms, his kiss tasting of mint, his skin smelling of citrus and cedar.
“Why are you here?” She leaned back, his arms still on her waist. “I’m not complaining, just curious.”
“Did you think when I told you I wanted to be the first person you saw every day that I wasn’t serious?” He pulled her body flush with his. “I don’t want to go a single day without you in my arms, Hermione. Your very presence gives me life.”
The smile that spread across her face was so wide it hurt.
She ran her hands up his chest to the back of his neck. “Get back down here then.”
Their mouths met with a hunger, tongues mingling. Draco moved his hand to the back of her head, keeping her close.
A whooshing sound filled the room and green flames flashed.
“Oh, come on, this is not how I want to start my morning.” Harry’s voice had the couple breaking apart, Draco smirking, Hermione blushing.
“Jealous, Potter?”
“You remember I’m happily married, right?”
“I recall your wife finding me quite fit, actually.”
Harry’s face reddened, a fist clenching at his side. “Watch it, Malfoy. I have neither the patience or the will to entertain you right now.”
Draco quirked an eyebrow. “Entertain me? Were you thinking of dancing? I’d fancy a watch.”
“Stop it, you two!” Hermione put a hand on her hip, scolding both men. “You are grown adults. Draco, Harry is my best friend, so you will be respectful. And Harry, the same goes for you. He’s my partner now, and I expect you to be an adult about this.”
“Fine.” Harry rolled his eyes.
“Fine.” Draco crossed his arms, still staring at Harry. “But why are you here, Potter?”
“Oh! I didn’t tell you, Draco! Come see what was waiting for me at the owlery last night.”
Opening her kitchen cabinet, Hermione removed the wooden box with steady hands, delicately placing it on the countertop. The men crowded her on either side, anxiously awaiting the reveal. She lifted the lid, exposing the whip, and heard gasps on either side of her.
“Well. I’m assuming it was sent anonymously? Or else I’d have heard about an arrest last night,” He turned to Harry. “Or perhaps not, since someone doesn’t seem to think it’s important to keep us abreast of any situation.”
“Again, Malfoy, I wasn’t aware you didn’t know!”
Hermione swatted both men in the chest at the same time.
“Cut it out!” She looked between them, her jaw clenched. “You two were just fine two weeks ago, sharing firewhiskey like long lost best friends. Can we channel those men from now on?”
Draco placed a hand on her back. “Sorry, love. Of course, anything for you.” He pressed a gentle kiss in her hair. He cocked his head to the side, chewing on his lip. “Potter, you’re officially invited over to the manor Saturday afternoon for pick up quidditch. Please feel free to invite some of the other aurors on the task force. We can consider it a… team building event.”
Taken aback, Harry was momentarily at a loss for words. “Okay…” He saw Hermione mouthing to say yes. “I accept. But, are you sure you want to invite task force members? To Malfoy Manor?”
“Thomas and Finnegan know my identity, as does Ivanov. Ask them. I’ll extend an invite to the Weasley brothers, and of course, bring your beautiful wife.”
Harry’s jaw ticked but he only nodded.
“I’m sure we can keep the game easy-going, since I know the Weaslette is pregnant, but will certainly want to play. I’ll reach out to a few others, to have full teams.”
Harry hung his head. “She will absolutely not turn down an opportunity to show off, pregnant or not.” He mumbled under his breath, Hermione catching the words ‘ferret’ and ‘fit’. Blowing out a resigned breath, he raised his head back up. “Okay, back to the whip. Malfoy, are you able to get it registered, or drop it with Annamoore today?”
“Oh, Potter, I’m also taking a personal day.” He smiled, insincerely.
“Of course you are,” Harry grumbled. “You both will be back tomorrow, yes? For the briefing?”
“Yes, Harry, we will be there.” Handing him the now closed box, she strolled back into the sitting room, the men following. “Now, I must be on my way.”
“Let me leave before you both start sucking face again.”
Draco snorted just as Hermione screeched, “Harry!” He was gone in the flames before his name was fully out of her mouth.
Draco wrapped his arms around her from behind, pressing his face into her freshly washed hair. “Can I take you to breakfast first, love?”
Casting a tempus charm, she noted she had a couple hours before her meeting with Greg. “I have a little time. That would be lovely.”
___________________________________
Tap, tap, tap.
Hermione’s foot bounced off the ground in the tiny café, as the clock on the wall clicked to 9:57 am. In their previous meetings, Greg was rarely punctual. However, this was the first meeting he had called, so she hoped he’d be on time. Anxiety mixed with excitement in anticipation of his arrival.
At 10:02 am, Greg waltzed through the door, his wild black hair giving off a sexy, disheveled look. With his emerald green eyes and medium build, he looked like he could be Harry’s brother. Turning the chair backwards as he pulled it out, Greg sat with a dramatic flop, arms resting on the back.
“Miss Granger, a pleasure.”
“Greg, same.” She often wondered what his full name was, or even his real name for that matter. He’d only ever referred to himself as Greg, and dodged any further questions about himself. “I ordered you some tea.” She’d charmed it to stay at the perfect temperature.
“Always so thoughtful.” He beamed at her as he raised the cup to his lips.
“Not to rush this along, but why did you want to meet?”
“Right to the point, Miss Granger. No fuss, I like that about you.” He set his tea cup down, cast a discreet wandless muffliato, and pulled off his backpack. He reached inside and produced a paper bag. “There are two things in here for you. A small music box that I think you’ll find interesting, but just one piece of advice. Ear muffs when you open it. The music is designed to knock you out faster than a dreamless sleep draught. I didn’t realize that initially, and I knocked myself senseless for 4 hours when I cranked it. Whoops!”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Second item is an unregistered wand. I don’t know exactly what you’re up to, but it might be best to have one around for discretion.” He winked.
Huh. An unregistered wand, eh? The thought had never crossed her mind, but it was a good idea.
“Appreciate these. What do you want in return?” Greg always declined payment in the past, just saying he’d someday need a favor and would cash it in. It honestly made her nervous, but since she wasn’t rich, a deal that didn’t cost her financially was a deal she couldn't refuse. For now, anyways.
“Just a few minutes of your time. Allow me to take in your beauty.” He grabbed her hand, kissing the back.
A loud crash to her right caused Hermione to jump, hand over her heart. One of the smaller tables was laying on its side, the tabletop accoutrement scattered across the floor. A single chair sat askew against the wall.
“Was anyone even sitting there?” Hermione asked, alarmed.
“Afraid of ghosts, Miss Granger?” He squeezed her hand, a cheeky grin on his lips.
“Of course not.” She pulled out of his grasp. “But logically, someone alive did that, not a ghost.”
“It’s okay to think outside the box, you know. Being rational and logical all the time can be such a bore.”
“It’s done me just fine so far in life, so I’ll stick to my instincts, thanks.”
Greg stood, stretching his arms high above his head, his shirt hem following. Hermione caught a peek of dark hair trailing down a very fit abdomen. Blushing, she bit her lip, but didn’t turn away. She might be with Draco, but that doesn’t mean she was dead. She still had eyes, and if someone wanted to put on a show in front of her, well, she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Greg cleared his throat. Busted, she glanced up, cheeks ablaze. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
“Until next time, Miss Granger.”
Flustered, it took her a bit to gather herself and head out of the café. She needed to put in some hours at her organization, and she knew it would be a long day. Rounding the corner, she caught sight of white blond hair. Draco was dragging Greg by his ear into the alley ahead of her. What was he doing here? Did he follow her? She scurried after them, but by the time she entered the alleyway, they were gone, disapparated.
Well. That would be a conversation for later. Glancing around to be sure she was alone, she disapparated herself, M.W.W.R.C. as her destination.
________________________________________
They apparated into the sitting room of the manor, Draco’s fingers still firmly twisting Theo’s ear.
“Do not flirt with her in front of me, especially in this get-up. Do you understand?”
“Ack, can you stop?” Theo elbowed him in the ribs, a huff escaping as Draco released his hold. “Merlin, Draco. You can’t control yourself when it comes to her, can you?” Rubbing his bright red lobe, he smirked. “The table, that was you, wasn’t it? Jealous she blushed for me?”
“Fuck off, Theo.” He gave him a once over, gaze lingering on the messy black hair, the black tee, the tight Muggle jeans. “Go drink the antidote and get back to yourself. You look like Potter’s goth brother. It’s disturbing.”
“Disturbing? I think you mean dashing. Downright sexy.” Theo bit his lip, getting a dreamy look. “I wonder if Potter’s wife would be willing to share him.”
Draco scoffed, shaking his head.
Theo gave him a questioning look. “Why were you at the café, anyways?”
“I followed Hermione. She omitted the meet-up from her agenda today, not knowing I already knew she would be meeting you.”
“Meeting Greg, to be perfectly clear.”
“Well, now I know why.” Scowling he crossed his arms. “Does she always look at you like that?”
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, brother.”
“She should only have eyes for me,” he grumbled, frowning.
Theo sighed, smacking him on the back. “Checking someone out isn’t cheating, Draco. Don’t be a git.”
“Hmph.”
Chuckling, Theo walked towards the hall. “Let me get back to myself. What’s on your agenda today?”
A resounding crack echoed off the walls. Theo spun around to an empty room.
Draco apparated directly into Diagon Alley and immediately disillusioned himself. Just a peek, that’s all he needed. He had to reassure himself she was safe. He shuffled slowly along the edge of the crowd, avoiding brushing shoulders with anyone. Heart pounding, he took several calming breaths. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew Theo was right. Appreciating a handsome man wasn’t cheating. If the roles were reversed, though, he knew he there wasn’t a soul on this earth that could catch his eye the way she did. She was like a drug for him, an addiction, an obsession. He was wearing blinders, and the only thing in his line of sight were curls, freckles, and warm amber irises.
Flattening against the brick building behind him, he avoided detection as several small children came flying out of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, clutching treats. Glancing through the storefront window, he spotted George demonstrating a Muggle magic trick. A lightbulb went off, and Draco smiled. Yes, he’d use George’s shop, a gift for Hermione, as his excuse for being here, and not because he was semi-stalking his girlfriend.
Dropping his disillusionment, he entered the shop, the bells above the door announcing his arrival.
“Just a sec, I’ll be right with you!” George called over his shoulder as he finished the trick, pulling a bouquet of flowers out from his sleeve. A chorus of laughter erupted around him as he held out the flowers to a small girl, who accepted with a screech of joy.
He spun around, taking in Draco. “Malfoy. What can I do for you?” Cordial smile, kind, but not exactly warm.
“I’m here to personally extend an invite to the manor this Saturday for a pickup quidditch match. I’ve been told your lovely sister will be there to beat the bloody pants off me.”
“And she will, don’t you worry!” Delight lit his face, smile now friendly. “I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
“Brilliant.” Narrowing his eyes, he took in the heaps of boxes everywhere, the disarray and overcrowded corners making him feel claustrophobic. “What’s… safe… for me to gift Hermione?”
George quirked an eyebrow. “Hermione, is it?”
Shit. A slip. He’s not usually this careless.
“Ah, yes. Granger, Hermione, we’ve become close over the past few weeks.”
He gave him a knowing smile. “Hmmm, well then perhaps a love potion?”
“No!” He interjected quickly. “That’s… no. How about a few chocolate frogs?”
“Coming right up!”
Chocolate in hand, he walked the last block over to the office building. He received a few stares, a few gasps, his light hair and eyes easily identifying him. One woman even tucked her child to her dress as he walked by, eyes wide with fear. This was exactly why he’d spent most of the last decade in France. Flicking his occlumency walls up, he stilled his features, stuffing down his disappointment.
He sauntered through the door of the M.W.W.R.C. like he owned the place, head held high.
The room was empty except for her. Back to him, Hermione was digging through a stack of parchment in the far corner. He relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. She’s safe. Without getting her attention, he strolled over to her side, extending his hand with the chocolates under her nose.
“Oh!” Jumping back, she clutched her wand, turning to point it at him. “Draco! You startled me! Don’t do that!” She smacked his chest.
“But I brought gifts.”
She eyed the proffered boxes, and her eyes lit up with recognition. “I haven’t had these in years!” Scooping them up, she grinned up at him. “Thanks!”
“Of course. Just wanted to see you smile one more time.” He dropped a tender kiss to her forehead, cradling her jaw. “Message me later?”
Nodding, she leaned in and met his lips with hers, a brief but sweet kiss.
“Cheers, love.”
When he made it outside, he discreetly added several wards to the front door. If anyone crossed through besides her, he’d be notified. Next stop would be her cottage, to reinforce the wards he’d placed there weeks ago. It was becoming a daily task for him, a way to ease his manic worry. Anytime she was away from him, there was an underlying anxiety in his every moment. First Oliver, then the blasted Blood Eaters, now someone unknown from the task force, disrupting their peace. If something happened to her, if he lost her, he wouldn’t be able to go on. Now that she was his, there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her safe.
An hour later, Draco was back at the manor, tracking down Theo. He found him, tinkering with the broken time turner in the potions lab.
“I think it’s time I make my presence known.” He rested against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, a facade of peace.
“In what way?” Theo didn’t look up from his work.
“It’s only a matter of hours before the whole British wizarding world knows I’ve returned.” He flashed back to the mother, hiding her child from him, the stares in the crowd. Jaw clenching, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I think it’s best I reach out to our friends, join this uprising.”
A wicked grin, a glint in his eyes, Theo watched his friend across the room.
Draco’s eyes glimmered with menace. “Want to join me in scaring the pants off Flint?”
“I want nothing more.”
____________________________________________
Adjusting his cufflinks, Draco stood at Marcus Flint’s door. Hair slicked back, midnight black suit, and inky robes. With a vicious tilt to his mouth, he put on a formidable front.
Rap, rap, rap.
Door swinging open, a house elf wearing the tattered remains of some unidentifiable piece of clothing greeted him.
“Tell Flint Draco Malfoy is here to see him.” He crossed the threshold without a backward glance at the elf, a small dog in his wake.
