Pick + Choose

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/51542014.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter,
Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Hermione Granger's Mother, Hermione
Granger's Father, Ron Weasley, Lavender Brown, Astoria Greengrass,
Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, Cormac McLaggen
Additional Tags: Famous Draco Malfoy, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley Bashing,
Daily Prophet (Harry Potter), POV Hermione Granger, BAMF Hermione
Granger, Adult Hermione Granger, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor,
Fluff, Smut, Auror Hermione Granger, Good Draco Malfoy, Draco
Malfoy Needs a Hug, Gay Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy & Theodore
Nott Friendship, Hermione Granger & Theodore Nott Friendship, Draco
Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Hermione Granger & Pansy
Parkinson Friendship, Sassy Pansy Parkinson, Pining, Infertility,
Fake/Pretend Relationship, A little teeny bit of angst, don't worry you'll
smile, I love a chance to put Hermione in pretty dresses, Potions, Lust
Potion/Spell, Mentions of Cancer, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About
Muggle Things, Simp Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger is Bad at
Feelings, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, I Wrote This
Instead of Sleeping, Cormac McLaggen Being an Asshole, I Make Up
Spells and I'm Not Sorry, I have to go back and edit out half of my italics
because I'm aware it's excessive
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-11-12 Completed: 2024-02-06 Words: 86,535 Chapters:
19/19
 Pick + Choose
by aprophecygirl

Summary

Ten years after the second wizarding war, Hermione Granger is the proud owner of Granger
Magical Protection Agency - using her revered skill and intellect to protect the most
vulnerable members of the magical community. Despite her beloved public persona,
protecting those in-need doesn’t turn a high profit, and her company is starting to crumble
under financial pressure.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, has more money than he knows what to do with. He’s spent
the past ten years reinventing himself into a successful hotelier, and his picture is a constant
fix on the cover of The Daily Prophet.

Draco Malfoy doesn’t settle for anything but the best. And when he begins to receive credible
threats to his life from an unknown source, he knows he must hire the best - Hermione
Granger.

*COMPLETED FIC / CHAPTER UPDATES EVERY SATURDAY*

Notes

If you're intrigued by the idea of: a relationship played out over the media, painfully rich and
famous Draco, BAMF Hermione, fake dating, sassy Theo, Ron bashing, Pansy friendship,
heavy on the romance, a dash of humor, a dollop of spice, and a teeny sprinkle of angst - this
might be a story for you.

Also, I wrote this while furiously listening to Taylor Swift's entire discography, so you might
find some Easter Eggs throughout...
 Nothing New

Chapter One - Nothing New

Lord, what will become of me / once I've lost my novelty?

Hermione was no longer terrified of the thick parchment that sat upon her desk, mocking her
with its bright red script. There was a time when it would have caused her such anxiety that
she'd require a Calming Draught to ease the rapid flutter of her heart. By now, she was used
to it. The parchment, demanding late rent payment on her office in London, came every
month without fail. And for the last four months, she'd managed to scrape together just
enough funds to cover the cost of her modest office, if nothing else.

The early days of the Granger Magical Protection Agency had been abundant - she'd booked
clients left and right and even received favourable coverage in the Daily Prophet. Hermione
wasn't entirely convinced that her positive portrayal in the media wasn't due to Rita Skeeter's
lingering fear of her, but she hadn't complained. The customers had rolled in for the first few
years, enough that she'd felt confident renting an office in London and hiring five employees
to work under her.

When Hermione had first opened her agency, she'd dreamed of doing something new in the
wizarding world. She'd worked as an Auror after leaving Hogwarts. While she'd loved it, she
disliked being beholden to the Ministry's agenda. She was tasked with protecting those she
was ordered to protect rather than those who needed it most. A private agency allowed her
the freedom to take on cases that wouldn't otherwise get attention. Since opening GMPA,
she'd provided security and safety for everyone from prominent purebloods to house elves.

And that's where the issue came in. Hermione's passion was helping those who needed help,
and clients who needed help often fell short in terms of funds. Last month, she'd brought in a
total of two paying clients. The rest of her time was spent working for free. And,
unfortunately, moral satisfaction didn't cover bills.

Hermione lifted the parchment from her desk just as Ginny Weasley apparated into the room
with a crack. Ginny unceremoniously dropped a copy of Witch Weekly on the desk, her lips
pursed. "Morning. Did you see this?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, heart racing. "I told you not to apparate here. This is a muggle
building, Ginny."

Ginny shrugged. "It's Saturday, no one is here. Except you. Plus, the lift is out of order - and
eight flights of stairs is just too much at this hour."

"You're a professional athlete. Isn't that your version of a warm-up?"

"I simply disagree with unnecessary labour," Ginny said, sinking down into the leather seat
across from Hermione. She gestured to the magazine she had tossed on the desk. "Did you
see that?"

Hermione glanced down. The swirling purple words on the cover declared Golden Girl
Devastated By Ex-Husband's Upcoming Nuptials. The photo beneath showed Hermione as
she exited a local restaurant with a bag of take-away, one hand reaching up to brush away an
implied tear.

Hermione pressed a hand to her forehead, sighing. "For Merlin's sake, there was an eyelash in
my eye. Why would I be crying while picking up kebabs?"

"To start, Golden Girl Likes Kebabs is a far less interesting headline."

"I wish they'd drop this," Hermione said, returning the magazine to Ginny. "Ron and I have
been divorced for three years. I'm glad he's moving on."

Ginny snickered. "Mum told me the wedding colours are going to be lilac and hazel."

"As in… Lavender and Brown?"

"Precisely. I'm telling you, that woman lacks a single original thought in her body."

"They seem happy. Happier than Ron and I ever managed to be, as you know. And if Witch
Weekly would stop accusing me of having emotional breakdowns while picking up dinner, I'd
be perfectly content with this development."

Ginny shook her head. "I doubt that's going to happen. So, perhaps, try to look a little
happier. Not in a deranged way. Just… content. A smiling Golden Girl is a less enticing
story."

Over the years, Ginny had become something of a self-proclaimed media consultant to
Hermione. Though the first few years had been exciting and flattering, Hermione preferred to
avoid the attention as of late. She hated the feeling of constantly being watched and picked
apart, especially because the stories were often wildly far from the truth.

"I'll smile," Hermione acquiesced.

"Excellent." Ginny leaned back into the chair and propped her feet on Hermione's desk, a few
flakes of dried mud sprinkling atop her paperwork.

"Is that all you came here for, or did you need something?"

"Wow." Ginny lowered her legs back to the ground. "You're grumpy today."

Hermione let out a breath. "I'm sorry. I'm just overwhelmed. I shouldn't take it out on you."
She lifted the parchment labelled RENT OVERDUE, waving it like a flag.

"Again?" Ginny grasped the parchment and inspected it. "How many cases have you booked
for this month?"
"Six." Hermione trailed a finger down her agenda. Her friends teased her endlessly for using
a paper planner, but there were some things that magic just couldn't improve upon.

"How many paying clients?"

Hermione swallowed. "One. I'm providing security for Luna and Neville's baby shower."

"I'm guessing they were given a friends and family rate?" Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"None of your business."

"What are the other cases?"

"A muggleborn testifying against her abusive husband in muggle court, a young werewolf
who has gone missing, and a wizard who has been underpaid by his employer. None can
afford to pay my fee, though the werewolf's family did send a basket of scones."

"Hermione, I say this with the utmost delicacy - so please don't snap. But you can't afford to
work for free."

"I know." Hermione slumped toward the desk. She used to dedicate her time to volunteer
work while her employees took the high-paying (and soul-sucking) cases. But she'd had to let
all her employees go over the last year. If she wasn't taking paying clients, there was simply
no money.

Ginny pulled a leather pouch from her pocket and dumped a handful of galleons on the desk.
"Here. Take this. You need it more than I do."

"That's very generous, but I can't possibly-"

Ginny shoved the coins forward. "Please. I can't sleep wondering if you're going hungry. But
do something in return for me, alright? Take a paying job. A good one. I know they're not
your cup of tea, but you need to pull a profit if you want to keep doing this work. None of
your good deeds can continue without money."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. I promise. I'll take the next one that comes in."

As it turned out, the next paying offer wasn't as far off as Hermione expected. She had just
finished escorting a young muggleborn to court when she returned to her office to find
someone waiting at the door.

The young woman was tall and thin, dressed in a black dress and expensive shoes. She
carried a leather-bound folder, a quill clutched in one hand. She was clearly an assistant but a
well-paid one.

"Can I help you?" Hermione slipped her stack of folders into her bag.

"Yes. You are the owner of, um," the woman looked down at a parchment in her folder,
"Granger Magical Protection Agency. Correct?"
"Yes. Come on in." Hermione unlocked the door to her office and led the woman inside,
guiding her toward the armchair. Hermione sunk into her own seat, bracing her palms against
the desktop. "How can I help you?"

"I'm here on behalf of my boss."

"And your boss is?"

"I've been asked not to say anything until you've heard the request. Highly confidential - he
doesn't want every security business in town knowing his needs. You understand, I'm sure."

"Of course. What does this request entail?"

"My boss is seeking a longer-term security detail. He's a well-known public figure and most
recently, some threats on his life have been made. He needs someone discreet to accompany
him to perform risk assessment and attend public events until the threat is neutralised."

Hermione frowned. "That sounds like a better fit for a more traditional company, to be clear.
I'm only one person. Your boss likely needs a full detail. Muscle, so to speak."

The woman shook her head. "He's adamant about discretion. He doesn't want brawn. He
wants brains. Someone who can see the weakness in advance and plan for it. He's capable of
protecting himself should the need require it - but he's a very busy man and needs assistance
assessing the risks."

"Interesting." Hermione drummed her manicured nails against the tabletop. "I'm qualified to
offer that, as you'll know. Threat detection and risk assessment are my specialties. I'm open to
considering the job, depending on who this mystery client is."

"He'll be pleased to know that. He's very particular about what and who he wants, Miss
Granger." The woman glanced at the parchment in her hands. "I can assure you he'll pay a
handsome fee.

"What was your name again?"

"Aurelia Quinn."

"Aurelia, I'm very interested. But as someone who deals in risk and security, I need to know
exactly who I'm going to be working with before I agree."

"He thought you might say that."

"And?"

"You might know him, Miss Granger. Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Of course, she'd heard and seen his name a million times
over the years, splashed across newspapers or dripping from his endless fangirls' mouths. But
Draco Malfoy in relation to her? Not in a decade. A sudden image of his face, upper lip
curled in disgust as he looked at her, flashed into her mind.
She shook her head. "Unfortunately, I can't accept this case. Please send my regrets to Mr.
Malfoy."

"He also thought you might say that." Aurelia smiled knowingly. "He's willing to pay a
consultation fee if you'll meet with him to discuss the details of his request. Your fee is listed
at three galleons for a thirty minute consultation. He's willing to pay ten just to meet. No
commitment beyond that."

Hermione picked at a thread in her trousers. It was difficult to deny - in a half-hour, she'd be
able to cover a quarter of her office rent. She hadn't been in the same room as Draco Malfoy
in ten years. The idea of doing so now sent a shiver of discomfort up her spine. She'd spent
her adulthood growing into herself, learning to trust that she deserved to be a powerful and
influential member of the magical community. The last thing she needed was the memory of
the words mudblood tumbling from the pinched mouth of that angry, judgmental ferret.

Of course, Draco Malfoy had done everything in his power to dispel his old reputation. After
leaving Hogwarts, he had managed a reinvention of sorts. Hermione imagined he'd employed
some extremely talented public relations experts in order to manage the shift he had. He'd cut
ties with his parents - both imprisoned in Azkaban for their crimes during the war - and made
several public apologies about his involvement, chalking it up to his youth and fear. Once
he'd garnered enough public sympathy, he'd invested his money in everything he could touch:
restaurants, wandmaking, bookselling, and real estate. But his most successful venture, by
far, had been hotels. Malfoy Residences existed in nearly every major city in Europe. He was
universally adored for what others saw as his altruism, commitment to change - and,
undeniably, his good looks.

Hermione didn't buy it. He may not be a war criminal as she'd once thought, but Draco
Malfoy was pretentious and judgemental. She was sure of it. Perhaps he owed her for all the
pain he'd caused in their youth. There was no way in hell she would take his case. The idea of
working alongside him long-term was unfathomable. But perhaps she could waste his time,
earn much-needed funds, and pour his money into her beloved business.

Hermione nodded casually at Aurelia. "Please tell Mr. Malfoy that I'd be willing to do a
consultation, for twelve galleons. My schedule is very booked, so it'll have to be tomorrow
morning. Eight o'clock. Thirty minutes, no longer."

The next morning, Hermione sat anxiously in her seat at a quarter to eight. She wore a red
sheath dress usually reserved for dates and a pair of black stilettos. She'd put extra care into
her makeup, though she'd left her hair as wild as possible. She felt a small swell of
embarrassment at the realisation that she was dressing up for her childhood bully - but she
needed him to know she wasn't the same girl. She was a grown woman who wouldn't dare
crumble under his judgment.

She sipped her tea, eyes trained on the door. At eight o'clock precisely, it rattled with a firm
knock. She raised her wand, and the door creaked open. Draco stepped inside.

Though she'd seen him in the papers over the years, Hermione wasn't prepared to see Malfoy
in reality. He was taller than she remembered. His boyish good looks had transformed into
something darker - sharp cheekbones, full lips, and grey eyes framed with thick lashes. If he
was handsome in photographs, he was devastating in person. It was no wonder he'd been able
to shift public opinion so successfully. Beautiful people were always given more grace.

Malfoy wore black slacks and a white button-up, sleeves rolled to reveal tattooed forearms.
She imagined the ink was intended to draw attention away from his Dark Mark, and it did the
trick. The mark was almost entirely camouflaged by a landscape of intricate images.
Hermione flicked her gaze to meet his face and stood, fingertips pressed to her desk.

"Malfoy. Come in. It's been a long time."

"Hello Granger. A decade, I'd say?"

"Just about. Have a seat."

He approached, surprisingly feline in the way he moved, then lowered himself into the chair
across from her. "I'm grateful you could take the time to consult with me despite your
schedule." He raised an eyebrow as if to indicate his full awareness that she was not nearly as
busy as she pretended to be.

She sat, crossing her legs. "Your poor assistant looked terrified she might lose her job if I
didn't acquiesce."

"I wouldn't fire someone for your hardheadedness. That would've been setting her up for
failure."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes like an adolescent. "Very funny. Let's discuss
details. Aurelia expressed that you're needing a longer-term arrangement?"

He nodded. "As I'm sure you're aware, I attend many public events throughout Europe."

"I wasn't. I don't keep up with your career," Hermione lied.

He smirked. "Regardless, it's absolutely imperative to my brand that I'm visible. There have
been some threats, as of late. I need someone who is able to not only help prepare for my
appearances, but be present at them to be abreast of all potential security breaches."

"Aurelia stated that you're capable of protecting yourself. Why the need for security, in that
case?"

"The impact on my image would be disastrous if I were engaged in a violent confrontation at

an event. I need things to run smoothly - and that's where you come in."

Hermione idly tapped her wand against her desk, studying him. The man in front of her was
nothing like she'd expected. A part of her had been waiting for a teenaged Draco to waltz into
her office, spitting insults and threatening to call his father. Instead, he moved with a
confidence and ease that set her on edge.

"I'll be honest, Malfoy. I take this business seriously. I can't, in good faith, work alongside
you. We hate each other."
His expression remained neutral. "Do we?"

"I…" she sipped her tea. "Yes, I'd say so. Or, at the very least, we've always disliked one
another. I'm not even sure I understand why you'd want to work with me. Surely, there are
other options out there."

"There are. I'm a thorough man. I've researched them all. But I don't do things halfway. I
won't settle for anything less than the best. And, as it turns out, you're the best, Granger."

She wasn't immune to recognition. The teenager inside her - constantly fighting to be valued -
smiled smugly. She was the best. "I'm listening. What's your offer?"

"A standing salary for your services until the threat is neutralised. Four-hundred galleons a
month. An additional four galleons an hour for any events you attend alongside me. And a
suite at our London location for the entirety of your contract."

Her face flushed. It was a lot of money. Enough to pay her rent and put some aside for
additional expenses. "I have a home. I don't need to be bribed with a suite."

"It appears you do." Draco's eyes landed on the small suitcase in the corner of the room. She
hadn't even told her friends that she'd been staying at her office, giving up her flat to save
money. And he'd noticed within fifteen minutes. Delightful.

Hermione shrugged. "I work late often. It's nice to have some things here."

"Makes sense." His eyes twinkled with something like success. "Do we have a deal?"

"I have other cases. People who need my help."

"You'll have time. You don't have to give up on your charity cases. Don't fret."

"I'm not fretting, Malfoy. But I have responsibilities. I can't drop other clients just because
you're used to getting what you want."

He winked. Winked. It was like an alternate reality. Hermione had to stop herself from
laughing from the sheer absurdity of it all.

"Do we have a deal?"

She did the numbers one more time in her head. This could be the thing that saved her
business. Yes, it meant working alongside Draco Malfoy. But it was a small sacrifice,
perhaps, to help people who needed it most.

She nodded slowly, worry twisting in her gut. "Yes."

He smiled, almost wolf-like. "Excellent. I'll have Aurelia send an owl with the contract. I
have a restaurant opening in London this Friday that I'll need you to attend. Can you begin
tomorrow? I'll need to have my team brief you on the plans. I can have your suite ready this
evening."
Hermione had never even been in the lobby of a Malfoy Residence. She had once joked to
Ginny that she was too poor to look directly at the building. For the past two months, she'd
been transfiguring her chair into a twin-size bed and brushing her teeth in the shared office
bathroom.

She almost smiled at the thought of a real bed. "That will do. I'll be there around six."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Granger." Malfoy stuck out his hand, and her eyes
immediately darted to the artwork that mapped every inch of available skin.

"Pleasure," she said through grit teeth.

She was surprised by the jolt that ran through her body as she took his hand. Static electricity,
she told herself.

Hermione stared up at the looming hotel, her heart hammering in her chest. While any
passing muggle would see only an under-construction building, her view was awe-inducing.
Malfoy Residences London towered over the other buildings beside it, stretching to at least
fifty floors. It appeared to have been wrapped entirely in gold, reflecting the setting sun
blindingly. A green carpet spilled out from the main doors, a black cursive M adorning its
centre. She stepped inside, casting her eyes upward to take note of the ceiling. The ceilings of
Malfoy Residences were their signature - the lobbies were charmed to maintain an ever-
present copy of the night sky. Constellations twinkled above her, the starlight reflecting on
the black marble floor below.

"Miss Granger! Welcome."

Hermione looked back down. Aurelia stood a few steps away, holding a tray of champagne
flutes.

"Hello, Aurelia. This is lovely."

"Isn't it?" Aurelia plucked a champagne glass from her tray and shoved it, almost
aggressively, into Hermione's hand. "Is that your only bag?"

Hermione glanced down at the suitcase in her opposite hand. "Yes. I don't expect to stay long.
I work quickly."

"Excellent." Aurelia set her tray on a nearby table and pulled her wand from her pocket. She
pointed the wand at Hermione's bag and muttered something unintelligible. The bag vanished
from sight. "It'll be unpacked and waiting in your suite when you arrive."

Hermione was suddenly caught off-guard by a flash of a camera and a shout of her name. She
covered her eyes with her forearm, trying to force a relaxed smile. She could almost hear the
voice of Ginny Weasley in her head, scolding her for not preparing for this eventuality. Of
course, the hotel would be crawling with reporters. She tucked her curls behind her ears and
gave a small, casual wave toward the flash.
"Follow me," Aurelia gestured toward a set of lifts just beyond a check-in desk.

Hermione followed Aurelia, grateful that a lift opened in perfect timing as they approached.
The doors closed, and the lift started to rise automatically. The walls were completely smooth
- there were no buttons or dials to indicate the floors.

Aurelia noticed Hermione's confusion. "Rooms are linked to your wand. The lifts open when
you approach and deposit you to your destination."

"Oh." Hermione studied her reflection in the large mirror as they continued to rise. "Are there
always reporters in the lobby?

Aurelia waved a hand dismissively. "They're just looking for something for the front page.
And I'm sure they're excited to see you."

"It's a misguided excitement," Hermione said.

"No. I used to love following you in the papers after the war." Aurelia looked embarrassed. "I
even had a Golden Girl doll."

"I had forgotten about those," Hermione said, shaking her head. A few years after the war, a
toy company based in Diagon Alley had released a collection of dolls modelled after Harry,
Ron, and Hermione. Hermione thought they were horrifically ugly and was thankful they
were no longer in production. Every so often, she'd see a little witch or wizard clutching one,
and she was filled with the need to tear it from their hands and offer them a proper doll.

The lift stopped at floor fifty-four, and the doors opened. Instead of a hotel hallway, they
stepped out directly into a sumptuously decorated living space.

Hermione studied the space as the lift closed behind them. "Where are we? Where is my
room?"

"This is your room, Miss Granger. Floors fifty-four and fifty-five are penthouse suites. You'll
have access to all of it during your stay here, as Mr. Malfoy promised. I'll give you a quick
tour."

Aurelia walked Hermione through the suite. Two leather couches in front of a roaring
fireplace flanked the sitting area. A audacious chandelier hung in the centre of the room,
casting spots of light across the plush carpet. A small hallway to the left led to a bathroom
that had her mouth watering - a rain shower, clawfoot tub, and floor to ceiling mirrors that
made the enormous space appear doubly large. To the right, a second hallway led to a
bedroom. A vast bed was pressed against one wall, covered in no less than fifteen fluffy
pillows.

Hermione approached a wardrobe on the opposite wall and opened the double doors. Inside,
she recognized a handful of outfits that had been pulled from her suitcase. Beside them,
however, hung at least another twenty brand-new dresses, shirts, and trousers.

"What are these?"

"Mr. Malfoy asked that I ensure you'd have an appropriate wardrobe for your role. The
clothes are Perfectus brand, one of his newest investments. Everything is charmed to fit the
wearer, so no concerns about sizing."

"This is too much." Hermione's mouth went dry as she noted the price tag still hanging from
one dress. It was more than two months of her office rent.

"Image is important, Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy expects that of everyone under his employ."

"I bet he does." Hermione closed the wardrobe. Twenty-four hours ago, if someone had
suggested she would be standing in a penthouse suite at Malfoy Residences, staring into a
closet of custom-charmed clothing, she would've assumed they were going mad.

"Why don't you get some rest? I'll have our kitchen staff send dinner shortly. I'll collect you
for our staff meeting tomorrow morning to debrief Friday's event."

Hermione watched Aurelia exit down the hall, then thumbed through the drawers of her
wardrobe. It appeared she'd been provided several pairs of silk pyjamas, monogrammed with
the initials HG . Though it was tempting, she pulled out her own sweatpants and tee-shirt.
Wearing pyjamas purchased by Draco Malfoy was too bizarre to swallow for tonight.

She moved into the sitting room and sank into the couch, realising she should send word to
Ginny and Harry about where she'd be staying temporarily. Ginny would be thrilled to know
Hermione was making good money, no matter the person behind it. On the other hand, Harry
would likely be more than happy to express his reservations.

While searching the room for spare parchment and a quill, she found a stack of Daily
Prophets dated over the last several weeks. The first paper of the pile was emblazoned with
the words: Draco Malfoy's Newest Leading Lady - Who Is The Mysterious Blonde?

In the picture, Malfoy was exiting a room through a side door. One hand brushed his blonde
hair from his forehead, while the other seemed to be reaching for someone on the other side.
Through the frosted glass, only a sheath of blonde hair was evident. He looked back and forth
between the camera and the person behind the door, looking both mysterious and amused.
Hermione scanned the article below the photograph.

Hot off the heels of this year's shocking divorce announcement, insiders are reporting that
Draco Malfoy has been courting a mysterious blonde witch for the past several weeks.
Malfoy, 28, attended his most recent hotel opening solo, but eyewitnesses report that a
beautiful young woman was waiting in the wings to celebrate with an amorous kiss behind
the scenes. This comes only weeks after the handsome hotelier announced his separation
from his wife of seven years, Astoria. The handsome Malfoy certainly doesn't waste any time.

Hermione dropped the paper to the table, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. The
Daily Prophet once prided itself on being a source of news , but now it seemed they'd fully
embraced their identity as nothing more than a gossip rag. They were no better than Witch
Weekly at this point. Out of curiosity, she flipped through the remainder of the stack. Nearly
every paper was some iteration of the same thing: Malfoy's recent divorce and speculations of
his newest romance. The only shifting factor was the suspected identity of his alleged
paramour. Either the reporters at The Daily Prophet were terrible at gathering accurate
details, or Malfoy was romancing a new woman every week. Both seemed plausible.

A few minutes later, a rolling tray appeared in the centre of the living room. Beside a heavy
silver plate cover sat a freshly corked bottle of her favourite elf-made wine and a single glass.
She poured herself a drink, sipping as she settled onto the couch. The cart rolled toward her,
settling in at the perfect distance and height for her meal.

There was a time in Hermione's life when she had accepted and enjoyed a certain level of
luxury - in those early days after the war, free meals and gifts were par for the course. It
always made her a touch uncomfortable. Yes, she and her friends had made innumerable
sacrifices in the war. But the victory was an effort of so many. Most of those brave witches
and wizards were not recognised or compensated for what they'd given up. So, while she'd
appreciated those perks temporarily, they always left a sour aftertaste. At least this luxury
was payment for honest work.

Stomach rumbling, Hermione lifted the plate cover to reveal her dinner.

Kebabs.

Someone had a sense of humour.

 New Romantics
Chapter Notes

Happy Sunday! A huge thank you for the comments/kudos/bookmarks/subs - I have

really enjoyed writing something a little lighter after Kill Switch, and I hope you enjoy
reading it. Reviews fuel my heart :)

Chapter Two - New Romantics

I could build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me.

Hermione had just finished an incredible bath and wrapped herself in a thick robe when she
heard a strange buzzing coming from the living room. She stepped into the room, noticing
gratefully that a fire had been lit in her fireplace during her bath.

The buzzing continued. Hermione looked up at the ceiling in the direction of the noise.
"Hello?"

"There you are, Granger. I thought you'd absconded." Malfoy's familiar voice filtered through
the room.

She glared up at the ceiling, unsure if he could see her. "Can I help you?"

"Do I have your permission to enter?"

"Oh." Hermione looked about, realising for the first time that there was no door. "Where are
you?"

"The lift. It won't open without your consent."

"Alright. You have my permission to enter, if you must."

The lift doors opened at the exact moment Hermione remembered she was still wearing her
robe, her hair twisted atop her head in a towel.

Perfect.

Malfoy stepped into the room. Unlike her, he was dressed impeccably in a dark suit. She
found herself slightly disappointed that he wore a jacket that hid his tattoos from view. She
had wanted to get a better look at those, to investigate what markings he had chosen to suit
his reinvention.

"Good morning, Granger. You look…well-rested."

"Can you give me a moment?"

"Of course, it appears you need it." He lowered himself onto one of the couches, propping
one leg over his knee.

Hermione sped down the hallway to the bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and quickly
inspected her choices, settling on a dark blue dress with a high collar and three-quarter-length
sleeves. As Aurelia had explained, the dress took shape the moment she slipped it on,
arranging itself against Hermione's frame. She selected her own pair of black heels and then
used a quick charm to dry her hair.

She re-entered the living room, feeling far more confident and prepared to be face-to-face
with Draco Malfoy. "Can I help you?"

“We need to have a little tête–à–tête. Get you prepared before we meet as a team."

"You could have given me a little warning."

"I don't have time for warnings. Besides, I am your boss now. Your role is to adjust to my
schedule."

"You're my client."

He smiled. "Sure. Client. How are you liking your accommodations?"

"Satisfactory."

"I imagine it's better than sleeping in your office."

"I was not sleeping in my office." She crossed her arms over her chest, heart thundering. The
way he looked at her was positively inappropriate- like he was peeking around inside her
skull.

"I doubt I have to remind you that I'm a thorough man. I wouldn't have hired you without
knowing full-well what I was getting into. You don't have a residence, you don't have the
funds for a hotel, and I'm confident you're not sleeping on the street. It doesn't take much to
deduce." He patted the couch next to him. "Sit down."

She sat on the opposite couch instead, crossing her ankles. "I suppose you're to thank for my
dinner last night?"

His eyes twinkled in amusement. "I hope no tears were shed."

"I was not crying in that photograph, Malfoy. I had an eyelash in my eye."

"I'm well-aware of the stories that get spun. I wouldn't have hired you if I genuinely believed
you spent your free-time crying over that Weasel."

"Good. Because I don't. Don't you have your own relationship troubles to worry about?"
Draco leaned into the couch, spreading his arms across the back. "I'm an open book. Astoria
and I officially divorced a few months ago. But we've been living apart for over a year. It's
amicable, despite what the gossip will say."

"They say you slept your way around London thrice before she got tired of it."

He chuckled under his breath. "Thrice, was it?"

She nodded. "According to Witch Weekly."

"Well, if Witch Weekly prints it, it must be true."

Hermione swallowed. She had no interest in learning more about Malfoy's romantic history
despite his apparent inclination to share. "So, what did you want to discuss?"

"Ah, yes. Friday's event. One of my newest restaurants. I'll be attending the opening, of
course, and I need you to review the plans in advance to ensure no glaring security issues.
You'll also need to attend the event to be prepared for any potential threat."

"Anything vital I need to know about this event in particular? Any reason it would be a
target?"

"The restaurant - The Golden Goblet - is staffed entirely by house elves. I suspect there are
some that won't be pleased."

Hermione shifted in her seat. "Is that really so controversial these days? It's been years since
laws were passed promoting fair wages for elves."

"No, you don't understand." Malfoy shook his head. "The Golden Goblet isn't just staffed by
house elves. It's owned by house elves."

Hermione blinked, surprise blooming in her chest. "That's…quite progressive, Malfoy."

He waved a hand. "It was a good business decision. But the fact of the matter is that it
wouldn't shock me if a few extremists were bothered by my decision to invest in such a
venture."

"I'll do a little digging on any known anti-house elf figures in the area. Have you considered
an Ill-Intent Charm? It wouldn't be difficult to ensure the restaurant is inaccessible to anyone
with anti-house elf sentiments. A standing charm would continue to protect the elves even
beyond the event."

"Not bad. I've got a Charms Master on staff. I'll have him start working on it immediately."
Draco glanced down at a sleek watch around his wrist. "Speaking of, we need to meet with
the team. Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"Excellent. It's a breakfast meeting. Come on."

Hermione followed Malfoy onto the lift as the door opened. As they ascended to the next
floor, she wiped her palms against the front of her dress. She was still reeling from the
knowledge that Draco Malfoy was an investor in a house-elf business - the same creatures his
family once owned. Almost instantly, the lift paused, and the doors opened to reveal a room
much like hers - though much grander, if possible.

Instead of couches sat an enormous conference table adorned with intricate carvings of open-
mouthed snakes. Several people were already at the table, poring over parchments and eating
abundant plates of food.

"I see you've all started without me," Draco said, his voice light.

"I'm not going to wait on a pastry, mate." A dark-haired man looked up at Draco with a wink,
then took an enormous bite of a Danish pastry. His eyes then landed on Hermione, and he
smiled broadly. "The rumours are true," he said with a full mouth. "Hermione Granger in our
midst. I'll never forget when you socked dear old Draco. He moped over his wounded ego for
months."

"If you're lucky, you may not remember Theodore Nott," Draco said as he clapped the man
on the shoulder. "Theo is my trusted Charms Master and business associate, though he's also
the most annoying human I've ever come into contact with."

"I thought you said Granger was the most annoying person you'd ever come into contact
with," Theo said, pressing an offended hand to his heart.

Draco laughed. "She was. I haven't decided if she still lives up to that particular title, though
it's entirely possible."

Hermione rolled her eyes and held out her hand. "Hi Theo. I do remember you - you used to
hide origami foldings in my hair during potions."

Theo shrugged. "Sorry about that. I was a prick. All Draco's influence."

"I don't doubt it." Hermione lowered herself into the open seat next to Theo, then grabbed a
Danish from the plate in front of them.

"Now that you two are done bonding over your apparent distaste of me - let's introduce the
rest of the team. Granger, you've met my assistant Aurelia." He gestured to Aurelia, who
smiled. "We also have Jasper Black, who is my chief financial advisor and Pansy Parkinson,
who manages my PR."

Hermione nodded at Jasper and Pansy, trying to remind herself that a decade had passed
between her and the latter and that she should reserve judgement.

"Welcome, Granger. It appears you might need a PR agent specifically for your hair. It's so
big," Pansy quipped, tucking her sleek bob behind her ears.

"Lovely to see you too, Pansy."

Draco pressed a hand to the back of Hermione's chair, and she stiffened at the slight graze of
his knuckles against her back. Seeming to notice her reaction, he lifted his hand and scratched
the bridge of his nose.

"Theo, I need you to work on an ill-intent charm for The Golden Goblet, to ensure no one
harbouring anti-house elf sentiments can access the building. I need it ready to go by Friday.
Pansy, make sure you've briefed both Witch Weekly and The Daily Prophet on my statements
for the opening. I want them both there, fighting for the best story."

"Already done," Pansy said. "What's the plan for Granger? How are we presenting her?"

"A guest."

"Good." Pansy nodded. "I don't think it's a good look to confirm you've hired additional
security."

"I can lie low," Hermione confirmed. "Part of the job."

"Perfect. That means no bright outfits or extravagant dresses. But nothing frumpy like you
might lean toward. You want to look the part of a guest, but not draw extra attention."

Hermione didn't miss the thinly veiled insult to her style. "I think I can manage, Pansy."

Pansy sighed. "Possibly, but it's my area of expertise. I'll pull some outfit options for you.
Better safe than sorry."

Theo swatted Pansy playfully on the shoulder. "Pans, I understand clothing is the most
important thing on your agenda, but we should brief Granger on the security. You know, so
our friend doesn't die."

"He's not going to die, Theo."

Theo turned to face Hermione. "The last few events, Draco has received some worrisome
notes. He's no stranger to unhinged fans, but these notes were a little too detailed to be
ignored." Theo grabbed a folder from the centre of the table and opened it in front of
Hermione. "This was delivered to the hotel lobby two weeks ago, after he gave the keynote at
the Wizarding Business Association dinner."

Hermione looked down at a parchment. In the angry red script were the words: You're not as
sneaky as you think, Malfoy. What would they think if they knew who you really are? Beneath
the words was a photograph showing Theo walking through a door, eyes downcast.

Hermione frowned. "Why would they send a photograph of you?"

"Because that's not me. That's Draco, just lucky enough to look like me while under the
influence of Polyjuice Potion."

"Clever." Hermione remembered the front page of the Daily Prophet in her room. "So the
Daily Prophet from last week?"
"All me," said Theo.

"And me, in the role of a forever-changing leading lady," added Pansy.

"So you can see why it's concerning that this person seemed to know that they were
photographing Draco rather than Theo. We've been careful to be discrete."

"Yes." Hermione nodded slowly, eyes focused on the note. "This person clearly thinks they've
figured it out. I think you should do everything the same, but remove the Polyjuice element.
Theo leaves out the back door, pretending to be a Polyjuiced Malfoy. Malfoy leaves from the
front. And we'll put protection charms on both of you, for extra security."

"I'm on board." Malfoy poured himself a glass of water from a pitcher on the table. "Theo,
please ensure Granger has access to all of the notes I've been sent thus far. I want her fully
briefed before Friday."

Hermione spent the next several days studying the threats Malfoy had been receiving. She
wasn't sure they could be called threats - more like taunts. For the past few months, he'd been
receiving notes simply cutting him down - insulting his character and dredging up details of
his divorce, but more recently, the vitriol had increased. It was clear that whoever was behind
the notes hated Draco Malfoy. And to complicate matters, there was a long list of people with
reasons to detest him. He'd testified against several Death Eaters after the war, bought out
countless businesses in his career, and earned himself a handful of obsessed stalkers. Of
course, he was also disgustingly rich, which could offer one hundred more reasons someone
might want to hurt him. Despite all this, Hermione couldn't fully wrap her mind around
Malfoy's desire to hire her - nothing she had seen thus far suggested a significant threat that
would require security beyond what he already had on his team. But if he wanted to pay her
for a low-effort job, she wouldn't complain.

When the evening of the event arrived, Hermione dressed in the outfit Pansy had sent for her.
It was tasteful - a black dress with long sleeves trimmed in lace, the skirt hitting mid-thigh.
Pansy had also included a pair of silver heels. Hermione changed into the outfit, applied
some light makeup, and added a silver pin to hold her hair back from her eyes.

"You ready, Granger?" Malfoy's voice filtered through the ceiling of her room.

"Hold on." She gave herself a once-over in the mirror. She looked good - elegant and put-
together. "Come on in."

Draco stepped in from the lift. He wore a black tuxedo, the edges of his jacket trimmed in
pebbled leather. He'd foregone a tie, opting to leave the first few buttons of his black dress
shirt unbuttoned. Hermione forced herself to look at the floor, fully aware that she'd spent a
solid ten seconds salivating over him. She tried to remind herself that a beautiful exterior
meant nothing but that. It was surface-level. Not worth losing her head over.

