Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Rating: T
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 1 - THE REQUEST
Hermione woke up with the sunrise as she always did. It mattered little that today was her only day free from Ministry work. Unlike the general population, who thought it best to enjoy a good sleep-in, she preferred to enjoy the day to the fullest. Besides, she hated having to go to bed and leave a good story halfway. An early start meant a whole book finished.
With a flick of her wand, she set the water to heat and moved into the shower. It was positively muggle, but nothing helped her get the day running like a good splash of warm water. Scorching water was for sadists and cold water for the unlucky. With magic and the right amount of money available to her after the last Wizarding War, the stream always met her preferences.
The teapot whistled and she made another hand motion to turn off the stove. Bagels or waffles, the witch wondered as she washed her hair. Sausage would be better than eggs, she nodded as she applied some conditioner. The green of kiwi or the red of strawberries would give a hint of color and sweetness. A pleased hum left her and she quickly rinsed the soap off. Today, she was feeling quite good. Thus, she knew she could use a few extra minutes to make herself something tasty rather than just to appease her hunger. She rarely ate very healthily because of the daily rush, and with time it would come to bite her in the ass. Magic or not, the body needed to be taken care of.
Finally having a somewhat decent idea of what to eat, she turned off the shower, covered her hair with a towel, and then wordlessly dried her body. Then, she moved to the room to find comfortable underwear and a large shirt. Her hair was still dripping a bit as she walked to the kitchen but it was Sunday; she could let it be free and rest today. Merlin knew her poor mane of wild curls suffered restrictions often enough.
The breakfast operation was interrupted when an unfamiliar owl appeared at her window. After pondering the flying visitor and her mood for a moment, she allowed it inside her flat and exchanged the bird's letter for a small piece of sausage. It stayed in a corner and waited for her to read it, and possibly for her reply. With a little sigh, Hermione quickly opened the small parchment and frowned. She turned to the owl accusingly but after thinking it over a few moments decided to reply. "Safe trip." The owl hooted pleasantly and flew away.
A small grimace replaced her cheery disposition. "Books. We will need to re-schedule our appointment," she shared gloomily.
xxoOoxx
Hermione walked to the northern part of Diagon Alley. She wore a white blouse, dark pants, boots, and a coat. Her voluminous hair was tied in a low ponytail, the abused ends reaching her hips. Her latest hair theory was that with enough weight, her curls would have less frizz. It had worked somewhat, though she still experienced occasional headaches as her roots adjusted to the new length.
An invitation to Gringotts was unexpected. Her vault had been confiscated after Harry, Ron, and she broke into the bank years ago. To add to the horror, when Voldemort discovered what happened at the Lestrange Vault, he killed all the goblins working that day as punishment. The goblin-bank had suffered a terrible loss of face—being ransacked by teenage children meant it was no longer considered impenetrable.
Why was only her vault confiscated? This question crossed her mind often. Perhaps because she had masterminded the plan—the stolen wand, polyjuiced identity, dragon theft—she had committed quite a few misdeeds that day. Or maybe it was because she was a woman, a know-it-all who meddled in everything regarding magical creatures. She felt ashamed of the consequences the goblin-folk suffered during the battle against Voldemort. This shame was the only reason she decided not to take the confiscation matter to the Wizengamot. She could wait for the goblins to forgive her.
After a deep breath, she entered the white, marble-decorated bank. The guards at the door nodded respectfully, and she hid her hands in her pockets, nodding back. Standing at the end of the hall, she glanced around the room nostalgically. The interior had been redecorated with the same white colors from the outside. Intricate magical designs in gold adorned the floor, and the goblin desks featured similar ornamentation. Hermione approached the closest available teller and waited for him to acknowledge her. Gringotts now appeared more welcoming thanks to the witches and wizards employed part-time to make it cleaner and friendlier, but dealing with a goblin still reminded visitors how sharp and intimidating they could be—perhaps a childish impression that lingered throughout every witch and wizard's life.
"Miss Granger," drawled the goblin as he wrote on the parchment before him. "It has been a long time since Gringotts last saw you." He placed his pen on its base and adjusted his glasses.
She sensed he silently added that it was still too soon for her to be in their presence, but she tried to ignore his tone in favor of a more sympathetic outcome. She felt remorseful about everything that had happened five years ago and hoped their relationship could mend. After all, her vault housed many family memories. Like the eager child she was, she had stored her grandmother's jewelry and cherished keepsakes from her childhood there. Due to desperate circumstances, she had Obliviated her parents and lost them forever when no one could reverse the spell. That had been a devastating blow. Instead of saving them, she had effectively erased them. Having access to her vault meant holding onto her parents' mementos—a small comfort, but sometimes small steps made the long journey possible.
"Let me escort you to Blordak," the goblin continued when he realized she was not going to say anything. He jumped from his high chair and began to walk to the back of the hall. Hermione followed silently, her hands still deep in her pockets. He escorted her to a spacious office and motioned for her to sit. The young woman did as told and crossed her legs, placed her hands over her thighs, straightened her spine, and tried to keep her mind at ease after she heard the door shut softly.
The office looked professional, the papers on the desk were neat, and the pen appeared expensive. There was a bookcase filled with what Hermione assumed were files of vault owners. The lighting in the office was weak, but it was a soft white, which helped her feel more at ease than if it had been yellow. Unable to help herself, she clenched her hands as her leg began to tap while she waited. The soft sound of the door opening and closing made her sigh in relief. She heard only two steps and waited for a few seconds, but the person did not move again. Concerned, she turned, and her lips parted in surprise. Her whole body tensed, and she stood from the chair. She did not draw her wand, but she couldn't remain seated or give her back to the newcomer.