“Yes sir, absolutely sir. Please make yourself at home.” The elf wrung his hands before disapparating with a pop.
Taking in his surroundings, the foyer was sparsely furnished. Dark wood rafters, grey stone lining the walls and floors, and small bench completed the foyer. Without windows, the space was dimly lit with several spelled sconces at eye level.
Less than a minute after the elf left them, Marcus came strolling down the hall.
“Unbelievable. The infamous Draco Malfoy lives.” He had filled out since their childhood, though was still several inches shorter than Draco. He wore blood red robes, and Draco guessed they were the new uniform.
“Rumors brought me out of my solitude.”
“What kind of rumors?” He was now only a few feet away, his wand gripped tight in his hand.
“Ones that whisper of a new revolution.” He cocked his head. “Are the Dark Lord’s followers readying for another war?” A smile that didn’t reach his eyes, one with too many teeth, stretched over his cheeks.
Chuckling nervously, Marcus tried to move between Draco and the door, raising his wand. Draco sidestepped him, quirking his eyebrow. “Don’t trust me, Flint?”
“Can you blame me? I haven’t seen or heard from you in ten years, and you show up on my doorstep out of the blue.” Wand was now at chest level, the tip pointed at Draco’s face.
Sneering, Draco stepped forward until the wand poked into the soft flesh of his throat.
“You really think a Malfoy would betray you? Does my name, my legacy mean nothing?” A soft growling started up at his feet.
“What the… Did you bring a mutt into my home?” Marcus drew back a leg, prepped to kick, but Draco took advantage of his break in concentration.
“Expelliarmus.”
Flint’s wand landed expertly in Draco’s hand, and he jammed it into his cheek.
“You lay a finger on my familiar, I’ll make you wish you’d died in the war.” His voice was low, heated.
Shrinking down, hands in front of him, Marcus whimpered.
“Expelliarmus.” The wand flew from Draco’s fingers as Adrian Pucey entered the space. “Stupefy.”
Frozen in place, Draco’s eyes burned with hatred.
“So, it’s true. You came crawling back from whatever hole you’ve been hiding in.” Adrian kept his wand trained on the immobilized wizard. “I have to say, your arrival, your timing, it’s suspicious.”
He tossed Flint his wand, and he promptly raised it to point at Draco’s chest.
Pulling out a vial from inside his robes, Adrian narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to release the spell so you can drink this veritaserum. We need to check your intentions. Finite incantatem.”
Free to move, Draco cracked his neck. “You do realize as an expert in occlumency, I can work around veritaserum, yes? And if it’s a poorly made home brew, which, looking at the color, it is, then anyone with even a whiff of training could overcome it’s pull.” The hatred in his eyes melted into contempt.
With a scowl, Adrian shoved the vial back in his robes. “Fine. I have another test then.”
He crossed the room, placing one hand on Draco’s arm, the other on Marcus. He disapparated them with a violent crack.
They landed roughly in a set of dungeons, dark and dingy, reeking of unwashed bodies. Draco resisted covering his nose, fighting to keep his hands at his side.
“Follow me. Don’t try anything, Flint will be right behind you.”
He didn’t respond, but followed Adrian closely, gripping a wand under his robes. They walked down a long hall, past empty cells, their boots clacking over the stones. When they reached the final cell in the row, Draco saw an emaciated man laying on a thin, filthy mattress. His clothes were stained and torn, his face and hair marred with dirt and dried blood. He wore slim magic-blocking bracelets, flush with his skin. Despite his eyes open and fixed on the ceiling, he didn’t stir when they entered.
“This piece of rubbish is a Muggle-born. He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as us.” Adrian kicked the cot, jostling the wizard. He winced, rolling on his side to face the wall.
“Why even bother keeping him here at all?” Draco feigned nonchalance, though he was roiling inside.
Adrian eyed him, pausing to think before answering. “I’ll tell you in good time.”
“And why are we down here? It smells worse than Flint’s wife’s arse hole.”
“Hey!” Marcus started towards Draco, face red with rage. Adrian stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“Go stand by the door. Stay out of this.”
Marcus stomped off to hold up the wall, arms crossed. It was clear who was in charge here.
Adrian tilted his head towards Draco. “Use an unforgiveable on this Muggle-born, and I’ll be inclined to trust you.”
Raising his arm without hesitation, he aimed for the cot.
“Crucio.”
The wand gave a slight resistance as he cast the spell, then red streaked out, landing in the center of the man’s back. Screeching, the wizard writhed in pain. Draco held the spell for half a minute, dropping it only when the man’s screams reached a fever pitch. He fell silent immediately, his body twitching in the aftermath of the torture.
“Again.”
Inhaling, Draco called on his occlumency to mask his outrage. One slow blink and he was back on control.
“Crucio.”
The man’s wails clawed out of him, tears leaking down his face. Draco held the spell a full minute this time. Upon release, soft sobs and whimpers filled the air, his body convulsing as if he was having a seizure.
“Again.”
“Avada Kedavra!”
“No!” Adrian’s shout was too late. Green light engulfed the Muggle-born, and he was dead in an instant, his twitching forever stilled.
“Why would you do that? We were experimenting on him!” His words were laced with indignation and annoyance.
Draco tsked. “You only said to use an unforgiveable. How was I to know you didn’t want me to kill him?”
“It was clearly implied.” He spoke through clenched teeth.
“Clearly? I think not.” A patronizing smile. “But surely I’ve proven myself, yes?”
Adrian sized him up, face scrunched. “I suppose.” He turned to look at the dead man before walking to the cell entrance, bellowing for a guard.
Taking advantage of the moment, Draco closed his eyes, stomach churning. Killing him had been a mercy, but it left a stain on him, a rotting in his gut.
“Clean this up,” Adrian barked at the guard. “Flint, Malfoy, let’s go back.”
Adrian apparated them back to the foyer, and they landed unsteadily.
“You could try to be less violent with your apparition.” Draco placed a hand over his stomach, groaning.
“Maybe I like making you feel sick.” He sneered, then disapparated.
“Good riddance to him.” Draco scoffed.
Marcus opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Adrian reappeared, maroon robes in his hand. He shoved them at Draco, dropping a sealed envelope on top.
“An invitation to a celebration tomorrow, for Samhain. If you show up, you’ll be welcomed back. If you chose not to come, don’t bother darkening either of our doorways again or you’ll be murdered on sight.”
He leaned down into Adrian’s personal space. “Oh, I do love living life on the edge. Maybe I’ll come, maybe I won’t.” He straightened, smirking. “Teddy!”
The cocker spaniel trotted into the foyer, a sock in his mouth.
“Drop it, mutt. Or else.” Marcus warned. The pup sat back, tail wagging against the floor. Marcus grabbed the sock, and the dog gripped it tighter, pulling back.
“He thinks you’re playing with him.”
Marcus scoffed. “Aren’t familiars supposed to be smart?” He yanked hard just as the dog let go, and Marcus fell into the wall behind him, smacking his head.
“Well, he fooled you.” With a snap of his fingers, Teddy heeled. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Back at the manor, Theo transformed out of his animagus state.
“That could not have worked out more perfectly.” Stretching, he sighed. “I found a hidden room. Nose lead me right to it, but it was faint. Not surprising the DLME missed it.” Having heard the rundown of the raid from Draco earlier, his mission today was to look for anything they overlooked. “It was tucked away, entrance inside a closet, covered in notice-me not charms. I couldn’t clear the wards in my animal form, but I could easily direct someone there. Perhaps that someone could be the Head Auror, the gorgeous Harry Potter.” Theo fluttered his lashes.
Draco didn’t react, his face stony.
“Hey, you can drop the walls, it’s just us here.”
“I had to kill someone.”
Concern filled Theo’s eyes. “What? Who?”
Draco took a deep breath, blinked, and allowed his mind to feel again. “They were torturing a Muggle-born wizard. He looked like he’d been there for a very long time.” Swallowing, he took another deep breath. “I killed him to prove my worthiness, but truly it was out of mercy.”
“I’m sorry.” Theo put an arm around his friend, guiding him to one of the sitting couches. “You did the right thing.”
The killing curse. It didn’t just kill the target, it marked the user. He’d never cast it before, and the nausea, the self-loathing, it overwhelmed him.
“Here’s your wand back.” Draco slid the wand from his pocket, handing it to Theo. “There was only a little resistance.”
“Better resistance than you ending up back in Azkaban.”
He smiled sadly, leaning his head into Theo’s shoulder. Thank Merlin for good friends.
Chapter 26: Samhain
Summary:
We've reached Samhain. The Blood Eaters meeting has arrived.
Notes:
Previous triggers apply.
Thanks for your patience on the release of this chapter. I entered a bunch of writing fests and got in over my head. Oops!
If you like smut, please check out the oneshots on my page. Some are dramione, and some are more rare pairs. Don't let the rare pairs put you off, they're just as filthy and worth the read. More will be released throughout the next couple of months. xxxSong Rec: Bad Moon Rising by CCR
Chapter Text
31 October 2008
The mood was somber in the briefing room as the members of the task force trickled in. This had been a hard week. Quiet, murmured conversations filled the room as everyone found their seats. With Minister Shacklebolt again in attendance, Dean brought the meeting to a start.
First up was Aurors Conner and Schwatrz, who had been assigned to head the push for protection of Muggles and Muggleborn. A mass communication had gone out to all the DMLE in Europe as well as Muggle police forces who have jurisdiction over any families on the M.W.W.R.C. list. The families are being updated with a succinct but thorough prewritten bulletin. In response, reports have been pouring in from all over. They are scared, on edge, some afraid to leave their homes. Even the assurance of assigned bodyguards and increased patrols isn’t enough to ease the rising tension.
Seamus and Rowan spoke briefly about the continuation of strange crop circles popping up throughout the countryside of Ireland. No more animal deaths, and thankfully no human deaths were reported near them. Charles and Katarina were up next, discussing the murders in Paris. Charles was visibly distressed when he brought up the children, specifically the twins, his voice breaking. His hands were shaking when he took his seat, and Katarina grabbed one, holding it firm. Their close bond was evident in the way she comforted him.
Hermione and Draco, in his brown-haired get-up, made their way to the front of the room. He described finding the bloodless body of the young girl at Beauxbaton.
“With a lack of evidence of an intruder into the school nor item on scene, or the telltale signs of an item’s use, we believe her death is directly connected to the deaths of her family in Paris.” His occlumency walls were up, his amber eyes hazy and emotionless.
“I’m sure you’re wondering how that’s possible.” Hermione looked around the room, everyone with rapt attention on her. “We believe it’s bloodline curse. Anyone who is killed by the curse, all of their direct offspring are also taken out. The curse must be very powerful, as it was able to kill the young girl who was in a different location, many miles away.”
Whispers started up amongst the crowd.
“Considering the possibilities and consequences of this curse running rampant, it is crucial to protect not only the younger members of a family, but the elders. Especially the elders.”
Shacklebolt shifted in his chair in the back of the room, gesturing at Auror Conner, who gave him a curt nod.
Draco ran a hand through his curls. “I also have intel that Dolohov survived the war, and could be directly involved.”
Gasps echoed off the walls.
“He’s been hiding out at the Parkinson estate.” He turned to make direct eye contact with a surprised Dean and Harry. In a hard tone, his words were clearly directed at them. “Should we do a raid, I would recommend all aurors be, at the very least, informed.”
Harry took the stage after Hermione and Draco, briefing the room about the raid at the Flint residence. Katarina and Charles looked shocked, their eyes finding Hermione and Draco, who both shook their heads slightly. Katarina’s downturned lips portrayed her displeasure at being left out.
Dean ended the meeting after Harry’s report, and the groups dispersed. He attempted to shuffle out the door quickly, but Draco caught him, anger evident on his face. Resigned, Dean waved him out towards his office with an exhausted Harry in tow.
Back in the room, Hermione, Rowan, and Seamus were huddled up.
“We didn’t know you wouldn’t be there.” Seamus started, guilt in his eyes. “It happened fast. We got an owl that said to report to the DMLE immediately, and be prepared for a raid.”
“Felt like a waste of a trip. Place was clean as a whistle.” Rowan crossed his arms. “Are we sure he’s even involved?”
“I can’t say for sure, but seeing him in Rathdowney immediately after the murders is suspicious.” Hermione twisted her lips. “It’s not like that town is known for tourism.”
Seamus chuckled. “Having unfortunately spent a lot of time there, I can confirm there’s not much worth doing.”
“Was it you who discovered the curse was a direct bloodline destroyer, Hermione?” Rowan quirked his eyebrow at her.
“I did. I assumed after the second set of family murders it would be something like that, but discovery of the girl at Beauxbaton was confirmation.” She chewed on her cheek. “Also, that poor child who survived. Finding out her father wasn’t actually her father, and that her real parents don’t want her.”
Seamus nodded. “She’s in good hands. Rowan and I went over to check on her personally.”
“Did one of those Muggle DNA tests to confirm her lineage.” Tilting his head, Rowan’s eyes found Hermione’s. “Had to be sure.”
Hermione looked puzzled. “Had to be sure? Of what?”
“Of her family ties. So, she could be with relatives.”
“Oh, of course. That makes sense.” Hermione bit her lip. “I’m glad the other DMLE divisions are taking this seriously. And that we have enough squibs in place to assist with the Muggle police forces.”
Seamus grabbed his friend’s hand. “Are you being safe, Hermione?”
She smiled for the first time since the meeting started. “Yes, thank you, Seamus.” She squeezed his hand back as he returned her smile.
“Do you have assigned protection?” Rowan asked.
“Pretty sure I’m enough,” Draco said as he walked up to the group.
Joining the circle, his arm brushed against Hermione’s shoulder, and he gave Seamus a quirked brow. He dropped her hand immediately. Draco’s hard stare had him shuffling back a foot, his eyes on the ground. Rowan assessed the situation with a cool stare, flicking between the two men. He narrowed his eyes at his partner but stayed silent. Hermione worried about what Seamus might spill later. She edged closer to him and his eyes snapped to hers. She gave him a discreet shake of her head, and he gulped, nodding ever so slightly.