Malfoy didn't seem to notice her appraisal. He flicked his eyes over her. "Pansy did a decent
job. The dress is nice."
"Thanks." She swallowed. "I made a few changes." She reached into a pocket of the dress
and pulled out her wand. "Endless pockets."

"It didn't come that way?"

Hermione shook her head. "I realise that most men's clothing is already equipped with such
details, but they never think to add it to women's clothing. Not all of us want to deal with a
purse, especially in my line of work."

"I'll mention it to the designer. As an investor, my opinion will be valuable."

"Good." She wavered slightly in her heels. "Where is everyone else?"

"Upstairs. We'll take my floo."

"Theo confirmed with me this morning that he completed a complex ill-intent charm on The
Golden Goblet. It should provide long-term protection for the elves and be a solid safeguard
for tonight."

Draco nodded curtly. "He also created this." He inched up the sleeve of his jacket to reveal
his wrist.

"Your watch?"

"He charmed it. The back of the face will heat up if anyone with the intention to cause me
harm is nearby." He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a black box. "This is for
you."

She opened it, her mind flashing to the last time she opened a jewellery box like this. Instead
of a gaudy ring selected by Ronald Weasley, this box contained a beautiful silver bracelet
with tiny clusters of diamonds encircling the length. She dangled it between her thumb and
forefinger, trying not to appear as impressed as she was. "This likely cost as much as a car."

"If those are expensive, then yes. Two of them."

Hermione shook her head. A man who seemed as worldly as Malfoy, and he didn't
understand the value of a car. She started to nestle the bracelet back into the box. "I can't
accept this. It's too extravagant."

"It's not a gift, Granger. Theo's charmed it. Same as my watch, so you'll be alerted if I'm at
risk. There's another detail he's added. If the bracelet heats up, press the third diamond cluster
from the clasp and you'll be apparated to my location."

Her cheeks flushed. "Oh. Of course. That's an excellent backup plan."

"Do you think I'm in the habit of giving my employees extravagant jewellery for no reason?"

"I'm not your employee."

He shrugged, non-committal. "Come on, can't keep the team waiting." He pressed his hand to
her back, guiding her forward as she latched the bracelet around her wrist.

They rode the lift up to Malfoy's penthouse in tense silence. Hermione breathed a sigh of
relief as the doors opened to reveal Theo and Pansy both standing beside the conference
table. While she didn't feel entirely comfortable with either of them, it was better than being
trapped inside a tiny space with Draco Malfoy.

"Granger, why didn't I ever notice you were fit?" Theo stepped forward, waving his hand
dramatically in her direction.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Probably because she doesn't have a penis, Theo."

"True." Theo frowned dramatically. "Shame."

Draco glanced down at his watch. "If you're done salivating, Theo, we need to leave."

"Fine. You used to be fun, you know." Theo grabbed a handful of floo powder from a golden
bowl atop the mantle and tossed it into the fire. The crackling flames burst into the colour of
pine needles. Theo stepped inside, shouted, "The Golden Goblet!" and immediately
disappeared.

Pansy followed suit, smoothing the silk of her red dress just before shouting the destination.

Draco stopped at the edge of the fireplace, then turned back to face Hermione. "It's going to
be overwhelming when we get there, Granger. Take a breath. And make sure to smile."

"I can handle a few photographers. I'm in the papers a fair bit myself."

"Not like this." He stepped into the fire.

As soon as he was gone, she entered. The flames licked painlessly at her skin as she took a
deep breath. She could do this. She could blend into the background - that was her job. She
gave the room one last look before closing her eyes and saying, "The Golden Goblet."

Hermione blinked her eyes open as her feet slammed into the ground. She wobbled slightly in
her heels, bracing herself against the edge of the fireplace as she stepped out. The room
before her was packed to the brim - primarily by elves. It was a sight she had never seen
before - house elves draped in formalwear, bustling around with a frenetic and joyous energy.
Draco stood at the front of the room, backed by large glass doors. With one hand in his
pocket, he waved casually to the throng of reporters. A burst of flashes overtook the room,
and they snapped photos while Draco posed, looking more comfortable than she'd ever seen
him.

"He's good, isn't he?" Pansy sidled next to Hermione, a smile playing on her lips. "He was
born for it."

Hermione nodded. "He always did like the spotlight."

"That's a very polite way to call him an attention whore."

Hermione turned to watch as a house elf dressed in a tuxedo stationed himself at a miniature
host stand. A line of diners - humans and elves alike - wound from the dining room to the
main doors. "This is really something else. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Draco never goes for boring, that's for sure," Pansy sighed. "He calls it cutting edge, I call it
risky business. I'm all for a house-elf owned business - they're surprisingly shrewd creatures.
But I worry the novelty will wear off."

"I suppose we have to hope the food and service will speak for themselves."

"Indeed."

Hermione turned back to watch Draco, still posing for the photographers. One of the
reporters stepped forward, holding his wand under his mouth like a microphone. "Mr. Malfoy
- any comments about your newest romance? We've heard speculation that you've been seen
with your ex-wife's sister."

Draco chuckled good-naturedly. "That's quite a fantastic story, isn't it? While I love Daphne,
she is a sister to me and nothing more."

The reporter nodded, and suddenly, his gaze landed on Hermione. He smiled. "Is that
Hermione Granger I see?"

Draco turned back to look at her, then returned his focus to the eager reporter. "Yes. She's a
guest at the opening tonight. You might remember she was always quite a champion for
house elf rights." He motioned for her to join him.

Hermione remained rooted at the spot. She was supposed to lie low. She most certainly didn't
want to be interviewed alongside Malfoy. Pansy pushed a hand at her back, urging her
forward. Hermione hesitated until Pansy hissed in her ear - "Go, or they'll say you were too
busy moping over Ronald Weasley."

Hermione sighed, plastered on a calm smile, and stepped toward Draco. He gripped her
elbow as she joined him, and a jolt of electricity tingled up her spine. "Hello," she said, trying
her best to look confident and unconcerned.

"It's a surprise to see you here, Miss Granger," the reporter said, shoving his wand toward her
mouth. "Are you a guest or a date?"

Draco leaned toward the wand, his hand sliding to her back. "That's quite enough. I'm
keeping my personal life private." He pulled her close for a moment, squeezing her in a way
that was far too affectionate for their barely-civil relationship.

The reporter started speaking again, but Draco held up a finger. "I apologise, but dinner will
be served soon. Have a fantastic night." He turned, arm still around Hermione, and led her
toward the back of the room.
"What in Merlin's name was that, Malfoy?" She looked back to the lights still flashing
repeatedly in their direction. "You're keeping your personal life private? That implies that I'm
part of your personal life. Are you mad?"

"Better they think you're part of my personal life than my security."

"Oh, because having a woman protect you is just beneath you, isn't it?" She tore herself away
from his grip, stumbling backward a few steps.

"Calm down, unless you want to be on the front page for a scandalous lovers' spat."

"I'll calm down when you let me do my job, Malfoy."

"Fine. Accompany me to the table, and keep an eye out for threats - as I hired you to do."

Hermione steeled herself, focusing on the distraction of scanning the room. Draco had
extensive security stationed around the restaurant, and Theo's charm was strong. Behind the
host stand was a mixture of tables - some sized for a witch or wizard, others smaller to
accommodate the house elf guests. The wait staff was already busy, taking orders and filling
drinks for the excited customers.

Silently, she followed Draco as he approached the host stand. She could now see that the
house elf wore a silver name tag bearing the name Kevin, and she couldn't help but snort.
Draco turned to give her a quizzical look.

"Kevin?" she mouthed, eyes flicking back toward the elf.

Draco then spoke aloud. "Good evening, Kevin. Miss Granger requests your best seat in the
house."

"Of course. Anything for Mister Malfoy and his Miss. Kevin already seated your friends just
a moment ago. It is Kevin's favourite table, very private." Kevin grabbed a stack of menus
and led them to a small table, where Pansy and Theo were already waiting with full glasses of
wine.

"I bet you're on the front page already, you hussy." Theo grinned, holding his glass to
Hermione. "Cheers."

The wine glass at Hermione's spot filled independently. She picked it up and clinked her glass
against his. "I pray not."

"I've been dying to know what you've been up to since school, Hermione."

She raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

Theo frowned dramatically. "Are you implying I follow gossip? I'm deeply offended."

Pansy sipped her drink, then rolled her eyes. "Theodore Nott, no one has ever cared more
about gossip than you. You're a premium subscriber to Witch Weekly."
Theo narrowed his eyes at Pansy. "Trollop." He turned back to look at Hermione, chin resting
on his open palm. "Tell me all about Ron Weasley. Did you really cheat on him with Viktor
Krum?"

"No. I haven't even seen Viktor since I was a teenager. It's not nearly as salacious as you
might hope. Ron and I were just ill-suited for each other."

Draco cleared his throat. "Meaning you finally realised he's a moron?"

"He's not a moron." Hermione watched gratefully as her wine glass filled to the brim once
more. "We're just different. Ron wanted me to stay home and have babies. I wanted to start
my business. We're better off apart."

Draco was silent for a moment, then nodded. "I don't doubt it."

The conversation was silenced as a house elf came to deliver a delicious beet salad and a
plate of bread rolls. Hermione's mouth watered as she eyed the food - she'd always enjoyed
good food, and it had been months since she'd indulged. All discomfort aside, there
were perks to having Draco Malfoy as a client.

The dinner was incredible, and the conversation wasn't as bad as Hermione had expected.
Draco and Theo joked easily, and Pansy had a caustic wit that Hermione found herself
growing rather fond of. Perhaps it was the endlessly refilling wine, but she was warm and
languid by the time she finished her dessert course.

"This was excellent," Hermione said, finishing the last bite of her chocolate torte.

"Draco has a knack for picking the best," Theo mused. "He did hire me after all."

"I hired you because no one else would," Draco said. "But, to your credit, I have kept you
around."

"Which is a compliment, because he's not above sacking friends. Do you remember when he
hired Gregory?" Pansy snickered. "What a disaster."

"Gregory? As in Gregory Goyle?" Hermione looked at Malfoy.

Malfoy swirled the wine in his glass. "The worst decision of my life. I felt sorry for him - he
also couldn't get a job anywhere. Ex-Death Eater and all. I hired him as security at the hotel.
On his second night, Theo and I found him ignoring his duties to get his dick sucked by some
random witch he'd met in the lobby."

"The best part," Theo laughed, "was that he wouldn't even stop when Malfoy found him. He
was like 'Hold on, I'm almost finished' while Draco just stood there with steam practically
pouring from his ears."

Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth. "He just…kept going?"

Draco nodded. "Wasn't even a bit bothered. He finished, yanked up his trousers, and then
asked me for a raise. And he didn't say goodbye to the woman on her knees. She just stood up
and wandered away."

Theo clapped a hand against the table. "I lied before - the best part is that he didn't even zip
properly. His soft little cock was still hanging out during the whole conversation."

Hermione couldn't hold back the laughter that rolled through her. "That's absolutely filthy. I
have never needed anything less than to think about Gregory Goyle's flaccid penis."

"Imagine having to see it. It's cemented in my brain for all eternity." Malfoy drained his
wine.

Pansy held up her glass. "Cheers. To never having to see or, hopefully, hear about Gregory
Goyle's cock again."

"Here, here." Theo clinked his glass against hers. Draco and Hermione followed suit.

Hermione leaned back in her chair. This was one of the strangest experiences she'd had - ten
years ago, she would've called Draco Malfoy a straight-up war criminal. Pansy Parkinson
would have been dubbed a vapid, mean girl. Theo would have been just another Slytherin.
And yet, tonight, she had almost enjoyed herself.

Theo looked around the room. "Can we wrap up? I have another engagement to attend."

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "Another engagement? Is this the secret boyfriend you've been so
tight-lipped about?"

Theo winked. "Maybe. But you won't be getting the details you're so desperate for, Pans. I
think this guy could be the one."

"I swear, you're being secretive just to irritate me."

Hermione set down her drink. "As fun as this has been, I tend to agree with Theo. We should
discuss an exit strategy. The restaurant is clearing out and we most certainly don't want
Malfoy to be the last to leave. That just makes him an easy target."

"We normally take Polyjuice in the bathroom just before we exit. Theo and I will go to the
restroom but forgo the potion. I'll walk out the front. Theo, Pansy, you'll head out the back."
Draco stood, pouring a large handful of galleons on the table. Hermione was sure it would
cover their meal and a generous tip three times over.

"What about me?" she asked.

"You'll come with me."

She chewed her lip. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"You're tasked with my safety. What do you think?"

Hermione sighed. Exiting the restaurant with Malfoy would only fan the flames of whatever
rumours had already started. But he was right - she was tasked with his safety. Leaving his
side at his most vulnerable would be a disservice to the job she'd been hired to do.

"Okay. I'll leave with you, since you're my client. "

"Excellent. Restroom, Theodore?"

Theo and Draco left the table, leaving Pansy and Hermione in a semi-awkward silence.

Hermione propped her chin on her palm, still relaxed from the wine. "Do you like working
for Malfoy?"

Pansy shrugged. "Of course. Should I not?"

"I just mean… didn't you two used to date?"

"As teenagers, Granger. Not all of us are holding onto the poor taste of our sixteen-year-old
selves. Draco saved Theo and I. Not all of us managed such successful reinventions. I
couldn't get a job anywhere after I left Hogwarts. Draco hired me knowing that I had no idea
what the fuck I was doing. He's the reason I was even given a chance in this industry. I know
you think very little of him, but he's a good person."

"I don't think little of him, Pansy."

"You think you're better than him."

"I don't." Hermione shook her head. "It's been ten years. I don't think I know anything about
him, to be honest. Not enough to judge, at least."

Pansy's expression softened slightly. "Just, please, give him a chance. He's not as tough as he
acts."

Hermione was about to respond when Malfoy and Theo returned to the table.

"Ready?" Malfoy held out his hand to Hermione.

She ignored it and stood, smoothing the skirt of her dress over her thighs. "Ready."

Pansy and Theo moved toward the back of the restaurant while Draco led Hermione out past
the host stand and into the main lobby. Outside the building, a crowd of people had
congregated on the sidewalk - a mixture of reporters, photographers, and curious bystanders.
One woman had used her wand to spell the words Marry Me Next, Malfoy in glittering pink
font above her head.

"It's been a while since I've had to do this part," Malfoy mused, running a hand through his
blonde hair.

"Me too." Hermione smiled. "But now I have a new trick to get me through."

"Is that so?" Draco pressed a palm to the glass door and started to push it open.
"I just have to remember this can't be worse than looking at Gregory Goyle's dick."

Draco cracked a laugh just as they exited. Hermione couldn't help but notice how magnetic
his smile was - and she wasn't sure she'd ever seen one before. Yes, she'd seen him laugh at
someone's expense. She'd seen his mouth quirk in sarcasm. But this was different. It was
almost electric, the kind of joy that makes people want to take some for themselves. The
screaming fangirls suddenly made more sense than last week.

She followed closely behind him as they pushed through the crowd.

"How's your night, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Is it true that you and Astoria are reconciling?"

"Hermione, are you and Draco an item?"

"Draco, I love you!"

Hermione kept her eyes trained on the cement as the voices blurred into a meaningless din of
white noise. In all the chaos, she didn't notice at first when Malfoy reached his hand behind
them and grabbed hers, intertwining their fingers. He gently tugged her forward as the crowd
pressed against them in a frenzied crush.

Finally, they broke free from the crowd. At that exact moment, a girl no older than ten
stepped toward them with a long-stemmed rose. "For you, Draco!"

Draco reached out his hand to accept the flower. A sense of wrongness pricked at Hermione's
brain. She reached forward and intercepted the rose, wrapping her hand around the stem. Her
skin tingled on contact. Immediately, she knew her instincts had been right. She dropped the
rose into her skirt, wrapping the fabric around its stem.

"Malfoy, we need to go now. Call a Healer." Her body was already starting to feel wrong.
She stumbled slightly, her vision blurring.

She was floating outside of her body, watching from the sky. The crowd hadn't even noticed -
anyone looking from a few feet away would think she'd imbibed a bit too irresponsibly and
was now leaning on Malfoy for support. The photographers didn't even seem to notice. And
then she felt the pull of apparition as they left.

They were in Malfoy's penthouse. She could barely walk - each step felt like wading through
a pool of wet cement. He pointed his wand at the conference table, and it transformed into a
buttery leather couch. Gently, he led her toward it.

"Sit down, Granger."

She lowered herself. "The flower. Malfoy, it was poisoned."

He nodded. "I assumed as much. Do you still have it?"

She released her grip on her skirt, and the rose tumbled to the carpet. "You should have the
Healer take it for testing. Are they coming soon?" Her vision was swimming in front of her
eyes - Malfoy's face was nothing more than a shadow.

"St. Mungo's is sending one of their best Healers as soon as possible. What do you feel?"

"I'm just dizzy." She braced her hands on her bare knees. "And like I can't think straight. And
I'm cold."

Draco removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you." Despite the strange sense of softness creeping into her brain, a small part
of Hermione screamed to remain normal. She felt out of touch with her own body. It was
horrible to begin with, but to be this way around Malfoy made it far worse - like being fully
nude. A wave of nausea overcame her. "I think I'm going to be sick."

As if from nowhere, Malfoy pressed a large cauldron into her hands.

She clutched her fingers around it. She would not vomit in front of him. She'd rather die.

She leaned forward and retched into the bowl. "Fuck."

A pair of hands - Malfoy's, she presumed - pulled her hair into a messy knot atop her head.

It felt like another hour of dizzied vomiting before the Healer - a petite witch by the name of
Dawson- arrived. Dawson immediately gave Hermione an anti-nausea draught and then
gingerly picked up the rose with gloved hands to inspect it in another room.

After a few minutes, Healer Dawson returned to the room and sat down on the far end of the
couch. Hermione, exhausted, was curled to the opposite side with her knees pulled to her
chest.

"Do you know what the poison was?" Draco folded his arms over his chest.

"It's an interesting blend - but yes. It's a mixture of dizziness draught, befuddlement draught,
and most surprisingly, Veritaserum. The potioneer was quite talented to be able to
manufacture it in a way that could be absorbed through skin. I've never seen anything quite
like it."

"None of those things are harmful, exactly."

"She'll be just fine. The effects should wear off by morning - but, until then, she'll be a bit
dizzy and confused. And, of course, honest. I'd keep her stationary for now, otherwise the
dizziness may induce another round of vomiting."

"Thank you, Healer Dawson."

The Healer left quickly, and Draco joined Hermione on the couch. She groaned. "I feel awful.
I'd like to go back to my room."
"I think it's better if you stay here."

"You said it yourself - none of those things are harmful. I'll be fine."

He swallowed. "Right. But they're not harmless . You can barely walk, Granger. You'll stay
here with me until you're feeling better."

She tipped her head back. She felt too sick to argue. "As you wish."

"That flower was meant for me. "

"Yes."

"But it wasn't dangerous. It would've made me act a bit foolish. And overly honest. But it
wouldn't have killed me."

Hermione dropped her knees and leaned back into the couch. "It seems someone didn't want
to hurt you. Physically, at least. I only held it for a moment before I realised. A bigger
dosage would have had me stumbling around professing all my deepest, darkest secrets to
anyone who would listen."

"You have some dark secrets you want to share, Granger?"

She flicked her gaze up at him. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"That's not fair, and you know it." Hermione could feel everything in her body pushing her to
open her mouth and spill every thought. The part of her that still maintained control yanked it
back.

"You're right." Draco leaned forward and braced his arms on the coffee table.

Silently, Hermione studied the patchwork of tattoos on his skin. She could make out a few on
his left arm - a detailed anatomical heart, a swan, and a mountainous landscape wrapped
around his bicep.

"I like your tattoos." She hadn't meant to say it out loud.

He turned to look at her, the corner of his mouth rising slightly. "Do you?"

She nodded. "They're beautiful. Like art."

"Astoria hated them. Said they looked cheap."

"Astoria looks cheap."

"Honest Granger is fun." He turned to face her fully.

"Let me see."
He scooted closer, holding out his left arm to her. She grabbed his forearm and flipped it so
that his Dark Mark was visible. The snake and skull were almost entirely hidden by a frame
of vines and flowers. Somehow, he had taken something ugly and made it undeniably
beautiful. She ran her fingertips over the ink, letting out a soft sigh.

"I'll take that as approval?"

"I considered getting a tattoo after the war. It felt like such a big ending and I wanted to
commemorate it."

"I wouldn't have pegged you for the type, Granger. Why didn't you?"

"Ron didn't approve."

"And you listened? That doesn't sound like you." Draco studied her with that expression that
made her insides squirm.

"How would you know? You don't even know me."

"I know enough."

She straightened. "I bet you didn't know that I massively fancied you for about three months
in first year. I was convinced you were a tortured soul under all the bravado. Fortunately, my
crush was extinguished the moment you called me a mudblood."

Malfoy remained silent for a moment, his expression unchanged. His throat bobbed as he
swallowed. "I shouldn't have said those things. I was a stupid child, just trying to use the
worst weapon I could."

"Well, it had the intended effect. I never found you even moderately handsome again. Until
now." She cringed. She didn't mean to say that. The Veritaserum was clearly hitting its peak.

He smirked. "You find me handsome?"

She nodded, forcing herself to look him in the eye. If she was going to make a fool of herself,
she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of appearing ashamed by it. "Who doesn't?"

"Fair."

"I haven't had sex in almost two years."

Malfoy coughed, seemingly taken aback by Hermione Granger saying the word sex.

"After the divorce, I went a little wild. But I found I didn't like casual sex as much as I
thought I would. Ron was inside every girl he could get his hands on - and there I was,
wishing for a connection. There hasn't really been time for connection lately, so… it's just me
and my hand."

To his credit, Draco didn't even flinch. He touched his thumb to his lower lip, then continued.
"What about a middle ground? Friends with benefits?"
"I don't have many friends, as you might notice. I'm most certainly not sleeping with Harry.
And as much as I like Ginny, I prefer the company of men."

"You need to look beyond your circle, Granger. An acquaintance with benefits, you might
say."

"Are you offering?" Her voice came out surprisingly low, almost flirtatious.

"Maybe. Are you interested?"

Her heart thundered against her ribcage. "Maybe."

No, her brain screamed. You are very much not interested. The idea of having sex with
Draco Malfoy is gross and very bad.

And yet, another part of her brain screamed to accept his offer. Malfoy was attractive. And
seemingly not a complete monster. Most importantly, he didn't matter. They could fuck, let it
all get blown to smithereens, and it would be no harm done. The perfect casual, not-casual
encounter.

Mercifully, he changed the subject. "I'm honestly surprised you're not with Potter. I always
assumed it would be you two."

"You and the rest of the world, unfortunately." She closed her eyes momentarily as another
wave of dizziness washed over her.

"There's no love lost between Potter and me - but the fact that you chose Weasley over The
Boy Who Lived is baffling."

Hermione re-opened her eyes. "Sure, I thought about it when we were younger. It made sense
- but I never liked him in a romantic way."

"And wasn't he madly in love with the female Weasley?"

"Molly or Ginny?" Hermione deadpanned.

Malfoy snapped his fingers. "Ginny. That's the one. Are they together?"

"You're strangely invested in the romantic lives of my friends, Malfoy. But for the record, no.
They broke up a few months after the war. They're still good friends, though."

"Huh." Malfoy kicked his feet up on the couch. "She always seemed like a fiery one. Bet
Potter couldn't keep up."

"That, and he's extremely gay." Hermione snapped, then paled as she realised what she'd said.
She slammed a hand over her mouth. While Harry was comfortably out to all of their friends
and family, he hated the spotlight. He despised the idea of his sexuality being dissected by the
press, which is precisely what would happen if he came out publicly.

"I'm not going to tell anyone. Don't worry." Malfoy drew an imaginary zipper across his lips.
"I never would have said that if not for this fucking potion. That's not my information to
share."

"I'm not in the business of outing people, Granger. I kept quiet about Theo until he was ready.
I'm capable of having secrets." He seemed to notice her increasing panic. "Tell you what,
Granger, it's time to get you to bed to prevent any more accidents. We can discuss my earlier
offer tomorrow, once this potion has worn off."

She nodded dumbly and started to stand, then stumbled and braced herself against the couch.

"Let's not have you retching all over my suite again. Up you go." He lifted her into his arms
with impressive ease.

Her embarrassment at needing to be carried by Draco Malfoy was briefly abated by his scent.
She buried her face into his shoulder. He smelled like mint. And pine needles. "You smell
like Christmas," she murmured against his shirt.

Malfoy said nothing as he carried her down the hallway and gently deposited her into his
enormous bed.

"I am not sleeping in your bed." She pressed her face into the deliriously soft pillow. If she'd
thought her bed was luxurious, his was next-level.

"I'll sleep on the couch." He pulled the covers over her, tucking them just under her chin.

"Fine. Because you're my client." She closed her eyes, exhaustion permeating her body.

"Goodnight, Granger."

She had the best sleep of her life.

 Treacherous
Chapter Notes

I got confused and thought today was Sunday - so... enjoy a chapter a day early!

Chapter Three - Treacherous

Nothing safe is worth the drive.

Hermione blinked her eyes open. She was in a hotel room - but not her hotel room. The
previous night was a blur. She remembered the restaurant opening and leaving with Malfoy.
She recalled the poisoned rose and being apparated to Malfoy's suite.

She remembered the Healer. And a blurry conversation with Malfoy afterward - about tattoos,
perhaps. The rest was only a foggy image of colour and sound.

She sat up. A cup of ice water sat on the nightstand, and she gulped it down gratefully. Her
whole body ached. If she didn't know better, she'd blame her current state on the unending
wine at dinner. The door to the bedroom creaked open. Expecting to see Malfoy, she tugged
the sheet over herself. Despite being fully dressed, she felt desperate to put something else
between herself and his eyes.

Instead, Theo entered, holding two cups of coffee. "Morning, sunshine. You look like shit."

She ran a hand through her hair - well, she tried. Her hand got stuck in a mass of curls
halfway through.

Theo set the cups of coffee on the nightstand, then pulled his wand from his pocket and
pointed it at her. "All better."

She touched her hair again; the curls were smooth and defined. "I appreciate your priorities."

He shrugged. "As our boss would say, image is everything."

"Your boss, Theo. Where is he, anyway?"

"Early meeting. He wanted to let you sleep it off. Which is touching considering he usually
bumps my meetings up a half hour when he knows I'm hungover."

She yawned widely. "I'm not hungover."

"Close enough. Draco told me about the rose."

"I don't understand why someone would choose those potions," Hermione admitted.

"Actually." Theo plopped onto the bed, crossing one leg over the other. "That's what I wanted
to talk to you about. Whoever did this knows Draco. Well."

Hermione sipped her coffee, burning her tongue slightly. "What makes you say that?"

"Can you imagine if Draco had been the one dosed and he'd started stumbling and confessing
his deepest thoughts to those reporters? His stalker wasn't trying to kill him. They were trying
to kill his reputation."

"And you think that's more threatening to Draco than homicide?"

"Absolutely. As I've said - image is everything to Draco. He was born into one that he didn't
want. And he's spent ten years crafting a new identity. You can't possibly understand the level
of effort and patience it took to shift the world's opinion of him. It's his lifeline. He cares
about what people think more than he'd ever admit."

"Makes sense," Hermione said. "I've been thinking about something else, about the flower."

"Oh?"

"Draco's watch didn't alert him. Neither did my bracelet. The person wishing him harm
wasn't nearby. A little girl was the one who handed out the flower."

"You think the stalker gave the rose to the girl to avoid detection?"

She nodded, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. "Precisely. It was cold out - she had
gloves on, so she wasn't impacted by touching the rose. Which tells me two things - this
person planned this thoughtfully. And they're above harming a child, at least."

"So they're a stalker with morals. Interesting. You're not an idiot, Hermione Granger."

"Is that your Slytherin way of calling me intelligent?"

Theo winked. "Shh. Don't tell anyone."

"I wonder if we can talk to some of the photographers from last night. Perhaps the girl is in
the background of the photos - that would help us find her identity and question her about the
rose."

Theo held up a finger. "One moment. Accio Witch Weekly." Within seconds, a magazine
flew into the room, right into Theo's outstretched fingers. He dropped it into her lap.

She looked down. "You have to be kidding me."

The photograph had been taken just as she and Malfoy exited the restaurant. He was
laughing, face alight with humour. She was beside him, looking upward with what could only
be described as adoration. The lights of the camera illuminated them against the dark
backdrop as if they were glowing. It looked like the movie poster for a muggle romantic
comedy. The script above their heads was even worse: Malfoy Finds Love With Golden Girl,
Hermione Granger.

"There's a whole article detailing the timeline of your love story," Theo quipped. "Apparently
you've been sneaking into his bed since before his divorce. You slag."

Hermione sighed and flipped the magazine open to view the attached article. "For Merlin's
sake, they asked Harry for a comment? It's barely been twelve hours."

"I know you're focused on righteous anger at the moment, but take a look at the photos. Do
you see the girl in any of them?"

Hermione sighed, scanning the pages. There were several additional photos, all just as
damning as the first. The worst showed Malfoy's fingers entwined with hers, tugging her
gently through the crowd. If she didn't know better, she'd believe the story. Not only did they
look positively happy in these photos, but they looked good together. She wasn't naive
enough to ignore the reality that the media would latch onto this rumoured romance. The
Gryffindor Princess and reformed ex-Death Eater? It was compelling.

"I don't see the little girl in any of these."

"You're in luck. There's an article in the Daily Prophet, too. Accio Daily Prophet!"

The Daily Prophet had taken a slightly different angle with their coverage. Hermione
Granger Soothes Broken Heart with Malfoy Fling, it declared. And despite several photos of
their evening, none showed the little girl. One side-by-side compared the image of her
"crying" while picking up takeaway to the one of her holding Malfoy's hand: The beloved
war hero was glowing as she exited the opening of Malfoy's newest venture, a far cry from
just a few weeks ago as she mourned the upcoming wedding of her ex-husband, Ron Weasley.

"This is positively absurd." She incinerated the paper with the tip of her wand.

"And yet, there's more!" Theo exclaimed. " Accio Magical Times, Enchanted News, and
Wizarding Lives of London!"

Hermione scanned each publication - though the angle of the stories shifted, the theme was
the same: the entire wizarding world was thoroughly convinced she was madly in love with
Draco Malfoy. Most pegged her as the pursuer - a desperately horny witch, using infallible
Draco Malfoy as a rebound. Even worse, not a single picture showed the mysterious girl with
the rose.

"Nothing." She pushed the stack of papers toward Theo. "I'll write up a description to share
with the team. Best thing we can do is keep our eyes out and question her if at all possible."

"Too bad. Take comfort in the knowledge that you look fire in these photos. Nothing like the
sad, frumpy woman I've seen in the news lately."

"It's not my fault that reporters want to photograph me while I'm picking up dinner and
groceries. I don't usually get dressed up to buy toilet paper."
"Maybe you should start."

"A world of no." Hermione's eye caught the date stamped at the top of the Daily Prophet.
"Shit."

"What?"

"I have a meeting in less than an hour. I need to go."

She drained the last of her coffee, then rushed out of the bedroom and toward the lift.

Once she was safely back in her suite, Hermione showered and changed into one of her own
outfits - a pair of fitted black trousers, a crimson blouse, and a black blazer. She'd scheduled
today's meeting weeks ago and couldn't believe she'd nearly forgotten. This was her concern
in accepting this job - that it would be a distraction from the bread and butter of her career.
Money was necessary, but jobs like Draco Malfoy weren't why she'd started her company.
She couldn't lose sight of what mattered in all the glitz of Malfoy's world.

Her client, Jacob Waverly, was a young wizard just out of his teens. He had been working as
a shopkeeper in Diagon Alley for the past six months and sought Hermione's help after being
continually forced to work extra hours without pay. He was a new father and barely scraping
by. She'd almost said no to yet another unpaid job, but then he'd shown her a picture of his
newborn daughter, and she couldn't resist. The poor man was hardly home to see his child
and had nothing to show for it.

Hermione made her way down to the lobby. The entrance was relatively quiet for the first
time since she'd arrived. A few guests sat on the couches just beyond the check-in desk, but it
was blissfully empty of reporters and photographers. As she made her way toward the main
doors, Malfoy approached from the street. He wore a black peacoat, the shoulders dusted
with snow.

"You're alive, Granger."

She nodded but continued walking. "Barely. And in a rush to meet with another client."

Draco turned to follow in her direction. "Where are you off to?"

"Diagon Alley - a shop called Ludwig Fineries. Are you familiar?"

"No. And if it were true finery, I would be. What's the case?"

She stepped out of the building and onto the sidewalk, instantly regretting that she'd forgotten
her winter coat. She cast a subtle warming charm over herself. "The owner has been
underpaying his employee - shorting his checks by as much as half each week. On top of that,
he's forcing the employee to work nearly double the hours."

"What an arsehole. And what's your role in this?"

"The employee can't afford true legal representation. He hired me instead, to firmly remind
his employer of the potential legal ramifications of his actions."

Draco was nearly out of breath as they turned a corner. "How do you move so fast, Granger?
Your legs are far too short to move at this speed."

"Maybe you should exercise, Malfoy. Unfortunately, you can't buy physical fitness," she said,
refusing to slow down. "Are you intending to follow me the entire way?"

"Why not? I'm a dedicated boss, after all."

She stopped suddenly and his shoulder nearly collided with hers. "You are not my boss."

"Fine. I'm a dedicated client. I'd like to see you do your work. Call it curiosity."

She continued walking, picking up the pace. "Just don't get in the way. Please. I do things my
way and don't need you intervening."

"I'll be quiet as a niffler."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

They walked silently the remainder of the way to Charing Cross Road, then stepped inside
the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was still serving its famous breakfast and smelled delectable
inside. A few patrons looked up from their plates as they entered but then returned to their
food and conversation. Hermione smiled at the barmaid, a tall woman named Helena.

Hermione looked suspiciously at Draco. Not a single person seemed phased by his presence.
While it was true that the crowd at brunch was older than the usual fan, there were a few
tables of younger witches who would most certainly be excited to see Draco Malfoy in the
flesh. They glanced up but then returned to their conversation without so much as an excited
giggle.

"Why isn't anyone looking at you?"

"Notice-Me-Not Charm," he shrugged. "They see me, but they don't see me. Not unless I let
them. Until then, they interpret me as an insanely handsome, but anonymous stranger."

"Good thinking. The last thing I need is a hoard of brainless fans to interrupt my work."

After exiting out the back of the pub, Hermione tapped on the brick wall to gain access to
Diagon Alley. She would never forget how exciting her first trip had been - fumbling
alongside her overexcited parents as they made their first contact with the wizarding world.
She still felt a flurry of excitement whenever the bricks moved to reveal the bustling
storefronts behind. As always, it was a reminder that magic was lurking behind every facade,
no matter how ordinary things appeared.

"Ludwig Fineries is right here." Hermione pointed to a small store with a bright purple door
painted with silver stars.
"Cute."

Hermione pressed the front door open, and a small chain of bells tinkled to indicate their
entrance. Behind the front counter stood Jacob Waverly. Hermione was taken aback, again,
by how young he looked. But even his youth couldn't hide his exhaustion, evident in the dark
circles beneath his bright blue eyes. He bore the expression of someone twice his age.

"Miss Granger." He smiled. "Thank you for coming. Mr. Lowell is in the back."

She smiled, forcing her expression into soothing calm. She was always good at making her
clients feel safe. "Perfect. Take a deep breath, Jacob. Do you mind asking him to come up
front?"

"Of course." Jacob swallowed, shaking slightly, and disappeared into the back room. He
returned only a moment later with a severe-looking older man dressed in a velvet suit the
colour of bananas.

"Hello. Are you Mr. Ludwig Lowell?" Hermione stuck out her hand.

"Yes." Mr. Lowell shook her hand, then stepped back slightly. "And you are?"

"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm the owner of Granger Magical Protection Agency."

"Ah." Mr. Lowell stroked his wispy white beard. "I thought I recognised you. To what do I
owe the pleasure?"

"I'm here regarding some complaints of employee maltreatment." She offered a soft,
affirming nod toward Jacob. "It appears that Mr. Jacob Waverly has been underpaid on his
last eight paychecks."

Mr. Lowell cleared his throat, cheeks turning slightly red. "I'm not sure what you're talking
about. It must be a mistake."

Hermione pulled a large file from her charmed pocket and opened it. "I have a copy of Mr.
Waverly's employee contract that indicates his weekly wage was agreed at one galleon per
hour. At his contracted forty-hours per week, this should result in a biweekly paycheck of
eighty galleons. I also have copies of his last eight paychecks, which show a payment of
fifty galleons."

"I fear you're wasting your time, Miss Granger. Mr. Waverly frequently comes in late and
leaves early, leading to his reduced pay."