A tall, slim, ex-Death Eater wizard stood next to the door. He had changed much, but she would never forget him. His beard was trimmed and well-groomed, his once long hair had been cut short and styled upwards. His eyes were alert but calm, and he wore a long, buttoned dark shirt and pants. The sleeves were rolled up mid-arm, revealing the remains of the Dark Mark still visible on his left forearm. "Dolohov." She nodded her head stiffly.
The older wizard favored her with a nod of his own, his eyes locking with hers searchingly. Perhaps he was looking for the little, wounded girl she had been. He would not find that teenage witch. Instead, he would find a cautious, dangerous witch. Dolohov no longer haunted her nightmares. Those were reserved for Bellatrix's Cruciatus, Fenrir's foul-smelling tongue, and her parents' forgotten memories now. Did she fear him? A fair bit. Would she cower if she needed to duel him? Not at all.
The door opened once more, and a short goblin with white hair and a dark suit wobbled inside. "Greetings, Antonin," said the bank representative as he walked past the wizard and to his desk. "Nice to see you again, Miss Granger."
The witch knew her smile was a bit forced, but she did her best to avoid glaring; she hoped it was enough. "Greetings..."
"Blordak," he supplied with a politician's smile as he sat in his chair. He shuffled the papers on the desk and put them aside, opened a drawer, and took out a brown envelope. "I was the teller who helped first years open their vaults. I helped your parents establish the Granger Vault, if you don't remember."
The memory was a fond one, and it made Hermione smile. She could remember the clueless looks they had all given each other as they tried to understand the rules and regulations of a goblin-administered bank. Her father, who had always been very good with finances, had squirmed as he listened to the goblin teller, while she babbled about the bank's history with her mother. "I'm sure we must have been a challenging group back then."
Blordak smiled, and he looked feral. Friendly-looking goblins were impossible to find, she was sure. When they tried to appear friendly, it reminded her of the evil monsters in children's books. "Not at all. You were a smart family used to business."
Hermione chuckled. "Indeed." Then she decided to sit now that the goblin was here; she didn't want to be disrespectful, and after these last peaceful minutes, she doubted Dolohov planned to attack her. "Tell me, Blordak, what can I do for you?"
The goblin pushed the envelope towards her. After a deep breath, she opened the offered piece of paper. She skimmed over the information before needing to go back to read it more carefully. She was finished in one minute, took another to settle her thoughts, and then her spine straightened. "To make sure I understand. You want me to try to steal from Gringotts."
The goblin nodded his head slowly and sat more comfortably in his chair when he didn't receive an instantaneous refusal. "Yes."
"Why?" asked the witch confusedly. After a moment, she stretched her legs and rested her booted heels on the floor. Her hands held the paper as she went over it again.
"We have been reinforcing security at the bank," he shared with a secretive smile. "We have adjusted to include some of the concerns the wizard-folk seemed to have. Only you, who have successfully broken into Gringotts before, can validate the efficiency of our new additions."
The witch chuckled darkly. "Cannot," she muttered. "I've been working at an office these last three years. I fear my wandwork and reflexes are not up to this task. Besides, this seems like a perilous idea, and Hermione Granger is trying to live her life as anxiety-free as possible."
"Antonin, our best Curse-Breaker, will accompany you as your bodyguard to protect your life." The gleam in the goblin's eyes was confusing. "Of course he will not stop all the other non-life-threatening, but otherwise dangerous tricks you may encounter." He finalized this with a proud nod.
Hermione snorted. Did people still think she wanted to put her life in danger? Her Hogwarts house was Gryffindor, yes. Because of her ideals, she had joined Harry Potter in the war to defeat the Dark Lord and to survive as a muggle-born witch. She had to fight because it was the right thing. Risking her life to ensure the Gringotts bank was safe was not on her priority list. "Why doesn't he check the security?" she asked as she pointed at Dolohov behind her with her thumb.
Blordak looked at her as if she was the dumbest witch of her age. "Because he designed most of the security system. Also, the newspapers will know that Hermione Granger could not outsmart the new security measures Gringotts has implemented."
With a tilt of her head, she glared at the goblin for long moments. "I don't see why I should risk my life over this. Especially since I don't even have access to my vault."
This time the goblin's smile held terrible intentions and a lot of teeth. "But of course, Miss Granger. Payment will be provided."
The witch eyed the eager goblin carefully. "I doubt you could tempt me."
He took it as the challenge it was. His smile widened impossibly more, and he stood from his chair and walked towards her. "If you reach the first vault, the familiar to you Lestrange Vault, we will grant access to the Granger Vault, and Gringotts will cover the funding for your Medical Facility for Magical Creatures." She heard him chuckle and realized her mouth was hanging open. She had been hunting for the funds for almost a year with little success. These galleons would indeed be very helpful. "If you also reach the second Vault, which is Vault 713—which had been accessed without permission by a dark wizard in 1991—you will find the contact information of a healer."
Hermione clenched her hands. "What kind of healer?"
Blordak didn't even try to hide his glee. "A goblin healer who specializes in mind magic."
It couldn't be helped. A whimper escaped her tightly pressed lips.
To be continued