Flicking his gaze down at Hermione, Draco’s eyes softened. “Thomas will be sure from this point on to keep us informed of all task force decisions.”
“Does that include us?” Charles approached the group, Katarina on his heels.
Draco gave them a curt nod. “It does.”
“Boucher, good intel on Dolohov. How did you find out?” Rowan directed his question at the man.
He inhaled through his nose, raising his chin. “I have my fingers in a lot of pots, Byrne. And I’d prefer to keep them secret, for the pots' sakes.”
“Fair enough. But again, we really don’t have proof he’s involved. Just because he’s alive doesn’t mean he’s part of the revolution.” Rowan clicked his tongue. “Have you interviewed him yet? Or his partner, Mrs. Parkinson?”
Draco narrowed his eyes at the Irishman. “Not wanting to spook him, I thought we could make a plan of attack, so to speak. I discussed that with Potter and Thomas as well. It’ll be in our packets this afternoon, I’m certain.”
“Just playing devil’s advocate here. You can’t get blinders on when you’re investigating.”
Draco scoffed. “You didn’t know these people before.”
“And you did?”
Ah, shit. Draco was slipping again. He’d been careless lately. “I’ve read the reports. He is a despicable man. He fought in both the First and Second Wizarding Wars, torturing Muggles and killing wizards and witches left and right. And you can just ask Hermione here about his homegrown wicked curses.”
She started to shake, and her put an arm around her. He regretted bringing up the curse, but he needed Rowan to understand what kind of dark wizard they were potentially up against. Hell, definitely up against. There was no way he wasn’t involved.
“He nearly killed me in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. If the curse had been cast verbally instead of silently, I wouldn’t be standing here today.” Leaning into Draco, she let his body heat soothe her.
Rowan looked abashedly at her. “I apologize. I wasn’t aware.”
Seamus cut in. “There’s no way in my mind he isn’t mixed up in this.” Rowan huffed out a breath on his left. “You alright, Rowan? You seem fired up today.”
He gave his partner a sad smile. “Just some personal things going on, has me off. I think I better get home to my wife so I can beg for her to forgive me for whatever I’ve done this time.”
Charles chuckled. “I need to do the same. My wife’s hands are full with the twins, and with my travel and the long hours, she’s frustrated, exhausted, and always upset with me about something.”
Soft laughs from the group. They all murmured their goodbyes and parted ways. Draco kept his arm around Hermione as he walked them to the door.
Back in their office, Hermione had several departmental memos flying over her desk. She plucked them from the air reading the notes one at a time. Two were concerning the new locks and access to the vault level.
“They’ve hired a secretary for the department, to work on the vault level, assisting in cataloguing and vault maintenance. That’ll be great. Looks like we will have a security team, too. Someone positioned at each elevator door.” She kept reading. “For every level of the ministry. Not just us.”
“I’m glad their taking this seriously.” Draco collapsed back into his chair, head lulled back, eyes closed. He dropped his Boucher guise and rubbed his hands over his face.
Hermione picked up the final note. “Oh, Draco, Pansy and Neville want us to join them at a Samhain celebration tonight!”
Peeking between his fingers at his witch, Draco calculated if he should tell her what he was doing this evening. Considering the huge secrets she was keeping from him, he felt justified in keeping his infiltration of the Blood Eaters to himself. For now, anyways.
“I apologize, my love, but I am promised to another project. But I think you should go.”
“You’re okay with me going out to an event, without you?” She gave him a doubtful look.
“Neville is strong and competent. If you can’t with be me, he’s a good replacement.” He dropped his hands to his lap, making eye contact. “You two have a bond, it’s clear. He would never let you get hurt.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He saved my life once, you know.”
“I didn’t.” He paused, assessing her state of mind. “Are you comfortable talking about it?”
“All I will say is, he killed the Death Eater who sliced me open, and he apparated me to a medwitch without a second thought. Stayed with me until he was sure I would live, before going back onto the front lines.” She sighed. “He’s a war hero. Everyone underestimated him when we were young, but he’s loyal, strong, and these days, much more of a Slytherin than a Gryffindor.”
Draco thrummed in his throat. “I can agree with you on that.” Neville saved her life during the war. Draco would have a crate of expensive firewhiskey sent to his home to thank him. Without her, his life would be very different right now, and he wanted to show his gratitude.
He looked Hermione up and down, taking in her simple button up top, basic skirt, and sensible shoes. “You should let Pansy dress you.”
“Why? My clothes are just fine!” She looked down at her outfit. “I’m comfortable.”
“I love you in anything, and even more in nothing.” He smirked, seeing the red bloom in her cheeks. “But… If I have an inkling of where you’re going tonight, sensible is not the vibe, love.”
She thought back to the way Pansy looked her up and down, frowning, when they first met. She thought it was because the put-together witch didn’t care for her. Maybe it was actually because she didn’t care for her clothes.
She cocked her head, twisting her lips. “Well, it might be fun to get dolled up. I did enjoy the dress you bought me in Paris.”
“You looked beautiful. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” His eyes darkened. “Or my hands. Or mouth. Or-“
“That’s enough!” Her blush deepened. “Fine, I’ll let them know I’ll be over early for Pansy to dress me.”
“She’ll love that.”
______________________________________________________
Daphne, Theo, and Draco stood together in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, dressed in their Blood Eater robes. No masks had been provided with the garments, just an invitation they were told to bring, and a small portkey to be activated. Per the invitation, the portkeys were timed at intervals, to allow for privacy when they arrived. Theo’s would trigger first, Daphne’s several minutes later, and Draco’s last, a full ten minutes after Daphne’s.
Draco didn’t like that his face would be initially exposed, or that they couldn’t all enter together.
“We need a signal, so we know it’s each other.”
“Got it.” Theo threw up a crude gesture at him.
“Oh La vache! Theo, no.” Daphne gasped. “How about we smooth out the left arm of our robes, then the right arm, without a pause between. It won’t look too suspicious, just like we are ensuring our robes are fully covering us.”
Draco nodded. “Perfect. Let’s add a code word.”
“Oh, how about blowjob?” Theo wiggled his eyebrows.
Letting out an exasperated breath, she smacked Theo’s arm. “Absolutely not! I say we use apple.”
“Apple it is,” Draco said.
“Ugh, you two are no fun.” Theo pouted. “He cast a tempest charm. “My time is nigh. I’ll see you two shortly.” With a dramatic flair, he picked up the small stone he was given and disappeared.
Draco rolled his eyes. “The way he acts, everyone will know it’s him.”
Daphne chuckled behind her hand. “I wouldn’t want him to be any other way.”
“Too true.”
“It’s my time.” She reached for the stone on the table next to her, but Draco grabbed her arm, stalling her.
“Daphne, I just wanted to say, thank you for helping. You’re very brave, facing your fears, and your mother, your sister.”
She smiled at him, and kissed his cheek. “They’re killing the defenseless. If we don’t step up, who will?’ With that, she grasped her stone and disappeared into the ether.
With ten minutes to kill, Draco started pacing, his thoughts on Hermione. Always Hermione. He knew Neville would be there with her, but the thought of her being in a crowd of people without him had his nerves fraying. Emotionally, she’d seemed calmer, more in control of herself this week. He wondered what had changed. Was it him? Did he soothe the dark parts of her just like she did for him?
The whooshing sound of the floo caught him off guard. Alarmed, he pulled out his wand, pressing up against the wall. He heard soft footsteps coming from the foyer into the sitting room and prepared to hex anyone who entered.
Narcissa turned the corner, a large sun hat perched on her head, and a small bag in her arms. Her sun-kissed skin told the story of an adventure somewhere warm. When she caught sight of her son, wand raised at her, she jumped.
“Draco! What is going on?”
He lowered his wand to his side. “Mother, I thought you’d be gone until Monday.”
“Oh, I was tired of the sun. I wanted to sleep in my own bed, have my own elve’s food.” She really looked at him, taking in the long red robes. “Draco… what are you wearing?”
He stiffened. They weren’t Death Eater robes, but they resembled them. Similar patterns swirled in with gold thread, hood and arms designed to hide your identity. The only thing missing was the mask.
“I have to go. I will explain everything to you later.”
Their family wasn’t usually too affectionate. A kiss on the cheek here, a hand squeeze there. But he could tell his mother knew he was getting involved in something she wouldn’t approve of. She looked alarmed and frightened, and he felt his heart crack. He was all she had left in this world. He took three long steps and wrapped her in a tight embrace.
“I love you. I promise this is not what it looks like. Or, maybe it is but I’ll be safe. I’ll come home. I’ll always come home.”
He stepped back and flicked up his occlumency walls. Before his mother could respond, he reached into his pocket, making contact with the smooth stone, and was yanked out of existence.
He landed hard on a grassy hill and stumbled into the trunk of a tree. He put out a hand to steady himself and raised his eyes to take in a few straggly trees and an abandoned castle. He didn’t recognize the structure. Glancing around, it appeared they were inside some sort of magical dome, and the outside world twenty feet surrounding the castle was obscured. Was it to keep people oblivious, out of the sphere? Or was it designed to keep them in?
“I see you did decide to grace us with your presence.” Adrian Pucey sneered at him from the front stone arch. Flint stood a step behind him on his right.
“Where’s your mutt?” Flint called out. “I was looking forward to kicking him.”
Eyes like ice, he smiled darkly. “I didn’t need to bring him, knowing by the end of tonight, I could bring you to heel, Flint.”
He took one angry step towards Draco, but Adrian put his arm out, stopping him. “Not tonight. Keep your petty tiff to yourselves. We need to be focused.”
Holding out the Death Eater mask to Draco, he snarled. “This mask should look familiar. Do you think this time you can stay loyal to it?”
Draco jerked it out of his hand. “Disrespectfully, fuck off, Pucey.” He grinned from ear to ear before positioning the mask on his face, the robe top magically sealing to the edges.
He strolled past the two wizards without a glance backwards.
When he entered the castle, he found himself in large hall filled with wix. There was easily over a hundred witches and wizards in the room. The number of people involved with this rebellion was concerning. Since Voldemort’s defeat, the other small uprisings were always only a handful of dark wizards fighting the system. With such a big group, this felt more like the preparation for another war.
The group was milling about, no obvious sense of order. He discreetly brushed along his arms, sending out the signal. In his side view, he caught someone repeating his motions. Not wanting to draw attention to their signal, he meandered through the crowd, slowly working his way over. When he was at their side he spoke softly.
“Did you eat an apple today?” his voice came out modulated.
“Yes,” came the reply, their voice also robotic.
“Hmmm, there must be a spell designed to hide voices. Full robes, masks, voice modulation. Whoever called this meeting doesn’t want to be known.”
Just then, a third body joined them. “Would either of you enjoy a blowjob?”
Before either could answer, a voice rang out over them.
“Thank you all for coming. It was time to bring all of you together. Tonight marks a special occasion for us.”
A wizard was floating down from the ceiling, no platform, no string. He had a soft light emanating from him, bringing your focus to him. Draco wondered how strong of a leviosa spell it would take to levitate an entire person.
“I want each of you to pull back the robes on you left forearm, inner side facing up.”
Dread filled Draco. His mark. Why did they want to see the mark? He turned to look at his companions, neither of which had the dark mark.
They all slowly pulled back their robes. As soon as his entire mark was exposed, it began to burn. He hissed, bending over in pain. He could hear the cries of those around him.
A shrill scream came from Daphne next to him. He heard Theo grunting. They didn’t have marks; what was causing their distress? Reinforcing his occlumency walls, he pushed the pain behind them and took several calming breaths. When he was centered, he turned to Theo and Daphne and stumbled back a step.
Both of their arms now had the Mark, freshly carved, black, pulsing and bleeding. Draco’s stomach plummeted, his heartrate picking up. They were both here because of him and now they were forever marked, connected to a cause they didn’t believe in. This was all his fault. He couldn’t see their faces through the masks, and he was shamefully thankful.
A mass marking. This was raw magic, powerful. Even Voldemort required to mark people one at a time. What, or who, were they up against?
He felt something warm dripping from his fingers. Lifting his arm, he could see his Mark, which previously had faded to a light gray, was now pulsing with fresh, inky magic. Blood oozed profusely, leaving rivulets of red down his arm and hand.
“We have reactivated your marks. And those of you without them have been tattooed in, officially joining you with us.” The wizard was now hovering only a few feet above the crowd.
“Thank you for your service.” He landed on a small platform in the corner, two wix flagged him, wands held high. Anger bubbled past Draco’s walls and he gripped his wand in his robes. He couldn’t feel his magic. A shiver ran through him, the cold dread in his gut growing. Not just blocked, the spark was missing. What kind of spell could do that?
“We plan to succeed where Voldemort failed. His approach was too public, poorly executed. He wanted power, fame, to rule. That is not our goal here. We will work in the shadows, eradicating Muggles and Muggleborns, removing their filth from this earth. The Wizarding World deserves to be pure.”
A murmuring started up in the room, people turning to each other. Abruptly, Draco found himself bent over in pain, his mark burning like someone placed a hot iron directly on his skin. Somewhere in the background of his consciousness, he could hear the cries of those around him.
“You will listen and not speak!”
The burning slowly subsided, and he was able to rise to his full height.
“Each of you will be called to assist us in wiping out Muggle magical lines. When your arm burns, you are to report here for your orders. Keep your stones, they’ve been designed to pull you here from wherever you are when we need you.”
He began floating back up into the air.
“That is all for now. Keep your identities hidden, stay out of the way of the DMLE. We will be in touch. Your stones will take you back to your last location now.”
Draco closed his eyes, fighting the anger and dread. This did not go as he expected. His calloused fingers found the stone in his pocket and he was violently jerked back into his sitting room. Theo and Daphne landed only seconds after him. He ripped the mask off, and froze, unsure of what he should do.
A choked sob came from one form, and Daphne pulled off her mask. She rolled up her robe sleeve, showing off smeared blood and dark lines.