"Oh, I'm not quite finished. I have a copy of Mr. Waverly's time sheet - which has been cross-
referenced with surveillance of this business - to show that he's been working between fifty
and fifty-five hours a week over the last two months. Not only is he being grossly unpaid,
he's working beyond the legally allowable rate under wizarding employment law. There are
hefty fines for these things, Mr. Lowell."

"Are you threatening me?"

Hermione shook her head, then placed a hand against the counter. "Of course not. I'm simply
informing you that should the Ministry be made aware of such transgressions, the financial
impacts on your business could be dire."

She eyed Jacob, who looked somewhere between elated and terrified. She nodded softly, then
turned back to Mr. Lowell. "I have a document outlining the amount of back pay owed to Mr.
Waverly, to save you the trouble. I have no doubt you'll have that check ready for him by the
end of the day."

Mr. Lowell opened and closed his mouth a few times, his face red and sweaty. "Of course,
Miss Granger. All a misunderstanding, of course."

"Glad to hear it." She shook Mr. Lowell's hand. "I'll make sure to stop by in a few weeks
from now to ensure no further misunderstandings have taken place."

"E-excellent, Miss Granger."

"And as a friendly reminder, the fine for retaliation against an employee for reporting labour
abuse is even higher than unpaid wages. Enough to throw even a thriving business into
bankruptcy."

Mr. Lowell nodded furiously. Then, suddenly, he seemed to notice Draco, who was still
standing by the front door with his hands in his pockets. "Draco Malfoy? Is that you?"

"It is." Draco smiled. "I thought you looked familiar, though I'd quite forgotten your name
and your little shop. You know I'm an investor in Perfectus brand, yes?"

"I do. If you ever were to consider-"

Draco held up a finger. "I'm still speaking."

"My apologies, Mr. Malfoy."

"The owner of Perfectus has been considering opening a location in Diagon Alley. This spot
would be ideal."

"Wh-what are you saying, Mr. Malfoy?"

I have a strong influence over the property management of Diagon Alley. It wouldn't be
difficult for me to share with the property owners about your breach of contract in regards to
underpaying your employee. I doubt the property owners would be too fussed about renting
the space to another, more trustworthy business if that were the case."

"I understand." Mr. Lowell was now shaking in a near-panic. "I'll ensure no more
misunderstandings happen moving forward."

Draco's demeanour shifted back to charm and saccharine. He clapped Mr. Lowell on the
shoulder. "Excellent. Pleasure chatting, Mr. Lowell. Why don't you go get some air? You look
a bit warm."
Mr. Lowell nodded and stumbled past him into the street, his chest heaving.

Jacob Waverly darted past the counter to pull Hermione into a hug. "You were amazing.
Thank you."

"It was nothing, Jacob," Hermione said. "Please make sure to call me right away if he tries
anything funny. And if you decide to apply somewhere else, promise you'll use me as a
reference?"

"Of course." Jacob dug into his pockets, pulling out a handful of coins. "I know it's not much,
but please take this as a thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't pay before."

Hermione reached forward and closed Jacob's fingers over the money in his palm. "I
appreciate the offer, but I can't accept. I took your case because you deserve the help. Use
that money for your little one."

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Truly. And thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I appreciate you both."

"Good luck, Jacob."

Hermione and Draco stepped out of the shop and into the noisy street. In the distance, Mr.
Lowell was pacing, clearly still mid-panic from their encounter.

Draco smiled, shaking his head. "You took that case for free? Are you mad, Granger?"

She shrugged. "It's the whole reason I started my company, Malfoy. As an Auror, I was
assigned people to help. Did they need my help? Of course. But there are so many people out
there who need private help - the Ministry won't do anything and they can't afford other kinds
of support. Jacob Waverly couldn't afford legal representation. Does that mean he just accepts
being taken advantage of?"

"I don't disagree. But it's not surprising that you're struggling to pay the bills, considering
you're working for no money. Do you do this often?"

"I wouldn't say it's rare."

Malfoy looked up to the sky and let out a long breath. "You're something else, Granger."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He ignored her question. "Let me take you to lunch. You've earned some free food at the very
least."

Hermione accepted. She was prideful, but not enough to turn down a meal on someone else's
dime.

After a delicious meal at the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione and Draco returned to the hotel and
stepped into the lift.
Draco looked at her reflection as the lift ascended. "Did Aurelia let you know about the event
next weekend?"

"No, not yet."

"There's a charity ball on Saturday. I attend every year. The proceeds go to buy school
supplies for Hogwarts students who otherwise couldn't afford them. It's an exclusive event -
not one where the rest of the team will be able to attend, including my security team. The
organisers insist on their private security. I'm allotted one guest. In the past, that was typically
Astoria."

"Makes sense." The lift doors opened to Hermione's suite.

Draco placed a hand over the doors to prevent them from closing again. "You'll attend as my
plus-one."

She smirked. "Will I?"

"It's one of the contracted events."

She nodded, stepped into the suite, and then shrugged off her blazer. "Will you have the team
send me anything I might need to know in order to prepare?"

"They'll get you everything by tomorrow morning."

"Thank you." She turned away.

"One more thing, Granger."

"Yes?"

"Have you had some time to consider what we discussed last night?"

"What do you mean?"

He tapped his long fingers against the wall of the lift. "The suggestion I made."

"You'll have to be a bit more detailed. Last night is mostly a blur, I'm afraid."

Draco's expression shifted. "In that case, it's not worth revisiting."

"Okay, well… let me know if you change your mind."

He nodded. Hermione could only characterise the look on his face as frustration. Or perhaps
disappointment. She watched as the lift doors shut completely, leaving her alone again. Part
of her was deeply curious about Malfoy's suggestion - another part of her thought it might be
better not to know.

She laid her blazer over the back of the couch and used her wand to light a fire. She sunk into
the sofa, kicking off her heels. A copy of the Daily Prophet sat in the middle of the coffee
table, mocking her. The coverage annoyed her no less than when she'd read it that morning.

Hermione was no stranger to how finicky the press could be. Though coverage had been
mostly sympathetic toward her over the years, the articles had rarely covered the thing she
wished they would. Her business was usually mentioned briefly in a longer story discussing
her relationships. There had been a profile in Witch Weekly four years ago when she was
named one of the most promising witches under 25. Even that coverage had spent a
frustrating amount of time discussing her skincare and fashion preferences rather than the
ethos behind her business. Hermione had never said it aloud but often felt she received less
credit than Ron and Harry for her contributions during the war. The way the press treated her,
even now, pushed on a bruise that still existed just beneath the surface. All the intelligence,
bravery, and work ethic in the world weren't enough to move her from the role of love
interest to main character.

With a sigh, she picked up the Daily Prophet. As she lifted it, a small, folded piece of
parchment fell to the floor. She picked it up and unfolded it.

Red letters spelled out a clear message: STAY AWAY FROM HIM.
 Slut!
Chapter Notes

Thank you so much for the generous kudos/subs/comments - I'm thrilled that people are
enjoying this little story of mine. This chapter is one of my favorites to write, and I can't
wait to hear what you think.

Chapter Four - Slut!

But if I'm all dressed up / they might as well be lookin' at us / and if they call me a slut / you
know it might be worth it for once

The note didn't bother Hermione as much as it did everyone else. As soon as she'd alerted the
team, they went into hyperdrive. As Hermione later learned, each room in the hotel had an
assignment of deliveries for the day - fresh flowers, snacks, and - of course - a new copy of
the Daily Prophet. In a large back room of the hotel, just off the lobby, sat rows of carts. Each
cart was specific to a room, and after they were fully loaded, a staff member used a charm to
send the items to their designated spots. Whoever slipped the note into her Daily Prophet
would have had to understand the system and gain access to the staff room in order to slip her
the note.

Hermione tried to point out repeatedly that the handwriting on her note was different than the
ones Draco had received. She thought it more likely that a staff member with a crush was
angry about their alleged romance. Still, it was good to be cautious. Theo added a charm to
her bracelet to include anyone intending to harm her, and she did regular sweeps of her room.
It was all she could do. In the grand scheme of things, a note was the least scary thing she'd
encountered in her twenty-eight years.

"Granger? Are you there?" Hermione's eyes drifted to the chandelier - she'd finally figured
out that it was where the visitor voices broadcasted from.

"Hi Pansy. Come on in."

The lift doors opened, and Pansy stepped in, holding an enormous garment bag.

"My dress, I take it?" Hermione eyed the bag suspiciously. It looked far too big to be
anything she'd be comfortable wearing.

"Yes." Pansy laid the bag gingerly against the sofa. "I know you're going to make a fuss, but
please keep in mind that this dress cost more than some people's homes."

"To be clear, I wouldn't have chosen a dress that cost one-one-hundredth that amount. That's
on you."
"True." Pansy shrugged, then unzipped the bag to reveal mounds of dark blue tulle. She lifted
the dress and held it up in front of her. "Take a look."

Hermione couldn't deny that it was stunning. The dress was so dark that it was nearly black.
The straps were tied at the shoulders in delicate bows, and the front dipped in a low V. While
the bodice was fitted and structured, the skirt was constructed of countless layers of tulle that
fell in waves to the floor. The fabric was clearly a riff of the lobby ceiling - it had been
charmed as a replica of the night sky. Constellations scattered across the dress, and every few
moments, a falling star could be seen shooting down the length of the skirt. It was nothing
Hermione would have chosen for herself, but it was breathtaking. A veritable piece of art.

"Wow." Hermione reached out to touch the fabric, dragging the tips of her fingers against a
cluster of glittering stars. "It's incredible."

"It's too bad I'm starting to like you, Granger, because my jealousy is through the roof. I
might have to kill you and take your place."

"Do you want to try it on, Pansy?"

"No." Pansy shook her head, but Hermione noted a glimmer of excitement in her expression.

"Put it on! We have time."

"Oh, fine. Only because I know you won't shut up about it." Pansy stripped off her own
clothes and stepped into the dress. It was slightly oversized on her thin frame, but it adjusted
to a perfect fit as soon as she pulled the straps over her shoulders. Pansy twirled, and the skirt
fanned out widely.

"It looks amazing on you. Maybe you should go as Draco's date."

Pansy laughed. "And listen to his self-important monologue all evening? I think I'm good."

"He is a touch self-important, isn't he?"

"A touch? That's generous, Granger." Pansy momentarily admired herself in the mirror, then
reached to unzip the dress. "If I don't take this off, I never will."

"Does it have to be returned after the event?"

Pansy allowed the dress to pool on the floor at her feet and stepped out of it. "No. Draco paid
for it. It's yours."

"You should take it after I wear it. I won't need a dress like that again, beautiful as it is."

"And you think I have an event to wear it to?"

"You could shorten it. Something tells me you'll be far more adept at finding a use for it than
I will."
"Hmm." Pansy inspected the dress. "Maybe. Are you only offering because I said I was
starting to like you? Because it's not that serious. We're not friends now or anything."

"Of course not." Hermione crossed her fingers. "Never."

Three witches that Pansy dubbed her "team" arrived at the suite a little while later. The ladies
fluttered around Hermione rapidly, doing her hair and makeup with little regard for her
opinion. When they were done, Hermione stared in the mirror for a long while, unsure how to
feel.

Her curls had been twisted into an elegant updo, with strands of golden stars woven
throughout. Even her makeup was on-theme to her dress, with tiny stars painted at the corner
of her eyes and the tips of her eyelashes dotted with gold. She felt entirely unlike herself, and
perhaps that was the appeal. She was playing dress-up, wearing a costume that allowed her to
feel just a touch bolder. She turned away from the mirror and clasped her charmed bracelet
around her wrist.

Last but not least, she pulled out the necklace Theo had brought for her earlier that day.
Nestled inside the star-shaped locket sat a Knut - one that was now an emergency portkey
back to Malfoy's penthouse. After reviewing the security plan for the party, Hermione had
pointed out the severe lack of exit strategies beyond apparition. There were no nearby floo
access points, meaning that leaving quickly would be impossible if they were separated from
their wands for any reason. She'd suggested the emergency portkey - which she'd used in
prior jobs - and Theo loved the idea.

At precisely seven, Malfoy's voice filtered through the chandelier. "Can I come in?"

"Yes." She awkwardly stationed herself by the couch, unsure how to stand in the extravagant
dress.

The lift doors opened, and Malfoy stepped out. He said nothing for a moment as his eyes
travelled over her, not a hint of shame as he appraised her slowly. "You are a vision,
Granger."

"You look nice as well, Malfoy." He looked a lot more than nice. His tuxedo was the same
dark blue as her dress, almost black unless scrutinized. His shirt was charmed with the same
night sky, constellations stretched across his chest. The colour brought out the hints of blue in
his grey eyes and the darkness of his thick lashes. She was reminded - yet again - why
women and men were inclined to go to pieces for Draco Malfoy.

He smirked, seemingly well aware of just how much she noticed him. "Shall we?"

Hermione took his outstretched hand, a strange thrum moving through her veins.

The charity ball was like nothing Hermione had ever seen. Though they had entered through
the unassuming facade of a small office building in downtown London, the interior revealed
an opulent mansion with multiple levels to explore.
The hardwood stretched out onto a dance floor just inside the main doors. Despite the chilly
weather outside, the room appeared to be at the height of spring - flowers of every type filled
the space. Throughout the room, cherry blossoms sprouted directly from the floor, their pink
flowers scattered on the ground like confetti. Bubbles, each cradling a tea light, floated
gracefully through the air, casting a celestial glow against the walls.

"This event gets more preposterous every year," Malfoy murmured as they entered the room.
He braced a hand against Hermione's lower back and smiled as a few photographers near the
door snapped pictures. "The press is confined to the main perimeter. You won't find them
inside, though you'll encounter plenty of curious onlookers."

Hermione's gaze drifted upward, drawn to the captivating sight of the balcony overlooking
the heart of the main floor. From what she could see, imposing oak trees surrounded the
space, branches ablaze with autumnal orange and red hues.

Draco noticed her attention to the second floor. "The theme is Seasons of Change. A bit
gauche, if you ask me." His hand travelled to her upper back, and leaned toward her ear.

"You look miserable. Smile. "

She forced a smile just as a photographer snapped their photo. He dropped his hand from her
back. "Better."

As they ventured further into the room, Hermione observed the mix of attendees around her.
She vaguely recognised a handful of people, though only from the pages of Witch Weekly.
Muriel St. Clair, a famous singer, was twirling around the dance floor with her date. Lenore
Star, a Veela and beloved model, was draped across a couch with a glass of champagne. Even
as the Golden Girl, Hermione had never been privy to such an exclusive event. She'd been
invited to parties and asked to speak on many occasions, but this was something else. She
hadn't decided yet if she liked it, though a small thrill ran through her as she realised she was
getting a chance to look behind a curtain that most people never would.

"Draco!" A petite blonde in a hot pink gown approached with an infectious smile. As she
drew nearer, Hermione recognised her as a former schoolmate - Daphne Greengrass, the
sister of Malfoy's ex-wife.

"Daphne." Draco pulled her into a familiar hug, drawing her upward until her feet lifted from
the ground. "It's good to see you."

She slapped his arm playfully. "Put me down, you monster."

He gently lowered her to the ground. "You remember Hermione Granger. From our school
days?"

Daphne nodded, then pressed a hand to her chest. "Of course. It's nice to see you, Hermione.
The tabloids are quite enamoured with the two of you these days."

Hermione offered a polite nod while absently twisting her bracelet around her wrist. "You
know the press, they'll make a story out of anything."
Draco inclined his head toward Daphne. "Is she here?"

"You know she wouldn't miss this party, Draco."

"It always was her favourite of the year," he said before straightening. "Have a nice evening,
Daph. It was good to see you."

"It was. I know it might feel strange, but I'd love to get lunch sometime and catch up. You
may not be my brother-in-law anymore, but you're still family to me." She hugged him once
more, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Have fun, you two."

Hermione watched as Daphne disappeared into the crowd. "You two seem close."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I never had a sibling growing up. Daphne and I always got on well,
even after I married Astoria."

"Are you concerned about seeing her tonight?"

Draco shook his head. "No. She'll keep her distance from me, I'm sure." His gaze suddenly
shifted just beyond her. "There's a business associate I'd like to speak with. Do you mind?"

"Not a problem. Go on."

Hermione grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby table and started to explore. Draco
disappeared into the throng, which was disconcerting from a security standpoint. However,
she was equipped with her bracelet in case he faced any danger. He had assured her that the
threat at this event was minimal, and based on her knowledge, he was accurate. With the
private security stationed around the room, she felt comfortable enough to explore as long as
she kept her wits about her.

Hermione climbed a staircase to the second floor. As she'd seen from below, the room was
rife with large oak trees that appeared to be rooted directly into the floorboards. Colourful
leaves were scattered about, and a cool breeze wafted through the room. She peered over the
balcony's edge, spotting Malfoy at the centre of the crowd. He clinked glasses with another
man, looking at ease. She watched him for a moment before turning to find another staircase.

She continued upward. Immediately, it was clear that the room was designed to be summer -
the air was hot, and a bright, glaring replica of the sun bobbed in place of a chandelier. Picnic
blankets were spread across the room, and several groups of people lounged on them, pulling
treats from baskets. Hermione continued to the final floor.

As she'd expected, the fourth floor was intended to be winter. A smiling house-elf handed her
a fur shawl as she stepped into the room. She shivered immediately at the shift in temperature
and tied the shawl around her icy shoulders. Snow fell from the sky, landing on the marble
floor in white specks. The tables and chairs were constructed of ice, though she was shocked
to find they didn't feel cold when she brushed her knuckles against one. Hermione finished
her champagne and set it on a table. Almost immediately, a house elf trotted up to her.

"Would miss like a hot cocoa?"

"Yes, thank you." Hermione accepted the steaming mug. The rich scent of chocolate filled her
nostrils, and she cupped it tightly.

Just as she began to savour her cocoa, a cleared throat disrupted her solitude. She turned to
find a slender brunette dressed in a black gown adorned with glistening diamonds from head
to toe - Astoria Greengrass. She was delicate and prim, a living porcelain doll. A younger
Hermione would've felt uncomfortable in her presence, comparing her own sturdy
musculature to Astoria's fine angles and smallness.

Hermione steeled herself. "You must be Astoria."

Astoria frowned, red lips pinched. "Must be. Are you enjoying your evening with my
husband?"

"Your ex- husband, you mean?" Hermione corrected.

"Details." Astoria waved a hand, dismissive. "I suppose he's off networking, leaving you to
fend for yourself. Some things never change."

Hermione took a sip of her cocoa, maintaining her composure. "I'm content exploring on my
own."

"I bet you are," Astoria remarked coolly.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Astoria pouted for a moment, then shifted her expression into something harder. "No. I'm not
worried about you ."

"No?"

Astoria continued. "Draco has discerning taste. He wouldn't sully himself with someone like
you. I'm sure he's got some angle for keeping you around, but I don't believe for a moment
that he'd have any romantic interest in Hermione Granger. Draco's standards are impossible
to meet, as I'm sure you'll soon find."

Hermione couldn't bring herself to feel anything but pity for Astoria Greengrass. Despite her
attempts to seem threatening, her cruelty was a poor mask for her heartbreak. Hermione
cupped her mug in both hands. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

"I'd stay away from him if I were you." Astoria glared at Hermione once more before turning
and stomping away, her hands clenched to fists at her sides.

Stay away from him. The note. Could Astoria be the one who'd sent it? It would make sense -
she had every reason to be angry. She'd lived in the hotel for years. She would have the
access and the knowledge to hide the note. Hell, she could probably have found her way
directly into Hermione's suite. Of course, Hermione had previously considered the possibility
that Astoria was behind the threats. They'd started around the time of the divorce
announcement, and she had ample motive. It was on-the-nose, but Hermione often found that
the most straightforward answer was the right one.
She set her mug on the table and approached the stairs. Whether or not Astoria posed any real
threat to Draco, Hermione felt compelled to ensure his safety. It was her job, after all.

Hermione found him back on the first floor, his fingers wrapped around a glass of firewhisky,
the amber liquid glinting in the soft glow of the room. He smirked as she approached. "I see
you ventured up to the winter floor?"

A shiver danced down her spine as his hand extended to brush away a few lingering
snowflakes from her shoulder. "Oh," she breathed, "I must have missed that."

"Dance with me."

Hermione hesitated. "I'm not much of a dancer."

"Now, how would it look if my own date refused to dance with me? One song."

Her resistance crumbled. "Fine."

Draco pressed a hand to her back and led her to the dance floor just as a slow tune began to
play from the enchanted set of instruments in the far corner. One hand found its place on her
waist while the other tangled his fingers in hers. Their eyes locked.

"Are you having a nice evening, Granger?" His voice was velvet, sending a trickle of warmth
over her skin.

"It's been interesting," she confessed. "I ran into Astoria."

He swallowed. "I wondered if you would. How did she seem?"

"Angry. Sad."

"I can't say I blame her."

She tilted her chin upward. "I thought you said the divorce was amicable?"

His voice lowered. "It was. It is. But it's complicated. There were extenuating
circumstances."

Her breath hitched as he spun her gently, then pulled her back into him.

"She told me to stay away from you," Hermione continued. "Just like the note in my room."

"I truly don't think she's a threat, Granger. Astoria is far more fragile than she puts on. She's
spiteful, but not dangerous."

"She doesn't believe we're in a relationship."

He leaned down, mouth ghosting against her ear. "I'm not terribly concerned with whether
she believes anything."
"I can't believe I'm saying this," Hermione whispered, "but if she is behind the threat, it might
be a good idea to be more believable. If she believes there's a chance she'll scare me away,
she might continue her attempts. Or perhaps being more convincing will push her to act and
reveal herself."

He dipped her, then pulled her back to standing. "I'm perfectly convincing. You're the one
who looks moderately disgusted by me."

"I'm not disgusted by you. I'm just…uncomfortable."

He leaned in, their bodies pressed closer and grazed his fingers against her skin. "I make you
uncomfortable?"

She remained silent. She would rather be trampled by a Hungarian Horntail than admit that
her attraction to him caused a wave of discomfort to twist in her gut. It was wrong. And
bizarre. And she didn't know what to do with it.

"Perhaps," he said, his voice dangerous, "we should work on helping you feel more
comfortable."

"I can act, Malfoy." Hermione leaned up so that her lips were against his ear. To an outsider,
it would've looked like an intensely intimate moment. She remained close to him for a second
and then inched backward, allowing him to spin her again. The flash of cameras blinked in
her peripheral vision. "This will be on the front page tomorrow."

"Does that upset you?"

"I don't care about rumours. I've been subject to them my entire adulthood. But their angle is
revolting. According to most papers, I'm just a sex-starved divorcee who is taking out her
frustrations on poor, sweet Draco Malfoy."

"Doesn't sound that false to me. You are a sex-starved divorcee."

She cringed. "Did I tell you something after I was dosed with Veritaserum?"

"Oh, you told me a few interesting things, Granger." His mouth lingered near her ear, his hot
breath fanning against her skin.

She shivered, involuntarily pressing into him. "That's mortifying."

"Don't be ashamed over a dry spell. You just have to take the opportunity to break out of it."

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" She shook her head. "I'm not that
reckless."

"It doesn't have to be me. But, at the very least, you can prove to these onlookers that you're
having the time of your life." He dipped her, holding the pose long enough for a few good
photos to come from the moment.

"And how do you suggest I do that?"

He smiled. "Just remember that you're not looking at Gregory Goyle's dick."

She laughed loudly, dipping her head back. "Must we keep bringing that up?"

"Apparently, it does wonders in getting a genuine smile out of you."

A dancing couple swayed next to them - the woman flashed a haughty look at Hermione,
then turned to her date. "It's a shame that they allow trash like that in an event like this. I bet
Draco brought her out of pity."

Hermione turned back to Draco, sliding her hand from his shoulder to his cheek. "I suppose
it's time that I act a bit more convincing, don't you?"

His eyes darkened. "And what do you–"

She cut him off with a kiss. She pressed her mouth to his full lips, allowing her fingers to
drift from his face to the back of his neck. At first, he remained utterly still, lips firm in
apparent shock. And then he breathed against her, dropping her hand and wrapping both arms
around her waist. He held her firm as she continued the kiss, letting out a small gasp as she
found his tongue with her own. She forgot that they were surrounded by onlookers and
cameras. She forgot that they were Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. The only thing she
could remember was that his kiss felt like nothing she'd ever experienced - simultaneously
hard and tender, both soothing and instigating.

She pulled away from him, breathing heavily. He opened his eyes slowly, dark eyelashes
casting shadows against his cheekbones. "Fucking hell, Granger. You are an excellent
actress."

She dragged a hand across her mouth. "If that doesn't convince them, nothing will."

She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to taste his mouth just once more. She'd kissed
many people in her life - she had a lot of unmemorable kisses and a few that would remain
seared in her brain forever. But she'd never had a kiss like that.

"Weasley's head is going to explode when he sees those pictures. Whatever walnut of a brain
he currently has, it's going to be destroyed tomorrow morning."

"You're an arse, you know that?"

His fingers lingered at her waist as he nodded. A part of her wished they could stay perfectly
still, knowing that a single movement would break the temporary, fragile moment. He
dropped his hand, the sated expression on his face twisting into something else. She turned to
follow his gaze.

Astoria stood just steps from them. Her earlier expression - cruel and angry - had been
replaced by something Hermione instantly recognised - grief. Raw and unadulterated. Guilt
curled in her stomach. What had she been thinking? She turned back to Malfoy. His
expression matched hers - a recognition that despite the spell they were under, it had caused
Astoria pain.
"Granger, I should talk to her."

She nodded fiercely. "Of course. Go. I'll wait."

Hermione drifted to the edge of the dance floor as Draco pushed through the crowd. She
grazed her fingers against her tingling lips. She had been pretending. The kiss was about
optics - and perhaps a bit of vengeance toward the people who assumed she wasn't good
enough for Draco Malfoy. But the buzzing in her chest rocked her off-centre as she relived
the moment in her head. Something about it had felt right, like two pieces of a puzzle fitting
into place.

She was jolted from her thoughts by a tingling heat that leaked from her bracelet to her skin.
Raising her wrist to examine it, she recalled Theo's explanation - the diamonds glowing red
indicated a risk to Hermione, green for Draco. The jewels now shimmered with a pine-green
hue, illuminating the darkened room. She pressed her thumb to the third diamond cluster
from the clasp. In an instant, her body twisted and tugged as she apparated from her spot.

She stumbled upon landing, finding herself on the second level beneath a towering oak tree.
Draco lay on the ground beside her, with another man standing over him with a clenched fist.
Behind them, Astoria stood, hands pressed to her mouth and tears streaking down her
cheeks.

"Daddy, no!" Astoria cried, her voice shaking. "Don't hurt him!"

With a heavy thud, Astoria's father struck Draco's nose, and a stream of blood poured from
his nostrils. Draco made no attempt to defend himself.

Hermione gripped her wand. "Glacius!" A cold blast emanated from the tip of her wand,
encasing the man in ice, his fist still suspended above Draco.

Hermione dropped to her knees. "Malfoy? Are you okay?"

He propped himself up on his elbows and wiped his bloody nose with the back of his hand.
"I'm fine."

"I didn't want him to, Draco. I'm so sorry." Astoria covered her mouth with her hand.

"Florian was defending her honour," Draco spat, sitting upright. "Nothing more than an angry
ex-father-in-law."

Hermione leaned closer and touched the bridge of his nose. "It's broken. Hold still." She ran
her wand over the swollen skin and whispered, "Brackium emendo." The bones shifted back
into place with an unsettling crunch.

Draco winced. "Thank you."

"Why didn't you defend yourself?" Hermione stood and cast a scourgify charm to clean the
blood from Draco's face and shirt.
"The world likes me now, but they'll be happy to cast me to the wolves the moment I step out
of line. If I fight back, even slightly, they'll turn on me. I'd be just another violent ex-Death
Eater. I've given everything to shed that reputation."

"My father knows," Astoria sobbed. "He's one of the people that encouraged him to keep the
peace, always. He knew Draco wouldn't defend himself."

"Your father is a coward. " Hermione helped Draco to his feet. She spared a glance back at
Astoria. "He'll thaw out. Eventually."

After another drink for each of them, Malfoy and Hermione steeled themselves to exit the
party. Hermione knew the photographers would be in full force, especially after the show
they'd been given on the dance floor.

Malfoy leaned down as they crossed the room, his arm firmly around her shoulders. "They're
going to take photographs whether we like it or not. The story we give them is our choice."

She looked up at him. "What story do you want me to tell? You're the client."

"As you're well aware, the real reason is off the table. But the rest is up to you. I could care
less who they think I'm fucking."

Hermione's face warmed at his words. She did a quick pro/con list in her head - the benefits
of a pretend relationship with Malfoy were innumerable from a business and personal
standpoint. Being connected to someone like him would only help the Granger Magical
Protection Agency boom. It helped maintain their cover - why else would she be attending
every event alongside him for the foreseeable future?

The only downside was her discomfort with the concept. Fortunately, Hermione was well-
practised in managing discomfort.

She leaned into him. "I will probably live to regret this, but let's go all in. We're having a
torrid love affair. I am not torn up over Ronald Weasley. And you," she poked his chest with
a finger, "are absolutely besotted by me."

"Besotted? Is this story also a period piece?"

"It's besotted or nothing, Malfoy."

He laughed. "As you wish."

They approached the crowd of reporters, and he turned to face her, his expression one of
devotion. "It was a wonderful evening, wasn't it?"

She smiled at him, trying to remember what it felt like to be in love. "A perfect evening."

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. If she thought she was impacted by their
kiss earlier, something about the press of his mouth to her forehead made her stomach do a
series of disconcerting flips. She'd always found it a bit overdone when Ron did that - like he
was coddling a child. But Draco's kiss felt tender. Worshipful.

"Draco, are the rumours true? You're dating Hermione Granger?"

Draco didn't respond at first, his lips lingering against her skin. Then he stepped back, moved
a stray hair from her face like he had all the time in the world, and faced the crowd. He was
good at this. An impeccable actor.

"All I can say is that I'm absolutely besotted by this woman." He turned back to her, gripped
her by the back of the neck, and pulled her in for a dizzying kiss.

Hermione was nearly breathless when he pulled away and was only halfway aware of the
flashes that overtook the room. She gave her best smile to the crowd as Draco slipped his
hand into hers and apparated them away.
 Out Of The Woods
Chapter Notes

Happy Saturday all! Thank you, as always, for your kudos and comments. They truly
give me so much joy :) A couple of notes - chapter updates moving forward will be
weekly on Saturdays instead of Sundays - it just seems like this works better on my
schedule. You will also see the original chapter count has changed from 16 to 19 - I've
been doing some fleshing out of a few things.

Chapter Five - Out of The Woods

The rest of the world was black and white / but we were in screaming color / and I remember
thinking / are we out of the woods yet?

Draco Malfoy Allegedly 'Besotted' By New Love

It seems that our favourite playboy's newest romance is the real deal. After exiting the annual
Hogwarts Fund Charity Ball with Hermione Granger on his arm, Draco Malfoy declared to
the waiting crowd that he was 'besotted' by his date before pulling her into a passionate kiss.
Witnesses report that Malfoy's ex-wife, Astoria Greengrass, was seen leaving the event in
tears.

Despite his ex's heartbreak, Malfoy seems to be closing the year on a high. 2008 has proved
to be his most profitable year yet, and he's gained the admiration of one of society's most
sought-after witches. Draco's hotel opening in Paris is slated for next weekend - and insiders
have shared that Hermione Granger will "most certainly" be on his arm and decked to the
nines. We can't wait to see what's next for this power couple.

Hermione dropped the copy of Witch Weekly to the coffee table, then took a long drink of her
orange juice.

"Champagne?" Theo raised the half-empty bottle and gestured to her glass.

"Why not?" She watched gratefully as Theo tipped his bottle and poured a copious amount
into the flute.

"I thought you'd have thicker skin, Granger. They didn't even say anything bad."

Hermione sighed and flipped to the article once more. "But I'm reduced to being his new
love. The article mentions Malfoy's business ventures no less than five times. My company
isn't named once, despite a paragraph dedicated to my outfit."
Theo grabbed the magazine from Hermione and dragged his finger down the glossy page as
he read the article. "Well, suck a witch's tit. The patriarchy, am I right?"

Hermione snatched the magazine back from him and tossed it into the rubbish. "I'll have to
remind Malfoy to name drop my company at the next event. This was supposed to be
mutually beneficial, otherwise I wouldn't have agreed to any of this."

"Right," Theo drained his drink. "You look absolutely gutted. I could practically see a tear
in the photo of him groping you."

Hermione glared at him.

Theo continued to leaf through the stacks of magazines and newspapers that had been
delivered to Hermione's room that morning. She made a mental note to tell the hotel staff that
sending her every publication that mentioned her was entirely unnecessary. Draco might've
loved seeing himself from every angle, but she liked to think she wasn't quite that
narcissistic.

"Ooh - you've got mail." Theo handed her two envelopes.

Hermione tore in the first one.

Hermione,

I was thrilled that you accepted the extremely well-paying job from Malfoy. And, of course, I
assumed the press had made some alarming assumptions when your photo was in the paper
last week. But this morning, I was minding my own business, drinking my tea, when suddenly
I see you snogging Draco Malfoy on the cover of the Daily Prophet. Have you gone mad?
Please write back immediately. I've already received a distressed letter from my mum.

Hoping you haven't lost your marbles,

Ginny

Hermione drained the last of her mimosa before moving on to the second.

Hermione,

How are you? It's been a while, and I'm sorry about that. Work has been busy, and I've been
travelling loads. Can we get together soon?

Also, I saw your picture in the Daily Prophet this morning. Are you dating Malfoy? If you
are… I hope you're being safe. Worried about you.

Best,

Harry

Hermione set Harry's letter on the table. Theo grabbed it.

"Is that Harry Potter? You two are good mates, yeah? The Golden Trio… or is it the Golden
Duo, now, post-divorce?"

Hermione refilled her drink. "Harry is one of my best friends. Life has gotten in the way of
our relationship in the last few years, but he'll always be family to me. And so will Ginny,
despite her tendency to over-dramatise everything."

"About you and Harry–" Theo was cut off by the sound of Malfoy's voice booming through
the chandelier.

"Granger? You up?"

Hermione huffed in exasperation. "I'm up. Come in."

The lift doors slid open, and Malfoy stepped inside. He immediately clocked Theo and
smirked. "Having a party without me, are you?"

"I figured Granger was in need of moral support." Theo held up the stack of newspapers and
then dropped them to the table with a thump.

Draco rounded the couch and sat between them, spreading his knees wide. "Be honest,
Theodore. You just wanted a drinking buddy." He lifted the near-empty bottle from the table.
"Did you take this from my stores?"

"What would you say if I did?"

"I'd say this is an 1841 Veuve Clicquot and worth more than your life."

"Oops." Theo quickly snatched the bottle and lifted it to his lips as if worried Draco would
demand the final drop be returned. "It's not entirely my fault, mate. Granger's rage was
practically vibrating the walls. I had to intervene, lest this entire hotel be lit on fire with a
burst of wandless magic."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Rage?"

Hermione slowly crossed one leg over the other, remaining silent.

"Are you angry at me for something?"

She nodded. Theo grabbed a bag of pretzels from Hermione's tray, tore it open, and began
watching with a gleeful expression. "I love a mad woman."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Is this entertaining to you, Theo?"

He crammed a handful of pretzels into his mouth. "Extremely. Go on. Don't let me interrupt
your lovers' quarrel."

Hermione leaned forward, annoyance clear on her face. "This isn't a lovers' quarrel. We aren't
lovers, in case you've both forgotten. This. Is. A. Fake. Relationship."
"Will you just tell me what's got you all bent out of shape, Granger? For a fake girlfriend,
you're surely as irritating as a real one." Draco took a pretzel from Theo's bag.

Hermione pointed to the stack of papers on her table. "There are eleven publications with
stories about us from last night. Every single one mentions your work multiple times. Not
one mentions my agency. I've been relegated to your 'new love.' It's appalling."

Draco nodded. "I see. It's uncouth. And yet I fail to understand how this is my fault."

Hermione felt her face redden. "I suppose it's not. But I'm still angry about it. I've worked too
hard to be reduced to a love interest. I'm not even reaping the benefits of being a love
interest."

"Would you like to reap the benefits of being a love interest?" The edges of his mouth
quirked upward.

"That's not what I meant."

Theo crossed one leg over his knee. "Granger wants her business to benefit, Draco. Not her
vagina."

Hermione leaned across Malfoy's lap and smacked Theo on the arm. "If you don't stop
talking immediately, I will transfigure you into a doorknob."

"No need to be violent. I'm right, aren't I?"

She exhaled. "In theory."

Draco nodded slowly, amusement clear on his face. "You're right, Granger. I'll talk to Pansy.
I'm sure she can find a way to ensure a more balanced perspective. Your business will get the
attention it deserves."

Hermione felt the knot in her chest loosen. "Thank you."