“Daphne, I didn’t know. We didn’t… I couldn’t have known.” He dropped his head. “I’m so sorry.” She didn’t respond, tears dripping off her chin into the bloodied tattoo. She rose, and without speaking to either wizard, marched into the foyer. Theo and Draco made eye contact as the sound of the floo could be heard behind them.
Draco’s voice quivered. “Blaise is going to murder me.”
____________________________________________________
Pansy clicked her tongue. “That’s not quite right.”
She flicked her wand again in Hermione’s direction. Hermione could feel the fabric over her skin sliding around, thinning in places, opening in others. Completely at the mercy of the pocket-sized witch in front of her, she held as still as possible.
Pansy tapped her finger over her lips. “Hmmm, that’s close. Turn around for a second.”
With a stifled sigh, Hermione spun toward the wall. She felt something heavy attach to the back of the dress.
“Ah! Yes, I think that will do it. Come over here and take a look in the mirror.”
Hermione stepped off the pedestal onto the plush rug in Pansy’s bedroom. Pansy was practically beaming at her, bouncing on her toes. Hermione stepped up next to her and let out a soft gasp. The dress was light green mesh, green leaves and pastel flowers woven in to cover her delicate parts. The mesh hung loosely off her shoulders, with thicker fabric draped over her arms, covering her scar. She was grateful she didn’t have to ask Pansy to cover the Mudblood mark. The dress stopped just above her knees, the edges ending in light pink petals that glimmered faintly. She turned to the side and took in the white moth-like wings growing out of the back of her dress. They were sticking straight out, and she wondered if they could tuck into her, and as if they had read her mind, they did just that.
“Yes, the wings can sense when you want them tucked or flared.”
“Pansy, you’ve outdone yourself. I look positively ethereal.” Hermione wished Draco were here to see this outfit. Or perhaps its best he didn’t. He might not be able to control himself.
“We still have hair and makeup but I need to get myself dressed as well.” Pansy waved her wand and all her clothes disappeared.
Hermione squeaked and turned away, only to find herself looking at a naked Pansy in the mirror. Her blush deepening, she closed her eyes.
Pansy laughed, resting a soft hand on Hermione’s arm. “Oh, Granger, don’t be so modest. We have the same parts, it’s fine.”
Crossing the room to her closet, she flipped through a few dresses before slamming the door shut. She tapped her wand against her side, lost in thought. Her eyes lit up and she spun her wand over top of her head. Autumn-colored leaves fell from her wand tip, position themselves over her body from shoulders to mid-thigh, concentrated over her chest and at the peak of her thighs. She walked over to a display of jewelry, and to Hermione’s surprise, she selected a necklace and bracelet made from small animal bones. After slipping them on, she opened a second closet, pulling out a large hat. She transfigured it into the skull of an animal Hermione couldn’t identify and placed it on her head. It sat flush with her forehead, elongated eye sockets on top, small curved horns on either side.
“Perfect.” She stood next to Hermione, admiring her outfit.
"I'll only say this once. I love Draco like the brother I never had." Their eyes met in the mirror. "He puts on a tough front, but he's very sensitive. Don't hurt him."
"I... I didn't know you knew."
"Granger, you two are not as subtle as you'd like to be. The tension between you two was so loaded in the library, I though I was going to suffocate."
Hermiome bit her cheek, fumbling with the edge of her gown. "We're good, Pansy. You have nothing to worry about. And please call me Hermione."
Pansy gave her a soft smile. “Now. Your hair would look best braided into a crown with flowers tucked in.” She spun her wand over Hermione’s head and her hair obeyed, braiding itself around her head.
Hermione watched in the mirror, slack jawed and amazed. “How did you do that? I can barely cast a drying spell on my hair without creating frizz.”
“Stick with me, and I’ll teach you all kinds of tricks.” She winked at her.
An hour and several makeup tutorials later, the witches met Neville in the main room. He was dressed in layers of vines and ivy, large antlers rising from a crown of bones on his head.
“Ladies, your costumes are perfection.”
“It was all Pansy. I don’t have a creative bone in my body.”
After a quick once over of Hermione, Neville only had eyes for his witch. His hands grazed lightly over her sides, careful not to disturb any of the leaves. “You are perfection.”
With the layers of dark make up, it was impossible to see if Pansy was blushing. She flashed him a secretive smile, her eyes sparkling.
“Shall we?” Neville waved to the floo.
The celebration was held in the Scottish countryside, in a large meadow surrounded by trees. Several bonfires burned in the fields. Folksy music drifted though the field from a group of musicians on a small stage. Along the tree line, three large tables hosted a feast. On the central table, a large pig laid roasted with an apple in its mouth. Tucked in around it was a variety of apples, nuts, and berries. Small cakes filled the remainder of the tabletop. The outer tables were smaller and covered with fruit, nuts, and more of the small cakes. Covered by a shimmer of magic, the food on the outer two tables was untouched.
Having never attended a Samhain celebration before, Hermione was confused. “Why are the outside tables blocked?”
“Those are for the dead.” Neville informed her. “Tonight, the veil is at its thinnest, and they will be here to feast with us, and to visit with their relatives.”
A witch dressed in animal furs approached them with a tray. “Can I offer you a drink?” They all took a glass from her tray. Hermione hesitantly sipped it, unsure. A bright, effervescent liquid hit her tongue. Her face lit up with delight.
“Oh, this is like apple cider but with a berry finish. It’s delightful!”
“One of my favorite drinks.” Neville took another big gulp. “Goes down too easy, though, and will have you dancing naked by the fire of you drink too much.”
“In that case…” Pansy tossed back the rest of her drink, giving Neville a cheeky smile.
They wandered through the crowd, enjoying small talk with strangers, sipping on their drinks. Hermione loved seeing all the different costumes. All were nature themed, plants or animals or a combination of both. She learned the costumes were to hide or protect them from the unfriendly dead who may be roaming the earth tonight.
A piercing scream broke through everyone’s reverie, and on instinct, Neville and Hermione ran towards it. Hermione heard Pansy mumble something about selfless, reckless lions as she ran after them. A crowd had formed behind the feast table surrounding a form on the ground.
“Please let me through. I’m a healer!” Hermione called out, cutting through the chaos.
People parted at her words, allowing her to pass. When her eyes landed on the witch on the ground, however, she knew there was no saving this woman. She was pale, too pale, and when Hermione laid a hand on her arm, it was ice cold. She didn’t have any obvious or visible injuries.
She cast a diagnostic to confirm her initial thoughts.
Blood loss and organ failure.
Fuck.
Chapter 27: Confessions of the Heart
Summary:
Draco's inner self is further exposed. The manor hosts a friendly quidditch match.
Notes:
No triggers this time. Have fun reading! Sorry we're a day late!
Song rec: Scotland by The Lumineers
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
31 October – 1 November 2008
Theo stood up on unsteady legs and ripped off his robes. His eyes rimmed with the silver of unshed tears, he fell back on the couch, staring down at his arm.
“Theo…” Draco started walking in his direction, pleading.
“Stop.” His usual light tone was gone. “I need some time. Please, just, leave me alone. I’ll find you when I’m ready to talk.” A lone tear leaked out from the corner of his eye, trailing down into the dark scruff on his cheeks.
Defeated, Draco hung his head. “I’ll be in my rooms.”
He stripped off his robes, balling them up, resisting the urge to throw them into the fire. What had he gotten them into? Theo was too soft for any rebellion, for murder. And Daphne, though stronger willed, was being thrown back into a world she vowed never return to. All because of him. Because he made the decision to involve his friends in solving his case, in saving Muggles and Muggle-born wix. They wouldn’t be in their situations if he hadn’t asked them to be there.
He should reach out to Blaise, start the conversation. He laughed to himself. It wouldn’t be a conversation, it would be a fight, and a right bloody one too.
He may have just lost his two closest friends in one fell swoop.
Holding up his arm to the light, he observed the crusting blood and deep onyx lines. The mark would never go away, a permanent tattoo to remind him of his misgivings. But before tonight, it had at least faded down, the magic in it barely noticeable. Now it was angry, almost writhing under his skin, the magic pulsating with the beat of his heart.
It taunted him, staring back at him. He scratched at it with his other hand, at first only to pick at the scabs. Once the blood started flowing again, something wild inside him took over, urging him to destroy it. He scratched and scratched until rivulets of blood again ran down his arm, dripping onto the bed. He wanted to destroy it, ruin it, ruin himself.
From somewhere in his room, his phone pinged, startling him. He paused his attack. The dark mark was inflamed, bleeding, but ever present. Reluctantly, he pulled himself upright, ripping his shirt off his back to press over the oozing wounds. His phone was resting on an end table in his sitting area, and it lit up with a second message as he picked it up.
Expecting Hermione, he saw it was from Katarina. He opened the message app. The first one filled him with dread.
A Muggle-born witch dead at a Samhain celebration. Hermione was a Muggle-born witch at a Samhain celebration. With trembling fingers, he opened his find my friends app to search for her. He identified the coordinates. Holding his finger over them, he murmured a few words and disapparated there immediately.
Landing just outside of Longbottom’s dark house, he growled in frustration. Of course she didn’t take her phone with her. He called on the charm to check her spelled clips, and they pinged in front of him. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing. Where was she? He should’ve clarified the location, even trusting Neville to take care of her. If she was dead, he’d never forgive himself for not being with her.
He pulled his phone back out of his pocket, finding another text from Kat, showing the other set of coordinates. One way or another, he was going to see who this dead witch was.
With another spell to lock the location in place, he apparated into a field of chaos.
People were milling about, some wailing and sobbing, others screaming at the night sky. Several large fires burned throughout, the only light in the dark field. Draco desperately scanned the crowd, looking for the downed witch. Looking for his witch. He grabbed someone covered in flowers and vines as they walked by.
“Where is... where is she?” His voice was high-pitched and strained.
She gaped up at him. Slowly raising her arm, she pointed behind them, and he took off at a run. He pushed his way through the mass of people, not caring who he jostled. Most people weren’t giving him any mind anyways. Costumes scraped at his exposed skin, leaving fresh scratches, but he didn’t care. He just needed to see with his own eyes who was laying dead in this field.
Finally, the space opened up, and he spotted Harry and Dean. He’d expected Katarina, but pushed that thought aside and flew to their sides. He spun around, spotting a crumpled form on the ground.
“Did you maybe want to get into disguise, Malfoy? Or, I don’t know, where a shirt?” Harry poked at his bare chest.
“Is that her?” His body was shaking.
Harry scrunched up his face. “Who?”
“HERMIONE!” he roared. “IS THAT HER?” He took in several heaving breaths. “I don’t know where she is.”
“I’m right here, Draco.” Arm linked with Pansy’s, she walked towards him.
Relief flooded his chest.
Letting go of Pansy, she approached him, concern in her eyes. “You’re not wearing a shirt. Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
Not in a state to answer, he just drank her in with his eyes. Alive. She was alive.
She finally stood only a few feet in front of him. Salazar, she looked beautiful. Breathtakingly ethereal. Is this what Muggle angels look like? She reached out her hand for his. But before she made contact, he scooped her up in his arms and apparated them to his rooms.
“Draco!” She smacked his chest. “What are you doing? We can’t just leave the scene! Harry was waiting for you to check her mind!”
He held her tighter, not acknowledging her words. “I thought that was you.”
Kissing her forehead, he let one single tear fall.
“Oh, Draco.” She brushed it off his cheek. “But it wasn’t. I’m okay.”
“But what if you weren’t? I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.” His chest was heaving with every breath.
“Let me? Alone?” She tried to push out of his arms, but he squeezed even tighter.
“What if you were the one who died? How could I go on?”
“Draco!” She smacked him across the face. “Stop spiraling!”
The shock of the slap stopped him in his tracks.
“Now put me down. And why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”
He carefully set her on her feet. That’s when she saw his bloodied arm. She grabbed it, gasping. “What happened? Why are you bleeding? Why does the ink look… refreshed?”
He looked down at her, crestfallen.
Just then, the door to his bedroom flew open, and Blaise stormed in.
“I’m going to fucking murder you, Draco!”
Jumping out of the way just in time, Hermione watched as Blaise tackled Malfoy. With a growl from Blaise, they landed on the bed in a heap. Blaise straddled his waist, punching him over and over.
“You fucking arse hole! How could you let this happen? HOW?!”
Draco didn’t fight back, just took each punch, blood spraying across his sheets.
“Immobulus!”
Blaise froze in mid swing, and she hurried over to push him off Draco’s body. Draco didn’t look at her. He didn’t even move.
“Okay, I need to know what the hell is going on. Right now.”
He sighed reaching up to cover his face. He winced, touching his bloodied and broken nose.
Hermione looked over at Blaise. “I’m gong to unfreeze you. Keep your hands to yourself or I’ll freeze you again.”
“Finite Incantatem.”
Blaise’s arms fell to his sides, and he fisted and unfisted them.
“Now, boys, let’s move to the sitting area and discuss whatever the fuck is going on like adults.”
Draco’s bedroom door flew open, and Theo ran in. “Draco, Blaise is on his way…”
His voice trailed off, taking in the room.
Blaise snarled, lunging for Theo. Hermione jinxed him again and he fell to the floor.
She put her hands on her hips, leveling her stare at Theo. “Theodore Nott.”
“Ah, Hermione Granger. Hi.”
“Please tell me you can explain what’s going on. Draco won’t get off the bed and Blaise seems to be set on murdering the two of you.”
“I can fill you in, yes. But it’s probably best if Draco does it.” He grimaced.
“Just, come sit with me. Also, hi, it’s been years. Draco mentioned you lived here, and that you two are practically brothers. Wish this meeting was under less,” she looked around, “bloody circumstances.”
He breathed out a sigh. “I do too.” He looked at her outfit. “Do you mind, uhm, putting something else on? I think Draco will punch me out if he catches me ogling your body in that outfit.”
Hermione barked out a much-needed laugh. “Yes, of course.” She picked up the blood red robes from the back of the couch.
Theo yanked them from her hands. “Not those.” She quirked a brow. “Trust me.” He reached onto the back of the closet door, finding Draco’s auror robes, and handed her those instead.
They sat down together on the short couch, and Theo spilled the details, starting from their meeting with Neville. He conveniently left out his acquirement of the whip, his animagus status, and his polyjuiced Greg identity. No need to completely out all his secrets. Mid-way through, Blaise shook off the hex. Hermione had her wand on him before he even lifted his head. He put his hands up, promising to behave. When Theo reached the part about Draco in the dungeons with Pucey and Flint, Draco shot up to a sitting position.
“That’s my story to tell.”
Theo patted the couch next to him. “Then come tell it.”
Resigned, Draco shuffled over and took a seat. He spoke about mercy killing the Muggle-born wizard in the dungeons, and continued the rest of the long story. He finished with them landing back in the manor’s sitting room, fresh marks engraved.
Hermione’s face became more and more red with every new situation. By the end of the story, she was so upset, she could feel her heartbeat in her ears.
“I can’t fucking believe you! You involved Daphne? DAPHNE?! After how long it took for her to heal from leaving her evil family behind, and you PULLED HER RIGHT BACK IN?! And now, she and Theo are marked, forever, because of this need to infiltrate the ranks?”
“I didn’t know!” Draco screamed back at her. “I didn’t know this would happen!”
“Cut him a break, Hermione, no on could have predicted this.”
“Oh, and you.” She rounded on Theo. “Just going along with his every whim, letting him run amok.” Theo flinched. Her eyes softened. “But you didn’t deserve this either.”
She stomped over to his bar cart in the corner and picked up a rocks glass. She poured herself two fingers of firewhiskey. After tossing it back in one go, she angrily chucked the cup in the fireplace, shards of glass flying everywhere.
She took in a deep breath. “I need to calm down.” She walked herself into the loo, slamming the door shut behind her.
She looked around, taking in her surroundings. This fucking prat had an area to relax in his bathroom, with a bench and books. Did his money have no bounds? Walking into the sitting space, she felt the sensation of a bubble sliding around her. Ah, that’s how, an anti-moisture spell. Well, good, reading would calm her down. She picked up Pride and Prejudice, pausing with a side quirk of her mouth, before settling onto the couch and opening to her favorite part.
Deep into Mr. Darcy’s proposal to Elizabeth, she heard a soft knock at the door.
“Hermione?” His muffled voice was pleading. “Please, can I come in?”
Soothed and in control, she walked over to the door and swung it open. Draco stood there, eyes red rimmed, worry lines on his face. She left the door open and walked back over to the bench. Draco followed hesitantly, sitting down on the opposite end from her, eyes on his lap.
“Are you ready to explain why?” Hermione pulled her legs up to her chest, crossing her arms over them.
“For you,” he mumbled. Looking up, his silver eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It was all for you.”
He slid closer, grabbing her hand.
“Everything I do is for you, Hermione. I care about my friends, I do, could even say they’re family. Especially Theo. But no one compares to you. I’d sacrifice them all to see you live.”
“Don’t say that.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he held firm.
“It’s true.” He shut his mouth, jaw clenched, breathing through his nose.
“Dra-“ Hermione started, but he held his hand up to stop her.
“Let me finish. I’m just gathering my thoughts.” He let out a deep exhale. “These… people… they’re going after Muggle-borns. It might be through their Muggle families, but the goal is to wipe out the existence of Muggle-born wix completely. That includes you. I will not let that happen. I will not lose you. I do not care what has to happen and who has to die for you to live. I’d raze the world to the ground if it meant saving you.”
Twin tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. Hermione lifted her hand to his cheek, brushing her thumb over his cheek bone.
“I will always choose you. Over everyone. Over myself.”
He put his hand over top of hers.
“I love you, Hermione.”
Her breath hitched, eyed widening.
“I truly hope this admission doesn’t scare you because I’m not taking it back. And I don’t expect you to reciprocate until you’re ready.” He moved her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. “It may seem fast, but I’ve been in love with you for a very, very long time. Longer than even I likely know.”
Hermione slid over and lifted his arm, tucking herself under. His soft whimper nearly broke her. He pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head.
“I thought it was you. I thought they got you.”
“But they didn’t. I’m right here.”
“Stay here. Tonight. And the next. Hell, every night. Move in with me.”
She sat back. “Draco, that’s…”
“You can have separate rooms. You don’t have to stay in mine. The manor has the strongest wards you can find, and you’d be better protected. Safe. Secure.”
“I can’t live my life in a bubble just because bad people exist, Draco.”
“Yes, you can.” He pulled her back against his chest.
She huffed out a laugh. “But I won’t. You know that.”
“And it scares me.”
She placed a palm flat on his chest. “Draco, you can’t control everything. I’m auror trained, and the brightest witch of our age. I can handle myself.” Leaning back, she left a delicate kiss on his jaw. “But I’ll stay tonight.”
When they exited the loo, Theo and Blaise stood.
“Everyone out. Theo, we can finish our talk in the morning. Blaise, owl me tomorrow. I want to find a time to come to you and Daphne. She deserves to be there when we discuss her.” Theo saluted him and left quickly. Blaise gave him a curt nod and walked out backwards slowly.
Hermione sent an owl off to Harry, apologizing for their quick exit. She then vanished their clothes and pulled them into bed. They held each other, neither speaking, simply existing in each other’s warmth. It was a long time before sleep found them.
________________________________________________
Morning began in a tangle of sheets and limbs. Draco had his witch in his arms; this was the only way he wanted to wake up for the rest of his days. Her intoxicating vanilla and lavender scent wafted up to his nose as she stirred.
“Good morning, love.” He kissed her forehead.
“Mmmm. You’re always so warm.” She snuggled in closer, brushing against his morning wood.
Draco gasped, his insides clenching. Soft fingers skimmed over the tip and he twitched. He found Hermione’s chin, tilting it up to catch her lips. Her fingers wrapped around his length, lightly pulling up.
“Oh, gods, Hermione, please keep touching me.” Draco bucked into her hand. He pulled her face to his with both hands on her jaw, his lips crashing into hers.
With a bang, his bedroom door flew open. Barking and yipping, a blur of brown fur jumped up on the bed headed straight for the couple.
Breaking their kiss and releasing his cock, Hermione pushed away from him in surprise. “Oh! Draco! You have a dog?”
“Technically I don’t.” Draco groaned.
“Oh, is it Theo’s?” The sheet started to slip past her breasts as she sat up, reaching for the pup now bounding across the bed.
Before the dog could jump between them, or get a free preview, Draco hauled Hermione into his arms to hide her nakedness. He rolled over on top of her as the dog started licking his face.
“You could say that.” He gave Theo the stink-eye, but he just kept licking his face.
“Draco! You’re smothering me!” Hermione was wiggling under him.
He rolled back on his side, using himself as a barrier between the dog and Hermione. “Just keep the sheet up, okay? I don’t want to dog to see you or lick you anywhere he shouldn’t.”
She scrunched up her brow. “Okay. But that’s an odd thing to say.” She tucked the sheet over her breasts and under her arms, to keep it secure. “Oh, look at this sweet boy! What’s his name?” He ran over to her, licking her cheek as she scratched behind his ears.
“Teddy.” He let out a long sigh. “And I bet he needs to go outside this morning.”
Draco rolled out of bed, making sure to tuck the sheet around Hermione’s side. He threw on some trousers and marched to the door. “Teddy! Let’s go.”
Theo turned his head but didn’t jump down off the bed.
“Now! Out!” Draco pointed to the hall.
Hermione booped his nose, and guided him off the bed. “Go on, go outside!”
He reluctantly trotted over to Draco and out the door. Following him out, Draco slammed the door shut behind him.
Draco rounded on Theo, who had reverted to his human form and was cackling on the ground.
“Salazar, Theo, what the fuck were you doing? WE WERE NAKED FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” He started pacing. “And you interrupted a very delicate moment.”
“You should’ve seen the look on your face!” Theo was gasping for air, holding his sides, his entire face turning red.
“I swear Theo, if you ever do that again…” Draco was trying to be serious, but Theo’s laughter was contagious. He clamped his mouth shut.
Theo wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and sat up. “Oh, I needed a laugh.” He let out a deep breathe. “Should we chat?”
“Let me wake up. I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast shortly.” Draco put his hand on the doorknob, then hesitated. “Theo, I just…. I…”
“I know, Draco. Just save it for later.”
After unsuccessfully wooing Hermione into taking a shower with him, Draco dressed himself in clean clothes. He transfigured a shirt and top to fit her, since all she had to wear was the see-through dress from the night before.
Upon arriving to the kitchens, they found Theo and Narcissa enjoying morning tea together.
“Oh, Hermione! How lovely to see you!” Narcissa rose, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Did you only just arrive? Back for more time in the library?”
Blushing, Hermione stuttered. “I-I would love to use the library today.”
Narcissa cocked her head, a calculating lilt to her mouth. She looked from Draco to Hermione and back to Draco. She quirked one brow at him and he stiffened. A knowing smile spread across her face.
Theo leaned his chair back, smirking. Draco gave him the evil eye.
“How about some tea first then?” She gestured to the chair across from where she was now sat.
“She prefers coffee actually.” Draco cut in.
Just then a pop next to Hermione startled her.
“I remembered Miss Granger likes the coffee. I brewed some up already this morning.” Speaking in an excited voice, Mipsy shuffled to the table and set down a steaming carafe.
“And how did Mipsy know Miss Granger would be here for coffee?” Theo asked, acting as nonchalant as he could muster.
“Why because Miss Granger stayed the night, of course! I knew to be ready for her.” Mipsy beamed, proud of herself.
Hermione and Draco now sported matching crimson cheeks. Theo’s playful smile matched the glint in his eyes. Narcissa turned that calculating look back on the couple.
“Mother, this wasn’t the way I planned to tell you.” Putting an arm around Hermione, her pulled her into his side. “We’re courting.”
Whipping her head around, Hermione gave him a confused smile. “That sounds very formal,” she murmured.
Narcissa was beaming at them. She clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful news!” She stood again and clasped Hermione’s hands in hers. “You’ll make a lovely daughter-in-law.”
“Ah…” Hermione’s mouth was agape.
Draco guided her over to a chair. “Mother, stop. You’re scaring her.”
“But Draco, I’ve waited so long for you to bring someone home! I just can’t help myself.” Narcissa returned to her seat vibrating with excitement.
Draco sat down next to Hermione and leaned over, whispering only loud enough for her. “Stuffy traditional purebloods don’t technically ‘date’. We court, with intentions.” He smiled, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “But we can say we’re just dating to our friends, if that’s what you’d prefer.”
Hermione looked shellshocked through the rest of breakfast. Smiling when appropriate, responding in turn, but with her eyes just a little too open, her smiles just a little too wide. Draco excused them after only a short time.
“I’m assuming you would actually like some time in the library? I’m happy to join you. We have some research to do anyways. Its hours still until people start arriving for the quidditch match.”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, I’d like that. We should do some work.”
“You mean you can throw yourself into studying to avoid thinking about the declarations from me and my mother today?” Draco chided.
Laughing nervously, she patted his cheek. “No, of course not.”
“Hermione, you’re a terrible liar.” Kissing her forehead, he chuckled. “But It’s okay. Take all the time you need with them. I already know how I feel. What I want.”
After depositing her in the library, Draco promised to return shortly. He went in search of Theo, finding him in the potions lab, tinkering with the broken time turner.
“Any luck with that?” Draco took a seat at the table next to him.
Theo set down his tools, turning to him. “Not quite yet. But I think I’ll figure it out soon.” He took a deep breath. “I’m ready to talk it out.”
Nodding instinctually, Draco chewed on his cheek. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. Theo reached over, grabbing one.
“You’re the closest thing I have to family, and I consider you a brother.” He squeezed his hand. “That hasn’t changed in light of last night.”
Draco let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
Theo continued. “I don’t blame you. I volunteered, Draco. There was always the risk of something bad happening. At least we didn’t die.”
“Don’t say that.” Draco looked up sharply. “Never say that.”
Theo rolled his lips. “Okay, okay, sorry. But we can’t pretend what we’re doing isn’t dangerous. But like Daphne said, we’re helping those who cannot defend themselves.”
“And even those who could.”
“Yes, like Hermione. My soon to be sister.”
Draco cut his eyes at him. “Don’t say that too loud around her. Pretty sure any more talk of the future and she’s going to bolt.”
Theo laughed at that, then threw his arms around Draco. “I love you, brother. I know I’ll love her too.”
Draco hugged him back. “I love you too, Theo.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Did you just admit you lo-ove me?” Theo pulled back, batting his lashes at him.
“Shut the fuck up, Theo. Just remember it, because I’ll never say it again.”
_______________________________________________
“Take that, you tossers!” Ginny screamed as she blew by Seamus and Draco.
“Who thought it would be okay to let three Weasleys and Potter be on a team together?” Draco growled out.
“You did!” Seamus yelled back.
It was Ginny, George, Charlie and Harry against Draco, Seamus, Dean, and Neville.
And, of course, the most aggressive one out there was the pregnant lady.
Before the match, Draco laid out the basic rules for four-on-four quidditch. One Chaser, one Beater, one Keeper, and one Seeker. Harry added an additional rule of no bludgers anywhere near his wife, since she was currently pregnant. Everyone was in agreement.
Until they actually started playing.
Ginny was the team’s Chaser, her normal role for her professional career. She was fast, mouthy, and accurate. Team WeaselPott, affectionately named by Draco, went up over 100 points in the first 45 minutes. Because Ginny was all over the skies, nearly everyone else was focused on keeping the bludgers away from her instead of playing the game. It was her own personal reign of terror and she was loving it.
Team NottPott, affectionately named by Theo who was the singular spectator and referee, had thus far scored only one goal… and it was entirely on accident. Charlie, playing Keeper, had left his post to knock back a bludger from his sister’s path. He was successful, but he managed to hit Seamus directly in the arm with said bludger, knocking the quaffle loose and sending it straight through a goal post.