Theo leaned back into the couch. "Ughhhhhh. That was the most boring argument I've ever
had the displeasure of witnessing. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Astoria. She never
missed an opportunity to chuck a shoe at someone's head."

"That's only because it was never your head," Draco said.

"True. Do you remember the time she got you right in the eye with a Louboutin?"

"All too well." Draco rubbed the corner of one eye as if remembering the spike of a heel
nearly impaling it.

Well," Theo slapped a hand on his thigh and stood, "now that I've served my purpose, I've got
plans for the day. Send me an owl if you start bickering again, and it seems interesting." He
stepped onto the lift and blew a kiss as the doors closed.

"He is really something," Hermione mused, standing.

"You could say he's my favourite pain in my arse."

"So." She folded her arms in front of her chest. "What do you need?"

"I came to see how you're doing."

"You know we're not really dating, right? You don't have to worry yourself with my
emotional state."

Draco knelt down and rifled through Hermione's dining cart, then pulled out a bottle of
sparkling water. "Don't read into it. I need my hired security consultant to be in tip-top shape.
Drinking my expensive champagne at ten o'clock in the morning doesn't bode well for either
of us."

"I'm fine. I was frustrated with the coverage, that's all. And now I need to write to both Ginny
and Harry and explain that we're not actually dating. Ginny's going to show up here with her
wand ablaze and Harry's probably calling a Mind Healer as we speak."

"That, unfortunately, would be a breach of contract."

"What?"

"Read your contract, Granger. Providing information about my personal life without my
explicit permission is forbidden per the terms. Admitting that I'm engaging in a false
relationship most certainly falls under that stipulation."

"You cannot expect me to lie to my friends."

He stood, rolling his shoulders back. "I can, and I do."

"You're a prick, you know that?"

Before Draco could respond, a ringing sound came from across the room. It took a moment
for Hermione to recognise the sound. She crossed the room and pulled her mobile phone
from her briefcase. She so rarely used it that she often forgot she even had one.

"Is that a muggle phone?" Malfoy eyed her with a narrowed gaze.

She waved her hand to silence him and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Hermione? This is Kate. Kate Lasley. I hired you a few weeks ago."

Kate Lasley was a muggleborn witch who had reported her muggle husband for abuse.
Hermione had accompanied Kate to his trial a few weeks ago to provide protection. Kate was
terrified he was going to retaliate somehow. Her soon-to-be ex had received an eighteen-
month sentence. It was far too short for what he'd done, but at least he couldn't hurt anyone -
for now.

"I remember. What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Kate cried quietly on the other end. "I'm really frightened, Hermione. Richard has friends.
They're just like him. They won't leave me alone. A black car has driven by my house six
times this morning. I'm sure it's them."

"Can you call the police?"

"They don't do anything until they hurt me, just like they didn't do anything with Richard
until I was nearly dead."

Hermione closed her eyes, sadness brewing in her chest. Kate was right. "Lock your doors.
Can you cast a barrier charm?"

"I already did. It's not strong. My anxiety is so bad that my spells are a wreck."

"It's okay. I'm coming to you. I'll be there soon."

Hermione snapped the phone shut and then looked at Draco. "I have to go. Emergency for a
client."

"What's going on?"

"One of my old clients. Her husband was an abusive monster. He's a muggle - he doesn't
know anything about her magic. He's in prison for the conviction of attempted murder, but it
sounds like some of his mates are driving by her house and making her feel threatened. I'm
going to go check on her, see if I can't scare them away."

"You can't use magic on them, can you? It would violence the Statute of Secrecy."

"Correct."

"Then, what, you're just going to talk to them?"

Hermione nodded. "You've seen what I can do."

Draco moved closer to her. "That was threatening a shopkeeper, Granger. I've seen muggles,
they can be dangerous even without magic. What if these men harm you?"

"I'll be fine. The police won't do anything for Kate. She has no one else."

"At least let me come with you."

"That's really not necessary. I need to go. Now." Hermione grabbed her wand from the table.
Just as she started to apparate, Draco grabbed her hand.

They appeared in Kate Lasley's living room. Hermione dropped Draco's hand and turned
toward him, body shaking angrily. "You can't just grab an apparating person! We could have
splinched. Are you mad?"
He lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. "I'm concerned about the well-being of my
employee."

"I'm not your–"

"Hermione? Oh, thank Merlin." A petite blonde darted out from another room. She wore a
bathrobe three sizes too big, her hair pulled into a messy knot atop her head. "They've driven
by twice since we got off the phone."

"I'm glad you called, Kate. This is my…partner. He's assisting today as an extra backup."
Hermione stepped toward the window and peered between a crack in the curtains. She
watched quietly for a moment, and then, sure enough, a car drove by with two men inside.
From the way the vehicle slowed only in front of Kate's house - and the passenger stared
intently - it was clear that Kate's fear went beyond simple paranoia. "Do you know who they
are?"

Kate nodded. "The passenger is Tommy, Richard's brother. And the driver is their cousin,
John. They're not good guys."

Hermione had dealt with similar cases in the past. It required, unfortunately, a bit of a
loophole in wizarding law. Technically, it was legal. But she was confident that if the
Ministry caught wind of her actions, she'd be in a lot of trouble. It was an unavoidable risk in
her field.

"Kate, I'm going to cast some powerful wards on this house. No one except the three of us
will be able to get in or out for the time being."

Kate nodded furiously, tears leaking from her eyes. "I'm so tired of this, Hermione. I just
want to live my life in peace."

"I know, Kate. You don't deserve this. I'm sorry for what Richard and his family have done to
you."

After casting the wards on the house, Hermione instructed Kate to enter her basement, turn
on the television, and wait. Kate tearfully agreed, leaving Draco and Hermione in the living
room.

"What's your plan, Granger?"

"You know how I said we were going to talk?"

Malfoy nodded.

"I lied. Sort of. I'm going to start with talking. And then I'm going to do a little magic."

"And violate the Statute?"

"Not technically." Hermione peered through the window once more. The car was still
circling. "The law states that muggles cannot be witness to magic. They can't witness what
they don't remember."
Malfoy gave her another solemn nod. "What do you need from me?"

"I'm going to start with the driver. I need you to keep the other one busy - whether or not
that's with magic is up to you. I understand you have your reasons for not wanting to invite
any legal trouble."

Down the street, the car's headlights came back into view. Hermione nodded toward the front
door, her wand gripped in one hand. Malfoy followed her as they exited the front door and
stood on the porch. As expected, the car slowed as it approached the house. Hermione
stepped from the porch and walked toward the near-idling vehicle.

She waved. "Hello!"

The car stopped. Ignition still running, the passenger - Tommy - rolled down his window and
leaned out. "Who are you, little lady?"

"Monica. I'm a friend of Kate's. Care to chat?"

Tommy swung his door open and stepped out. He looked at the house with a sneer. "That
bitch hiding in there?"

"The only bitch I see is standing right in front of me."

That was all it took to set Tommy off. He darted toward her with a fist raised. Immediately,
Hermione raised her wand.

"What the fuck is that?"

“Petrificus Totalus!”

Tommy's arms and legs locked at his sides immediately, and he fell backward onto the grass
with a thumb.

John jumped out of the car, slamming the door. In his hand, a knife glinted in the afternoon
sun. John's gaze was suddenly drawn from Hermione to something else - Draco darted out
from behind her and slammed his entire body into the man, toppling them both to the
ground.

"I've got him, Granger." Draco straddled John, hands pressed to his throat.

Hermione worked quickly. She knelt down next to Tommy. It wasn't challenging to invade
his mind. Tommy was, simply put, stupid. The defences to his innermost thoughts were weak,
and she pushed past them like crystallised sugar. She opened his mind like a book, paging
through with ease. She shredded the pages dedicated to his misdirected hatred of Kate Lasley.
Delicately, she wrote new entries, implanting the thoughts and beliefs necessary to ensure
Kate's safety. When she was done, she yanked herself from his mind - and not particularly
gently.

Tommy was a blubbering mess. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as the immobilised man
shook with fear. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeated, choking on his words.
Hermione touched a hand to his cheek. "Shh. It'll be over soon. Quicker than you deserve,
truth be told."

"Anytime now," Draco hissed.

Hermione's eyes flicked to John, still struggling under Draco's weight.

She petrified John as well. Malfoy breathed a sigh of relief as he rolled off the unmoving
man. Hermione repeated the same steps she'd taken with Tommy. When she was done, John
was in a similar state - crying and muttering his confused apologies.

Finally, Hermione returned to both men's minds and removed any memory of seeing Draco
and Hermione before putting them into a deep sleep. In a few minutes, they would wake with
the implanted memories of tying off a few drinks at a local pub before drunkenly driving to
Kate's house and passing out. Hermione lifted the charm from their bodies, and Draco helped
her load them back into the still-running car.

Malfoy and Hermione re-entered Kate's house and found her in the basement.

Hermione lowered herself onto Kate's tattered couch and spoke softly. "Tommy and John
won't be a problem anymore. You have my word."

Kate bowed her head and cried, splaying a hand to her stomach. "Thank you, Hermione. I just
want to start over. For both of us."

Hermione watched as Kate's hand stroked her lower abdomen. "You're pregnant?"

"Four months. I might sound mad, but it's the one good thing that's happened to me in
years."

"Congratulations." Hermione smiled warmly. "If you ever feel threatened again, call me.
Promise?"

Kate smiled through teary eyes. "I promise. And thank you." She looked at Draco, who
remained standing. "What was your name again?"

"Theo."

"Thank you, Theo."

Hermione drank an entire bottle of water as soon as they apparated back into her suite. When
she was done, she tossed the bottle in the bin and wiped a hand across her forehead. "I'm
exhausted."

"I can imagine. That was incredibly irresponsible, you're aware? You are…indescribable,
Granger."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I'm not sure yet. What did you do to those men?"

"Nothing that didn't need to be done. I erased their hatred of Kate - of all women to be
precise. They were harbouring some deeply-rooted sexist beliefs, so I imagine it'll have some
lingering effects to have it carved out so fully." She shrugged. "I also added something else.
If they even consider harming another person, they'll feel a sudden fear so immense that they
can do nothing but curl into the foetal position and cry for upwards of an hour. For men as
aggressive as those two, I imagine it'll be a rather frequent occurrence."

"I take back what I said. You're not indescribable. You're terrifying."

"Brutality requires brutality."

"I tend to agree." He took a step toward her, an unreadable expression on his face. "You were
always stronger than people gave you credit for. I used to hate you for that."

"You did?"

"I'd been fed the message that you were supposed to be inferior by matter of blood. And then
you waltzed into Hogwarts with far too much confidence for any eleven-year-old, let alone a
muggleborn. I was infuriated."

Hermione chewed on her lower lip, studying his open expression. "Infuriated?"

"My father was insistent that I be the best. The richest. The smartest. The most popular. I was
his heir and it was my responsibility to make him look successful. The fact that I was
continually bested by a - you - drove him mad. I bore the brunt of his anger and I blamed you
for it."

"I can almost understand that."

"That's kind of you." He reached for her arm and lifted it, shoving the sleeve of her jumper
upward.

She knew immediately what he was looking for. The word Bellatrix Lestrange had carved on
her forearm over a decade ago - mudblood. She usually camouflaged it with a charm but
hadn't bothered today, knowing it was hidden under her clothes. Malfoy ran the pad of his
thumb over the word, slow and intentional.

What was once an angry, raised scar had faded to white. An obsessive regimen of healing
salves had resulted in improved texture, but the word was still rougher than the skin around
it.

Ron had always avoided the scar, apparently disgusted by the memory that came alongside it.
She would never forget the look on his face the first time he'd seen her naked. It was as if the
scar was a beacon, pulling his attention from everything else. She would always be broken to
him, a damaged woman with the scars to prove it. She had never felt uglier than that moment.
In the years that followed, she never let him see it again. She couldn't bear to be looked at
like a broken toy.
Hermione watched, curious and confused, as Draco continued his inspection of her arm.
Finally, he looked up at her. As he did, he pulled the sleeve of her sweater back down to her
wrist. "I think of that night often."

"Me too," she admitted.

"I wish I'd done things differently."

She licked her lips, mouth dry. "You do?"

"I should have stopped her. I should have done something other than stand there like a
coward."

"You were a child, Malfoy."

He closed his eyes. "So were you."

She felt a sudden and strange desire to comfort him. She touched his shoulder awkwardly.
"We turned out okay, didn't we? I'm fine. You're fine."

"Are we?"

"I like to think so. Look at everything you've accomplished."

He opened his eyes. "Things. Stuff."

"You're more than things. You're not half-bad." She pushed at his shoulder playfully. "I
forgave you a long time ago."

He nodded. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I find you very impressive."

"Indescribable. Terrifying. Impressive. Which one is it?"

"All of them." He reached forward to thread a hand through her hair.

Hermione allowed herself to meet Draco's gaze. His grey eyes were intense as if he were
trying to see inside her head and unspool her thoughts. Something like fear flickered through
her mind - an unyielding desire to turn away, coupled with an inability to do just that.

He tugged her forward, pressing his mouth to hers. His kiss lacked the softness and
thoughtful precision of the night before. This kiss was hard. Needy. She gasped against him,
pressing her hands to his shoulders. Draco's fingers curled at the nape of her neck, tugging
her hair in a way that sent shockwaves to her nerve endings.

He pulled away, leaving her cold and wanting. She hadn't really kissed him back. She'd been
too shocked to do anything but freeze. But she'd wanted to. She would have if he'd lingered
for just a moment longer.

He wiped a hand against his mouth. "I apologise, Granger. I got caught up in the moment."
"It's alright." She touched her tingling lips. "We've been pretending. It's easy to get confused.
Mistake a partnership for connection."

"Right." He took another step backward. "I should go. I missed several meetings this morning
and I need to have Aurelia begin rescheduling."

"Of course."

"Don't forget the event next week. In Paris. I'll have Aurelia send over the information." He
stepped toward the lift, and the doors slid open. He stepped inside, facing away from her.

"Malfoy?"

He turned. "Yes?"

"Thank you. For your help today."

A muscle hitched in his jaw. "You're welcome."

The doors closed.

 Mirrorball
Chapter Notes

Thank you so much for reading :) Please see the end of the chapter for a content
warning.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter Six - Mirrorball

I've never been a natural / all I do is try try try

Malfoy had kissed her. Really kissed her, like he'd meant it - at least a little bit. Hermione
walked through the situation a hundred more times as she strolled from the hotel to her office.
She tugged her jacket tighter to her chest, trying to block out the frigid cold as she
simultaneously attempted to push the loop of questions from her head. She hadn't prepared
herself for this particular risk of working alongside him - the complication in which she
found herself drawn to him despite her better senses.

Malfoy was clearly caught up in their game. He didn't want her…or did he? She paused for a
moment as she turned into the main lobby of her building. Harry had once told her that her
biggest flaw was never allowing things to be good. She couldn't fault him for saying it - she
was comfortable in chaos. She didn't know how to accept that things could be straightforward
or soft. Even when her heart clung to naive hope, her brain worked overtime to create a list of
all the ways in which things could fall apart.

She swallowed a flood of nauseous guilt that rose to her palate. Malfoy had been surprisingly
vulnerable with her the night prior, yet she'd let her logic shut him down and slam the door.
She stalked up the stairs, imagining she was grinding her worry to dust with each step.
Tonight, she would apologise to him. She'd do better about allowing herself to soften, to open
up to the possibility that things could be moving in a good direction. Hermione stepped into
the hallway, then paused.

The door to her office was open.

She gripped her wand tightly in one hand, then crept toward the office while making as little
noise as possible. Whoever was in her office, Hermione had the element of surprise on her
side. Once only steps from the doorway, she darted inside and pointed her wand at the person
standing by her desk.

"Stupefy!"

The figure dodged the spell, toppling over a lamp in the process. "Merlin, Hermione. What
was that for?"
Hermione blinked in surprise. "Ginny? What are you doing in my office?"

"Trying to get in touch with you, obviously. You haven't responded to my letter." Ginny
pressed a hand to her heart. "Seriously, you scared the shite out of me."

"I'm sorry. I'm a tad jumpy."

"A tad?" Ginny crossed the room until she was face-to-face with Hermione. "You better tell
me what's going on right now. You're dating Malfoy? Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm not. It's a fake relationship," Hermione stuttered. It was a breach of contract, but she
trusted Ginny to keep her secret.

"What are you talking about?"

"A fake relationship," she repeated.

"You're making no sense. Are you sloshed?" Ginny leaned forward and sniffed as if expecting
to find the scent of firewhisky wafting from Hermione's breath.

Hermione spoke again, intending to say: we're in a fake relationship. But as she slowed and
listened to the words coming out of her mouth, she realised she said something entirely
different. "Theo Nott is the most handsome man in London." She tried again, this time to say:
I'm not dating Draco Malfoy. With horror, she heard herself say: "Theodore deserves a raise,
don't you think?"

"You've finally cracked." Ginny's eyes were wide - half-amused, half-concerned.

Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead with a groan. "That wanker. Theo must have
charmed something in my contract so I can't speak about it."

Ginny let out a laugh. "Theodore Nott? As in, from Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded. "He works for Malfoy. And he's quite full of himself, as you can see."

"He always was." Ginny lowered herself into the chair and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm
going to assume this is far more than the papers say. No one would charm you over a simple
shag. Am I correct?"

Hermione tried to nod, but unintended words tumbled from her mouth as soon as she did.
"Theo has a huge penis." She held a hand to her mouth. "Fuck. I am going to hex that man
until he regrets the day he met me."

Ginny laughed, tipping her head back.

"It's not funny, Ginny."

"It's a little funny."

Hermione sighed. "Have you talked to Harry?"

"We're having lunch this weekend. Maybe you can join us?"

"I can't." Hermione shook her head. "We'll be in Paris. Hotel opening. Can you please tell
Harry that I'm fine? And I'll explain more soon?"

"Alright. I wouldn't worry about him too much. I think he's dating someone. He's been too
preoccupied to muster up his typical level of anxious worry. He seems almost relaxed. It's
odd."

"Probably for the best." Hermione looked up at the clock on the wall. "I have to head out on a
job - can we catch up when I'm back from Paris?"

Ginny responded with a wink before exiting.

With a Notice-Me-Not charm firmly in place, Hermione sat on a bench across from Flint
Plaza, London's most prestigious wizarding residential complex. According to Hermione's
information, Astoria had been residing in the penthouse ever since the divorce was finalised.
The amount of money that Malfoy had given Astoria - seemingly without complaint - was
staggering. She could live comfortably for ten lifetimes without lifting a finger. Hermione
saw herself as someone who needed to work; idleness would drive her mad. Still, she couldn't
help but feel a tinge of jealousy that Astoria would never want for anything. It would be nice
to exist without computing numbers and bills ten times a day.

Hermione shivered slightly as she watched the doorman greet an elderly couple entering the
building. Unlike many wizarding establishments, Flint Plaza was perfectly visible to any
muggle. However, anyone who tried to go inside would be met by the ever-present doorman
and a sudden magically encouraged desire to exit.

She hadn't particularly wanted to spend her day tailing Astoria Greengrass - but, as a member
of Malfoy's security, she would be remiss if she didn't take the opportunity to ensure she
wasn't a more significant threat. Malfoy seemed resistant to even considering his ex-wife a
suspect, so Hermione had made up a cover story about visiting friends rather than risking him
interfering. In many ways, Malfoy had proved himself to be an observant and intelligent man,
but it seemed he had a blind spot when it came to his ex.

Hermione's toes were numb by the time she saw Astoria's diminutive figure slip out the
double doors, wearing a green pea coat with a fur collar so large that it nearly obscured her
face. She rose from the bench and followed the brunette, staying far enough behind to avoid
arousing suspicion on the off-chance that her charm faltered.

She soon learned that Astoria was dreadfully boring . She spent several hours shopping,
perusing Burberry, Chanel, and Alexander McQueen - muggle brands Hermione had heard of
but never purchased. Astoria purchased three handbags, all of which looked relatively the
same. Hermione felt a strange thrill as she watched Astoria. It was a window into the life
Malfoy had cultivated in the last ten years. What had he and Astoria talked about? What did
they do together? They seemed to have little in common beyond family history and a taste for
stupidly expensive things.
After finishing lunch at a small cafe off Bond Street, Astoria continued her day. Hermione
tailed her all the way to the entrance of St. Mungos. She cursed under her breath - without a
valid reason, she could not get beyond the welcome witch. She re-cast a Notice-Me-Not
charm for good measure, then entered through the main doors. Astoria slipped out of her coat
and folded it over her arm just before striding up to the blue-haired woman at the entry desk.

"Astoria Greengrass. I have an appointment on level four."

The witch beamed as she looked down at her parchment. "A foetal scan, I see! How
delightful. Are you hoping to get news of a witch or wizard today?"

Hermione couldn't see Astoria's expression, but she imagined it was one of annoyance. Her
entire form tensed before she hissed something unintelligible to the witch.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am," the welcome witch blubbered, eyes wide. "It won't happen again."

Hermione cast an eavesdropping charm as the witch began to whisper. "Should I send the
father up when he arrives?"

"No." Astoria paused, a hint of sadness in her voice. "He isn't able to be here today."

"Okay, dear. You can head on up." The woman opened the doors, and Astoria stomped inside,
her heels clicking angrily against the stone floor.

Hermione curled her hands around the circular DupliScope in her pocket. The tool was an
invention from George Weasley. It was mostly sold for its utility in pranks (or, although
George denied it, for cheating on exams). Despite its childish marketing, she'd find it quite
helpful in her line of business. Hermione stepped toward the welcome witch, the metal disc
cupped in one hand.

"Hello there! I'm here for an appointment on level two."

The welcome witch smiled with a nod. "Name?"

"Hermione Granger."

The witch scanned the document, frowning slightly. "I don't see your name here, dear. Are
you sure you have the correct day?"

Hermione sighed. "I've been so forgetful these days. Can you pull out my file, please?"

"Of course." The woman turned to face a set of drawers, facing her back to Hermione.

Hermione cupped the Dupliscope in her palm and waved her hand over the witch's desk
where Astoria's parchment lay among the mess. She slipped it back into her pocket just as the
woman turned around.

"I don't see any upcoming appointments, I'm afraid. Would you like to schedule one?"
"I must have forgotten. I need to look at my schedule, but I'll reach out to schedule something
once I do. Thank you!" She smiled brightly and pushed out of the main doors.

Outside, Hermione leaned against the exterior brick wall and looked down at the disc. She
pressed her thumb to the tool and watched as words filtered across it.

Name: Astoria Greengrass

Date of Birth: February 13th, 1982 (age 26)

Diagnosis: Viable Pregnancy, Single Fetus

Listed Father: Draco Lucius Malfoy

Prior Notes: Testing indicates healthy pregnancy, A.G. reports emotional disturbance of
anxiety resulting in sleeplessness, lack of appetite, and hair loss. Encouraged A.G. to seek
care from a Mind Healer and take nightly Sleeping Draught.

Astoria Greengrass was pregnant. With Draco's child, allegedly. She didn't appear pregnant,
but that wasn't terribly surprising. It wasn't common, but plenty of spells could be used to
hide a growing bump. Did Draco know? If he did and he was letting Astoria go through this
alone, it was unforgivable. Astoria's reaction at the charity ball suddenly made much more
sense to Hermione. She was carrying a child and, for whatever reason, doing it alone.
According to these notes, she was struggling, understandably. Her anger was valid.

Hermione stood on the street, gulping in lungfuls of icy cold air. She felt no closer to
knowing if Astoria was a threat to Draco. The only thing she'd gained was a desperate and
reluctant sense of grief. Hermione knew she wanted children, but she was hesitant to jump
into parenthood just yet. Ron had been eager to start trying for a child as soon as they
married. At twenty-two years old, Hermione simply hadn't been ready. She often imagined a
tiny baby in her arms, a fat fist curled into her hair. A little girl, perhaps, heavy in her arms as
she read bedtime stories. Those were vague eventualities - dreams she planned to fulfil
someday, but not now - and certainly not then.

Despite her desire to wait, she had relented just after her twenty-fourth birthday. Ron's
firsthand knowledge of pregnancy was limited to his mother, and Molly Weasley seemed to
get pregnant simply by thinking about conception. When the first month of trying passed, he
was disappointed. After six months, he had already started to lose hope. By the time a year
had gone with no pregnancy, Ron had started to act as if he believed Hermione was deficient.
Hermione explained repeatedly that it took many couples over a year to get pregnant. The
fact that it hadn't happened didn't mean it wouldn't. But Ron was incapable of seeing logic.
He quickly pulled away from her.

He had sex with her, of course, in his desperate quest for a child. But it was perfunctory. He
no longer kissed her or asked about her day. He stopped holding her hand as they crossed the
street. Many women would have felt sad, but Hermione's primary emotion had been anger.
One morning, she looked into his empty gaze and realised she no longer loved - or wanted -
him. If something entirely out of her control could thoroughly decimate his respect for her, he
was not the person she wanted to spend her life with.
Hermione pressed her cold hands into her coat pockets and walked the rest of the way back to
Malfoy Residences, feeling sick to her stomach.

Hermione had just hung her coat on the hook when Draco's voice came filtering through the
chandelier.

"Granger? Are you there?"

She sighed, tempted to ignore him. She needed time to think about what she'd learned and
decide the best course of action. She couldn't allow herself to get more entangled in this mess
- there was now a child to consider.

"Granger?"

If she'd learned anything about Malfoy in the last few weeks, it was that he was persistent. He
wouldn't go away as much as she hoped he would.

She looked up at the ceiling, stilling herself with a breath. "I'm here."

"Can I come in?"

"What do you need?"

"We need to discuss the next event."

She relented. "Come in, Malfoy."

The lift doors opened, and he stepped inside, hands pressing into his pockets. He wore a
black sweater, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. "Where have you been all day?"

"I told you, I met up with some friends."

"And how was your time?"

"It was nice," she lied. "Did you know Theo added a charm into my contract that forces me to
spew his praise if I try to discuss our relationship to outsiders?"

Draco's eyebrows raised, and he shook his head. "No, but it doesn't surprise me. Clever bit of
magic."

"If by clever you mean deceitful and manipulative, sure." She reached down to unzip her
boots and stepped out of them.

He grabbed a half-empty bottle of wine from her dining tray and poured two glasses. "We
need to discuss Paris."

Hermione hesitated, then took the second glass from him. "We leave on Friday, correct?"
 "Yes. My staff will ensure your luggage is packed. I need you to review the hotel blueprints
and plans for the opening party to ensure I haven't missed anything in regards to security.
Aurelia will have the parchments delivered to you tomorrow morning." He took a step in her
direction.

"Sounds fantastic." She stepped backward.

"Are you alright, Granger? You're acting cagey. More so than usual."

"Just a long day," she shrugged, then yawned. "I'm exhausted."

She didn't have the energy to unburden herself on Malfoy right now. He was going to be a
father. She could swallow that she was now contractually obligated to keep up the appearance
of a love affair - but that didn't mean she had to allow whatever had been blooming behind
the scenes to continue.

"We need to talk about last night."

"Do we?" She finished her glass of wine, set it on the table, and started to half-heartedly
organise the papers on the coffee table.

"I would like a chance to explain why I kissed you."

She straightened, then propped her hands on her hips. That same sensation of guilt rushed
into her gut. She had to put a stop to this before it hit a level of complexity that would destroy
them both. "I already understand, Malfoy. We've been pretending and you got caught up. I
appreciate your honesty with me last night, and your support. I'm not angry."

"That's not–"

She held up a hand, cutting him off. "Leave it be, Malfoy. We need to be better about
maintaining the boundaries from here on out. Out there, we're engaged in a passionate affair.
In here, we're friendly colleagues, and nothing more."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly. "Understood. Keep an eye out for the papers
from Aurelia. I'll be busy in meetings the next few days, but plan on leaving for France early
on Friday."

"Noted."

Hermione remained rooted to her spot as Malfoy stepped into the lift. He was well-practised
at wearing a mask, but she could see through his calm facade. She'd hurt him, even if it was
the last thing she wanted to do. This had become every bit as convoluted as she had feared.
She mouthed a secret apology as he disappeared from view.

Chapter End Notes

CW: This chapter contains mentions of pregnancy and unsuccessful attempts to become
pregnant.
 I Know Places
Chapter Notes

We're in the last two weeks of the year and time has no meaning - so I'm deciding to
post an extra chapter this week. I'll still update as usual on Saturday. I hope you enjoy,
this was such a fun one to write. Please see below for content warning if you prefer.
Thank you for the kudos + comments, it really does mean the world to me to know
you're enjoying the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter Seven - I Know Places

They are the hunters / we are the foxes

Two thestrals stood atop the hotel roof, harnessed to a massive golden carriage. Adorned with
glossy leather bridles and brass fittings, they kicked their front hooves impatiently. The
carriage was staggering, large enough to carry ten or more people. Hermione sucked in a
breath, eyes locked on the sight before her.

Aurelia stood next to the thestrals, unscrolling a parchment. "You should be all set to head
out whenever you're ready, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy nodded. "Excellent. Thank you for arranging our transport at the last moment. You'll
take some time off while we're gone?"

"Yes." Aurelia smiled softly. "My parents have been hungry for a visit, so I'll be spending a
few days with them. My little sister has been owling me non-stop out of excitement."

"I hope you have a nice time, Aurelia." Malfoy looked at Hermione. "Ready to board,
Granger?"

Hermione shook her head, panic rising in her gut. "Absolutely not. I am not riding in that
thing."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow at her, then gripped her by the elbow. "Are you frightened,
Granger?"

"I'm not frightened. I have something called a survival instinct. Why are we ignoring the plan
I drafted?"

"Your plan was overly complicated. Plus, I detest travelling by train."

Hermione had written up a well-researched plan that involved a muggle train ride into
France, followed by apparition to their destination in Paris. With various intentional charms
and thoughtful planning on their side, she doubted that Malfoy's stalker would try anything
on a train packed full to the brim with unsuspecting muggles. As she'd noted from their
attempt with the rose, the stalker seemed disinterested in harming bystanders, so the crowd
could even be a deterrent. Apparently, Malfoy had decided against taking her professional
opinion.

Hermione wrenched her arm away from Malfoy. "I fail to see how this is a better plan."

"Unless my stalker is very rich or very skilled, the likelihood of them being able to access us
in the sky is slim to none. Theo's already charmed the carriage to be invisible to anyone but
the occupants. Plus, it's more fun than being crammed in a tin can with other people. All that
sweat and body odour." He wrinkled his nose.

"You are deeply and irreparably spoiled, did you know?"

He shrugged. "You can take the Malfoy out of the manor…"

"How long will this take?

"Flying time is about one hundred twenty minutes."

Hermione groaned. Two hours in a nauseating, pretentious, flying death trap. Wonderful. She
stepped toward the carriage, eyes focused on the sky. The sun was just starting to rise, and
her breath was visible in the frosty morning air. Despite the travel arrangements, Hermione
couldn't deny her excitement at the opportunity to travel. Her parents had taken her to France
the summer before her third year in school, but she hadn't been back since. She'd focused so
diligently on growing her business that travel had often come at the very bottom of her list of
priorities. Her only holiday in the last ten years was to Barcelona with Ron in a thinly veiled
attempt to save their floundering marriage. They'd spent the first half of the trip arguing when
he finally decided to return home early. Hermione stayed and toured the city on her own. As
she stood in front of La Sagrada Familia, in awe of its grandiosity, Hermione had a sinking
realisation that she was far happier with him gone. That was the first death knell that led to
their divorce - the irrefutable understanding that being alone was easier than being married to
someone who refused to enjoy her. That night, as she'd indulged in a candlelit meal on her
own, she'd made herself a promise: she would never again allow herself to be an obligation.
Her future hypothetical partner would choose her because they wanted to - not because they
felt they should.

"Are you coming, or will I have to lift you aboard?" Malfoy stood at the top of the stairs that
led into the riders' compartment.

"I've got it." Hermione climbed the steps and followed him inside.

The interior of the compartment contained two wide bench seats on either end, upholstered in
green velvet. A flickering light hung from the centre of the space, illuminating a side table
stocked with food and drinks. Their luggage was stashed underneath one of the benches.
"Get comfortable, Granger. The takeoff can be jarring."

Hermione took a steadying breath, trying to hide her shaking hands, and sunk onto the bench
at the back of the carriage. As she did, a small footstool slid out from under the bench. She
propped her feet atop it. After locking the exterior door, Malfoy slid beside her, keeping a
reasonable distance between them. He'd respected her wishes from their prior conversation,
and his interactions since had lacked even a hint of flirtation or warmth.

With a sharp jerk, the carriage began its ascent into the sky. Hermione gripped the seat
beneath her, her heart nearly vibrating in her chest. She hated flying - broomsticks,
Hippogriffs, and even aeroplanes made her body seize with anxiety. It felt out of control.
Magic was often unexplainable, but she could generally wrap her mind around the mechanics
of it all. A piece of wood flying through the air, keeping a human form astride, was a step too
far for her mind to manage.

The carriage bounced violently, and she let out an involuntary shriek. A small leather-bound
book slipped from Malfoy's pocket and dropped to the floor. He bent over and grabbed it
quickly, slipping it back into his coat. Hermione's breath was tight in her chest, and she balled
her hands into fists in her lap.

"Breathe, Granger. It's just turbulence. Perfectly normal as we're ascending."

She focused on the light fixture, which seemed about to dismount from the intense shaking.
She couldn't muster up a snotty retort as much as she wanted to. She leaned forward and
breathed through her nose to quell the rising nausea in her gut. She felt a gentle hand on her
back.

"Take a look."

Slowly, Hermione lifted her head. Malfoy had pulled the curtain aside, revealing a staggering
view. They were hundreds of feet above London now. She scooted closer to the window and
leaned over Malfoy to look out, breath catching in her throat. The city was just waking up,
lights flickering inside buildings, and people were starting to mill about the streets on their
way to work. A gentle snow fell outside, softening the harsh edges of the city. It all looked so
tiny and fragile, and the beauty of it all was enough to stun Hermione from her near-panic.
She inhaled, feeling like hundreds of fairy lights were glimmering in her chest.

And then her brain remembered why it was all so tiny. She lurched backward. "Close the
curtain, please."

Malfoy yanked it shut without a word.

Her breathing quickened again. She clamped her eyes shut. She was perfectly safe in her
suite. Feet planted firmly on solid ground. She was not trapped in a magical carriage being
captained by skeleton horses.

"What's your favourite book, Granger?"

She kept her eyes tightly shut. "My favourite book?"

"I'm in need of a new read."

"Oh." She sat upright and opened her eyes. "It's difficult to narrow it down, but I quite
enjoyed Matilda as a child. It's a muggle book, so I doubt you've heard of it."

Malfoy shook his head with a half-smile. "I'm surprised."

"And why is that?"

"I was certain you'd say Hogwarts: A History or something equally dry. Full of facts to stuff
into that brain of yours."

"I like learning, yes. But reading isn't just about knowledge. That's something the wizarding
world is missing about literature - there's a lack of art. Muggles read stories for all sorts of
reasons. Sometimes to learn. But also sometimes to see themselves reflected elsewhere. To
make them feel less alone. And other times, it's just about escape."

"And why did you read, uh, Matilda?"

"As a child, it was a fun escape. As an adult, it touches a different part of me. The story is
about a little girl who discovers she has magical powers. She's also quite alone, being raised
by relatives who hate her. And, eventually, she finds a new family - people who see her and
embrace her."

"And you were raised by evil relatives?"

"It's not literal, Malfoy." She tilted toward him. "For many years, I was an orphan. My
parents were alive, but they didn't remember me. And when I read it, it helped remind me that
my life wasn't over just because I was alone. I could find love in other places. It soothed the
ache, just a bit."

His brows pinched together. "Your parents didn't remember you?"

"I obliviated them during the war and sent them away. I knew they wouldn't agree to leave
without me - and they'd have been killed if they stayed. So if I took their memories of me.
Entirely."

He blinked several times. "That must have been very difficult. Where are they now?"

"They're in Australia. It took me nearly five years to recover their memories. I consulted with
a hundred mind healers in that time. Most said it was too risky - that I'd cut too deep, and
returning their memories would cause severe brain damage. I finally found one who was
willing and able to take a slow, steady approach. It took nearly three years to complete the
process. I've only had them fully back for two years now."

"Are they okay, now?"

She nodded. "Thankfully, yes. For years, they knew pieces of me, but out of context. It was
hard to have a relationship during that time. They loved me, but only because they knew they
were supposed to. I think that hurt me more than them. But they lost a lot too - they missed a
whole chunk of my life. Finishing school. Getting married. Building a business. Ending my
marriage. I took that from them."

"I'm sorry you ever felt you had to make that choice." He pulled back the curtain and looked
out the window for a minute. "I forget sometimes that we all made difficult choices we were
far too young to make."

"We were children caught in a war," she agreed. "And I know you've lost your parents, too. In
a way."

"Yes. Choosing to testify was…" He seemed to search for a word for a moment. "Painful. I
love them, despite everything."