Ten points for NottPott.
The only two not focused on bludgers were Harry and Draco, who had resumed their school rivalry, both being the Seekers for their team. No snitch sightings thus far, so both men were flying about in search.
“Potter, your wife is a menace.” Draco leveled off next to the dark-haired wizard, his brows furrowed.
“Tell me about it.” Harry grumbled. “You don’t have to live with her.”
“Look out!” Neville’s voice was propelled across the field to Draco right as a bludger entered his line of sight. Draco swerved just in the nick of time, narrowly avoiding a shot to the head. But Harry wasn’t so lucky. The bludger glanced his shoulder, sending him careening towards the ground.
Draco hesitated only briefly before sighing and storming down after him. He caught him just inches above the ground.
“Thanks for that.” Harry righted himself on his broom.
Heading back into the skies, Draco called over his shoulder. “I only saved you because the paperwork to deal with the Chosen One’s death on my quidditch pitch would’ve been a nightmare.”
Draco smiled at hearing the scoff behind him.
In his periphery, Draco caught sight of wild brown curls. Hermione, Pansy, and Katarina were joining Theo in the makeshift stands to watch the match. She’d floocalled Ginny this morning, who was kind enough to bring her a dress. Unfortunately for Hermione and fortunately for Draco, Ginny was a size smaller and the dress was a little too tight.
She looked fantastic.
A dopey grin spread across his face at the thought of showing off for his witch.
BAM!
Draco pitched forward, nearly falling off his broom. He managed to hold on, but ended up spinning over himself twice before he leveled off. In his distracted state, he’d taken a bludger to the back.
He shook it off and again found her in the stands. Hermione was smiling at him. She rolled her eyes and blew him a kiss.
“Hey! Absolutely not, Seamus!” Harry’s voice carried over the wind.
Draco spun around to see Seamus trying to broom check Ginny and snag the quaffle. Harry was hyper focused on flying between them.
“She pregnant, you git! Don’t hurt her!” Harry’s face was red.
“We know Harry, you’ve told us 17 times today!” Seamus argued, his face scrunched. “But she started it!”
“You sound like a child!” Harry screeched.
Ginny’s laugh broke through it all. “Fight it out boys, mama’s got work to do.” Faster than seemingly possible, she zoomed away from both wizards and past the approaching George and Neville.
“Nev, GET HER!” Seamus pointed, as if anyone wouldn’t know who he was talking about.
Neville spun around, nearly falling off his broom. He never had quite got the hang of flying. By the time he was moving in the direction he needed, Ginny was already throwing a quaffle right past a defeated Dean. Harry and Seamus looked close to blows, still screaming back and forth.
Shaking his head, Draco decided to stay out of it. He flew over to the stands, winking at Theo and the ladies as he struck a pose. A chorus of laughter followed him as he zoomed away.
Just then, a sparkle of gold near the base of one of the goal posts drew his attention.
The snitch.
And Harry was completely distracted.
Time to end this disaster of a game.
Angling his broom downward, he urged it on, picking up speed. One of the many advantages to endless galleons was always having topnotch brooms. This particular model was the upgraded version of the one used by the athletes in the last World Cup. Only the best would do. He’d noted when they hit the field that Ginny’s matched his. He'd bet she snagged it from the Harpies locker room before taking leave.
As if it knew Draco was in pursuit, the snitch danced around the back of the pole, disappearing from view.
“Malfoy! Oh hell!” Harry’s distant scream indicated he’d picked up on the location of the snitch as well.
His sudden change of course caught the attention of the other players, too. He heard the telltale sound of a bludger whistling close and quickly changed angles, avoiding another hit. George’s growl of frustration was close. Too close. Draco turned 90 degrees, spinning behind the pole and sighting the golden snitch now under the stands. He could practically feel George breathing down his neck, looking for an opportunity to take him out. Draco looked back at the red-haired man, smirking.
“What’s that Muggle phrase? Oh, right. Eat my dust, Weasley!”
Draco kicked his broom into high gear, shooting off at breakneck speed.
“Ahaha, I like that, Ferret. Eat my dust!” Ginny chortled above them. “Gonna have to remember that one!”
In full pursuit, Draco was now only a few feet away from the elusive snitch.
“Get lost, Malfoy!” Harry swerved at him, trying to throw him off balance.
But Draco had anticipated that move and rose five feet up and Harry smacked into one of the support beams of the stands. Yet again, Harry went careening towards the ground, but this time, Draco left him to figure it out on his own.
Flying under the stands and then over them, he picked up ground on the snitch. Now even closer, he stretched out his arm.
Just a little furtherer. Inches, he only needed a few inches. He spotted Harry approaching from below, hyper focused on the snitch.
No way was Draco allowing a repeat of their childhood match. With a growl he pushed his broom to it’s limits and his outstretched fingers wrapped around the feisty, glowing ball.
Draco held his fist in the air, roaring with excitement.
“Hell yeah!” Seamus screamed from above them. “Take that, you stupid Weasleys! And Harry!”
They all flew down to the ground, dismounting. Neville looked relieved and nauseous. Wand in hand, Pansy ran over to her wizard, casting some complicated looking spell that instantly had him perking up. Draco cocked his head. He might have to ask her to share that one with him.
“That should’ve been our win,” Ginny said. “If I didn’t have to be the whole damn team.”
“Oh, sod off, Gin.” George grabbed his sister in an affectionate hug. She laughed and smacked him.
“Get off me! You’re sweaty and gross!”
George proceeded to rub his face all over hers. Ginny was attempting to knee him in the gut without success.
Harry walked up to stand at Draco’s side.
“I’ll never understand siblings.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. “They act like this all the time. It’s never-ending.”
“Looks painful.” He twisted his mouth. “I kind of wish I could’ve experienced it though.”
“Growing up in a big family had its advantages.” Charlie slung an arm over Draco’s shoulders. “But there’s also a few reasons I live in Romania full time.” The three men shared a chuckle.
Dean, Katarina, and Hermione appeared to be deep in a discussion. “Potter, think that’s work related?”
Blowing out a deep breath. “It definitely is. I didn’t want to ruin the fun, but I do have some updates regarding the Muggle-born from Samhain.”
Draco sighed. “Well, let’s go join them.”
Charlie dropped his arm. “Don’t worry about me. I have someone I need to talk to as well.”
Draco followed his eyes to a smiling Theo. He punched Charlie on the arm. “Go get ‘em, Weasley.”
Dean was talking when they joined the half circle.
“This time they took down a Muggle man with three children, including our Muggle-born witch, and seven grandchildren. They’re all dead. Every single one drained of blood.”
“Where was the man when it happened?” Draco inquired.
Dean looked at Harry, who nodded. “On holiday in Portugal. Lisbon.”
Hermione gasped. “That’s… what, nearly 1400 miles away?”
Harry nodded grimly. “His family was under surveillance by police here in London and safe. Somehow, the grandfather was able to sneak away without detection by the police, but was still tracked by the Blood Eaters.”
“That really is the worst name, isn’t it? My nephew could come up with something better” Seamus snickered as he walked up to them.
Draco scoffed. “You really do need to learn timing, Finnegan. We’re talking about the death of eleven people right now. Let’s keep things serious.”
Chagrined, Seamus looked down at his feet.
“The distance the curse can travel is extremely alarming.” Hermione chewed her lip. “I wonder if there are any distance limitations.”
“Any more luck on figuring out the runes? Or finding the spell?” Dean asked.
When they arrived earlier, Katarina and Pansy joined Hermione in the library to help with research.
“Interestingly enough, we identified two more runes. They aren’t Egyptian, but they are ancient, from the Sumerians of Mesopotamia.” Hermione nodded over at Pansy. “Pansy found them. She’s quite the scholar. I never knew.”
Huffing out a laugh, Draco looked over at Pansy. “Don’t tell her that, she’ll hate it.”
“Well, we’re getting there, one clue at a time.” Harry looked around at the group. “But that’s enough. Today is a day off. Let’s enjoy it.”
“I agree.” Two hands landed on his chest. Draco glanced down to see Hermione had closed the distance between them. “I have much better things to do.” She stood on her tiptoes, and Draco leaned into her, their lips meeting in s gentle kiss.
“I knew it!” Seamus yelled out. “You owe me ten galleons, Dean!”
Breaking the kiss, Hermione leaned into Draco’s chest giggling. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head.
The group dispersed, new conversations picking up. Hermione slipped out of Draco’s arms and they started to stroll towards the manor.
“Did you have fun?”
“I won, so yes."
“That’s not what I meant, prat.” She poked him in the side and he chuckled.
He reached out and took her hand in his. “I didn’t hate it.”
Ahead of them, Theo and Charlie were also slowly scrolling towards the manor. Hearing Draco's voice, they both turned back, looking at Draco. He gave them a soft nod and both wizards smiled. Charlie threw his arm over Theo and they continued on their way.
“What was that about?”
“Oh, they were just checking in. Making sure I was okay with them having some fun together.”
“Why would they need your permission?”
Draco was quiet for a long moment. “Charlie and I weren’t just friends in Romania.”
Hermione studied his profile. “What do you mean?”
“We were… together. Nothing formal, but we didn’t sleep with anyone else.” He smiled softly down at her. “When it was time for me to go, we split amicably. He’s a fantastic bloke, but we were never more than convenience.”
“Draco Lucius Malfoy. I didn’t know you were bisexual.”
“Pansexual, actually.” He turned his gaze forward again. “I don’t really talk about it. I’m not ashamed, I just don’t feel the need to yell it from the rooftops.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Plus, I only want to be with you.”
“I’m just disappointed. We could have been scoping out men together all this time, and you held out on me!”
That garnered a full belly laugh from Draco.
He nuzzled her hair. “You really are perfect, you know that?”
Notes:
Draco and Charlie had quite the first time in bed together. Wanna read about it?
Go check out my oneshot:
A Dragon's Dirty Work.You're welcome for some MM smut.
Kisses, friends!
Chapter 28: Girl's Night
Summary:
The ladies go out for a night of fun, but the night is interrupted by an unfortunate event.
Notes:
Despite the light title, this chapter is dark. Please reference all the tags.
TW: attempted sexual assault, violence
* YES, reminder, this is an HEA *
Please see a personal note from me after the chapter.
Song rec: Mad Woman by Taylor Swift
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
1 November 2008
“Girl’s night! Girl’s night! Girl’s night!” Ginny chanted, dancing around holding Harry’s hands. He was turning with her, a tired but happy smile on his face.
“You going to survive if I spend an evening out with the ladies?” Hermione asked, leaning chest to chest with Draco, their arms around each other.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I already told Kat she’s on watch.”
“And I’ll have my eye on you all night, Hermione.” Hands in her pockets, Kat strolled over to the couple.
Rolling her eyes, Hermione smiled, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine.”
The stragglers from the group were gathered in the manor’s front sitting room. George, Dean, and Seamus begged off right away, with different excuses. Pansy and Neville were currently playing tonsil hockey on the couch, and everyone else was pointedly ignoring them. Missing in action were Charlie and Theo, though everyone knew exactly what naughty things they were up to.
“Ginny knows, but I prefer Muggle bars. I get a little too much attention in wizarding London with my history.” Hermione bit her lip. “I hope that’s okay.”
She scoffed. “I certainly wouldn’t want to go somewhere you’d be uncomfortable. Of course it’s fine.” Katarina gave her a genuine smile.
“Where are we going?” Bruised lips and mussed hair, Pansy was still the most classically stunning witch in the room.
Skipping over to the group, Ginny clapped her hands. “Oh, I have the perfect place! Its off the beaten path but should be fancy enough for your tastes, Pansy.”
Pansy placed one delicate hand on her hip. “Are you calling me a snob?”
“I’m implying you don’t want to go somewhere that hasn’t mopped their floors in weeks.” She crooked a brow at her. “Am I wrong?”
Sniffing, Pansy dropped her arm to her side. “You’re not.”
“And the fellas should have a guy’s night!” Making eye contact with Draco, Ginny winked. “I bet the Ferret has some smoky, aged firewhiskey to share.”
Draco tilted his head, a playful smile on his face. “Oh, Weaselette, I’d only break that out for you.”
Ginny snapped her fingers. “Too bad I’m pregnant.”
“Too bad indeed.” They grinned at each other.
“Ugh, that’s enough.” Harry walked over crossing his arms.
Ginny swatted his chest. “Don’t be jealous, love.”
He let out a long, defeated sigh before curving his lips into a tiny smile. He kissed her cheek.
Ginny returned the smile. “Well, I need a shower. Should we all go to Mione’s to get ready?”
“I’ll stop by my place and get some dresses.” Pansy eyed the Amazonian woman next to her. “Might be challenging to transfigure something to fit you, but if you don’t mind showing a little leg, we can make it work.”
Kat chuckled. “Don’t tell my wife I’m showing off her property, and we will be all good.”
“I don’t need anything, Pansy, since we’re going to my place.”
Everyone in the room leveled a stare at Hermione.
“What?”
Draco kissed her forehead. “Again, love, just let Pansy dress you.”
“Is my style really that boring?”
Loud yeses came at her from all sides.
“Hmph. I just like to be comfortable, that’s all.”
Pulling Hermione out of Draco’s embrace, Ginny looped her arm around her. “That’s fine 95% of the time. But not tonight.” Ginny laid her head on her shoulder, dragging her toward the foyer.
“I guess we’re off?” Kat quirked an eyebrow at Pansy.
With a sharp nod, Pansy marched towards the floo. Kat fell into line behind her.
After a few moments, only the three wizards remained in the room. Harry and Draco stared at one another, contempt and dislike mirrored on each other’s faces.
“You were extremely unprofessional last night.” Harry’s face was stern. “Showing up to a crime scene shirtless, bleeding... and why the hell were you bleeding? You know what, no. Don’t answer that yet. Shirtless, bleeding, roaring for Hermione like you owned her, then disapparating after manhandling her without a word.”
Harry crossed his arms, shifting his weight.
“Do you want to explain yourself?” His eyes flashed with anger.