Hermione remembered the fear on Narcissa's face during the Battle of Hogwarts. She'd
known then that Narcissa Malfoy loved her son despite the choices she'd made up to that
point. "They loved you too. Clearly."

"They did. My father will never speak to me again - his rage burns far hotter than his
affection. My mother has lost most of her faculties now. She can no longer recall her own
name, let alone mine."

"It must have broken her heart to be separated from you."

He dipped his head. "Yes. But it's the distance from my father that drove her to madness.
They weren't built to be apart. She could've avoided Azkaban if she'd tried, you know. But
my father's fate was sealed, and she refused to invest in a good defense. The papers like to
say that I testified against them, but it's not true. I testified against him. My mother never
even had a formal trial. She gave the Ministry everything they wanted to avoid re-
experiencing her memories in such a public setting. I would've defended her. I tried."

A wave of sadness settled in Hermione's chest. They'd both suffered deeply despite
appearances. "I'm sorry, Malfoy."

"Don't be. Like this Matilda character, I've found my own family. Theo and Pansy are more
than employees. They are my people." He turned to face her once again. "You seem to have
calmed down. A little book talk didn't hurt, it seems."

She shook her head. "You didn't really need a book recommendation, did you?"

"No," he admitted. "But it worked to distract you, didn't it?"

"It did. Thank you." She paused. "You've been exceedingly kind to me."

He tilted his head. "Have I?"

"You know you have. And I've been-"

"Impossible?"

"I was going to say closed-off."

He laughed softly. "That too."

"I'm not very good at accepting kindness. It always feels like there's an ulterior motive. A
hidden dagger, so to speak."

Malfoy patted his pockets. "No daggers, I promise."

"I'll try to remember that."

They sat in comfortable silence for the next hour. Hermione grew the courage to look out the
window again, her mind reeling in awe as the carriage cut through a swath of billowing
clouds. She smiled, splaying her hand against the chilly glass. "It's breathtaking."

Malfoy's eyes fixed hard on her. "It is."

Suddenly, the carriage shook violently. Hermione pulled back from the window, hands
returning to clutch the seat beneath her. "Merlin. Not again."

"We're descending. It always feels a bit rough, but it'll be over soon."

"Yes, when we go hurtling into the ground, it will be over."

The carriage hit another spot of intense turbulence, and Hermione's heart thundered painfully
against her ribcage. She couldn't get enough air, no matter how quickly she breathed. "I.
Can't. Breathe," she huffed.

Malfoy scooted along the seat until they were thigh-to-thigh, then gripped her hand in his.
"Squeeze, Granger. It'll be over soon."

Hermione focused on squeezing his hand in hers as tightly as she could. Nothing seemed to
rattle him, and a part of her envied him for that. She'd always been someone who overcame,
but he seemed to lack things to overcome.

Despite what people believed about her, few things came easily to Hermione Granger. She
clawed her way through, unlike her friends. It wasn't that they didn't work hard, but everyone
seemed to have something that came easily to them. Harry was a natural Quidditch star.
Ginny knew how to win people over with nothing but a smile and feisty remark. Even Ron
could crack a joke without thinking about it. She knew her friends would have argued with
this belief, pointing out her excellence in school. Hermione didn't doubt that she was smart,
but it took work. She remembered Malfoy bragging in the hallways at Hogwarts about never
studying for a single exam - and yet, he aced them. At the time, she'd suspected it was all
bravado. Now, she thought it might actually be true. Hermione studied endlessly to succeed.
Being at the top of the class was hard-won. All she did was try. Constantly. Until her hands
and heart were raw from sheer effort.

"Are you alright in there?" Malfoy waved a palm in front of her face.

She realised she was still squeezing his hand. She released it and wiped her sweaty palm
against her thigh. "Just a spot of disassociation."
He chuckled and flexed his hand. "You've got quite a grip."

The landing on the top of Malfoy Residences Paris was surprisingly smooth, with only a
slight bump as the carriage wheels touched down. The Thestrals squawked happily as several
staff members emerged from the building and offered them water and dead rats.

"What time is it?" Hermione asked.

"Just after seven. Pansy and Theo don't arrive until this afternoon to begin preparations for
the opening. You're free until then."

Hermione smiled as she stepped out of the carriage. The last time she'd been alone in an
unfamiliar city, it had been unwillingly so. This time, she was going to enjoy the freedom.

Hermione would never have admitted it to anyone else, but she'd memorised the Condé Nast
Traveler guide to Paris the moment she learned it was their next destination. After dropping
her trunk at her suite, she exited through the grand lobby and began her walk to Shakespeare
& Company to peruse the books. She left with an armful of texts, and after dipping into an
alley to minimise them to fit in her pocket, she found a small cafe. She ordered a cafe au lait
and a croissant, then settled into a chair just outside. She was tempted to start a new book but
instead observed quietly as people walked the streets.

She spent the rest of her day visiting as many famous spots as possible. If Ron were with her,
he would have hurried her along, annoyed at her desire to linger and experience the
atmosphere of each location. He certainly wouldn't have allowed her to crack open a novel on
the lawn with a view of the Eiffel Tower. The surrounding muggles - shivering in their coats -
eyed her curiously, none the wiser, that she was perfectly cosy thanks to a warming charm.

Alone. That word had caused Hermione so much pain over the last three years. She was
supposed to want a partnership, yet she'd walked away from hers. Ron had called her
cowardly for her refusal to continue trying. Now she understood that he was the cowardly
one for his inability to toss a profoundly broken thing in the rubbish. He would have chosen
togetherness, even if it ruined them both. Alone wasn't a dirty word. She was better this way.

Pansy had selected an exquisite silk gown for Hermione, the colour of eucalyptus. It
skimmed her curves, with an open back that dipped to her lower back. The silver choker she
wore sported a long chain that hung down the back, following the track of her spine. It was
sexy - something she never would have chosen for herself - and she loved it. When Hermione
entered the roped-off conference room to meet Malfoy, Pansy, and Theo, all three appraised
her with varying degrees of approval.

"I knew that dress would be killer on you, Granger." Pansy smiled proudly. "The press is
going to die, thanks to me."

"I think that might be a compliment if I'm not mistaken," Hermione mused. She turned to
face Malfoy, who had not yet spoken. "What do you think? Good enough for your fake
girlfriend?"
"It'll do." A barely noticeable shade of pink flushed in his cheeks.

Tonight was one of the more risky events they had attended since Malfoy had hired
Hermione. The Golden Goblet had been reasonably easy to monitor in terms of attendance. It
was a smaller event, and the only true unknowns existed outside the building. While the
charity ball had presented more unknowns regarding the attendees, it was an exclusive event
with top-of-the-line private security. The hotel opening was huge - and its location in a
foreign city made the security component less predictable. Hermione had asked the security
team to patrol each hotel floor during the event, making it more difficult for anyone to prowl
around the premises. She had also encouraged Draco to complete his interviews inside the
hotel in a room with apparition wards in place, thus making it more difficult for someone to
enter or exit unnoticed.

Hermione lingered near Pansy and Theo as Malfoy opened the main doors and allowed the
throng of reporters inside. Immediately, the camera lights began flashing as Draco posed and
preened. It was indeed something else watching him in front of the cameras - a part of him
seemed to come alive, a piece that otherwise lay in wait when he wasn't in the spotlight.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," he said, waving politely as the lights flashed.

"Can we get a picture of you and your lovely date?" One of the reporters asked, peeking over
the lens of their camera.

"Of course." He spun around, smiling widely when he caught sight of Hermione. "Come over
here, love."

"Wish me luck," she muttered to Pansy and Theo.

"Just don't outshine Princess Draco, okay?"

"I couldn't even if I tried."

Theo winked, blowing her an exaggerated kiss.

Hermione joined Malfoy at the front of the room, allowing herself to relax as he slid his arm
behind her. His fingertips danced against the bare skin of her back, playing idly with the
chain that hung just above the curve of her backside. She smiled, looking up at Draco as if he
were the most handsome man in the world. It wasn't a difficult act by any means - he was
always attractive, but the confidence he mustered in the face of a crowd was magnetic to
witness.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. It would appear to be a normal kiss in a photo,
but Hermione knew better. He was exceedingly careful to respect her boundaries.

Draco leaned close, his breath warm against her ear. "The guests are starting to enter. I'll be
giving a speech in a moment."

She nodded, tiling her chin upward to look at him. "I'll stay nearby. Knock em' dead."

"I'm not sure what that means," he whispered, "but based on conjecture…I will."
He kissed her temple before climbing a set of stairs to a raised platform at the pack of the
room. He stood, smiling at the crowd, with his hands in his pockets. It looked effortlessly
casual - a handsome man who just happened to find himself on stage - but Hermione knew
better. Everything Draco did had a thought behind it, an intention for how it would impact the
carefully curated image he'd crafted for the world. He was all at once humble and powerful,
good-natured and daring.

Draco slipped his wand from his pocket, charmed a quick volume enhancement charm, and
held the wand's tip near his chin. "Good evening, everyone."

The crowd, now a mix of press and guests, quieted as they looked up at him.

"I am so grateful that you've taken time out of your busy lives to celebrate the opening of my
newest hotel. When I first dreamed of opening Malfoy Residences nearly six years ago, I
knew that one of my goals was to open a Paris location. The city of Paris is one of love, art,
and indulgence - and I think you'll find all of that in this establishment. I'd like to take a
moment to thank our fabulous team - those serving you tonight are the talented witches and
wizards who will be working to ensure the smooth operation of this hotel on a day-to-day
basis."

The crowd clapped politely as the witches and wizards dressed in black and white robes
stopped serving to bow.

"Tonight, all I ask is that you indulge. We have excellent food, libations, and conversation
around every corner."

As Malfoy continued speaking, Hermione noticed a flash of movement. Someone was

pushing through the crowd, moving quickly toward the stage. As the figure broke through the
front of the crowd, Hermione gripped her wand. She lunged forward. "Stupefy!"

A jet of red light shot from the tip of Hermione's wand, hitting the woman directly in the
chest. The witch fell to the ground, her head smacking roughly against the hardwood floor. A
second person - a man this time - rushed out of the crowd.

"Aggie! She was just trying to get a photo." He knelt down next to the unconscious woman,
then looked up at Hermione with an expression of rage. "You've injured my wife. What is
wrong with you?" He turned toward the crowd. "Someone call a medic."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione gasped. "I'm trained in basic healing - I can help her."

The man shook his head roughly. "Don't come near her. You've done enough, don't you
think?"

Hermione stepped back, stomach twisting. She yelped as a cool hand pressed against her
back.

"It's just us," Pansy said. "Are you alright?"

"No. I just injured that poor woman."

"You couldn't have known," Theo said, voice low. "She looked like an absolute lunatic,
running up like that."

"My bracelet didn't even heat up. That should have been my first clue that he wasn't in
danger. I just acted on instinct." She ran a hand over her face. "I feel terrible."

"Honestly, it's her fault, Granger. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Don't beat yourself up
over it." Pansy squeezed Hermione's shoulder in a surprisingly comforting manner. "I'm not
going to sugarcoat this, though - there were plenty of cameras snapping during that moment.
These people don't know you're here to protect Draco."

"You're right," Hermione groaned. "I'm going to look like some jealous lover who can't
handle a woman trying to photograph my boyfriend."

"Exactly."

"This job was supposed to be advantageous for my career. All it's done is move my reputation
from obsessed with Ron Weasley to obsessed with Draco Malfoy. Can a woman not exist
beyond her connection to a man?"

"At least it shows an improvement in taste," Theo offered, shrugging. "I'm not opposed to
gingers, but Ron Weasley is…not it."

She swatted him. "Can you go check on Malfoy? I don't dare go close to him or someone will
try to have me committed."

Shortly after, a medi-witch arrived and revived Aggie Garnier before loading her on a
stretcher to be taken for further evaluation. Malfoy found Hermione in a corner of the room,
drowning her sorrows in a glass of champagne.

"Is she going to be okay?" She asked before Draco could say anything else.

"She's fine. A minor bump on the head from her fall. I insisted she be taken in for observation
to avoid a legal nightmare, but she could have continued on with her night if she'd really
wanted to."

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy. It was not my intention to make a scene like that."

"You couldn't have known. You were doing your job. No one is angry at you."

"Aggie Garnier's husband is pretty mad at me," Hermione moped.

"Okay, one person is mad at you."

"And the rest of them think I'm a jealous girlfriend who physically attacked a fangirl."

Draco touched her elbow. "I already made a statement to the present reporters that you
believed I was at risk and were trying to protect me. If anything, they'll run with your history
as a war hero and show you sympathy. I'll issue a written statement to the Daily Prophet
tomorrow, as well."

She nodded. "I appreciate that, Malfoy. Thank you."

"Anything for my little guard dog." He winked.

"Never call me that again. Or I might actually bite."

"Promise?"

"Merlin, help me." She finished her champagne.

"I need to finish my toast for the crowd. I've already asked a few members of the security
detail to remain by the podium, so if anyone else decides to rush the stage, it's taken care of."

"Noted."

Malfoy straightened his tie, then returned to the stage where a glass of champagne awaited
him on the podium. He raised his wand under his mouth again and cleared his throat.

"My apologies for the interruption. I'm pleased to announce that the guest in question is
perfectly fine and receiving medical care as we speak. I won't go on for too much longer,
except to offer my sincere gratitude for all of you for coming out tonight to support this
opening. If you take a moment to look around, the tables around you should be filling with
beverages for a toast."

Hermione watched as hundreds of slim flutes of champagne appeared on the high-top tables
scattered about the room.

"Please grab one - when emptied, twenty of those glasses will begin to glow. Anyone with a
glowing glass will be gifted a two-night stay at any Malfoy Residence. A thank you from me
for supporting me in this journey."

The crowd clapped again, a murmur of excitement bubbling through the room. Hermione
grabbed a glass from the nearest table, holding it between her thumb and forefinger.

"Cheers to all of you for being here tonight." Draco raised his own glass in the air. "Have a
wonderful night!"

Malfoy took a drink and waved at the onlookers as he climbed down the stairs.

"Nice job out there," Hermione said as he approached. She drained the last of her toasting
glass and set it back on the table. "Give me that. I need another drink to drown out the shame
this night has already caused me."

Malfoy handed her the half-full remains of his glass. "Have at it."

She drained the drink, then wiped her mouth. Draco watched her with an odd expression,
almost like he wanted to look away but couldn't. He brushed a thumb over his lower lip, and
she found her gaze focused on his mouth. The sudden image of his tongue on her skin
infiltrated her brain, a strange sensation zinging to her core. Nothing else seemed to matter
except that image, playing on a loop as she leaned closer to him.

He reached out to grip her waist, then slipped one hand around to caress the bare skin of her
lower back. "Gods, you feel incredible," he murmured, eyes hooded. "You're so soft,
Granger."

The slide of his fingers against her skin caused a ripple of shivers to roll up her spine. She
didn't want him to stop touching her - ever. His fingers dipped below the fabric of her dress,
sliding down to trace the lower curve of her back. She tipped her head back with a soft moan
of approval. Her brain's constant script of thoughts melted into nothing but white noise.

"I need you. Now," Malfoy whispered, breath hot on her ear.

Hermione pressed herself into him, his arousal hard against her abdomen. He moved to palm
her arse, the other hand sliding one strap of her dress off her shoulder. He pressed his lips to
the bare skin, and fireworks exploded in her brain. She had never wanted anything more than
she wanted this. The room around her seemed to have melted into nothingness. The only
thing that mattered was him and being touched by him. She ground herself against Draco, and
he exhaled hotly against her wet skin.

"I want you," she whispered, her voice strangled with need.

Draco pushed her backward several steps until she was pressed against the wall, his hands
bracketing her.

"Touch me. I need to feel your hands on me," Hermione begged. She bunched the silk of her
skirt on one side until it hit mid-thigh. Draco's hand crept under the fabric, inching upward to
her centre. He pushed the thin strip of her underwear to the side, then traced one finger
against her slit.

"Gods," he groaned. "You're already wet."

"Please, Malfoy."

He slid one finger inside of her, and she groaned audibly at the sensation. His thumb brushed
gently against her clit. Hermione closed her eyes, pressing herself against him as a breath
escaped her parted lips.

And then suddenly, the contact was over. Hermione opened her eyes. Theo dragged Malfoy
by the arm while someone else gripped her shoulders.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Pansy hissed into Hermione's ear, pushing her toward the
only exit. People were staring at both of them with wide eyes and cameras were flashing, but
Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. She just wanted Malfoy's hands on her again.

Hermione whined. "Why did you interrupt?"

"I interrupted because Draco Malfoy was fingering you in the middle of a crowded room with
reporters present, Granger. If Theo and I had waited any longer, you would have been full-on
fucking for the world to see."

"It was fine," Hermione said as they slipped through the exit and into a hallway.

Moments later, Theo dragged Draco into the room. "I only got him to come because I
promised Hermione would be here," he huffed, brow sweaty. "He put up quite a fight."

Draco yanked his arm from Theo's and strode toward Hermione, eyes dark and heavy. "There
you are."

He gripped her by the upper arms and tugged her in for a bruising kiss, swiping his tongue at
the seam of her lips. She parted her lips, deepening their kiss as she dug her fingers into his
shoulders. Yet again, she was pulled away.

"Down girl," Theo said, holding Hermione's arms firmly at her sides as she struggled in his
grip.

"I'm going to strangle you, Nott," Draco growled.

"Please forgive me for this." Theo let go of Hermione and pulled his wand from his pocket.
“Petrificus Totalus.”

Draco's arms and legs slammed together, and he fell to the carpeted floor.

"Sorry, mate," said Theo.

"You're fired, Theo! Effective immediately!" Draco shouted.

Pansy grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, shaking her. "Granger, think. Does it make any
logical sense that you would willingly engage in a public sex act with Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione thought for a moment. Pansy was right - it didn't make sense. But she'd needed it -
still needed it - so badly. Even as Pansy shook her, all she could think about was getting
closer to Draco and letting him sink into her.

"You both must have been dosed with some sort of lust potion," Theo said.

A lust potion. It made sense. It had come on so quickly. So intensely.

"I feel like I might actually die if he's not inside me." Hermione's heart pounded, and her
centre ached with need.

Pansy gagged. "For fuck's sake. If you mention Draco being inside of you one more time, I'll
Avada myself."

Draco continued cursing loudly as he lay immobilised on the floor.

 "We need to separate them," Pansy said. "If we take them to their respective rooms, they'll
just meet up as soon as we're gone."

"Fair point." Theo stroked his chin. "We take their wands. They can't access the lifts without
them. We can return them first thing in the morning, once this wears off."

"You can't lock us up! We're not animals!" Hermione said, anger replacing her need
momentarily.

"For all intents and purposes, you sort of are, cupcake," Theo said, "at least for now."

Without another word, Theo dragged Malfoy's frozen body down the hallway while Pansy
guided Hermione in the opposite direction toward a bank of lifts. She pushed Hermione
inside once the doors opened up.

"This is the worst day of my life." Hermione sagged against the wall, pressing her thighs
together in discomfort.

"I'm pretty sure tomorrow will be the worst day of your life, doll, considering your little show
will be the most exciting story in every gossip rag across Europe. The good news is that your
little stunt earlier won't even be a blip on the radar anymore."

The lift doors opened up as they reached Hermione's suite.

Pansy dug into Hermione's pocket and yanked out her wand before she could fight back. Her
mind was so focused on the want coursing through her veins that her reaction to everything
else felt dull and hazy. With a gentle shove, Pansy pushed Hermione into the room.

"Have fun." She pressed a finger to her mouth, then smiled. "The showerhead is detachable."
She waved, then disappeared behind the closing doors.

Fuck. Hermione slumped against the couch, heart still racing. She couldn't leave the room
without her wand to activate the lift. She wasn't getting anywhere near Malfoy tonight.

She was going to have to solve this problem alone, yet again.

Chapter End Notes

CW: Some possible dubcon related to the use of lust potion.

 Tolerate It
Chapter Notes

Happy Saturday! I hope you're having a wonderful end to your year. In case you missed
it, I updated an extra chapter on Monday - so make sure you've read that one before
starting here :) Thank you for the kudos and comments. I love reading your thoughts on
everything from Hermione's absolutely trash emotional intelligence to Draco's mystery
stalker. I can't wait to hear what you think as this continues to unfold.

See the bottom of the chapter for a small CW.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Chapter Eight - Tolerate It

I know my love should be celebrated / but you tolerate it

When Hermione woke the following day, a dining cart was pressed beside her bed. A teacup -
clearly charmed to stay hot - steamed next to a plate of pastries. She sat up, pushed the covers
down her legs, and gripped the cup in both hands.

She was mortified. She had practically ridden Draco Malfoy in the middle of his hotel
opening, with an audience of two hundred people. With the clarity of morning, Theo's
assertion was now clear. It had to have been a lust potion. She'd been entirely consumed by
the need to have and take. If Malfoy had asked, she would've sunk to her knees and sucked
him off without a care in the world.

Thank Merlin he didn't get a chance to ask.

Gingerly, she stepped out of bed. She was still wearing her evening gown, the fabric bunched
around her waist and sticky with sweat. She opened the wardrobe, which had been filled with
the contents of her trunk, and changed into a pair of silk pyjama pants and a cable-knit
jumper. Finally, she wound her mass of curls into a messy bun atop her head and padded out
of the bedroom in the living area.

She was not alone. Pansy and Theo sat on the velvet couch, eyeing her tensely.

She groaned. "How did you two get in here?"

Pansy held up Hermione's wand. "I took this, remember?"

"That's right. Seems an awful security risk to leave Draco and myself wandless."

"I warded the rooms, and we took turns patrolling the lifts between your rooms," Theo said.
Hermione's mouth went dry.

"Don't fret, Granger. I didn't hear anything. Fortunately." Pansy shuddered.

Hermione sipped her tea. "I presume I have you to thank for the drink?"

Theo nodded. "Those lust potions can have a nasty after-effect. They're a party until they're
not."

"A party? I let your boss manually stimulate me in a crowded ballroom."

Pansy snickered. "You did do that."

Hermione's eyes travelled to the golden lift doors at the far end of the room. "Is he alright?"

"He did unsack Theo, so it's a start. He'll be down in a few minutes. You can see for yourself.
First, we thought you might want to see this." Pansy slid a copy of The Daily Prophet from
her lap. On the front cover were two photographs - the first, a red spell sparking from the tip
of her wand and hitting poor Aggie Garnier to the ground. The second showed Hermione
pressed against the wall, the strap of her dress pushed to the side, and Draco's hand clearly
snaking under her skirt. In the moving image, her eyes were closed and her mouth slightly
ajar, breathing heavily. There was no doubt what was happening in either photo.

Jealousy Overtakes Golden Girl at Malfoy Residences Paris Opening

Draco Malfoy's most recent hotel opening has proved to be the most scandalous event of the
year thus far. Hermione Granger, the current love interest of our favourite Malfoy, kicked off
the evening by violently attacking a fan for trying to photograph her boyfriend. Witnesses
suggest that Miss Granger was "red hot with jealousy" and couldn't stand the attention
Draco was receiving from his female fans. After the injured fan was taken for treatment of her
injuries, Miss Granger staked her claim by initiating a sex act in front of horrified onlookers
before being whisked away by friends.

Hermione tossed the paper into the roaring fireplace, watching the edges curl as the flames
licked against it. "This is disgusting . I knew the press would spin the event with Miss
Garnier, but they're making it sound like Draco was my victim. He was just as much a part of
it as I was - and neither of us were willing participants. We were poisoned."

"We know, love." Theo touched a soothing hand to Hermione's back. "We saw everything. It
wasn't your fault."

"The world loves a desperate woman, unfortunately," Pansy added. "I've already started
drafting a joint statement to put out this afternoon. Once Draco arrives, I also suggest we
contact the French Ministry to file a report about the spiked drink."

"So it was in the champagne?" Hermione had figured as much.

"I tested both of the glasses myself. It was only Draco's flute," Theo explained. "The
intention here was clearly to make him look like a sex-crazed maniac. Can you imagine if
only he had been dosed?"
Hermione swallowed thickly. "He would have been aggressive toward the closest person. So,
our stalker is above harming children, but not above sexual assault. Because that's what this
was - neither of us wanted to do that."

Theo nodded. "I'd bet my life savings that you and Draco want to bump uglies more than life
itself, but I'm certain neither of you would willingly do so as performance art."

"I do not want to bump uglies with him, Theo."

"Sure, Granger. Whatever you tell yourself."

She ignored him. "The stalker is willing to travel far to get to Draco, assuming it's the same
person. And they have a solid knowledge of his events to get so close undetected."

"It fits the theme," Pansy said, inspecting her fingernails. "Again, the attempt wasn't to
physically harm Draco but to cause him to do something that would damage his image.
Badly."

Hermione nodded. "And another potion was used. We should cross-reference our list of
anyone with a possible motive to anyone with a known affinity for potioneering. I can work
on that tonight."

"Are we certain the stalker doesn't have it out for you?" Theo pointed to the paper in the
fireplace. "Ever since you joined, the attempts have caused you more harm than Draco."

"Trust me, I'm well aware."

"A jealous fan, perhaps? Maybe they've shifted their attention to the alleged lover," Pansy
offered.

"No," Hermione pulled out a parchment of her own notes. "The rose only impacted me
because I took it before Draco could. And the champagne, again, was meant for him. I just
happened to grab it."

"It sounds like this stalker is just failing really hard." Theo winced. "How embarrassing."

"That's important to note, though. This isn't someone highly skilled. This is sloppy.
Emotional." Hermione looked down at her list of potential suspects. "They seem to have
incredible access, but they lack either the intelligence or the skill to get it quite right."

She frowned. She was the one failing. She had always prided herself on the thoughtfulness
and care she offered her clients. Never in her career had so many seemingly simple things
gone under her nose. She hadn't lost her touch; she trusted that. But this case had become
inextricably wound into her personal feelings. She and this stalker had something in common
- being both emotional and sloppy.

"Cheer up, buttercup," Theo said, gently leaning into her and bumping her shoulder. "With
the lust potion worn off, you're free to mount our beloved Draco as much as your little heart
desires."
Malfoy was disturbingly quiet and reserved when he joined the others in Hermione's suite.
He would barely look at her. At one point, he pulled out the leather-bound book from his coat
pocket and scribbled in it furiously, his brows knitted together in concentration. She could
practically see the disgust curdling in his veins. After Draco approved Pansy's statement, she
left to ensure it was shared with all major publications. Two officials from the French
Ministry then came to take their statements and gather evidence. The officials assured them
both that the crimes of sexual assault and unlawful potion administration would be
thoroughly investigated.

Finally, after several hours, Draco and Hermione were left alone in her room. As soon as the
lift doors shut behind them, Draco turned toward Hermione. His face was pained.

"I'm sorry, Granger. I feel sick. I never would have done that. You know that, right?"

She nodded slowly. "Of course. You weren't in control of yourself. Neither was I."

"I feel responsible. I assaulted you." His skin was nearly grey. Hermione had never seen him
look so vulnerable - the incident had cracked his armour, revealing a sliver of the boy
underneath.

"I'm aware that you didn't want to touch me, Malfoy. I don't blame you for what happened. I
was - at the moment - a willing participant. I'm sorry it happened, too."

Malfoy reached out as if to touch her, then returned his hands to his lap. "You've got it
wrong." His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

"How so?"

He lifted his head to look at her, gaze intense. "I do want to touch you, Granger. Very much.
But I want you begging for it of your own volition."

Her cheeks went hot. The memory of Malfoy's hand between her thighs, stroking her, flooded
her brain. Like the evening before, a sharp bolt of arousal hit her core. This time, however, it
wasn't falsely manufactured. She wanted him. She had, at least partly, since he'd walked into
her office. Malfoy struck something in her gut - a sense of freedom Hermione hadn't felt in
years. But she wasn't naive enough to miss the danger in wanting him. Her attraction was
clouding her judgement and putting both of them at risk. It needed to stop before someone
was irreparably harmed.

She took a steadying breath. "I think it's best if I take myself off of this job, Malfoy. I can
help find someone to take over the remainder of the contract. I won't leave you high and
dry."

"No."

"No? Are you going to force me to continue working for you when I don't want to?"

"There's a contract until the end of the year."

"I want to end it early. You won't force me to stay. You're better than that. I haven't done a
good job and you know it. I've been distracted, and I've let harm come your way. You deserve
a security professional who can be professional." She stood, smoothing her pyjama bottoms.

"You're quitting because you can't keep your hands off of me?"

"I didn't say that, but you can't deny that the lines have become blurred." She wavered on her
feet, then forced herself to look him in the eye. "We can stay friends."

He laughed, his voice almost caustic. "We've never been friends, Granger, and if that's what
you think this is, you're delusional."

She had no words. She nodded slowly, a painful lump forming in her throat.

Draco joined her in standing, his expression blank. "I'll owl Aurelia and ask her to assemble
some paperwork to terminate your contract. She'll have it for you by this evening. I'll expect
those referrals by end of day."

He left without another word.

Hermione wasn't usually one to mope, but she spent the remainder of the day in bed. She had
begun this job believing it would be financially beneficial, and for a few weeks, she'd
enjoyed the company of Malfoy, Pansy, and Theo. She had allowed herself to believe this
was the key to supporting her business. But all she'd done was paint herself as a jealous,
violent love interest. Even worse, she'd hurt Malfoy. She hadn't quit to cause him pain but to
protect him. She had failed at her job at every turn.

Her only hesitation in returning to London immediately was the response waiting for her -
and not just from the media. Ginny and Harry would undoubtedly be waiting, worried and
desperate for an explanation she could not give. She could only hope that terminating the
contract would allow her to speak about everything without discussing Theodore Nott's
penis.

Her mobile rang from her briefcase across the room. Very few people had her number, which
was only used for things of utmost importance. She slid from the bed, hurried to the
briefcase, and cracked it open. The name on the screen read: Dad.

She answered. "Dad? Is everything okay?"

"Hi, love," her father said. His voice was low and heavy, as if he were holding in a breath.

"What's wrong? You sound upset."

"You're impossible to fool, sweet girl. You always were." She could hear him take a sharp
intake of breath. "I need to talk to you about your mum. She hasn't been feeling well lately."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione's chest grew tight.

"I didn't want to worry you. We thought she had a touch of a cold, but she was having trouble
breathing last night and we went to the emergency department."

"Is she okay?"

"Yes. But the doctors found something. Cancer. Her lungs."

"Cancer?" Hermione's throat squeezed tight. "I'll come home. Tomorrow. The first flight I can
book."

"Wait on that, honey. We don't even know what the future looks like or how serious this is.
We'll be temporarily closing the dental practice so I can focus on your mum and her
treatment."

"How can you afford to do that?"

"Hermione, the doctor is here. I'm sorry to run, but I'll ring you later to update you. I love
you, sweet girl."

"I love you too."

The call disconnected. Hermione breathed rapidly. Her mum had cancer. Her parents were
losing their only form of income. They had savings, but those wouldn't last forever. She'd
kept them in the dark about her own financial troubles, but she knew they'd have helped her if
she had only asked. She crawled atop the bed, chest shaking with sobs that threatened to burst
through the dam. She just got them back. She'd been without them for so long - she couldn't
lose her mum now. She wouldn't survive it.

Hermione indulged her tears, screaming angrily into her pillow for the better part of a half-
hour. When she was empty, she rolled over to face the ceiling with a new resolve. She
couldn't quit this job when she had a clear opportunity to use the income to help her family.
She would just have to drag herself out of the muddied waters that had become her
relationship with Malfoy. He wasn't her lover. He was her client. Not quite a friend, but more
than a stranger. And she would make sure it stayed that way. She would protect him -
emotionally and physically.

Once Hermione had cleared herself of all evidence of tears and dressed in a clean outfit, she
took the lift to Malfoy's suite. When he allowed the doors to open, she stepped out to find
him seated on his couch, feet propped on the coffee table as he stared into the crackling
flames in the fireplace.

"Come to hand in your official resignation?" He didn't look at her.

"No, actually. I was acting rashly before. I've decided to finish out my contract as planned."

"Is that all?"

Hermione moved toward him and stood next to the couch. "Are you angry with me?"
"Why would I be angry with you, Granger?"

"For trying to quit."

He shrugged. "It's not my concern what you do with your life. If you wanted to quit, I was
going to let you."

She could see he had closed off some part of himself, putting up an icy shield reminiscent of
the teenage boy she remembered from their school days. Hermione momentarily questioned
whether she should say what she was about to. If she didn't, it would continue to complicate
their working relationship. Besides, Draco deserved to know the truth. She lowered herself
onto the couch.

"Did you know Astoria is pregnant?"

His head snapped up, looking at her for the first time. "What?"

"I followed her a few days before we left London. She's pregnant. Third-trimester, at least."

"We just saw her at the charity event. I would've noticed if she was with child." Draco shook
his head.

The shock in his eyes was genuine enough that Hermione believed he didn't know. A streak
of pity shot through her - what a terrible way to learn of his unborn child.

"There are spells," she continued. "To hide a growing pregnancy. I saw her checking into St.
Mungo's for a foetal scan."

He nodded slowly, running one hand over his jaw.

"It's a relief, in some ways, that you didn't know," she admitted.

His eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"

"I just..." she paused. "I thought if you did know and weren't supporting her, it would be
terrible."

He leaned forward and braced his hands against the coffee table. "Do you really think so little
of me?"

"No, I don't," she stuttered. "I didn't know what to think."

"Despite what you clearly still believe about me, I'm not a monster. I wouldn't abandon my
own child. And I didn't abandon Astoria, for the record. Our divorce was entirely her
choice."

"I don't think you're a monster, Malfoy. I was shocked, that's all."

He looked up at her. "You jumped to the worst possible conclusion without even considering
other options."
"You're right. I'm sorry. And this isn't the way I would want you to learn that you're going to
be a father."

Malfoy leaned back against the couch and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm not going to
be a father."

"How can you be certain? She's pretty far-along. And you were listed as the father on her
medical paperwork."

"I can't get her pregnant, Granger. It is literally impossible that the child is mine. To add to
that, Astoria and I stopped having sex well over a year ago. I'm glad to know, so I can support
her. But that child is unequivocally not a Malfoy."

"You can't get her pregnant? Are you certain?"

He nodded. "Entirely."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so closed-minded."

He shook his head. "I realise that I've been successful in shifting public opinion. But, it
seems, I've failed to convince the people around me that I'm not Lucius Malfoy. That's all I'll
ever be to someone like you."

"That's not true."

Guilt coursed through her. She had jumped to her conclusion - however briefly. She'd thought
the worst, even though he'd been nothing but kind in their time working together. Her heart
seemed primed to envision the worst outcome, as it always had been. She'd been shown time
and time again that people were inherently selfish, and almost nothing surprised her.

"I sometimes forget," she said softly, "that not everyone is Ronald Weasley."

The tense look on Malfoy's face faded slightly. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Ron wanted children. Badly. I wasn't ready, but he kept asking.
I finally agreed to try shortly after our two-year anniversary. But it didn't happen. And with
each month of failure, he started to believe I was the problem."

"Surely, he couldn't have thought it was your fault."

"He did. He would never have said it, but I saw it in his eyes. He looked at me differently -
like I no longer served the purpose he'd envisioned for me. Ron doesn't believe in divorce. He
would have stayed with me until the end, no matter how much he blamed me. Just after the
year mark of our attempts to get pregnant passed, I came home early from work. He was
fucking someone else. In our bed."

Malfoy clenched his fists. "I knew I hated him for good reason."

"I left that night. He wanted to stay married - he would've chosen a miserable life over
divorce. But I just couldn't accept that. Even if it meant being alone. I know now that Ron
chose me because he thought he should. The world kept telling us we were meant to be
together, the Golden Girl and the sidekick. But it was never the love story that everyone else
wanted it to be."

"I'm sorry, Granger. He's an idiot. He never deserved you."

"He didn't, did he?" Tears had started to leak from Hermione's eyes. She had never once
questioned whether she made the right decision in leaving Ron. But there were moments
when she felt a deep aching - mourning a life she had envisioned for herself for so long.
Redheaded children at her feet, wild Weasley Christmas celebrations, and a lifelong marriage
with someone who had once been her best friend. It was jarring, missing something that had
never come to fruition.

Hermione wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I asked him once why he loved me. He
said it was because I'm nice."

Draco snorted. "You're not that nice."

"Exactly. And now he's getting married - next week, in fact. To Lavender Brown."

"Lavender Brown?" Draco coughed. "Well that's perfect. She did always seem to be a few
balls short of a full Quidditch set. Together, they might actually make a full brain."

Hermione couldn't help but smile. "I'm expected to be at the wedding. I'd rather be trapped in
Devil's Snare. But if I don't go, it'll just confirm this widespread belief that I'm still madly in
love with him."

"Are you?"

She scoffed. "Absolutely not. I stopped loving him the moment I realised my only value to
him was in serving a function. I'm not naive enough to think that was a reflection of me. He's
selfish and shallow, and I have no interest in building a life with someone like that."

"I'll come to the wedding."

"What?"

"I'll come, as your date. Can you imagine anything better than Ron Weasley's face when his
ex-wife shows up with his childhood enemy beside her? Especially after seeing us on today's
news. I'm sure he's already seething about it."

Her chest warmed slightly as she envisioned the way Ron's ears would flame red as soon as
he laid eyes on her and Malfoy. "It's going to be terrible. Not a good party like you're
accustomed to."

"I don't doubt that. We'll just have to be the entertainment, won't we?"

She hesitated - the logical part of her knew it was cruel and immature. A low blow to hurt the
person who had caused her so much pain. The other part of her relished the idea of letting
 Ron feel even a shred of the shame and pain she had. She was tired of always being the
bigger person.

"It's next Saturday."

"I'll clear my schedule."

"Thank you, Malfoy. I am truly sorry for making assumptions about you. I should have
known better."

"Yes, you should have."

She reached out and placed her hand on top of his. "Not friends?"

Something flickered across his face. Then he nodded, squeezing her hand gently. "Not
friends."

Chapter End Notes

CW: this chapter discusses unsuccessful attempts to become pregnant, as well as the
diagnosis of cancer [not Dramione!]
 Vigilante Shit
Chapter Notes

I am going to be away tomorrow, so I am updating a day early. I hope you love this -
writing the wedding fed the pettiest parts of my soul. I say this repeatedly, but I never
stop meaning it: thank you for taking the time to leaves a kudos or a comment. There is
so much incredible Dramione content out there and the fact that you have chosen to
spend your time reading mine is mindblowing. Enjoy... and let me know what you think
:)

Chapter Nine - Vigilante Shit

Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie / they say looks can kill and I might try

"You look like you're dressed for the funeral of Ron Weasley's pride," Theo said as he eyed
Hermione's fitted black dress. "I love a woman out for revenge."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she applied lipstick, the shade of freshly spilt blood. "I'm not out
for revenge, Theo."

"Your actions speak otherwise, love. And I'm here for it."

"Remind me again, how you weasled your way - no pun intended - into this wedding?"

Theo smiled brightly, adjusting his tie. "I'm your security. You can't possibly be expected to
simultaneously protect Draco and desecrate the ego of your ex-husband."

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. "I suppose you're right. Ready?"

Together, Theo and Hermione stepped out of her bathroom. Malfoy was waiting for them in
the living area, dressed in a black tuxedo that likely cost more than the wedding itself.

Hermione pressed a finger to her mouth, thinking for a moment. "Just one adjustment
needed."

Malfoy looked at her. "Yes?"

She stepped forward and unbuttoned his jacket, then slipped it off his shoulders before setting
it aside on the couch. Carefully, she removed his cufflinks and unfastened the buttons at his
wrists before rolling the sleeves to reveal his forearms.

"In case you haven't noticed," Malfoy told Theo, "Granger has the hots for my tattoos."
"No." She smoothed a wrinkle in his sleeve. "But Ron hates them."

"Even better." Malfoy's smile was blinding.

Hermione, Theo, and Draco apparated a short walk from The Burrow. As they started down
the pathway that led to the house, Malfoy looped his arm around her waist and leaned toward
her ear.

"Do I have your permission to make Weasley seethe with jealousy?"

She tilted her head up at him. "And how do you intend to do that?"

"By acting like the besotted date the world believes me to be." He tucked a curl behind her
ear, then winked. "I'm very good at it, you see."

"Oh my, the acting. Such good acting," Theo deadpanned.

Draco waved a hand toward Theo, ignoring him. "Do I have your consent, Granger?"

She nodded. "I'm in. But do try to be nice to Harry. He's a good friend to me."

"Such a good mate, attending the wedding of the man who betrayed his best friend."

"Ron, Harry, and I went through war together. I can't expect Harry to cut Run out because of
a break-up. We're all linked in some way, whether we like it or not. It goes deeper than all of
this," Hermione explained.

"If Pansy broke Theo's heart, I'd cast her to the wolves," Malfoy said, shrugging.

"First of all, no you wouldn't. And second of all, Pansy could never." Theo bumped shoulders
with Draco.

They turned a corner, and The Burrow came into view. It had changed very little since
Hermione was a teenager - and despite the current state of her relationship with Ron, the
home represented comfort and safety. She hadn't been to visit for several years - the last time
being a family get-together only a few weeks before she found Ron in bed with another
woman. The sight of the house looming ahead caused her heart to flutter slightly.

Draco slowed to a pause, eyeing the house from top to bottom. Guests had started to arrive,
apparating outside in a rapid succession. "How is it even standing?"

"Magic, of course," Hermione said, fully aware that the home defied all laws of physics.

"I find it charming," Theo mused. "It's so ugly, it's endearing. Like a hairless cat. I want to
adopt it."

"Hermione!" Harry darted out from the front door, wearing a dark suit. He strode toward the
group.
"Hi Harry," Hermione hugged him, then stepped back.

Harry's jovial expression faded as his eyes shifted to the man beside her. "Malfoy."

"Potter."

Harry's eyes widened. "Theo?"

Malfoy looked between them. "You two know each other?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, Theodore Nott, right? From school?"

"That's right. How are you, Potter?"

"Good, thanks. Nice to see you. I better be going. I need to help with some… things." Harry
spun on his heel, rushing away from them at an awkward clip.

Anxiety twisted in Hermione's gut as she and Malfoy curved around the back of the Burrow,
with Theo just behind them. In the back, a massive white tent had been constructed to hold an
eclectic mix of chairs and an archway wrapped with lavender. In one corner, a set of
instruments played independently.

"A bit on the nose, don't you think?" Malfoy whispered into her ear, gesturing toward the
archway.

Hermione smiled softly before her eyes landed on Molly and Arthur Weasley, who welcomed
guests on the tent's far end. Hermione offered a wave, unsure of how she was supposed to
behave in the presence of her now ex-in-laws. She hadn't seen them since the divorce, though
Molly never failed to send a Christmas present and heartfelt card. Truth be told, Hermione
missed them. She'd always considered the Weasleys her magical family. In all the ways that
her own parents couldn't understand the life of a witch, Molly and Arthur offered space and
connection. She'd lost an entire family in walking away from Ron.

"Hermione dear!" Molly rushed over, holding her arms out. "I'm so glad you came."

"Hello Molly."

Molly pulled Hermione into a crushing hug. "We've missed you, sweetheart." She pulled
away, still holding Hermione by both shoulders. "I know it must be strange now, but I hope
you know you'll always be a daughter to me. Even if you and Ron didn't work out, we think
the world of you."

Arthur joined Molly, smiling warmly. "Hello, dear. Such a pleasure to see you. You look
well."

"You as well, Arthur. I'm sorry I haven't visited."

"Don't be silly. We understand it must be uncomfortable." Molly touched her chest, nodding.
"You both know my date, Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes." Molly pressed her lips into a firm line.

"We do." Arthur nodded, apparently disinterested in saying anything else. Arthur's voice held
an edge she wasn't familiar with, and Hermione felt a rush of gratitude that both were
choosing to remain quiet.

She couldn't blame the Weasleys for their silence. It was a wonder that Molly hadn't flown off
the handle. Hermione hadn't been entirely sure how the woman would react, given their
history with the Malfoy family and Molly's inclination to emotional outbursts. Coldly quiet
was the best she could have hoped for.

"We should continue greeting guests. We hope you have a lovely time, Hermione - and
please, come visit soon."

"I will," she lied.

Hermione and Draco moved about the room, wading through awkward greetings with the
other Weasleys. Charlie, Bill, and George responded similarly to their parents - warmly
toward Hermione and tight-lipped toward Malfoy. Percy, on the other hand, was clearly angry
with both of them for attending, refusing to acknowledge their existence. And then there was
Ginny.

"I can't believe you brought him," Ginny moaned, seemingly unbothered that he was standing
beside Hermione.

"My invitation allowed me a plus-one. He's my date. As the entire wizarding world is well-
aware of at this point."

"Oh, we all know you nearly fornicated in public. Try not to do that tonight, okay?"

"It was a lust potion. Someone's idea of a prank," Malfoy said, irritation evident on his
handsome face.

"Right. A lust spell." Ginny spun to face Malfoy nose-to-nose. "I have no issue with you
being here, Malfoy, despite the rest of my family's feelings. I do have an issue with you doing
anything to hurt my dear friend. If she cries one single tear in relation to you, I will rip out
your spine and use it as a broomstick. Is that clear?"

Malfoy tightened his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Crystal. Ginevra, is it?"

"Call me Ginny, or I'll sock you."

"Right. Ginny. I can assure you, I won't be doing anything to harm your friend. If anything,
she'll hurt me."

"Which I fully and enthusiastically support," Ginny quipped. "I'll see you both after the
ceremony. I need to track down my soon-to-be sister in law and ensure she's ready to go."
Hermione watched Ginny disappear into the crowd. She was mentally and emotionally
exhausted from fielding the looks - varying from curious to hateful - from nearly every
person in attendance. "I appreciate you remaining relatively quiet. It's unlike you, Malfoy."

"I'm not here for me." Malfoy shrugged. "I can keep my mouth shut when necessary, hard as
it is to believe."

"Speaking of - where's Theo?"

Draco turned around. "Probably in search of alcohol. This will be the last time I agree to use
him for security. I've never felt less protected."

"I'll go find him. The ceremony starts in ten minutes - can you find us seats?"

"As you wish, Granger."

Hermione pushed through the crowd in search of Theo. As she wandered through the people,
she ran into a heavily pregnant Luna, a beaming Neville, and several other old Hogwarts
classmates. Without Malfoy at her side, those who'd previously been cold were slightly
warmer and less guarded.

Theo wasn't in the tent. A brief flicker of fear passed through Hermione - what if someone
had harmed him, believing he was actually Draco? She moved out of the tent, through the
yard, and toward the Burrow's back entrance. She opened the door and stepped inside.

Hermione recognized Theo immediately by the ridiculously tight fit of his slacks. At first, she
thought he was simply leaning against the cluttered kitchen counter - and then she realised
there was another person between Theo's body and the countertop. They were kissing
hungrily, a pair of hands working to push Theo's jacket down his shoulders. Neither person
seemed to notice Hermione's presence. The other person let out a groan, their hands sliding
roughly down Theo's back.

She stepped backward, pressing a hand on the doorframe, when Theo suddenly slammed a
hand against the counter and knocked a teacup to the ground with a shatter. "Fuck," he
breathed. He pulled away from his partner.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "Harry ?"

The person who had previously been hidden from view was none other than her best friend -
dark hair sticking in all directions, mouth swollen, and tie half-undone.

Harry wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hermione?"

"Theo! Is Harry your secret boyfriend we've been so curious about?"

Theo spun around. "Uhh…"

She'd never seen him speechless before. "Sorry. It's none of my business. I'll go. I never saw
anything!" She pressed a hand over her eyes, backing dramatically toward the door.
"Wait!"

Hermione dropped her hand.

Harry stepped forward and tightened his tie. "Let me explain."

"You don't have to," Theo said, placing a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"It's okay, Theo. I want to. Come here, Hermione."

Hermione shut the door behind her and stepped fully into the kitchen. The shards of glass
from the teacup were still scattered on the hardwood, and she avoided them as she
approached. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you. I was just looking for our hired
security."

"You're supposed to be their security? You didn't tell me that!" Harry shook his head.

"You looked hot and I got distracted." Theo held his hands up. "Can you blame me?"

Harry's face reddened slightly. "Anyway - yes. I suppose I am Theo's secret boyfriend."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You've seen how the papers treat you and Malfoy, Hermione. I don't want that kind of
attention."

"I understand. Fully. How did you two even meet?"

Harry removed his glasses, cleaning them on the edge of his shirt. "A bar in London. Very
random, actually."

"Wow." Hermione nodded. "How long?"

"Six months. Today," Theo said, his voice softer than usual. He looked positively nervous in
Harry's presence.

"No wonder you pushed so hard to act as our security. You were so intent that we needed the
extra eyes! Clearly, you just wanted to see Harry."

"Well, you see, I'm a stupid, lovesick fool." Theo reached out to take Harry's hand in his.

Harry blinked several times. "Lovesick?"

Theo nodded, his eyes wide and hopeful.

"Tell you what - I'm going to leave you two to have this conversation. I won't tell anyone, of
course." Hermione opened the door, then turned back to face them. "I'm happy for you both."
Hermione took her seat next to Malfoy just as the charmed instruments began the first chords
of the processional.

"Did Theo abandon ship?" Malfoy whispered, pressing one hand to her knee with a squeeze.

"He found the dessert table," Hermione lied. "Decimated the brownies."

"Shocking."

Hermione leaned back in her seat. She hated weddings. She used to enjoy them, truth be told.
Despite her practical nature, a part of her had always swooned at the pomp and circumstance.
Both weddings and funerals were blissfully naive. At funerals, people pretended the person
they mourned had been perfect. They blurred out the harsh edges in their speeches, offering a
beautifully curated sample of the deceased. On the other hand, weddings proposed an
idealised view of love - its imperfections and broken bits were skillfully ignored, the camera
lens only zooming in on the happiest angles. Hermione used to admire the eternal optimism,
even if she couldn't bring herself to ascribe to it.

Hermione squirmed in her seat and watched a violin that had been charmed to play
independently. The spellcaster had been woefully inadequate, and the bow screeched
painfully against the strings, forcing half of the guests to cover their ears every few seconds.

Come to think of it, she didn't hate weddings. She hated this wedding.

In her own way, she was happy for Ron. Their relationship had been crafted within the frame
of trauma and fear. Even from the start, Ron never seemed particularly fond of her. He
frequently waxed about her intelligence and independence in theory, but when confronted
with it in reality, he appeared put out. Ron Weasley didn't appreciate her because he wasn't
capable. She was a language he didn't speak - and that was okay. She just wished he'd set her
free rather than forcing her hand.

The enchanted violin played louder, making the terrible screeching even more apparent.
Hermione pressed her hands over her ears. "Is someone going to fix that?"

"I think it's rather fitting," Draco quipped. "A disastrous sound for a disastrous coupling."

"Quiet," Hermione hissed, though she couldn't hide a small laugh as she leaned into him.

Hermione drummed her fingers against the edge of her seat. In true Ron fashion, the
ceremony was already twenty minutes behind schedule. Across the aisle, Hermione caught
sight of Harry and Ginny seated amongst the rest of the Weasleys. Ginny caught Hermione's
gaze, smiling and rolling her eyes playfully. Harry mouthed a clear thank you.

Molly let out an excited squeal from the front row. "Here they come!"

Ron and Lavender entered, her hand hooked firmly into the crook of his elbow. She wore a
purple dress, and Ron wore navy robes that complimented his eyes. Lavender grinned
broadly, her spare hand clutched around a bouquet of, yes, lavender. As Ron walked, his
trousers lifted to reveal mismatched socks.
Hermione watched the ceremony but avoided listening more than necessary. Ron and
Lavender seemed deliriously happy, staring at one another with broad smiles. When the
ceremony ended, the chairs were charmed away to make room for a dance floor and tables.
Immediately, Hermione grabbed Malfoy by the arm and made a bee-line to a floating tray of
champagne flutes. Free alcohol was, arguably, the best part of any wedding.

She angled her wand over the glass, cast a revealing charm, and confirmed it was potion-free.
She took an enormous sip.

"I'm surprised you still have the stomach for champagne after Paris."

Hermione watched as Malfoy grabbed a flute for himself. She tore the glass from his grip
before he could drink and quickly tested it for any potions. Once deeming it safe, she handed
it back to him.

"Good thinking," he said. "We don't need a repeat."

"No, we don't."

Suddenly, Malfoy leaned forward, pressed his hand to her lower back, and pulled her in for a
kiss. Her heart flipped in her chest at the press of his lips against hers, firm and wanting.

She stepped backward. "What was that for?"

He nodded toward the tent entrance. Hermione turned. Ron and Lavender had re-entered to
excited applause, hands tightly clasped. But instead of greeting the crowd with cheer, Ron's
eyes were fixed firmly on Hermione. As she'd imagined, his ears were bright red. She waved
politely, and he looked away.

"I do believe I just witnessed the internal implosion of one Ronald Weasley," said Theo, who
had somehow managed to sneak up next to them unheard.

"I hope there's a shred left to enjoy the remainder of the evening," Malfoy mused. "I have a
few more tricks up my sleeve."

Hermione turned away from Ron and Lavender. "Is it possible one of those tricks is finding
us a dinner table?"

"On it."

Malfoy stepped away, leaving Hermione and Theo alone. Hermione looked up at Theo,
chewing her lower lip. "So… earlier."

"Surprise?"

"You fancy him a lot, don't you?"

Theo nodded. "What can I say? I've fallen for the Boy Who Lived."

Hermione rocked on her heels. "Does he feel the same way?"

"I hope so, or I'll be running away with my metaphorical tail between my legs."

"I saw the way he looked at you earlier. Harry can be awkward with his words, but he's a
romantic at heart."

Harry had dated casually over the last few years, which always scared Hermione. As casual
as he claimed to be, she always saw the spark of hope in his eyes when he met someone new
- and the way it fizzled when it didn't pan out into anything with depth. He had never said it
outright to Hermione, but she knew in her soul that Harry Potter was forever searching for his
person. His family.

"It's hard to tell with him," Theo admitted. "He's so private. If Harry had allowed it, I'd have
told Malfoy months ago…his shitty attitude be damned."

"Well, until that day comes, your secret is safe with me." Hermione smiled warmly, then
pulled Theo in for a hug. Theo stiffened - seemingly surprised - then relaxed into her arms.

"You're an angel, Hermione Granger."

"You might not think so once I've had a chance to throttle you for the charm you slipped into
my contract."

"Discovered that one, did you?"

"I announced to Ginny Weasley that you have an enormous penis."

Theo lifted a shoulder with a smile. "Well, I do. I'm not going to make a liar out of you."

"Looks like Malfoy found a table," Hermione said, thankful for the opportunity to shift the
conversation away from Theo's genitalia.

Malfoy had chosen a table at the front of the tent, only steps away from the heart-shaped
table with place settings for Ron and Lavender. Hermione was both thankful and anxious that
he'd committed so fully to the task of triggering Ron's jealousy. Hermione lowered herself
into the seat next to Malfoy, watching as her plate filled to the brim with roast chicken,
potatoes, and asparagus.

Malfoy leaned in close. "How are you, Granger?"

"I'm fine." She stabbed her fork into a piece of chicken.

He pressed closer, the smell of champagne ghosting from his mouth. "Your cheating ex-
husband just got married. How are you?"

"I'm…angry," she whispered. "I want Ron to be happy. I do. Despite everything, I want the
best for him. But he never experienced a single consequence for the way he treated me."

"He lost you. That seems like a pretty big consequence," Malfoy said, his voice low. He
leaned back and spoke louder this time. "Now I get to have you all to myself."
From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see Ron's frame angle toward them from his
seat. He had definitely heard.

Throughout dinner, Malfoy gave his best act as the doting, besotted boyfriend. He tucked her
hair behind her ears. He squeezed her hand. He gazed at her lovingly. At one point, he leaned
forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead that felt so real Hermione nearly forgot they
were pretending.

When dinner was over, the tables cleared, and music began to filter through the tent. Ron and
Lavender stood from their table and moved to the centre of the dance floor, swaying gently to
a soft, romantic tune. Every few moments, Ron stepped on the hem of Lavender's dress. To
her credit, she surreptitiously used one hand to move her skirt, the smile on her face never
faltering.

Ron and Lavender shared a quick kiss at the end of the song. Molly sobbed from her seat
while Arthur watched proudly. Slowly, guests filtered onto the dance floor, surrounding the
couple. Hermione remembered this moment from her wedding well - she and Ron had kept
the guest list small. It had been mostly the Weasley family, Harry, and a handful of friends
from school. After the first dance, everyone joined them on the dance floor, and they spun
joyously for the remainder of the evening. It had been such a beautiful moment for Hermione,
much-needed celebration and togetherness after the pain of the previous years. She hadn't
really been thinking about marriage at that moment. She'd been thinking about family.
Friends. Freedom. She should have known then that her marriage to Ron was never about
them but about their desperate need for normalcy and togetherness. At the time, it had all
been wound up into such a tangled mess that she could not recognise it for what it was:
survival.

"Shall we?" Malfoy stood and held out his hand to her, palm up.

She nodded, placing her hand in his and entwining their fingers. As they shifted onto the
dance floor, he gripped the curve of her waist, the other hand in hers.

"Are you ready?"

For?"

He spun her, her hair fanning outward. He pulled her back, clutching her tightly to his chest.
And then he kissed her, the air crackling with tension. One of his hands moved to caress the
curve of her spine, while the other splayed against her upper back. Time slowed as his mouth
opened, warm and soft, and the kiss intensified. Hermione's body was liquid, melting into
him with every cell of her being. If she'd known kissing could be like this, she would never
stop. Draco pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to hers, then leaned in once more to kiss
her. She swayed against him, hands cupped over his elbows.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily. At that moment, Hermione became very, very aware
that they had an audience. Half of the guests stared at them, eyes wide with varying degrees
of shock, disgust, or amusement. Hermione wiped her mouth, grateful she'd charmed her
lipstick to stay put.
Malfoy leaned into her ear, and shooting tingles ran down her spine as he breathed. "I can
guarantee you that Weasley is regretting every choice that led to this moment."

She smiled. "You know what? I hope so."

They danced for another hour. Hermione would never admit it aloud, but she was surprised to
find Draco was a great wedding date: handsome, easy to talk to, and a fantastic dancer. He
didn't seem to mind that the majority of the guests disliked him or that the music was subpar.
He relished in the attention regardless.

Hermione paused mid-dance. "I need to use the restroom."

"I better check on Theo and make sure he doesn't need to be rolled out after gorging on the
desserts. Again."

Hermione smiled, knowing Theo was likely busy gorging on something much more exciting
than the dessert table. She squeezed Malfoy's shoulder before exiting the tent and moving
inside the Burrow.

She shut the door. This time, the house was blissfully quiet. She sucked in a breath as she
allowed her eyes to rove over the main floor of the house. Almost nothing had changed in the
past decade. Losing Ron had hurt. Losing his family and his world had been excruciating.
She'd felt unmoored ever since. With her own parents thousands of miles away, Hermione
had no place for a soft landing. She was an island. She'd always been an island, no matter
how hard she'd tried to root herself into the ground.

"Hermione?"

She turned. Ron stood in the doorway, a near-shadow backlit by the lights from the tent. She
hated the way her heart clenched as they made eye contact. It wasn't love or longing, but
grief. A heavy stone that had weighed her down for the past three years - a weight she wasn't
sure she would ever fully let go of.

"Hello Ron. Congratulations."

He nodded, then stepped fully inside and closed the door. He dragged a hand over his face,
shiny with sweat. "What are you playing at, Hermione?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Coming here with him." He gestured back toward the tent.

"He's my date, if you haven't noticed."

Ron laughed, cold and bitter. "Oh, I noticed."

"It's none of your concern who I date, Ron." She stepped backward at the same time he
moved toward her.
"How can I not be concerned? He's… he's a monster. As much as he pretends that he's
reformed, we know better. He's using you, obviously."

"Just because you used me doesn't mean everyone is."

Ron moved closer. Instinctively, Hermione stepped back until she was nearly pressed against
a wall of Weasley family photos. The wall where their wedding photo once hung.

"Why would Draco Malfoy be interested in you, Hermione? There's something in it for
him."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, saying nothing.

Ron's face softened. "I'm trying to protect you."

"Protecting is what a husband does, Ron. You're not my husband anymore - you're
Lavender's, or have you forgotten?"

Ron sputtered. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm still allowed to care about you. You're one of my best
friends."

"Obviously, I can't tell you what to care about. But it's your problem, not mine. I am fine, and
the last thing I need is your protection." Hermione moved sideways and brushed past Ron,
slamming the door on her way out.

She curled her hands into fists as she stood in the yard. She'd followed the rules her entire
life. She'd done what was expected of her, sacrificed joy and freedom for the greater good.
And what had it gotten her? She had given of herself for twenty-eight years, and, for once,
she just wanted to take.

She pushed inside the tent. Draco was nursing a firewhisky on the edge of the dancefloor.

She grabbed him by the bicep. "Let's go. I'm done here."

"So soon?"

She pressed her body against him, then leaned up to align her mouth with his ear. "Yes. Now.
"

His eyes darkened. "Should I, erm, get Theo?"

She turned to watch Theo, who was sitting at a table, speaking animatedly with Harry. "He's
occupied. Come on." She gripped his hand and apparated them before he could argue any
further.

Half-drunk and entirely emotional, Hermione's apparition attempt was sloppy. They landed
so roughly in her suite that she would've fallen if Draco hadn't held her up by the arm.

He let go of her. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Do you want to be alone?" Malfoy's eyes shifted to the lift.

"No. I want to finish our evening." Hermione stepped out of her shoes and kicked them aside.
She could see the confusion - and interest - on Malfoy's face. One part of her felt certain that
what was about to happen was a terrible idea. A larger part of her didn't care. She wanted to
feel good. She wanted to let herself indulge, just for once. She hadn't had fun in years - not
until she started working for Malfoy, she realised.

"Malfoy."

"Yes?"

"Take off your shirt."

He said nothing, eyes trained on her as he unbuttoned the front of his shirt, then slid it from
his shoulders. He laid it over the back of her couch. He was mouthwatering - his chest a wall
of muscle, and his arms covered from wrist to shoulder in tattoos. A single, white scar
slashed across his chest - the only reminder of the fire they'd both been born in. The war they
would forever be running from.

She stepped forward, looped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply. Her tongue
brushed against his as a wave of sparks flashed in her mind. He held her tightly to him, arms
circled around her waist, and she lost herself in the kiss. The way she responded to him was
novel - it was like she'd been waiting her whole life for his mouth on hers. His kiss moved to
her neck, teeth nipping slightly at her sensitive skin. She breathed out, curling her fingers into
the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Granger," he whispered against her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm sure."

His hands moved up her back, finding the zipper of her dress and drawing it downward. She
shrugged out of the garment, allowing it to slip into a puddle at her feet.

"Fuck." He drank her in, gaze moving slowly as he studied her half-naked form. "You are…
fuck."

"You too, Malfoy." She ran her palms up his chest, then pushed him backward so that he
landed in a seated position on the couch. She climbed atop him, knees bracketing his waist,
and dragged her fingers through his hair. She wanted to consume him, to bruise him, to feel
every part of him against her.

He closed his eyes. He was hard, trousers tented and pressing against her core. She circled
her hips slightly, and he released a strangled moan. "You're playing with fire, Granger."

"I know." She leaned down to take one of his earlobes between her teeth.
It had been so long since she'd done this with another person. And, even then, it'd been
awkward or uncomfortable. Being half-naked with Malfoy triggered a gnawing hunger in her
gut, and she had to hold herself back from going too fast. Her stomach was a tight knot of
anticipation, wondering if he'd be as skilled as he appeared. She suspected he would.

He pulled back. "Do I have your permission to touch you?"

"Please."

He dipped his fingers down the front of her lace knickers, finding her warm and wet. He
stroked one finger along her folds, dragging it so slowly that she trembled against him.
"You're so wet, love. You do want this."

"I do." She nodded furiously, angling herself toward him.

"Patience," he whispered. He withdrew his hand. "I know you've waited a long time, but let's
not spoil it in one go." He moved his hands to unclasp her bra, then pulled it from her body
and tossed it to the ground.

"I meant what I said." He cupped her breasts in both hands. “You are indescribable.
Terrifying. Impressive." He dropped his hands, then lowered his mouth to catch one hardened
nipple between his lips.

Hermione dropped her head back, breathing as she focused on the sensation of his mouth. His
tongue circled the peak as his thumb stroked rhythmic circles against her skin. She ground
herself against him, her centre aching with delirious need. "Gods, Malfoy."

"I'm taking my time, savouring you." He arched his hips upward, pressing his hardness
between her thighs.

She bit out a cry of frustration. "I want to see you."

He arched an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Please." She slid backward and stood.

Malfoy unbuttoned his trousers, then slid them over his thighs along with his briefs, kicking
them from his feet. He gripped his cock in one hand, stroking himself once. He was painfully
hard, a bead of pre-cum on the tip. She leaned forward, suddenly desperate to touch him.

"I appreciate the gesture, but tonight is about you. Lie down."

She wasn't going to argue. She lay down on the couch, pulling a pillow under her head. He
reached over her, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of her knickers. Slowly, he
inched them over her hips and thighs, dragging them downward until he tossed them on the
floor.

"Knees up, Granger."

She pulled her knees upward, and he gently pressed them to the sides until she was as open to
him as physically possible. He lay himself between her thighs, then blew gently on her heated
flesh. She bucked upward, body trembling at the sensation of his breath on her wet skin. He
kissed her inner thigh, tongue darting out to taste the salt of her skin. His hand moved to cup
her, the heel of his palm grinding against her. She was so wired she could barely stand it,
arching upward and fisting her hands against the couch.

"Please, Draco."

His head shot up, and he smiled. "Since you asked so nicely…"

He moved upward, finding her clit and lathing his tongue against it. She breathed heavily,
skin sweaty against the leather couch. He dragged a hand down her abdomen, then looked up
at her from his position between her thighs. She grew wetter than she knew possible just from
the look on his face - like he needed her. Wanted her. Was hungry for her. He moved back to
kiss her centre, slipping a finger inside of her.

His kisses were light and teasing - enough to build a coil in her, not enough to release it. It
was nearly painful how long he teased her - she swung from pleasure to frustration, keening
as she begged for more. Finally, he relented, drawing quick circles around her clit with his
tongue while his fingers curled inside of her. She breathed erratically as she reached the edge,
clamping her knees against his head as she came.

"Fuck, more, Draco," she panted, tipping her chin up as delirious words fell from her mouth.
She closed her eyes and tugged at his hair as the orgasm ripped through her.

He was kissing her before she even had a chance to breathe - both hands holding her face,
pulling her mouth to his hard enough to bruise. He pressed himself against her, and she
nodded, desperate to have him inside of her. Draco stopped kissing her, burying his nose into
her sweat-slick neck and breathing heavily as his chest thumped rhythmically against hers.

Draco lifted his head to look up at her. "Feeling better?"

"Not nearly." She circled her hips against him, and he sucked inward, looking almost pained.
"Are you okay?"

"I should go," he said, voice low.

"Go? We haven't even…"

"I know." He crawled backward, grabbing his briefs and trousers from the floor. "Tonight was
about you."

"Well I want you inside of me." She propped up onto her elbows.

"I wish I could explain more." He stood and stepped into his clothes. "But trust me when I
say it's best to leave things here. For now."

"Did I do something?" She hated the way her voice came out, needy and insecure.
"Fuck, no." He pulled on his shirt and started buttoning it up. "It's complicated." He leaned
forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, Granger."
 The Best Day
Chapter Notes

Happy new year! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I am so appreciative of your comments -
it's so fun to read your perspective and thoughts on where things are going with this
story, and I'm always thrilled to hear you're enjoying the ride. As a heads up, I'll be
traveling next weekend, so chapter 11 will go up on Sunday 1/14 instead of my usual
Saturday post.

Chapter Ten - The Best Day

I had the best day with you today

She would never admit it aloud, but Hermione sometimes thought there was something
simpler about the times of war. Ten years ago, there hadn't been room for the indulgent
anxieties of life - the extra bits had been torn away in the pursuit of survival. Of course, she
wouldn't choose to go backward, but there had been something freeing about its singularity.
The Hermione of a decade prior hadn't worried about her day-to-day choices nearly as much
as she did now. That Hermione had wanted to live. Present-day Hermione wanted to live
well.

What did it mean to live well, anyhow? Hermione rolled over in bed, stretching slightly. For
years, she'd sought a good life through her marriage to Ron and had come up short. Then, it
was her business, and something was still missing. She had all the ingredients for happiness
but hadn't entirely sorted out how to make it all fit together.

Hermione had expected to feel a stab of guilt about bringing Draco to Ron's wedding, but she
didn't. She surely had expected to feel worried about what had happened with Malfoy after.
And yet, her only regret was that things had ended when they did. She'd tried so hard to toe
the line of her relationship with him, and now she was starting to wonder if she'd misjudged
the situation. Malfoy was spoiled and pretentious but also intelligent and kind. He had a
softness to him that awed her, a vulnerability she never would have imagined possible.

She climbed out of bed and changed into slacks and a clean jumper before padding into the
living room. Her dining tray was full of bacon, eggs, toast, and a steaming cup of tea. Beside
the food sat a tiny vial of pink liquid with a folded note beside it.

Hangover potion, compliments of Theo.

X Draco

She smiled, uncorked the bottle, and tossed it back. Immediately, her slight headache and
brain fog lifted. She would need to ask Theo for a stash of those to keep on hand. Hermione
sipped her tea, enjoying the quiet of the morning. She ignored the stack of papers that had
also been delivered with her cart. There would be time later to read the ridiculous rumours
about her presence at the wedding. She had no doubt that she would be painted poorly - a
jealous woman desperate to destroy her ex-husband's special day. There was no need to sully
the morning's peace with whatever ridiculous headline had been cobbled together.

The chandelier buzzed.

She looked upward and smiled. "Miss me already, Malfoy?"

It buzzed again.

"Malfoy?"

Again, a buzz.

"I'm not letting you in if you can't even give me a polite hello. One orgasm doesn't eliminate
the need for manners."

Silence for a moment. And then a voice - decidedly not Malfoy: "Hermione? It's Aurelia. Do
you have a moment?"

Hermione felt her face redden. Aurelia seemed to know everything, but she definitely didn't
need to know about last night's development. "Of course. Come on in."

The golden lift doors slid open. Aurelia stood in the centre, flanked by two other people.

Hermione stood, breath catching in her throat. Her embarrassment was - miraculously -
eclipsed by shock and joy. "Mum? Dad?"

Helen and Steve Granger rushed from the lift, arms outstretched. Steve's face was already
half-crumpled in tears the moment he laid eyes on his daughter.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione folded herself into her father's arms, pressing her face
into his shirt. He smelled of aftershave and citrus. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

Her mother placed a hand on Hermione's back. "It was a hasty decision. We couldn't get
ahold of you, sweetheart. You haven't been answering your mobile."

"I'm so sorry. I must have forgotten to charge it. There aren't any outlets here." Hermione
stepped back, eyeing both of her parents. It had been six months since she'd seen them last.
Helen appeared thinner. Her usually round cheeks were now hollowed and pale. "When did
you get here?"

"A few days ago," her father answered. "We went to your flat and the landlord said your lease
ended months ago. We ran into your nice friend, Ginny, at your office and she told us you'd
been staying at this hotel. It's been a bit of a wild goose chase trying to find you."

"I'm sorry I didn't update you, I've been so busy."

Helen's eyes drifted to the glittering chandelier. "This seems quite posh." The unsaid words
were clear: how are you paying for this?

"It's for a job - the accommodations are part of my pay." Hermione's eyes fell on Aurelia,
who stood just before the lift with her hands folded at her waist. "Mum, Dad, this is Aurelia
Quinn. She works with Malfoy, as well."

"Malfoy?" Helen's grey brows raised. "Isn't that the boy who was such a bully in school?"
She jabbed her husband in the ribs with her elbow. "Don't you remember her crying about
him, Steve?"

Steve removed his glasses, cleaning them on the edge of his shirt. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"Typical." Hermione smiled. "He was an awful prat back at school. Luckily, he's grown up.
He's not so bad now."

Helen sniffed. "I would hope so."

"I promise. I wouldn't have accepted the job otherwise."

"Good." Helen's face warmed as she turned to look at Aurelia. "Forgive my rudeness. It's
lovely to meet you."

"Lovely to meet you as well, Mr. and Mrs. Granger." Aurelia shook both of their hands.
"Your daughter is brilliant, as I'm sure you know."

"We do." Helen beamed, then let out a deep, bone-shaking cough. She shuddered, pressing
one palm to her shaking chest.

Hermione touched her mother's arm. She felt frail under her fingers - as if she might snap if
she squeezed too hard. Hermione stroked her thumb along the cashmere of her mother's
sleeve, trying not to look worried. "How are you feeling, mum?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart. Don't trouble yourself."

Steve squeezed Hermione's shoulder gently. "We're meeting with some doctors while we're
here. Your Uncle Leo knows an oncology specialist who comes highly recommended. We
were lucky to slide into a cancelled slot at the last minute."

"That's wonderful news."

"We've got the day open. Why don't we grab some brunch? I want to hear all about what my
brilliant girl has been up to," Helen said with a smile.

"I'd love that." Perhaps it was the shock of seeing her parents or the lingering anxiety from
learning about her mother's illness, but a sudden rush of tears filled Hermione's eyes. She
leaned forward to touch her mother's cheek. Helen had always been sturdy. In times of stress,
her father was prone to anxiety. When Hermione was a child, she would often wake to find
Steve reading in the living room at three o'clock in the morning, unable to quell his reeling
mind. Her mother was like a deeply rooted tree - nearly unshakeable. Hermione couldn't
remember ever worrying about her mum. No matter how difficult things got, Helen didn't
waver.