“I’d rather not.”
Draco had purposely worn long sleeves today to avoid his mark being seen. Theo had followed suit. Knowing Charlie, he would be ever so kind about it, not judging him. Charlie was such a gentle soul, truly a lover not a fighter.
But trying to explain to Harry about his unregulated undercover mission seemed like a bad idea. At least in his current state. The man was fired up.
“Well, you’re lucky we didn’t end up needing you. And by the time they found the original target, he’d been dead too long for your little mind trick to work.”
Little mind trick. Did he know just how long it took Draco to perfect that particular skill? “Sounds like everything worked out just fine then.” Draco sneered.
Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing Ginny’s suggestion of us sharing firewhiskey isn’t on the table? You’re a lot more tolerable when you’re half drunk.”
“I’d rather go watch Charlie drill Theo into the mattress than share any drinks with you.”
Harry rubbed his face. “Malfoy, fuck. We do need to get along, for Hermione’s sake.”
“Fairly certain your better half and I are friendly, and that’s enough for me.”
Having watched the entire exchange in silence, Neville strode over and added his two cents. “Malfoy, Harry, can't you just let bygones be bygones? We aren't children anymore.”
“Easy for you to say, Nev.” Harry’s eyes never left Draco’s face. “I’m not the one who needs to remove the proverbial stick from my arse.”
Draco knew Hermione expected him to make amends with Harry. He knew the answer wasn’t to punch Harry right in his round glasses. But his mind and his body were disagreeing at this moment, and he wasn’t sure if he could hold himself back. Clenching his jaw, he took a deep breath.
“Neville. Please escort Harry out of my house. Now.”
“On it.”
Neville tried to guide Harry out, but Harry pushed him back, eyes still trained on Draco. “One last thing before I go. If you step out of line again, even one tiny toe, you’re off the task force.”
Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’m only on the task force to help you, Potter. And to protect Hermione. Removing me would me a disservice.”
“It would be a relief to not worry about which persona would show up. Calm, cool, collected Boucher, or angry, moody, psychotic Malfoy.”
Draco clenched and unclenched his fists. “Neville. You have 5 seconds to remove him.”
“Harry, let’s go. Either you start walking, or I pick you up and drag you out of here.”
Harry stared at Draco for one more long second. “I’m going.”
As soon as Draco heard the whoosh of the floo, he apparated into his rooms. He was in need of a long, scalding hot shower.
_______________________________________________
“The gold one. For sure.”
Hermione was holding up two separate dresses, asking Ginny’s opinion.
“You sure? Not the red one?” Hermione chewed on her lip.
“Definitely, Hermione.” Pansy lounged across her bed, already dressed in the tiniest silver slip Hermione had ever seen.
Pansy brought over almost an entire wardrobe of dresses and a duffel bag of makeup. She’d personally painted each of their faces to perfection. Moving on to dresses, she’d dressed Kat first in a stunning black midi dress, then Ginny, in a whimsical multicolored shift. Now it was down to Hermione to get ready.
“Okay. If you both insist.”
She slipped the dress over her head and it slid down her body, fitting her like a glove. In a bodycon style, the dress hit just above the knee and had long sleeves, which Hermione appreciated. It fit snugly along her curves, with a high scoop neck, hinting at cleavage. Spinning back and forth, she took in her reflection in the tall wardrobe mirror. Her friends were right. This dress was made for her.
Stepping into the heels Draco purchased for her, her outfit for the night was complete.
“Perfect. Shall we?” Pansy held out her hand.
Hermione took it, grinning. “You’re fantastic at this, Pansy.”
“I know.” She grinned back. “Weasley, lead the way!”
“We have to go outside to disapparate, thanks to Draco’s wards.” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Oh, Salazar, that sounds like him. Possessive and protective to a fault.” Pansy shook her head. “To the lawn we go.”
Tucking her arm into Pansy’s, Kat murmured, “I’m learning so much about Draco from you.”
Pansy chuckled, pulling her close. “Stick with me, I’ve known him since we were in nappies. I have so many stories.”
Standing in a circle next to Hermione’s flowerbed, all four witches held hands and disapparated away. They landed in an alley in the failing evening light.
“I love this place. Come on, gals! To the watering pit!” Ginny skipped towards the front of the nearby building.
Hermione chuckled. “Okay, Gin. But it’s watering hole.”
Waving off the mix up, she laughed. “Whatever, let’s go get some drinks!”
Ginny’s excitement was contagious. You could see it in every witch’s face; the slight blush on their cheeks, quirk to the lips, and glimmer in their eyes. They made their way through the crowd to the bar, a sleek marble top with blue lights running underneath. They ordered a round of gin and tonics, with just a tonic and lime for Ginny. Pansy bought the first round, leaving an obnoxious and unnecessary tip.
Hermione furrowed her brow. “Why the huge tip?”
Pansy leveled a stare at her. “So, when its slammed later, we will get service before everyone else. Do you not get out much?”
“Clearly not enough.”
They found a table big enough for their group in the back, all taking a seat. And that’s when the inquisition started.
“So…” Pansy took a sip of her cocktail. “Tell us, Hermione, how long has it been going on?” Pansy asked. “I want the real low down.”
“Yeah, I need the filthy details. All of it.” Ginny’s eyes were nearly crazed.
“Gin, are you still horny all the time?” Hermione was avoiding answering.
Ginny pointed a finger at her. “You aren’t getting out of this.” Biting her lip, she smirked. “But yes. Poor Harry, his dick might literally fall off. I wasn’t like this with the boys. This one has got to be a girl, I just know it.”
Everyone at the table awed as Ginny rubbed her protruding belly.
“I wonder if Daphne is going to have a girl. She’s a little behind me, but it would be fun to raise our girls together.” Ginny caught Hermione’s eyes. “I was actually hoping her and Blaise would have been at the manor today.”
Hermione blanched, breaking out into goosebumps. How could she have forgotten Daphne was pregnant? How would the new dark mark affect her pregnancy? Or the baby?
No wonder Blaise freaked out and went after Draco. It wasn’t just his wife affected. It was his child as well.
“Hermione?” Ginny laid a hand on top of hers on the table.
“Sorry, got lost in my thoughts there. They… were invited but couldn’t make it.”
Ginny sighed. “Well, I’ll just have to owl her tomorrow to set something up.”
“Anyways…” Katarina cut in. “Time for the dirty details, Hermione.”
Closing her eyes, Hermione wished she could compartmentalize better. Maybe she should ask Draco for occlumency training. It would probably do wonders for her mental state. She took several breaths, pushing Blaise and Daphne to the back of her mind.
Opening her eyes, she pasted on what she hoped was a believable smile. “He just won me over, that’s all.”
Pansy scoffed. “Not good enough. When did this start?”
Hermione blinked. She honestly couldn’t say for sure. Was it the very first day, when he grabbed her hand in her office? When he begged for her to let him prove himself? She’d felt an electric shiver at his touch, and she definitely gave in to him easily. Or was it later, when he kicked Oliver out of their office and held her while she cried? Was that when the seed was planted, or did that help it sprout? Or do they mean when they finally talked it out and confessed their feelings, agreeing to date monogamously? She bit her lip, shivering, thinking of the way he’d come on her stomach, the fierceness in his eyes, then his mouth on her cunt.
“Oh no, she’s overthinking it,” Ginny proclaimed. “We need to give her a better starting point.”
Hermione giggled, Ginny’s comment breaking up her thoughts before she could get too far down the rabbit hole.
Pansy cocked her head. “How about your first kiss then.”
“Rathdowney. On the street. It was the best first kiss I’ve ever experienced.” Hermione blushed thinking about the moments that proceeded said kiss in the tiny bed that morning. His dirty words whispered in her ear, his teeth biting her neck, his fingers plunging inside her.
The other three witches cooed over her blushing.
“Now when did you first fuck?” Pansy asked bluntly.
“Yes, spill!” Ginny’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t get details because my husband interrupted us last time we talked.”
Hermione bit her lip. “Are we talking the full act? Or just the first time he got me off?”
Ginny and Pansy both gasped.
Kat chuckled. “I think you just opened a can of worms for yourself.”
The next couple of hours was spent telling candid tales of sex from each woman, current partners and past. Several rounds of drinks were had, and even an order of chips found their way on the table.
Pansy stood and stretched with a slight drunken wobble. “I must locate the loo. I’ll be right back.”
“Want company?” Ginny offered. Pansy waved her off, cutting through the crowd.
Katarina turned to Ginny. “What’s motherhood like? My wife and I are considering children in the near future.”
“Beautiful, life-draining, rewarding, exhausting, time-consuming, and life-altering.”
They all shared a laugh.
“But I wouldn’t change it for anything. I love my boys, and I’ll love this little one when they make themselves known.” A wistful smile touched her lips as she rubbed her tiny bump again. “Be sure you’re ready. Your life be disrupted drastically.”
A woman’s scream cut through the crowd. “Get your hands off me!”
“Does that sound like Pansy to you?” Ginny asked.
But Hermione and Katarina were already running in the direction of the voice, shoving people out of their way. The auror instinct took over, to run to trouble instead of away.
They found Pansy cornered at the end of the back hall by two men. One with his hand up her skirt, the other standing guard. Pansy was fighting back, but wandless, as she’d left it in her bag at the table. The man was twice her size, and had her pressed up against the wall.
Hermione felt anger explode inside her. How dare these men think they can get away with assaulting a woman half their size. Right here, in public, where anyone could see. And her friend at that. Body quivering, she took charge.
“You get the lookout, I’ll take out the other,” Hermione murmured to Katarina, who nodded in agreement.
They discreetly flicked out their wands, pointing at their targets and casting immobulus in unison. Both men froze. Running to Pansy, Hermione yanked her away from the wall.
“Wait.” Pansy pulled out of Hermione’s arms. Her eyes flashed, chin trembling. Making a fist, she punched the man directly in the dick. She turned back to Hermione, shaking out her hand and gave her a curt nod. The women stepped back, standing in a line and released the spells.
Both men immediately jumped into action.
“What the fuck was that shite?” The lookout was rubbing down his arms. “How did we freeze?”
The man who’d attacked Pansy seemed less fazed. Hand over his groin, he pushed past his friend to try to get back in her face.
“I don’t know what you bitches did to us, but you’re going to pay for it.”
He was a foot away, his face red.
Katarina tried to push Pansy behind her. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Pansy wriggled away from her, still facing the man.
“He’s not worth it, Pansy.” Hermione had a hand on her other shoulder.
But Pansy refused to be moved. “I want to hear what he has to say. I’m sure it’ll be so insightful.”
“You can’t walk in here wearing a dress like that and not expect for someone to notice. You were asking for me, love, I just know it.” He gave her a lecherous grin. “I’ll be watching you. Go ahead, try to run and hide. I'll find you. This isn’t over.”
Several people poured into the back hall, interrupting the moment. The man stepped back hands up, eyes never leaving Pansy’s face. The witches weaved their way back into the crowd, finding Ginny still at the table with their bags.
Relief flooded her eyes at the sight of her friends. When she noticed the red cheeks and set jaws, relief was replaced with concern. “What the fuck happened?”
“Two pieces of shite tried to assault me. I think I was targeted, and they were waiting for me when I left the loo.”
Hand over her mouth, Ginny gasped.
“One was watching for anyone to come down the hall while they other had his hand up my skirt.” Her lip trembled ever so slightly. “He didn’t get through my knickers, but he did… he touched me.”
With every word, Hermione felt the simmering rage inside her growing closer to a boiling point. Several drinks in, her inhibitions were down. Her already poor ability to manage her murderous instincts was completely gone. Tonight, she would be hunting these men down and making them pay for their transgressions.
Ginny put an arm around Pansy, tucking her into her shoulder. “Let’s get you home to Neville, yeah?”
Not one to show weakness, Pansy tried to brush off the suggestion. But the playful girl’s night mood was ruined. As they gathered their things to leave the table, Hermione caught the men staring from across the room. The attacker’s eyes narrowed, one side of his mouth quirking up.
“Let’s get out of here before those men find us.” Hermione ushered her friends towards the exit, Katarina in front, Pansy and Ginny with their arms around each other in the middle, and Hermione pulling up the rear. They exited and walked into the alleyway behind the bar.
Once they ensured they were alone, Pansy was the first to disapparate, followed by Ginny. When it was just Katarina and Hermione left, the two witches stood face to face, neither offering to go next.
“I’m glad you were here tonight, Kat. I know you’re closer to my boyfriend than to me, but I hope we can become friends.” Hermione plastered on a smile in an attempt to hide her white hot anger. Her words spoke the truth, even though she had other bloodthirsty thoughts at the forefront of her mind.
“Hermione, we are friends.” She embraced Hermione in a quick hug. “Now.” Stepping back, she pointed at the sky. “Off you go!”
Hermione disapparated, but she didn’t go home, She landed next to the dumpster, just behind Katarina and out of her line of sight. As soon as Katarina disappeared, Hermione stalked back towards the front of the bar on a mission.
But she didn’t have to go far. Both men stood at the entrance of the alleyway, sneering at her.
“Where are all your friends, little bird?” They walked in step, one heading to each side of her.
Hermione let her wand slip out of her sleeve into her hand, but she didn’t raise it. With a cruel smile, she allowed the darkness to flood in, heart rate increasing in anticipation.
The attacker snickered. “What’s that, a twig? You know if you hit us with that, it’ll just snap, right?”
Men think they can just take what they want from women. Use them, abuse them, and leave them to deal with the aftermath. All because women are described as the softer sex. Well, she would prove that was not the case. No man could get away with hurting her friend.
She raised her wand and pointed at him, cocking her head.
“You dare lay a hand on an innocent woman, half your size. My friend. And you think that kind of behavior is okay? It isn’t.”
Her smile darkened.
“Crucio.”
The man hit the ground, writhing in pain. His screams were cathartic, caressing her soul.
She heard a screech next to her. “What the fuck are you doing to him?”
She released the spell on the attacker turned her gaze to the lookout.
“Oh, you’re not any better than your friend. You get to experience this too.” Her maniacal smile on display, she raised her wand at him.
“Crucio.”
The second man hit the ground, his screams breathier and higher pitched. Godric, she loved that sound.
She heard a loud blast to her left, and felt a tug in her abdomen and lower back. Another blast. A third. Warmth flooded down her stomach, her legs. As if in slow motion, she looked down and saw bright red blood bubbling out onto her dress from her belly, spreading out. She could feel slow streams of something wet running down her legs, dripping onto her feet.
Somewhere in her mind it registered she’d been shot, but the thought wasn’t fully clicking in. This was never a situation she considered. Taking on two men at once wasn’t smart. She knew better than to leave herself vulnerable, so why did she do that? She dropped her wand putting both hands over the holes in the dress. Blood poured through her fingers, hot and sticky.
Her final thought before everything went dark was of Draco, and how devastated he would be when he found out she was dead.
Notes:
If you were ever a victim of an attack or sexual assault, I would like to extend my condolences and love. No one ever deserves to be violated in any way. No one is asking for it in what they wear, in where they go, and in what they do. While I don't condone murder, it does feel good to write out fake scenarios of people paying for their crimes. Too often in the real world, these people are never charged, are never caught, or never fully prosecuted. Please take care of your mental health if this chapter hit too close to home.
Chapter 29: Soulbound
Summary:
Draco finds out about Hermione.
Notes:
We love a protective Draco, right? Even if he's a little unstable.
Song Rec: The Only Exception by Paramore
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
1 November 2008
That tricky witch.
Draco stood in the shadows of the alley, hidden by a disillusionment charm. Watching Katarina disapparate away, he shook his head. Hermione was hiding just out of her view, obviously trying to be sneaky. He'd had a sinking feeling he needed to be here tonight. This was his confirmation.
After Samhain, the idea of letting Hermione out of his sight had his anxiety through the roof. He wished he could lock her up in the manor and throw away the key, but realistically he knew his independent woman would never allow that scenario. He gave her space at her home, since the wards would let him know if anyone outside of Ginny, Kat, and Pansy tried to get in. Plus, he needed a shower, so he took some time for selfcare. As soon as Ginny suggested it, he knew there was no chance he would allow Harry and Neville to stay and drink with him. He’d make sure of that. Unable, and frankly unwilling, to say why he wouldn’t be at the manor during girl’s night, he had to find a way to convince them to leave. When Harry so wonderfully chose to pick a fight, he jumped at the opportunity presented.
After showering, he dressed quickly and called on the spelled clips to check her location. This was becoming a bad habit, checking the clips and checking her phone. Even before last night's disaster, his worry about her was becoming manic and unhealthy, and he knew it. The threats from the Blood Eaters and Oliver combined with his need to control every aspect of the world around her were a recipe for insanity. But he just couldn't help himself. It was like a sickness had taken over him, and the only cure was her in his arms. He paced in his room to pass the time, waiting for her to leave for the pub, and he kept the spell diagram in front of him. As soon as he noticed the clips jumped, he jumped too.
At first, he watched them from inside the bar, able to hide outside of earshot but within viewing range. He didn’t trust himself not to react to any conversation about him, so it was best to not listen in. But once the crowds picked up, he was jostled one too many times, and he had to move. He gave a few Muggles quite the scare, their eyes going wide seeing nothing around them. They were certain they were being haunted, which gave Malfoy a needed chuckle during his stakeout. Vacating to just outside the door, he kept watch like a hawk for any of the witches to exit.
While waiting, his mind wandered back to the events of the night before. The meeting, the dark marks, and Daphne’s sob that nearly broke him. The pain it portrayed, for her and her unborn child, and for her husband at home. It wasn’t often a guilty conscience plagued him, but her situation sat heavy on his mind. As far as he could remember, no one took the mark while pregnant, but women did get pregnant while having it. He was too young to care about pregnancy and babies during the war, so he couldn’t recall the outcomes. Daphne had to be terrified.
Blaise did not contact him today. There’s a chance an owl was waiting for him back home, but he doubted it. Honestly, he’d never speak to someone again if Hermione was pregnant and they risked her life and the baby’s life. If Blaise decided he was worthy of being in his family’s lives, he deserved anything he threw at him. He’d take it without complaint.
And then there’s Theo, who already forgave him. Too easily, as always. He really was like a brother. It didn’t matter what happened, they would find a way to stay close. Draco couldn’t imagine a life without the wild child, with his silly animagus form and his need to get under Draco’s skin at every turn. Despite Theo’s penchant for chaos, he was kind, thoughtful, and gentle. Though his desire to love and be loved no matter what would be his downfall. Draco couldn’t imagine him hurting anyone, let alone killing someone. He hoped they could find a way to end this uprising before Theo’s arm burned with a calling.
The meeting itself had been unexpected. In his mind, there wasn't going be more than ten or twenty dark wizards in attendance. The conversations would be very cloak and dagger but rather inane and pointless. The newly formed cult was dangerous, no question, but he hadn't anticipated the organization or alarming number of members. Whoever the mysterious wizard was that descended from the ceiling was truly creating something horrific. The power on display with the mass stilling of the attendee's magic and the application of a new dark marks was terrifying. Was there a conduit in use? He couldn't believe a singular modern day wizard had that capability.
He did have to applaud the move to stay in the shadows and avoid seeking fame and outward control. He personally preferred to work behind the scenes, where the real strings were pulled. Voldemort's true downfall was his greed, and by avoiding that pitfall, they were already on an easier path to success. Not that he was rooting for their wins, but genius could recognize genius, so to speak.
He pulled back his sleeve, looking at the inflamed mark on his arm. Sorrow filled him, followed immediately by anger. Outrage. He'd escaped one mad wizard and never planned to have to repeat those actions. How dare they reactivate the marks, treating them like errand boys and at will assassins. The only good that might come from him being summoned would be a peek into the cursed items before their destruction. Maybe also the creation, and certainly the initiation spell.
A raucous group left the bar, drawing his attention back to the present. All Muggles, no witches. He peeked inside past the closing door, his eyes scanning across the room. Still packed in like sardines. He let out a huff of frustration, returning to his post against the wall. Not being able to set eyes on her had his anxiety ever growing. His skin felt too tight, his heart rate too high, and his mind unable to settle. Needing to reign in his nerves before he spiraled, he flicked up his occlumency walls and started deep breathing exercises. Katarina was in there, and he would trust her with his own life. She was an extremely talented auror, and she would keep Hermione safe at all costs. He could be patient. For now.
He didn’t have to wait long. Less than an hour later, the witches left the building in a hurry, Katarina leading the way, a wary look in her eyes. He’d seen that same look from her on too many missions.
Something happened.
Pansy and Ginny exited next, arms draped around each other. Ginny looked somber and Pansy appeared to be on the verge of tears. In his entire lifetime, he could remember exactly two times Pansy had cried. Once when her beloved cat died, and the other when her father passed away.
Temporarily forgetting he was disillusioned, he almost ran to comfort his friend. Gritting his teeth, he planted his feet. Hermione followed them out, the tip of her wand sticking out from her sleeve, a look of pure, unadulterated rage on her face. He was familiar with that look; he saw it firsthand in the stock room of the club.
Hermione was ready to murder someone.
Now, he watched her hesitantly walk out from behind the dumpster, checking to see if there was anyone else left from the group. Confirming she was alone, she threw her head back and sauntered towards the front of the alleyway. She’d only taken a few steps when she halted, her eyes going dark. Draco shuffled around the corner to find out what was in her path.
Two men stood sneering at her from the end of the alley.
“Where are all your friends, little bird?”
Draco watched them as they began walking towards Hermione. His trigger-happy body told him to jump out and intervene, but he knew that would only lead to disaster. He couldn’t expose himself. He doubted she would be okay with his light stalking, let alone interrupting her kills. Even if he was checking to be sure she was safe and secure. Plus, he’d watched her stalk her prey and kill before. She was very capable of taking out the scum of the earth. If these two were in her crosshairs, he was positive they deserved what was coming.
Hermione slipped her wand into her hand but didn’t raise it. Was she stalling, dragging out the moment? He wasn’t sure, but he gripped his wand in his hand, prepared, just in case.
“What’s that, a twig? You know if you hit us with that, it’ll just snap, right?”
Draco scoffed. What a twat. This man sounded so sure of himself. Attacking a small woman with a buddy to help? Pathetic piece of shite. He was in for a rude awakening when he found out what exactly that twig could do.
Raising her wand, Hermione cocked her head. “You dare lay a hand on an innocent woman half your size. My friend. And you think that kind of behavior is okay? It isn’t.”
Pansy. Fuck, this arse hole touched Pansy. It’s the only thing that makes sense, why she was near tears. His own internal rage started a fire in his belly. He hoped Hermione would torture this man to within an inch of his life, make him beg for it, and still take it away. He was ready to watch his angel of death at work.
“Crucio.”
He hit the ground, writhing in pain, and Draco nearly cheered out loud. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if he had, as the other man in the alley began to screech like a damn owl. Draco observed Hermione turning to him, dropping the spell on the first man.
“Oh, you’re not any better than your friend. You get to experience this too.”
His turn for pain. By association? Or did this fuck touch Pansy too? It didn’t matter to him, if Hermione deemed him in need of torture, he would back up his witch.
“Crucio.”
Atta girl. He smiled his first genuine smile of the evening. Vigilante justice at it’s finest.
That’s when he heard it. A bang. Was that a gunshot? It was close by.
Too close.
He saw the glint of a small handgun in the first man’s hand just as another shot rang out. A third. Blood bloomed on Hermione’s gold dress.
No.
No, no, no, no, NO!
Not his witch.
NOT HIS HERMIONE!
She was clutching her stomach, blood bubbling over her hands, her wand at her feet.
“Avada kedavra!”
He dropped his disillusionment spell and cast the first killing curse before Hermione’s body crumpled. The man with the gun died instantly, and Draco didn’t give him a second thought.
“Avada kedavra!”
He cast the second killing curse at the other man, who was staring at him wide eyed. His eyes remained open as his dead body slouched against the alley wall.
“No, no, no, no, Hermione, no!”
In a matter of seconds, there was already a spreading puddle of blood. So much blood loss. Too much blood loss. Draco knew nothing about guns, but he did know the damage they caused was barbaric, ripping organs and blood vessels to shreds.
He lifted her against his body, pressing one hand over her wounds, his wand now forgotten, joining hers on the ground.
“Hermione, can you hear me? HERMIONE!”
Her eyes were closed. Her body was limp and unresponsive. Draco couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.
Running through the healing spells he knew, the only ones that came to mind was how to fix a broken bone and heal a minor cut. Neither would help here.
She was dying in his arms and he couldn’t save her.
No, this cannot be real.
He couldn't lose her. Not now, when they're finally together. Not when she was falling in love with him.
Not now that he knew what it was like to be loved by her.
Deep sobs wracked his body.
“What do I do? I don’t know what to do!”
Hot tears fell onto her face as held her.
“Hermione, you have to tell me what to do. You’re the swotty one. You’d have a solution, I just know it.”
He moved his gaze from her face, now too pale and still, down to his hand over her abdomen. Blood was oozing out between his fingers, coating his signet ring. The intricate M taunted him. He wanted to make her a Malfoy someday, place a signet ring on her finger.
Make her a Malfoy.
Blood.
The wheels in his brain started turning. During their research in the manor’s library on blood curses, he’d come across a blood ritual to bind two souls to increase their physical strengths. It was a custom used in times of war, giving a witch or wizard who went off to battle more of a life force reserve. Often performed as part of a wedding ceremony, the ritual caused two wix to be soulbound for life. For eternity, if the tomes were to be believed. It had fallen out of favor in more modern times, when lives were longer and divorce was more prevalent.
The wording had been in Latin, fairly simple, and required a mixing of blood. Draco thought he remembered it. Perhaps if he bound their souls now, her body could pull on his strength and fortify itself long enough to get help.
Anything was worth a try.
He laid her gently on the ground. After picking up his wand, he made a slash along the palm of his hand and placed it over one of her wounds. He held his wand over his hand and began the incantations.
“Vitae nostrae in sanguine nostro coniuncto vinctae erunt.”
He felt a tug of magic in his wound.
“In aeternum alter alteri serviemus.”
The tug became a deep tingle.
“His vinculis, nunc es sanguis sanguinis mei, cor cordis mei, anima animae meae.”
The tingle transitioned to a warmth, spreading throughout his body. He watched as their bodies began to shine with a pale, yellow light. After a few seconds, the light burst out from them, scattering across the alley walls. The tingle burned his skin over his entire body for only a split second.
He felt extreme pain and bone-deep exhaustion so abruptly, it almost knocked him to the ground.
Her pain and exhaustion.
It worked. It worked!
She was still alive.
Oh, thank, Salazar, she was still alive!
He mentally thanked his mother for forcing him to master Latin.
He picked up her wand and bag from the ground, throwing them over his shoulder. If she survived this, she’d murder him if he left it behind. Her whole life was in there. Scooping her up in his arms, he prepared to disapparate, but paused.
Apparition can cause splinching in situations like this. He could have saved her now only to kill her through apparating. He wasn’t sure if it was worth the risk. He didn’t know where the closest floo was as they were deep in Muggle London. His panic rising, he carried her to the edge of the alley way. His eyes darted around frantically, searching for a solution. If he couldn’t get her help soon, they were now both dead.
That’s when he saw it, like a beacon of light. A Muggle hospital sign, just a couple of blocks away. Muggles would know how to treat gunshot wounds better than wix anyways. Draco pressed her tight against his body and kissed her forehead.
“Don’t die on me, now, Hermione.”
He took off in a sprint.
Notes:
The latin translated to English:
Our lives will be bound in the combining of our blood.
We will be in service of one another forever.
With these bonds, you now are the blood of my blood, the heart of my heart, the soul of my soul.The first two lines are technically to be said together, the last individually to each other, but with an unconscious witch, Draco had to make due. And it clearly worked.
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