Hermione pressed a kiss to her mother's cheek. "I can't believe you're really here."

"Let's make the most of it," Helen responded.

Aurelia cleared her throat. "I'll leave you three to it." She started to turn, then paused. ""I'll let
Draco know. I'm sure he'd love to meet your parents, Hermione."

"Oh no," Hermione said with a wave. "He told me he's meeting with investors this morning.
Don't bother him."

"Are you certain? I could–"

"I'm sure," Hermione interjected. "No need to bother him." She'd only just found a tenuous
peace with Malfoy. Introducing her parents to him seemed a step too far.

"Alright. It was nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger."

After Aurelia exited, Hermione gave her parents a brief tour of the suite. While her parents
had made decent money throughout her childhood, they had never been the lavish type.
They'd opted to keep their lifestyle simple, aside from travel. Rather than physical gifts, she'd
usually been given experiences and adventures. Steve and Helen had taken Hermione to the
Austrian National Library for her eighth birthday in lieu of a party or presents. She wouldn't
have had it any other way.

Her mum and dad reacted as she had expected to her room and the magic within -
appreciative but not awed. They'd never been terribly bowed over by magic and were even
less so since their memories were recovered. Hermione knew her parents did not blame her
but suspected they held a grudge against magic for what she'd done to them. She couldn't
fault them. They'd rarely seen magic do anything all that positive. In fact, they had only
firsthand witnessed the impact of innumerable harm.

"Shall we grab brunch, then?" Hermione led her parents onto the lift.

"Sounds excellent. Can we veer off this street, dear? It's all a bit... uppity," Steve said with a
sheepish smile.

"Of course, dad."

The lift started to descend. When the doors opened, they were greeted by the sight of the
grand lobby - and Draco Malfoy standing inside it. He smiled as he saw Hermione and took a
step forward.

"You must be Steve and Helen Granger. It's a pleasure to meet you both." Draco straightened
the edges of his coat and shook both of their hands.

"Did Aurelia tell you?"

"She did. Don't be angry with her, Granger. She was only trying to help."

Hermione shook her head. "I told her it was fine. We're just going to brunch."

"My meeting was wrapping up anyway. I'll take you all. My treat."

She gave a resigned sigh. "I don't suppose it's worth the energy to argue?"

He shook his head. "You know me better than that."

Hermione led Malfoy and her parents to a small cafe a few streets over - a muggle-owned
spot with horrible ambiance but excellent food. Although there were several excellent
wizarding restaurants in London, there was something comforting about doing something
decidedly average with her parents. For a while, she could pretend she was an average
twenty-eight-year-old woman having a meal with her parents. As long as she ignored the
addition of her client-turned-friend-with-benefits, who hailed from a pureblood wizarding
family and could barely tie his shoes without magic.

The waitress brought over a stack of menus and handed them out.

"I might go for a Full English," Steve said with a chuckle. "I'm famished. I packed some
oatmeal packets for our hotel room, but the microwave was out this morning."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Microwave?"

"It's a muggle tool that heats things," Hermione explained.

"Like an oven?"

"No." She shook her head. "Well, yes. But faster. Microwaves use electromagnetic waves
which are absorbed by food to heat from the inside out."

Draco blinked. "Electromagnetic waves?" He drew the words out slowly like he was feeling
the syllables on his tongue.

"Yes."

"That sounds like a bunch of nonsense."

"And I suppose using magic to make food doesn't?"

Helen chuckled. "It all sounds like nonsense, doesn't it? And I don't blame you, Draco, for
finding it a bit disturbing. I never liked the idea of microwaves either."

The waitress returned shortly after and took their orders. The woman's eyes lingered on
Draco for a touch too long, likely noticing how out of place he looked in his suit. While
plenty of men and women in business casual clothing were seated around the restaurant,
wizarding dress always leaned toward a more old-fashioned style. In the wizarding world,
Draco was at the peak of high fashion. In the muggle world, he looked like he had donned a
costume.

"So, Helen," Draco said as he tucked into his breakfast, "do you like your television set?"

Hermione laughed as Helen's eyes widened. "I don't want much television, Draco. But I do
love to read."

"Like mother, like daughter," said Steve with a proud smile.

"Ah." Draco remained silent for a moment. It was the first time that Hermione had seen him
look visibly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "Steve, do you use a hairdryer?"

Steve chuckled. "No. Not enough up top, unfortunately." He patted his thinning hair, which
had faded from brown to grey in recent years.

"I use a hairdryer," Helen offered, touching the ends of her hair.

"Do you like it?"

"It's a very nice tool," Helen said, stifling an amused smile.

"You can just talk to them like people," Hermione said, pressing a hand to his thigh under the
table. "Muggles aren't another species."

"Right." Draco set down his fork. "Let me try again. How are you liking Australia? I've never
been."

"It's lovely," Helen said, taking a bite of her eggs. "Steve and I have been lucky to find a good
community. That's really the thing, isn't it? It's not where you are. It's who you're with."

"And I'd be happy anywhere with my bride," Steve said, closing a hand over Helen's. A faint
glimmer of tears had collected in his eyes, imperceptible to anyone who wasn't looking
closely.

"The only thing that would make our home better is if we got to see our baby girl a bit more,"
Helen added. "But we know that travel is expensive."

"I'm sure her holiday bonus will be more than enough to fund a few visits," Malfoy said,
bumping Hermione with his shoulder.

She raised an eyebrow. "Holiday bonus?"

"Did I forget to mention? All of my employees get a rather generous bonus this time of
year."

"I'm not your–"

Steve interrupted her with a laugh. "This is one of those times when it's best to smile and nod,
sweetheart."
"A smart man," Malfoy said, raising his glass of water. "Are you all in town long?"

"No," Steve said. "Unfortunately not. It was a last minute decision since we were able to get
Helen into a cancer specialist in the area. Appointments aren't easy to come by. We didn't
want to lose our chance."

"Cancer?"

"It's a muggle illness," Hermione explained, tugging at a thread in her trousers. "Not unlike a
blood curse."

Malfoy lowered his voice. "Is it serious?"

"It can be."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Helen."

"It's quite alright," Helen said, dismissing his worry with a smile. "I've managed worse."

Hermione's hand trembled against her knee as she watched the look exchanged by her
parents. She could see the fear in her father's eyes and the resolution in her mother. And then
there was Malfoy, eyeing her with something suspiciously like pity.

"My mum is tougher than most," Hermione said, her voice thin.

Under the table, Malfoy's hand pressed softly against hers.

After brunch, Malfoy said goodbye to Hermione's parents and returned to work. Hermione,
her mother, and her father spent the day wandering the streets, catching up and enjoying one
another's company. They caught a movie about a teenage girl falling madly in love with a
century-old vampire posing as a high school student. After the film, Steve mused that he was
grateful that vampires didn't really exist. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him the truth.
Instead, she crammed a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

They didn't discuss her mother's health further until the day was coming to a close. Steve and
Helen walked Hermione to the front doors of Malfoy Residences, Hermione's hand warm in
the crook of her mother's elbow.

"When is your appointment?"

"Tuesday," Helen said softly. "We're driving to visit my brother tomorrow, and then we'll
return to London to see the specialist."

"Will you call me when you're done?"

"Of course. We fly home on Thursday, so there will be time to see one another before we
leave."
Hermione pulled her mother into a crushing hug. "I'm so glad you're here. It was a good day.
The best day."

Steve joined their hug.

Hermione lingered in the moment of being sandwiched between her two favourite people in
the world. This was safety. She was nearly thirty years old, and sometimes, she just needed
her mum and dad. For a moment, everything felt easy.

Malfoy stood by the bank of lifts as Hermione entered the hotel, both hands thrust into his
pockets.

She stopped. "Are you waiting for me?"

"No. I just got back from an appointment."

"Are you sure? Because perhaps the real stalking case is happening at this very moment."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Very funny. I just happened to be catching a lift to my room.
Why would I stalk you?"

"Maybe you're desperate to finish what you started last night." Hermione couldn't believe the
way she sounded - breathy and flirty. Entirely unlike the person she knew herself to be.
Something about this man made her reckless and stupid, and a large part of her didn't care
enough to reign herself in.

"Maybe you're desperate to finish what you started, love."

The lift doors opened. Malfoy stepped inside, then crooked one finger. "Coming, Granger?"

She hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.

"How was the rest of your day?" Malfoy asked, leaning back against the wall.

"It was nice. I haven't spent time with my parents in ages."

"I'm sorry about your mum."

She shook her head. "Don't be. We don't even know anything yet. She'll be okay."

"You're worried. I can see it all over your face. You're an easy read, you know."

The lift started to ascend as Hermione nodded. "It's difficult not to be. I just got them back.
And cancer. I can't protect her from that. I did everything in my power to protect her from a
wizarding war, but I can't stop something as simple as an illness. I hate it."

His hand touched her shoulder. "Would she see a healer?"

"I don't know. Maybe. They're a bit squeamish about magic ever since I altered their
memories. I can't blame them."

"Ask her, Granger. I have access to the best of the best. I'll send them to Australia on my
dime if I have to."

"I appreciate that." She allowed herself to lean into him. "Unfortunately, magic and money
can't fix everything."

"Just think about it."

She nodded, swallowing a growing lump in her throat. She felt so damn powerless in the face
of this. She had grieved the loss of her parents ten years ago, and it had been brutal. But she'd
also been comforted in knowing they were safe and thriving. Now, she was forced to mourn
an outcome that might not even happen. She tried to imagine existing in a world without
Helen Granger. Her chest tightened, and she let out a single, choked sob.

"Granger?"

She looked up at him. "I just don't know what to do with this. It's so big."

The lift doors opened at Hermione's suite. They stood, unmoving. After a moment, the doors
closed again, and the lift continued to rise.

Malfoy pressed an arm around her shoulder, tugging her in closely. "There is no greater pain
than feeling unable to protect those important to you. I feel it with my mother every single
day - knowing she's wasting away in Azkaban, devoid of her mind, and unable to change it. I
wish I could take that pain from you."

The doors slid open again, and they stepped inside, still clinging to one another.

"She'll get better," Hermione mused. "She has to."

Malfoy wrapped his arms around her, and she buried herself in the cotton of his dress shirt.
He smelled like Christmas, and she allowed herself to indulge in it for a brief second. She
closed her eyes and breathed him in, rooting herself into this moment. She, despite all odds,
trusted him. Focusing her brain on this single truth made things easier to digest. Tomorrow,
she could let the fear of losing her mother eat away at her. Tonight, she would allow her
instincts to override her logic just once more.

She tilted her chin upward, threaded a hand around his neck, and pulled his mouth to hers. He
tasted of salt and smoke, and his mouth was warm against hers. Malfoy let out a breath as he
drew her closer, his fingertips pressing into the curve of her hips. His thumb slipped under the
hem of her jumper, brushing against her, and she shivered.

She pushed him until he stumbled backward, moving down the hallway to his bedroom. They
turned for a moment, pressing up against the wall as his hands travelled over her body -
gripping at her bottom, her back, her hair. She groaned softly into his mouth, her body warm.
He had left her wanting more the night prior - for all her teasing, she did want to finish what
they started. It was inevitable at this point, wasn't it? She dragged her hands through his hair,
kissing him so hard it was nearly painful.

"Malfoy?"

He paused. "Yes?"

"Your room. Now."

He gripped her by the hand and dragged her the final few steps down the hallway, pushing
the door open with his free hand.

They both paused as the room came into view.

Something was terribly wrong.

Hundreds of photographs were plastered to the walls, spread across the bedspread, and lined
across the floor. Every breakable item in the room had been smashed to pieces, shards of
glass littered across the floor like confetti. The mirror opposite the bed was broken, as if
someone had punched it at the very centre. A note was pinned to the frame of the mirror:
HOW CAN YOU LOOK AT YOURSELF?

Another note on his pillow, surrounded by photographs of a younger Malfoy: HOW DO YOU
SLEEP AT NIGHT?

Hermione jumped into action. "Homenum Revelio." A burst of light shot from her wand,
moving about the suite. There was no one else in the room - not anymore, at least.

"Is anything missing?"

"I don't know. There's not much someone could take that I care…" he trailed off as his face
paled.

"What is it?"

He crossed the room in two large steps, feet crunching against piles of shattered glass. A
drawer on his nightstand was open. "It's gone."

"What's gone?"

He massaged his jaw, eyes heavy. "My journal."

"Is that what you're always scribbling in? What's in it?"

"What do people usually write in their journals, Granger? Just my innermost thoughts for the
past ten years."

"Is any of it…" she struggled to find the words - Criminal? Damning?
He gave a quick shake of his head. "No. Nothing like that. It's charmed, so it shouldn't be
accessible."

Hermione swallowed. "They got in here, didn't they? I don't think anything is off the table."

"I suspect you're right."

Several hours later, Hermione sat in her own suite with the stack of photos collected from
Malfoy's room. After alerting Pansy and Theo of the stalker's latest move, Malfoy called in
every member of his current security team to provide extra detail to the entire hotel. It was
unsettling, to say the least, that someone had managed to be inside Malfoy's room undetected.
Theoretically, it should have been impossible without his wand. Hermione was mostly
concerned about the level of escalation. In the past month, the stalker had gone from taunting
notes to poisoning to destruction of property - something was enraging them. Rage and
obsession always proved to be a deadly mix, in her experience.

The photographs were an interesting piece of evidence. She had done her best to organise
them in chronological order on the floor in front of her. On one end were photos cut from the
most recent publications - she and Malfoy holding hands, dancing at the charity ball, and
kissing feverishly in Paris. In the centre of the line-up were photos that spanned the last
decade - Draco with Astoria on various date nights, him announcing the opening of his first
hotel, pictures taken in the first few years after the war. Again, all of these photos were
published widely - anyone could have accessed them. But the pictures on the other end gave
Hermione room to pause. They spanned Malfoy's years at Hogwarts, and most appeared to be
private photographs. In one photograph - Draco must have been sixteen or seventeen - he sat
on a green couch with his arms slung over Pansy's shoulders. In another, he tipped back a
glass of firewhisky while celebrating with the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Hermione studied the Quidditch photograph, trying to recall the names of the boys in the
photo. She'd been documenting every face she recognised in the images. So far, her list was
long:

Draco Malfoy

Astoria Greengrass

Hermione Granger

Narcissa Malfoy

Lucius Malfoy

Daphne Greengrass

Theodore Nott

Pansy Parkinson

Gregory Goyle
Vincent Crabbe

Marcus Flint

Blaise Zabini

Millicent Bulstrode

Terrence Higgs

Flora Carrow

Adrian Pucey

She would need to ask Malfoy to identify the faces she couldn't. There had to be a clue here.
The stalker had chosen these photos for a reason. She remembered what Theo had said weeks
ago - the person doing this knew Malfoy well. Had they known him back at school?
Carefully, she crossed off the names of anyone dead or incarcerated.

She was willing to bet that someone on this list was behind this. Someone hated Malfoy and
wanted him to pay. The question lingering in her mind was why?
 Mastermind
Chapter Summary

Draco makes a confession that changes the course of their relationship.

Chapter Notes

Happy Sunday! This chapter marks a turning point in this story, and I'm so excited to
hear what you think. As always, your comments and kudos are so valued. Thank you for
reading!

Chapter Eleven - Mastermind

What if I told you none of it was accidental?

Hermione was awoken at exactly seven by the repeated buzzing of her chandelier. She rubbed
her eyes, groggy. She'd been awake until nearly four o'clock in the morning, poring over the
photographs. It wasn't until her mind was blurry from exhaustion that she'd decided to call it
a night and allow herself a chance to rest. She rolled out of bed, pulled a robe around her
shoulders, and moved out into the hallway.

"Hello?"

A feminine voice filtered from the glittering chandelier. "Good morning. Can I come in?"

She didn't recognise the voice. Hermione squared her shoulders - a stalker wouldn't be so
bold as to announce themselves. Or would they? "Who is this?"

"It's Astoria." A heavy pause. "I need to speak to you."

Hermione eyed her wrist, where her diamond bracelet was still clasped. It remained
unchanged. "Come in."

The lift doors slid open. Astoria was dressed impeccably in a silk dress, her dark hair pinned
back with a shimmering barrette. Her growing stomach was in full view this time, and her
hand pressed gently to the swell.

Hermione stood, fingers curled intentionally on the handle of her concealed wand. "Can I
help you?"
Astoria stepped inside. "Hello, Hermione. I'm sure it's strange to see me here. I appreciate
you letting me in. I wasn't sure you would, though I wouldn't have blamed you."

"It appears congratulations are in order."

Astoria caressed her stomach lovingly, looking down with a soft smile. "Thank you. That's
very kind."

"When are you due?"

"Two months. A little girl."

The women stared in silence for a few moments. Then, Astoria cleared her throat. "I believe I
owe you an apology. I was unkind when I saw you last."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. But I can understand why. I was there with your ex-husband. It must
have hurt."

"It's not jealousy," Astoria said. "Not entirely. You might not believe me, but I wanted to
protect you. Prevent the pain that I've had to shoulder because of Draco's situation."

Hermione lowered herself onto the couch, then gestured for Astoria to sit as well. "I'm not
sure I understand."

Astoria sat, keeping a safe distance from Hermione. "He can't love you. Not the way you
might want to be loved. It's not possible."

"I know you might think he couldn't interested in a muggleborn, Astoria–"

"That's not what I mean." Astoria shook her head. "Draco doesn't harbour those beliefs, and
neither do I. We parrotted what we were taught by our parents when we were young, but I
can assure you that neither of us aligns with any of that nonsense."

"Then what is it?" Hermione pressed her lips into a hard line, unsure whether she believed
Astoria.

"Based on your reaction, I'm assuming you're unaware of the affliction that follows the
Malfoy line."

Hermione shook her head. Affliction? Was Draco sick?

"Partnership is not a choice for Draco. He can't simply be with someone out of love or desire,
you have to understand. Those in the Malfoy line are predisposed to soul bonds. In fact, there
hasn't been a Malfoy in the last hundred years who wasn't impacted. Draco didn't know when
we were married - he found out about two years in."

"Soul bonds? Those aren't real." Hermione almost laughed. The concept of soul bonds was
an old wizarding fairy tale - no more real than the muggle stories of St. Nicholas. There was
no evidence that such a thing existed in reality.
"I'd beg to differ. I wanted to believe the same thing, but the reality is that Draco has a
soulmate. Somewhere."

"It's not you?"

Astoria shook her head, a sad smile crossing her face. "No. And that's why I divorced him. I
love him, Hermione—more than I can explain. But a soul-bonded person will never be fully
happy if they're not with their mate. Draco is a man of his word; he would've stayed with me
forever, even if it cost him that kind of connection. I didn't want that for him. And selfishly, I
didn't want that for me. I don't want to be married to someone knowing that I'm never going
to be enough."

Hermione could understand the sentiment. "Did you send me the letter? To stay away from
him?"

Astoria pressed her hands to her knees with a nod. "I wasn't trying to threaten you. I was
trying to warn you. I know better than anyone how Draco can be. He's magnetic. Loving him
is easy, and I can tell he likes you. But it'll only bring you pain. You deserve someone who
loves you all the way. And he does too."

"You do as well, Astoria." Hermione touched the other woman's hand, squeezing it softly. "Is
the father of the baby…?"

"No." Astoria touched her rounded stomach once more. "He's a muggle I met while Draco
and I were separated. He doesn't know, and it's better that way. But this child is a beautiful
thing for me. I always wanted to be a mother. I will love and protect my daughter - and
maybe, someday, I'll find someone who loves me the way I need to be loved."

"Will you be okay? As a single parent?"

Astoria nodded. "Draco was very generous to me in our divorce. We spoke about the
pregnancy a few days ago and he was very kind, as I expected. I know he'll support me if I
need it, but for once in my life, I'd like to do something on my own."

Hermione frowned. "He didn't mention."

"I asked him to keep it private. And I need to ask the same of you. My parents are stuck in
their antiquated belief system. If they learned that this child has a muggle father, they'd never
allow themselves to love her." Astoria looked down at her bump, shaking her head. "It's
better that I allow them to believe Draco is the father, for now."

"What does that mean for Draco, though? Won't they expect him to be involved?"

"I'm going to tell them the truth once she's born. Once they fall in love with her, her blood
won't change that." Astoria nodded firmly, though the certainty didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I hope they accept you and your daughter, Astoria. And, of course, I won't tell anyone about
this."

"Thank you."
They remained silent for a moment before Hermione spoke again. "I'm sorry to ask, but I
have to - have you sent any other notes? To Draco?"

Astoria's eyes narrowed in confusion. "No. Just the one to you. Why?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm just curious. I wouldn't blame you if you did."

"I haven't. Just the note I put into your Daily Prophet. I saw the photos of you two in the
paper after The Golden Goblet opening. You looked so happy. I suppose I saw a bit of myself
in you and it broke my heart in more ways than one. I didn't think you'd speak to me, but I
couldn't do nothing. Draco is a good man, but he's less than forthcoming about the soul bond
at times."

Hermione studied Astoria. She considered herself pretty good at reading people - it was half-
crafted from growing up on the foundation of war and half-grown through her work. Despite
the evidence to the contrary, she believed the woman in front of her. She was lonely, sad, and
maybe even a little bitter - but she wasn't out to harm anyone over it.

"Can you do me a favour?"

"Depends." Hermione smiled.

"Be kind if you decide to leave him. He never said this, but I believe part of the reason he
didn't end our marriage is because he's afraid he'll never find his mate. Draco has so much
love to give, and I think he's terrified of never having someone to share it with. But he also
deserves the chance to find his person."

"I have no intentions to harm him, Astoria." Hermione meant it. She'd grown to respect
Draco, even though their not-friendship was complicated.

"Thank you. Truly." Astoria leaned forward and gripped both of Hermione's hands, squeezing
them. "I can see why he likes you."

Hermione didn't know how to feel. Her feelings toward Malfoy were already a tangled mass -
she felt as drawn to him as she felt frightened of what that meant. She was sceptical of
Astoria's assertion, but it didn't feel like a lie. Astoria believed it, and it sounded like Draco
did, too.

She turned to the method she knew best: research. After a lengthy trip to Frennimen's
Magical Library, she set up shop in her office downtown. She pored through every text she'd
found regarding soul bonds. It turned out they were a highly contested piece of magic - many
were insistent that they were rooted in reality, while others believed they were a piece of
fanciful fiction. While much of the "evidence" related to soul bonds was anecdotal, one
researcher - a wizard named Lars Millerman - claimed to have found an inherent magical
signature that could indicate mates. It was interesting, to say the least, but the research only
left Hermione more unconvinced.
According to the book by Lars Millerson, those who were soul-bonded could only conceive
with their mates. He asserted that many witches and wizards believed themselves to be
infertile when the reality was simply the wrong partner. Hermione considered Astoria -
apparently, she hadn't gotten pregnant with Malfoy, but had with a random muggle. She also
remembered Malfoy's insistent words that he couldn't get Astoria pregnant. Not that he
couldn't get anyone pregnant. Millerson was also clear in his belief that, while witches and
wizards could partner outside of their soul bonds, a lingering sense of unfulfillment would
remain for their lifetimes. It seemed to align with that story spun by Astoria.

Hermione was so invested in her research that she forgot to eat. It wasn't until the wee hours
of the morning that she drifted off, face pressed against an open text on her desk.

Someone pounded heavily on her door. Hermione groaned - how did someone get into her
suite? She blinked her eyes open, then realised her cheek was stuck to a piece of parchment.
She peeled herself back, rubbing her bleary eyes. She was still in her office.

"Granger? Open up!"

"Hold on!" Hermione pushed aside books and papers before noticing her wand on the floor
by the leg of her chair. She picked it up, pointed it to the door, and unlocked it.

Draco stormed inside. "Granger! What are you doing?"

She shrugged, still on the dizzying plane of being half-asleep. "Working." She let out a
yawn.

"It's three o'clock in the morning. I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Why? Did I miss something?" She closed the book she'd been reading and used her palms to
cover the title: The Implication of Soul Bonds on Modern Romance.

"No." Draco ran a hand through his hair. "I was worried."

Hermione was taken aback by the genuine concern on his face. She took a sip from the water
cup beside her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten anyone. I fell asleep."

Draco sat down in the seat opposite her desk. "You look like you did in the Hogwarts library.
You used to fall asleep at the tables on a near weekly basis. For someone who likes to read,
books seem to inspire a case of narcolepsy in you."

"I used to wake up to find Bertie Bott's beans stuck to my cheek, because someone thought it
would be—" she paused for a moment, then widened her eyes. "You?"

He laughed. "I'd forgotten about that. Blaise Zabini and I had a bet going about how many we
could stick to your cheeks before you'd wake up. I was the reigning champion at seventeen."

She shook her head. "Zabini. Whatever happened to him?"

"Azkaban," Malfoy said. "Are you ready to head back?"

Hermione swallowed. “I’d like to speak to you about something, actually."

Draco spread his knees, pressing back into the armchair. "I'm all ears."

"Astoria came to my suite this morning. She apologised for her behaviour at the charity ball -
and for the note she left me. She said she was trying to protect me."

"Is that so?" Draco's face paled.

Hermione’s mouth was suddenly dry. She took a drink of water from the cup on her desk,
then looked back at him. "Is it true?"

Draco said nothing, watching her with wide, unblinking eyes. He pinched the bridge of his
nose.

"Did a soul bond end your marriage?"

For a moment, he seemed to freeze in time. And then, he nodded slowly. "I wouldn't have
married Astoria if I'd known. My parents didn't see fit to tell me. It took me years to clear out
the manor, and when I finally did, I found a box of letters stashed in our library. The letters
detailed the soul bonds going back nine generations."

"And you believe them?"

"I didn't at first. But it made sense. Astoria hadn't been able to get pregnant. And despite how
much I cared for her, there was always something missing. A piece of me that still searched.
I'd always thought I was just irreparably fucked up from war, incapable of feeling happy. But,
eventually, I caved and told my wife. She found us an expert, who was able to confirm that I
am bound to someone who isn't Astoria."

"Who?"

"I don't know. It's not that simple. Most people stumble upon their mate at some point, but
then again, most people are aware they should be searching. According to the letters, my
father knew the first time he laid eyes on my mother. Something inside of him shifted, like a
beacon. By the time I knew to look, I was married. I couldn't do that to Astoria. I made vows
to her. I tried my hardest to remain closed to the possibility."

"I'm sorry that happened to you, Malfoy. It wasn't fair to either of you. I hope you find
your…mate." She was surprised by the angry swell in her chest when she imagined Draco
finding his person - the one that would allow him to stop searching. She'd known that
whatever they were dancing around couldn't last, but it was supposed to peter out naturally. It
couldn't continue now that she knew. She would only be holding him - and herself - back.

"Hermione."

She met his eyes. He'd never called her by her first name before, not directly. "Yes?"

"I think it might be you."

Her heart stilled. "What? That's preposterous."

"Why?"

"I'm a muggleborn."

"It's not about blood. It's a connection of magic, which you have in spades."

"But why would you think it's me?"

He stood and stepped toward her desk, hands in his pockets. "I saw you a few months ago.
Walking in Diagon Alley with a bag full of books, lost in some daydream. I could tell your
mind was spinning with a million thoughts, like always. And I felt this… pull. Like I needed
to keep looking, to learn everything about you. To know you entirely. I'd never felt that
before about anyone." He swallowed roughly. "It was physically painful to walk away."

She shook her head. "You thought this months ago? Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to say? Hi there, Granger, I know I bullied you for years and we've
had absolutely no contact since, but I think we might be soulmates? You would have called
me mad."

Her throat tightened, a sick feeling coiling in her gut. "Is that why you hired me?"

He leaned forward, pressing his palms to the tabletop. "I hired you because I need your help.
I still need your help. The job is real, Hermione."

"You hired me under false pretences." She leaned back as he leaned in. "What about this fake
relationship? Did you hope that tricking me into kissing you would get you what you
wanted?"

"I didn't trick you."

She scooted her chair backward and stood, clutching her wand in one hand. "I understand you
were unsure what to do, Malfoy. But I believed we were on the same page. Meanwhile, you
were auditioning me to be your soulmate. You didn't give me a choice in the matter."

He ran a hand over his face, breathing deeply. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. Or force you. I
would never–"

"I feel manipulated."

"I'm not some mastermind," he bit out, "I didn't know what else to do."

"Is that why you stopped the other night? Because you finally had proof that I'm not your
missing soulmate?"

"No." His eyes darkened as he stared straight at her, heavy with a sudden clarity. "I stopped
because I'm certain that you are."
Hermione couldn't speak. She stood, rooted to her spot, staring at him in pure confusion.

"Say something, Hermione."

She didn't know what to say. She had spent her entire life as a pawn in someone else's game.
She had resigned herself to her independence - and if a relationship came along, it would be
something that she and her nameless partner wanted simply because it was right. No
expectations. No role to fill. No bar that she would live in agony trying to meet.

"I'm overwhelmed," she admitted, voice nearly a whisper.

He nodded, then took a slow step in her direction. "I'm sorry."

The way he was looking at her was almost painful - it was as if he was seeing through her
skin and straight into her muscle and bone. She wanted to curl in on herself if only he would
stop looking at her like the answer to all his questions.

She wiped away a stray tear. "I think I was right when I quit the first time. This isn't a good
idea. I can't possibly keep you safe while this is hanging over our heads. I'll owl you those
references to take my position. I'm sorry, but I just… I can't."

"Hermione…"

"Go. Please. I need time to think."

He paused for a moment, looking like he might say something else. And then he apparated
away with a crack.

Hermione leaned onto her desk, swallowing a cry. It could never be easy, could it? There was
always some role to play, a slot to fill. Even as the anger prickled at her brain, hot and sharp,
she knew it wouldn't last. The edges of her rage were already starting to fade into something
like forgiveness, a pity that settled on Draco's own loss. Still, something raw boiled in her
gut. It would be this ache - the feeling of never being enough - that would continue to gnaw
at her far beyond the night.
 Is It Over Now?
Chapter Notes

Surprise! Because the last chapter was short - and introduced a significant moment in
the plot - I decided to add a second chapter to today's update :) I hope you like it - let me
know your thoughts!

Chapter Twelve - Is it Over Now?

Baby, was it over then / and is it over now?

Soulmates.

It was ridiculous. Fanciful. Even as a child, Hermione would've found such a concept sweet
but laughable. As an adult woman, it was mainly enraging. Did she have no agency? Was she
supposed to get swept up in the magic of destiny and choose a partner simply because it was,
apparently, chosen by fate? It wasn't even a choice. It was forced.

She'd been a key to someone else's lock her entire life. Harry's dutiful sidekick, destined to
follow him into battle. A child forced into a war she had no business fighting. A womb to be
filled by Ronald Weasley. And now? Destined to be the love of Draco Malfoy's life.

Hermione slammed her clothes into her trunk. She had liked Malfoy. She had even started to
trust him to a degree. And to realise that his actions were all rooted in some desperate need to
find his soulmate struck her at the very core. She had believed that he respected her. That he
enjoyed her company. That he was attracted to her.

But he'd only been interested because he believed he had to be. Being someone's obligation
wasn't acceptable. She'd rather be alone.

Hermione shut the trunk, taking one last look around the suite. It was nice while it lasted. She
closed her eyes and apparated back to her office.

Ginny was standing inside the Granger Magical Protection Agency office when Hermione
arrived.

"Hi." Hermione dropped her trunk to the floor with a thump, blowing a wayward curl from
her face.

Ginny's face was hard. "I came as soon as your owl arrived. What happened? What did that
bastard do?"
Hermione sunk into the armchair and confessed the whole story to Ginny. Now that her
employment had been officially terminated and the contract voided, she could explain the
details of their fake relationship - which hadn't surprised Ginny in the least. Anger re-flared
in Hermione's chest as she explained about the soul bond.

"Can you believe it? A soul bond. It's ridiculous. Malfoy is many things, but surely he's not
stupid enough to be roped in by a children's fairytale."

"You don't think they're real?" Ginny spoke for the first time since Hermione had started
spilling her guts in rapid fire. The sharpness in her expression had shifted to something softer
and more open.

"Of course they're not real."

"My mum and dad are soul bonded, Hermione."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "What? Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I mean, you never asked to know the romantic history of Molly and Arthur Weasley. Why
would I have told you?"

"Does that mean you are?"

Ginny shook her head. "It's typically a random occurrence, and very rare. It's even rarer for it
to flow through family lines. My mum had us checked by a specialty healer when we were
born. None of us are bonded."

"The Malfoys and their weird, 'untainted' blood," Hermione grumbled. "Of course, they'd be
the family intent on being special."

Ginny shrugged. "No one really knows where they come from. Many people think it's about
the fusion of especially powerful magic. My mum believes it's the reason she's so fertile."

"You have to be fucking kidding me." Hermione slumped backward. "Half of the reason Ron
and I didn't work out was his desire for me to be a broodmare. And now you're implying that
I'm essentially destined to be one?"

"That's not entirely out of your control. Mum enacted an anti-conception spell after having
me. She wanted to have a quidditch team of kids, mad as it sounds. Plus, that would require
having sex with Malfoy - and I'm certain that didn't happen."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, then sat up straight. "Wait. How do you know I haven't
had sex with him?"

Ginny's cheeks flamed red. "First of all, you're terrible at keeping secrets from me. And also -
rumour has it that sex activates the bond. Before it's activated, being without your mate is
uncomfortable. But survivable. Once you seal the deal, it's absolute misery to be apart. It
destroys people. You wouldn't be questioning any of this if you had slept together already, or
at least that's what I've heard."
Hermione felt a flip in her stomach. That's why Malfoy had stopped that night. He had known
what it would do to her. To both of them. It would've been the easiest route for him; she
wouldn't have needed any convincing. But instead, he'd chosen this - the path that threatened
having her at all. The stone around her heart trembled slightly, the tiniest of cracks darting
through it.

Dramione - Trouble In Paradise?

It seems there may be relationship troubles between Draco Malfoy and his rumoured partner,
Hermione Granger. Draco has attended several recent events solo, and witnesses report he's
been seen around London looking forlorn. Miss Granger, on the other hand, hasn't been seen
in public for nearly two weeks. Fans of the couple - lovingly dubbed 'Dramione' - are starting
to worry what this means for the pair.

Hermione stared down at the text. It was a small mercy that it was an obscure text box on
page five of the newest issue of Witch Weekly rather than the front cover. If only the reporters
could see her now - stained joggers, oversized tee-shirt, and a bowl of half-eaten Chinese
takeaway sitting on her lap. She pushed the magazine to the floor.

The Stone Inn was no luxury high-rise, but it was better than transfiguring her chair into a
bed at the office. There was no fireplace, no magically-delivered meals, and no custom
wardrobe - but she had a bed and a shower. Most importantly, it was entirely free of Draco
Malfoy and the constant reminder of the convoluted almost-romance they'd gotten
themselves into.

Her anger had fully subsided. Though she disagreed with Malfoy's method, she understood
why he'd gone about things like he had. Still, even without anger, the idea of being fated to
someone seemed dreadfully unfair. She wanted to be valued for herself. She wanted to be
loved because someone chose to love her and vice versa. Despite her earlier reservations, she
now suspected Draco was correct in his assertion of their bond. She felt ready to burst out of
her skin with discomfort when she thought of him. Something in her tugged toward him, and
she had to accept that she'd been ignoring it for months. She imagined carving into her chest
to pull out this wriggling bond - the complication that stood in the way of what could have
been something good.

Hermione was pulled out of her thoughts by a pounding at the door. Probably the innkeeper,
Meredith, coming to collect the week's fee. She climbed out of the bed, wiping a greasy hand
across the front of her shirt, and cracked the door open.

Pansy peered inside. "Merlin, Granger. You look awful."

Hermione opened the door the rest of the way and stepped backward into the room. "Since I
know you're going to insist no matter what I say, come on in, Pansy. Make yourself at
home."

"Happy Fucking Christmas." Pansy circled the room with her hands on her hips, eyeing the
stacked boxes of takeaway containers and piles of dirty laundry. "This is mental, Granger.
You know that, right?"
Hermione shrugged.

Pansy looked down at her golden watch encircling one wrist. "The Christmas Eve party starts
in one hour. I'm not even confident magic can fix you up in time. You're a disaster."

"Which is fine, since I'm not going." Hermione picked up an abandoned box of Indian food
and tossed it into the rubbish.

"You are going. It is, by far, the most important event in your contract. A thousand attendees
will be there. It's a huge risk for Draco, and he can't possibly miss it. Have you forgotten that
someone broke into his room just two weeks ago?"

"I no longer have a contract. I quit, remember?"

Pansy waved a hand. "Details."

"I'm not obligated to attend, Pansy. And I'm not going to." She crossed her arms in front of
her chest like a spoiled child.

"Hermione Jean Granger. You will go, even if it means I forcibly apparate you. Do you want
to risk being splinched?"

"How do you know my middle name?"

"Draco told me."

"How does Draco know my middle name?"

Pansy arched one expertly tweezed eyebrow.

"Right. Daft question. He's probably got a dossier."

"Regardless, I understand why you're angry at him. You're an independent woman and the
soul bond thing gives you righteous indignation. I'd be angry too. But seriously, Granger,
what was he supposed to do?"

Hermione lowered herself to the bed with a groan. "He was supposed to be honest. And even
if he were, I don't know that I want to accept any of this. I want someone to choose me
because they want me."

"He wants you. I'd bet my left tit."

"Just the left one?"

Pansy looked down at her chest. "It's the bigger one. I'm willing to bet my best tit that Draco
Malfoy wants you."

"But do I want him?"

"That's a question you'll have to answer yourself, princess. Though, as of now, only one thing
really matters. Do you care about him?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course I do."

"Then get your nasty, unshowered arse off the bed and get to this party. You don't have to be
his date. Just…come. Alright?"

Hermione fell backward onto the lumpy mattress. "Alright."

There was no time to properly bathe. Hermione settled on using magic to cleanse herself -
which never felt even half as good as a scalding hot shower. Still, within a few minutes, she
was relatively clean and had glamoured her hair into a simple bun. She slipped on the red
sheath dress she'd worn the first day she'd met with Malfoy in her office. It wasn't nearly as
extravagant as the outfits that Pansy had been throwing at her, but it was better than nothing.

She stood at the foot of her bed, steeling herself with a breath. She hadn't wanted things to get
so mixed up - not like this. She wasn't naive enough to try to convince herself she didn't like
Draco. Before learning about this supposed soul bond, there had been a part of her
considering their friendship being something more - something fun, unique, and connective.
He seemed to truly enjoy her like no partner ever had. Ron - who knew her deeply - found
her irritating and controlling. And the muggles she'd brought home after their divorce had no
interest in learning her beyond her body. Malfoy, on the other hand, asked her questions - and
seemed genuinely invested in the answers. She wasn't sure what that meant beyond
friendship, but it wasn't nothing.

When she considered the concept of the soul bond, something dark and sticky clawed inside
her chest. But Pansy was right - this event was important for Draco. Hermione was still
confused, but she cared about him. And because of that, she would do the right thing. She
closed her palm around her wand, closed her eyes, and apparated inside Malfoy Residences
London.

Unsurprisingly, the lobby was decked out as a winter wonderland. The scent of pine flooded
Hermione's nostrils, the room lit by the warm glow of thousands of floating candles. A large
red tapestry hung from the ceiling, the words Happy Christmas written in golden script. The
party was already in full swing, with formally dressed waiters carrying trays of cider and
cookies to the attendees. Hermione took a cookie from a passing waiter and took a bite.

"Straight for the snacks. I think you're actually my soulmate."

Hermione turned around. Theo held a plate in one hand, a pile of cookies stacked
precariously high. He was dressed in a velvet suit the colour of eggplants, a black bowtie at
his neck.

She sighed. "You knew?"

"Not for long. Draco told Pansy and I a few days ago. Leave it to him to take a simple fling
and make it a dramatic romance fit for a novel."

"It is neither dramatic or a romance, Theodore."

"So you say. You came, didn't you?"

Hermione remained silent, watching as guests surrounded a pile of elaborately wrapped

packages under an illuminated tree. One by one, the guests picked packages and opened
them, revealing various gifts inside: an emerald necklace, a wool jacket, a leatherbound
journal.

"The presents were my design," Theo said, nodding toward the scene. "The packages are
charmed. Each guest opens a gift to find something they genuinely want. Give it a shot."

Hermione stepped toward the tree, eyes travelling over the pile of presents. Finally, she
selected a small package wrapped in silver. Carefully, she tore open the paper and lifted the
top from the box. Nestled amongst white tissue was a small silver locket shaped like a heart.
Pretty, but not necessarily her taste.

She opened the locket. Inside was a photograph of Malfoy. Shirtless. She snapped it shut and
turned back to Theo.

"Your charm is faulty."

He pressed a hand to his heart. "Are you calling me inept, Miss Granger?"

"Are you trying to tell me that my most desired gift is a half-naked photograph of Draco
Malfoy to wear around my neck?"

Theo laughed. "Alright, you got me. I might've charmed that one especially for you."

She tossed the locket at him. "How about you wear it?"

"Don't mind if I do." He snapped the necklace around his neck.

"I suppose I should find him."

Theo nodded toward the main doors that led into the hotel's cavernous ballroom. "I believe I
saw him head inside a few minutes ago. Go get your man."

"He's not my man."

"Mmm-hmm. I have a special guest in my room waiting on me. Toodles!" Theo wriggled his
fingers at her before taking off in the opposite direction.

Hermione grazed her fingers over the diamond bracelet, lying peacefully against her wrist. It
had been rash to quit her assignment just before this event. Pansy was right - it presented a
risk far more considerable than any before, especially with the stalker's behaviour continually
increasing in severity. She'd been sure to leave Malfoy with all of her notes and several
references for private security in the London area. She hadn't wanted to leave him high and
dry, even amidst her emotional breakdown. Slowly, Hermione stepped into the ballroom and
scanned the crowd.

He was easy to pick out, if only because everyone in the room seemed preternaturally angled
toward him. There was something about Draco Malfoy - beyond his good looks - that
magnetised people toward him. Everyone in the room seemed drawn toward him like they
were simply planets caught in his gravitational pull, whether they knew it or not. He wore a
tailored suit the colour of emeralds with a pair of ostentatious dragonhide shoes. She moved
toward him, unable to stop herself. Despite her better senses demanding that she stay put,
Hermione Granger seemed as helpless to his thrall as anyone else.

He turned and looked at her - actually, he looked beyond her. Someone rushed past
Hermione, knocking her shoulder and causing her to stumble. A woman in a flowing purple
gown cut in front of Hermione, making a beeline for Draco. He smiled at the sight of her,
arms outstretched. The woman leapt into Draco's arms and he lifted her, spinning her in a
dramatic circle. He set her down and used a finger to lift her chin. And then he kissed her as
cameras flashed around them.

Hermione swallowed the bile rising in her throat. This was precisely what she'd feared. Draco
didn't want her. He wanted his freedom - the ability to pick and choose any woman who
would have him. His desire for her was forced by a magical bond neither of them had asked
for. Hermione realised she was crying at the same time she felt the bright flashes of the
camera on her face. She turned and ran, pushing past guests to get out of the ballroom as fast
as possible. Outside of the room, a wall of photographers blocked the main entrance. She
headed toward the bank of lifts.

The lift doors opened wide as she approached, and she stepped inside. She let herself fall
apart as soon as the doors closed - hot tears spilled down her cheeks as the shame and fear
coursed through her veins. She was a fool - and tomorrow, the world would know it. Again,
she'd be reduced to a woman scorned, crying over another man who couldn't manage to see
her worth. The lift stopped at floor fifty-four. Hermione sighed in relief - the room must still
be registered to her wand.

The doors opened, and she stepped out, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes to stop her
tears.

But the room was occupied.

Hermione paused. "Malfoy?"

He looked up from his spot on the couch. He wore pyjama bottoms and a long-sleeved tee
shirt, a glass of firewhisky cupped in one hand. "I hoped you'd show up here."

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting for you. Pansy said you agreed to come."

"If you're here, who is downstairs?"

"Connor Hotchkiss - one of your recommendations, I believe." He suddenly seemed to notice
the tears that still lingered in Hermione's eyes, and his face knitted in confusion. "What
happened?"

"Nothing. I was just confused."

He shook his head. "You're lying. What did you see?"

Her cheeks burned hot. "He was kissing someone. I thought…"

"You thought it was me?" Draco splayed his free hand across his chest. "I'm touched that the
sight of me kissing another woman reduced you to tears. You do care."

She straightened her shoulders. "It was simply a painful reminder, again, that I've been
manipulated."

"I can't say I'm surprised by your ability to oversimplify, Granger. You're quite committed to
sticking to the narrative you've cooked up. After looking at the evidence, Connor was quite
convinced my stalker must be an obsessed fan. He thought bringing a date might encourage a
little action, though I didn't realise he meant that kind of action."

"A little warning would've been nice."

"I didn't even tell Pansy and Theo. Why would I warn you, Granger? We're ex-colleagues and
nothing more. Or have I gotten it wrong?"

She sucked in a breath. She would not let him bait her. Not today. "Is there something I can
do for you, Malfoy?"

"Yes, actually." Draco pulled a photograph from his pocket and held it toward her. "Look at
this."

It was a photograph taken in the Slytherin common room. Draco sat on a couch with Theo
and Blaise Zabini, laughing uproariously.

Hermione stared down at the picture. "This was one of the photos left by the stalker. I
remember it."

"Yes. Flip it over."

Hermione turned the photo over. On the back, the script read: You ruined his life, and now I'll
ruin yours. "This wasn't here the other night."

"Theo found it. It was hidden under a concealment charm. My stalker likes a good game, it
appears."

Hermione studied the photograph once more. Malfoy, Theo, and Blaise all looked happy.
Friendly. Connected. "What does it mean?"

"It has to be referring to Blaise."

She handed the photograph back to Malfoy. "What did you do to him?"

"You're already convinced it's true, then?"

"Why else would a stalker be after you?"

Draco stood. "You have insane trust issues, do you realise that? My stalker is unhinged. I
don't know what story they've concocted in their brain to fuel their hatred of me. Blaise
Zabini was my friend. He got sucked into the Death Eaters, and as far as I know, he's still in
Azkaban. I haven't spoken to him since Hogwarts."

"We have to talk to him," Hermione said. "He's connected to this. It's the best lead we've
had."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Does this mean you're back on the case?"

She sighed. "I suppose it does."

 Invisible String
Chapter Notes

I about cried when this fic hit 400 kudos yesterday, thank you! It's been so much fun
writing this story + hearing your thoughts as you read. Thank you! I hope you enjoy this
chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter Thirteen - Invisible String

Time, mystical time / cutting me open, then healing me fine / were there clues I didn't see? /
and isn't it just so pretty to think / all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?

The fate of Blaise Zabini was found in a two-year-old copy of The Daily Prophet, a nearly
forgettable byline below a blurry photo from Zabini's Azkaban booking. In the photo, he
blinked slowly, his eyes seeking something far beyond the camera. At only eighteen, he
looked tortuously young to Hermione.

Blaise Zabini, 26, was released from Azkaban following his eight-year sentence for crimes
committed during the Second Wizarding War.

There were no other mentions of Zabini in any of the following publications, nor was he
listed on the National Wand Registry. Blaise, it seemed, had become a ghost since his release.
Another article mentioned his parents - Rose and Zachariah - had sold their home back to the
Ministry and relocated to an undisclosed location, apparently unable to bear the public
shame.

Hermione had pored over every photograph left by the stalker. Blaise was in many of them,
and the pictures appeared as windows into a happier life. The versions of Malfoy and his
friends she saw represented were vastly different from the caustic, angry people she'd known
them to be at Hogwarts. In the safety of their friendship group, they looked happy. Silly.
Playful. Much like the photographs Hermione had collected during her time at school. Even
amid war and death, they'd all found ways to keep living. She stroked one finger over a
photograph of Draco, marvelling at the youth and joy that were so vastly different than the
memories she'd carried for over a decade.

"Find anything?"

Hermione looked up from the stack of photographs. Malfoy was settled on the far end of her
couch, picking through his own stack of publications.

She shook her head. "Nothing beyond the mention of Zabini being released from Azkaban.
His trail seems to have disappeared after that."
"It doesn't surprise me. Blaise was always private."

"Are you sure you can't think of any reason why he would say you ruined his life?"

"I'm certain they used some of my statements in his trial, but those weren't intended for him.
They used Pansy's testimony against my parents as well. If he were angry about that, he'd be
going after her too."

"What did he do to get such a long sentence? Do you know?"

Malfoy swallowed roughly. "During the battle at Hogwarts, he threw himself into the fight
with a bit more passion than most. Most of us were terrified, just trying to survive. But Blaise
had something to prove. He was responsible for a fair amount of injury, if I remember
correctly."

Hermione leaned back into the couch. It amazed her how little she knew about that final
battle despite being present for it. She'd been focused on her own survival at the time - and, in
the following years, her own healing. There were so many individual stories that she'd simply
missed.

"I'm going to write to his family."

"Are you sure? He could be in contact with them."

"I'll say I'm someone else. Millicent Bulstrode, perhaps. It wouldn't be the first time."

Draco cocked a brow. "Do tell."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I, erm, made a Polyjuice brew in our second year. I took a hair
from Millicent, but it turned out to be her cat's hair. It took me ages to turn back to myself."

Draco let out a laugh. "You brewed polyjuice at twelve? Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, I wasn't terribly successful."

"I would give anything to see that." He paused. "Why were you trying to turn into
Millicent?"

She brushed a curl from her forehead. "Let's discuss that another time."

Hermione Granger's Heartbreak

Hermione Granger, our favourite Golden Girl, was seen exiting the Malfoy Residence's
Annual Christmas Eve Party in hysterics after witnessing her on-again, off-again boyfriend
cozying up to a beautiful brunette. Onlookers reported that Miss Granger fled the event after
watching a passionate kiss between Draco Malfoy and the mysterious woman. It appears that
our beloved Dramione is well and truly over.
Hermione threw the paper at Malfoy's head. "And yet again the entire focus of the coverage
is on my romantic inclinations."

Malfoy grabbed the paper, flipped it a few pages, and handed it back to her. "Read this."

In a brief statement from Malfoy himself, he stated that "witness reports are not always
reliable" and that he "remains besotted by Hermione Granger." He also said, "I am deeply
proud of the work Hermione has put into her company, The Granger Magical Protection
Agency, and the work she's done to protect society's most vulnerable members."

She softened slightly. "Thank you."

"Pansy is working with Witch Weekly for a profile on you as we speak. She's adamant that it's
business only."

Hermione nodded. "I'll believe it when I read it, but I appreciate the attempt."

Malfoy started to respond but was interrupted as Hermione's rolling cart appeared next to the
lift. A stack of mail sat next to a vase of fresh flowers. She stood and picked up the stack of
mail: a letter from her parents, a New Year's card from Harry, and a parchment from
Gringotts.

She cut the wax seal of the parchment.

Dear Miss Zabini,

Thank you for contacting Gringotts Wizarding Bank with your request to check the vault
balance for your husband, Mr. Blaise Zabini. Unfortunately, our records indicate that the
posthumous vault access was granted to Mr. Zachariah Zabini. Since you are not named on
the account, we cannot provide the requested information. Should you feel this is in error,
please provide a Ministry order of marriage so we can appropriately update our records.

Hermione held the letter tightly in her hands. "He's dead."

Malfoy frowned. "Who?"

"Blaise."

He remained silent for a moment. To anyone else, he might've looked blank. However,
Hermione had started to learn him and noticed an array of emotions filtering behind his
guarded eyes.

"How do you know?"

"I forged a letter a few days ago, pretending to be his wife and requesting an updated balance
of his Gringotts vault. I doubted I'd get an answer, but I'd hoped the response would provide
some sort of clue. It says here that his account access was posthumously given to his father,
Zachariah. Sometime in the two years since his release, he died." She handed him the letter.
Draco looked down at the parchment. He said nothing as he scanned the words, folded the
paper, and slid it into his pocket. "I had no idea."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I haven't spoken to Blaise in a decade."

Hermione thought back to the smiling photographs, the easy way that Blaise, Theo, and
Draco seemed to co-exist. In her memory, they had been sketched as monsters. But, really,
they were just boys. "That doesn't mean you wanted him gone."

He swiped a hand over his jaw, massaging it briefly. "No. I didn't. If I'd known he'd been
released, I'd have…" he trailed off, eyes dark.

"Of course." She thought for a moment. "I might be able to find out more about his death."

"Why? Clearly, he's not behind the notes."

Hermione shook her head. "Maybe not, but he's connected somehow. There's a reason the
note on that photograph singled him out."

"What's your plan?"

"I have a contact in recordkeeping at the Ministry. He owes me a favour. If Blaise's death is
known to the Ministry - and if Gringotts is aware, it is - they'll have the details."

Draco looked down at his wristwatch. "It's early. We can make it if we leave now."

Hermione pulled her coat from the hook by the door and shrugged into it. "That's hardly
necessary. You'll just cause chaos. Even Ministry employees can't seem to manage
themselves when Draco Malfoy is in the room." She rolled her eyes.

"I'll use a Notice-Me-Not Charm."

"They don't work in the Ministry and you know that."

"I'll wear a hat."

"Malfoy, you don't need to come. Actually, I think you could be a hindrance in this
circumstance." Hermione stepped toward the lift, and the doors opened in response.

"A hindrance?" He followed her inside the lift. "Have you sustained a head injury in recent
history? I've helped you on every one of your little escapades."

Hermione leaned against the wall with a sigh as the lift descended toward the lobby. "Can
you please trust me that it's better that I do this alone?"

Draco shook his head and followed her into the lobby as the doors opened. "Not a chance."

"I'm going to pretend you're not here."

Hermione walked several steps ahead of Malfoy, trying to forget that he was following her.
Malfoy's presence would only complicate what she needed to do. Cormac McLaggen was one
of her least favourite people on earth, and he'd been a thorn in her side for years. He'd been
fascinated with her since their time together at Hogwarts, despite her clear rejection of him as
a teenager. He'd been hired at the Ministry around the same time as her, and despite her
marriage to Ron, he'd been a relentless flirt. Cormac would have been an easy distraction
when her marriage was falling apart - he'd let her know of his willingness on many occasions
- but she'd refused to commit such a betrayal.

But after she'd left Ron, she'd grown weak. She was no longer working at the Ministry by
then. She had almost forgotten Cormac existed entirely - until she ran into him in Diagon
Alley a week after the divorce was finalised. She was tipsy, lonely, and, most importantly,
angry. And she'd made the stupid decision to kiss him. Cormac was sloppy and smelled of
sweat. His hands groped at her with not a single shred of precision. She'd only overcome her
disgust by sheer desperation to prove to herself that she was still capable of being wanted.

What had followed was a short-lived relationship - more like a handful of ill-fated encounters
in which she begrudgingly allowed Cormac to feel her up. It turned out he was a terrible
drunk, and, one evening, he'd accidentally admitted that he had been stealing money from the
Ministry for years. When he realised his mistake, he begged her not to report him. She hadn't,
but her willingness to keep his secret wasn't rooted in fondness or altruism. Instead, it
stemmed from the deep-seated understanding that he owed her. And someday, she would
come to collect.

Today was that day.

Hermione had nearly forgotten Malfoy's presence until he crammed himself into the
telephone booth outside the Ministry offices.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're impossible?"

He smiled. "Just you."

Hermione lifted the telephone and placed it to her ear. "Hermione Granger, here to meet with
Cormac McLaggen in recordkeeping," she spoke into the receiver.

Draco yanked the phone from her hand. "Draco Malfoy. Here for the same."

Two badges popped out of the booth.

"You're going to see McLaggen?" Draco pinned his badge to his chest. "You have to be
joking."

"I'm not. Like I said, he owes me."

"What could he possibly owe you for?"

Hermione looked down at the floor as the lift descended into the Ministry lobby. "We might
have dated. Briefly. A blip, you could say."

"You dated Cormac McLaggen? Wasn't he the one who bragged relentlessly about shagging
you in sixth year?"

"That he is."

"Did you? Shag him?"

"Not in sixth year," she said quietly, not entirely immune to the irritation that formed on his
face.

Draco's pupils flared as they stepped into the lobby. "Merlin, Granger. You have horrific taste
in partners."

"Oh, I'm aware. I have a knack for attracting people who have something to gain by being
with me." She looked at him pointedly.

The pair went down the hallway and checked into the security booth before being ushered
into a lift leading to the second floor. Hermione then led Draco toward Cormac's office, just
down the hall from the Auror Office where she'd previously worked.

She knocked on the door.

"Come in."

She pressed it open. Cormac looked worse than he had the last time she'd seen him. Clearly,
the drinking had caught up to him. His hair had thinned considerably, revealing a receding
hairline, and his skin was flushed a deep red. His eyes flicked upward, and he smiled
lecherously.

"Hermione Granger, what a pleasure." He sniffed. "You look well. Missed me, I take it?"

"Absolutely not, Cormac." She stepped into the office, allowing Draco to follow just behind
her.

"Draco Malfoy? So the rumours are true. You're really scraping the bottom of the barrel for
attention, Hermione." Cormac pulled a flask from the top drawer of his desk and unscrewed
the top before taking a swig.

"Cormac, I'm certain that my time with you was my low point, but that's hardly the purpose
of this meeting." She lowered herself into the seat before his desk and crossed her legs. "I
need a favour."

"Oh yeah?" Cormac shifted backward in his seat, then spread his legs wide. "How, exactly,
are you going to earn it?"

Hermione let out a laugh. In another life, she hoped to be reincarnated with the unearned
audacity of Cormac McLaggen. She looked up at Draco, who regarded her with a smirk.
Then she turned back to Cormac. "I seem to remember you drunkenly confessing about
skimming money from your Ministry budget to pay for your extravagant holidays." She
tapped her wand to her temple. "It wouldn't be difficult to extract that memory and ensure it
reaches your boss. He's just down the hall, correct?"

Cormac's face greyed.

"Forgot about that, did you? Fortunately - for me, at least - I didn't. You shared a lot of
damning details while pissing on my kitchen floor."

Cormac shook his head. "You can't. I'll lose my job."

"You'll do a lot more than lose your job. The amount of money you've stolen would likely
result in an Azkaban sentence. I've looked into it."

"You fucking bitch." He slammed a fist onto his desk, causing an empty bottle to roll to the
floor with a clatter. "Are you just bitter that I wasn't interested in anything more than a shag?
You weren't even good, Hermione. You're no great beauty, and you were the most boring
witch I've ever–"

Draco had him by the throat before Hermione could blink. He gripped Cormac tightly, lifting
him from his seat while the man's eyes nearly bulged from his face.

"Malfoy," Hermione hissed. "I appreciate the sentiment, but that's hardly necessary. Put him
down."

"One moment." Draco yanked Cormac forward until the two men were nearly nose-to-nose.
"You do not speak about my witch that way. If the name Hermione Granger ever crosses your
lips again, you'll wish you'd died in the war. Do you hear me?"

Cormac nodded furiously. Draco released his grip, and Cormac fell back into his chair,
clutching desperately at his throat.

Hermione leaned forward against the desk. "I'm going to need some information. If you give
me what I need, I'll consider keeping your secret."

"This is blackmail. That's also a crime," Cormac said, voice raw.

She shrugged. "I'm willing to take my chances that your fear of rotting in Azkaban is greater
than your desire to stick it to me."

All three remained silent for a moment before Cormac ran a hand over his sweaty, reddened
face. "What do you need to know?"

"Blaise Zabini. I need his file. All of it."

"That's it? All this over a file?"

"Get it. Now. I'm tired of talking to you," Hermione snapped.

Wordlessly, Cormac stood and entered a large closet just behind his desk, shutting the door
behind him.

She looked up at Malfoy with a smile. "See? Not so hard."

"Like I said before - you're terrifying."

"You're the one who nearly strangled him."

Malfoy leaned toward her, hands in his pockets. "I squeezed his throat a tad. You
psychologically destroyed the man."

"Nothing he didn't deserve."

Cormac returned from the closet, holding a thick pile of parchment. He dropped it down on
the desk. "This is everything the Ministry has on Zabini."

Hermione scooped up the pile, clutching it to her chest. "Pleasure doing business with you,
Cormac."

"You won't tell anyone, right? About the money?"

Hermione shrugged as she stood and turned to the door. "Probably not."

She opened the door to exit, Malfoy at her heels. When she was halfway through the
doorway, Cormac uttered her name softly.

"Yes?"

"Maybe we could get a drink sometime and catch up?"

Hermione gasped, incredulous. "Go fuck yourself, McLaggen."

She stepped out and closed the door, a laugh still on her tongue.

Back in Hermione's suite, she and Malfoy put together the pieces of Blaise Zabini. After his
eight-year sentence, he'd been released to his parents. It seemed that Blaise struggled with
demons from his imprisonment - he visited Mind Healers more than a dozen times in the six
months after his release. He also applied for upwards of twenty jobs in those first few months
but was rejected from every single one.

And then the arrests started. Nine arrests over eighteen months for a variety of charges: theft,
public drunkenness, impersonation, and purchasing illicit dragon blood. Blaise had clearly
developed a substance use problem and had turned to crime to feed his habit. And his parents
had dutifully supported him through each arrest, carefully avoiding public scrutiny.

And then, six months ago, he'd been found dead in an alley. An overdose of dragon blood
appeared to have been Blaise's drug of choice. His parents had kept his death quiet, burying
him privately and opting not to announce his demise.
It was a sad end for a man who had once been a boy laughing with his friends in his
dormitory. Though Blaise's choices had been his own, Hermione couldn't help but wonder
who he'd have turned out to be if he hadn't been sucked into a war as a teenager. They'd all
made choices to survive - and she'd learned long ago that things were rarely so simple as
"good" and "bad." No matter what he'd done, there was a grief in realising Blaise never got
the opportunity to be something better.

Hermione looked up from the parchment spread across her coffee table. "Are you okay? I
know this must be hard to read."

Draco nodded slowly. "I wouldn't have wished this for him. He was my friend once." He ran
a hand through his hair, his jaw set. "I can't say I'm entirely surprised. Blaise was always
more intense than the rest of us. He was one of the few Slytherins who didn't come from
wealth and he was always bent on proving himself. I thought he was an orphan for ages. I
invited him home for the Christmas holidays for four straight years, because I thought he had
no one else. It wasn't until fifth year that I found out he had a whole family."

"Why would he lie?"

"He was embarrassed, I think, of their finances. I can't say I blame him. We would have given
him a hard time, especially in those early years."

"It's sad," Hermione mused, "that he was made to feel that he had to pretend to be something
to have friends. Do you know where his family lives now?"

"I don't, but it wouldn't be hard to find out. I'll look into it."

"I think that's a good idea. I'd like to speak to them."

"As you wish."

The following morning, Malfoy dropped a fresh copy of The Daily Prophet in front of
Hermione. She leaned forward, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. On the open page, a small
photo showed an image of Cormac McLaggen, sweat-sheened and frowning. She smoothed
her hands over the page and scanned the article below.

Ministry Employee Charged With Theft

Late last night, Ministry officials took custody of Cormac McLaggen, a long-time employee
in the recordkeeping department. McLaggen, 29, is accused of stealing funds from his
division and using them to pay for increasingly lavish purchases over the past five years.
According to one report, McLaggen expensed nearly five hundred galleons in alcohol
purchases last month under the guise of work orders. McLaggen is currently under house
arrest, pending a trial under the Wizengamot.

Hermione looked up from the paper. "What did you do?"

Malfoy pushed the sleeves of his shirt over his forearms. "I might've shared an anonymous
tip with McLaggen's boss. Even without your memory of his confession, he left quite a trail.
It's a wonder he got away with this as long as he did. He's every bit as sloppy as you said."

She frowned. "That was unnecessary. We got what we needed from him."

"He did this to himself, Granger. He was going to get caught eventually. I just sped up the
process - and saved the Ministry a significant amount of money, I might add."

"Don't talk down to me. I don't believe for one second that this was about scruples."

Malfoy turned from her, his shoulders lifting slightly. "He was rude to you."

"What?"

"I didn't like it."

Hermione's eyebrows lifted. It was difficult to stomach the idea of Draco Malfoy defending
her honour. It was preposterous to consider that he might feel strongly about her to ruin
someone's life over a slight. The thought caused a strange swell of emotion in her chest, a co-
mingling of fear and validation. She hadn't missed what he'd called her back in McLaggen's
office - his witch. She had hated it as much as she'd liked it.

Draco turned back to face her, his face hardened. "I've respected your wishes not to discuss
the soul bond further. But I refuse to idly stand back and allow someone to disrespect you."

The look on his face triggered a flutter in her stomach. She swallowed, her throat dry, and
nodded. "About that… I'd like to discuss a little more. I was rash in my reaction before."

"Is that so?" He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, splaying his hands across the
tabletop.

She eyed a tattoo on his right forearm, the image of a shattered mirror. She reached out to
touch it, grazing her fingertips across the dark ink and the pale skin beneath it. "What's this
one for?"

"It's a broken mirror."

"What does it mean?"

"Haven't you ever looked in the mirror and been so discontent with the person looking back
that you wanted to slam your fist into it?"

She thought back to the moments after she obliviated her parents - the depths of self-loathing
and regret that curled themselves around her organs like toxic smoke. There had been a
second where she'd felt as if her entire sense of self had imploded. She nodded.

"I got this one to represent that moment. The old Draco Malfoy is gone. I shattered him."
"And rebuilt him," she affirmed, fingers still smoothed against his skin. "Piece by
piece." Hermione's eyes travelled over the image of the cracked mirror once more before
lifting to look up at him. "I've gotten very good at writing people off. Somewhere along the
line, I developed a knack for seeing the worst in everything. I wasn't always this way. I was
never a glass half-full type, but I saw the capability for goodness in people."

"You still do, Granger."

She waved a hand in the air. "Don't lie to me."

"You wouldn't do the work you do if you didn't believe in people. You wouldn't be sitting
here next to me, either. The plucky heroine is still in there somewhere."

She rolled her eyes. "Plucky?"

"The pluckiest."

She allowed a smile to crack through. "I'm sorry, Draco. I haven't been entirely fair to you."

He stared at her silently as if trying to read her mind. Then he looked back down at his own
arm. "This one is important." He pointed to the image of a thin ribbon wrapped around his
left forearm. One end started from the centre of the anatomical heart next to his Dark Mark.
He traced a finger along the curving ribbon. It ended in a swath of unmarked skin, a
shockingly bare spot in a patchwork of imagery. "It's my invisible string."

She leaned forward and traced the ribbon with her own fingers, unable to resist the
opportunity to admire the details of the art. "Tell me more."

"It's the bond." His eyes followed the path her finger tracked down his skin. "It starts with me
and ends with…"

"Nothing."

He nodded. "I got this one just after Astoria left. I was so angry when I learned about the
bond, Granger. I was told from birth that my path was destined. I was created in my father's
image - to uphold his world and beliefs. Choosing something different meant something. I
chose Astoria and then, in an instant, it was no longer my choice to make."

"But you did choose," Hermione whispered. "You chose to stay, even though it meant you
wouldn't be happy."

Something like grief welled in her gut. Draco wanted Astoria. But he was forced to choose
someone else - her, maybe - because of this bond. It was unfair to all of them.

"My choice was selfish. My ability to be in control mattered more to me than my own
happiness and, in turn, Astoria's happiness. I see that now. I was willing to force us both into
a lifetime of misery to prove a point. Soul bond aside, Astoria and I were never a good
match."
"I don't want a predestined relationship, Malfoy. You have to understand that." Her throat was
tight, her fingers still pressed against his forearm. "We're not suited for one another."

"Maybe not." He pulled his arm away from her, his jaw hitching. "But you feel it, don't you?
The pull."

She closed her eyes, trying to drop the impenetrable wall she'd built so carefully around her
heart. She could almost imagine the bricks being inched away, little by little, allowing space
for the thread around Malfoy's heart to press its way toward her. Something tugged at her -
gentle but firm. She unclenched her fists and opened her eyes.

"I know you feel it. I can see it in your eyes, Hermione." Draco reached forward to pull her
hand into his.

She couldn't look at him. She stared at their intertwined fingers, her tan skin stark against his.
"I don't know what I feel."

He squeezed her hand and then leaned forward to bury his face into her shoulder, inhaling
deeply as if he were drinking her in. "I'm not trying to manipulate you."

She closed her eyes, a lump forming in her throat. "I know, Malfoy. I just…can't."

She couldn't accept this. She couldn't allow some imaginary thread to decide the path of her
life. Maybe it would have been different if it wasn't fate - if they'd stumbled upon one another
at a bar one evening. But she could never know, not for sure. She couldn't ignore how her
blood sang when he touched her, the hollowness that carved into her heart when he left the
room, and the pressing need to angle herself toward him in every situation. It broke her heart,
knowing she was no more than a slave to the blood that flowed in her veins.

"Perhaps there's a way to fix it," Malfoy said, his voice low.

She opened her eyes. Draco looked right at her, eyes boring into her with a vulnerability she
had never witnessed in him.

"Fix it?"

"I don't know," he continued. "I saw a specialist to confirm the bond after I found my parents'
letters. He alluded to a possible cure. I can take you to him. If you want."

"Please, Draco."

She did not miss the pain that flashed in his eyes as he nodded.

Three days later, Hermione and Draco stood before a small, battered house a few miles
outside the city. Above the door hung a sign with peeling paint.

Lars Millerson, Wizarding Specialist

Draco knocked on the door several times. They had barely spoken the past three days. Being
around him was simultaneously comforting and terrifying. She missed him terribly when they
weren't together - like a key desperately seeking its lock. But the intensity of their
togetherness was uncomfortable. At times, she wasn't sure if she wanted to crawl out of her
skin or bury herself inside of his.

The door creaked open to reveal a short wizard with greying hair and thick spectacles. "Mr.
Malfoy. It's a pleasure to see you again." His eyes flicked to Hermione, assessing her with a
restrained smile. "I see you've found your mate."

Hermione coughed. "You can see that?"

Lars nodded, then stepped backward. "Come inside. I don't expect you to believe my
assessment without evidence."

Draco brushed his knuckles against Hermione's hand as they entered the house. She pulled it
away, slipping both hands into her coat pockets. The house smelled of roses, almost to the
point of sickening sweetness.

Lars led the pair into a sitting room lit only by a dozen flickering candles, then pointed to two
oversized velvet pouffes. "Sit."

Hermione lowered herself into the seat, bracing her palms against her knees. Draco dropped
into the seat beside her, arranging his long limbs.

"Some pairs require a deeper look, but I can see the bond on the two of you clear as day."
Lars shook his head, smiling at some unknowable joke. "It's usually the ones who resist who
are easy to spot. It lives in your head instead of your blood."

"How can you, er, see it?" Hermione asked. "I've read your work, but it didn't explain."

Lars laughed, clearly amused. "I must be honest with you. I wrote my work to give credence
to the evidence of soul bonds - there are a good many academics who cannot believe
something unless it's written on a page." He looked at Hermione knowingly. "But the magic
of soul bonds is poetic. It's not meant to be reduced to words and paragraphs."

"Then what is it?"

"Are you willing to listen, even without evidence?"

She nodded. "I'll try."

"It's my belief that magic stems from a single, unknowable source. When wizards and
witches are born, their souls are imbued with the magic that floods their veins."

"Are you suggesting magic isn't passed through lineage?" Malfoy leaned forward, propping
his elbows on his knees.

"I'm suggesting that the propensity for magic flows through family lines. You inherited the
ability to carry magic from your parents, Mr. Malfoy. A magical child is like a cavern,
waiting to be filled. But the magic itself doesn't flow from your family. It flows from the
source." Lars flicked his eyes toward Hermione. "Muggleborn children are a perfect example
of this. The propensity, at times, is a random and wondrous event."

Hermione swallowed, unable to look away from Lars Millerson. Excitement and joy filtered
across his wrinkled features - she wasn't sure if she believed it, but it was clear Mr. Millerson
did with every fibre of his being.

"You're wondering what this has to do with soul bonds, yes?"

Hermione and Draco both nodded in unison. Lars smiled, then lifted his wand toward the
ceiling. A pink orb of light hovered above them, glimmering against the darkened walls.
"Imagine this orb of light is a slice of magic, ready to fill a waiting child." He moved his
wand downward, and the orb suddenly split into two. "There are times when these slices of
magic divide. They fill two magical children."

Hermione and Draco's eyes were fixed on the floating orbs. Each seemed to be bleeding
outward, the edges reaching for one another but never quite connecting.

"As you can see, the orbs are desperate to touch. They will spend their existence seeking one
another out. And when they find one another…" Lars flicked his wand, and the orbs suddenly
crashed together. Pink sparks shot across the room, and Hermione tucked her eyes into her
forearm. When she looked up, a singular orb floated above them, at least five times the size
of the original.

Neither Hermione nor Draco spoke, eyes fixed on the giant pink sphere.

"You want evidence." It wasn't a question. Lars stared at Hermione, his eyes wide and open.

She nodded. "Yes."

Lars flicked his wand upward, and the floating orb disappeared. He then angled the wand
toward Hermione and whispered something unintelligible under his breath. Something warm
and wild lit inside of her. She looked downward. She was glowing - a bright, pink light
coming from within her. She watched, enraptured, as a tiny glowing thread snaked from the
centre of her chest. It spooled outward, like an unravelled ball of yarn.

Hermione turned to look at Draco. His chest was lit with the same light emanating from his
very core. Her thread floated in the air, swirling and rippling like a ribbon caught in a gust of
wind. And then it suddenly stilled, its tip pointing toward Draco. It moved toward him, then
caressed his chest almost lovingly. The thread went slack as if it had breathed a sigh of relief.

Hermione stood, blood pounding in her ears. Almost instantly, the glow in the room faded,
and the thread disappeared - leaving the three lit only by the flickering candles once more.

Lars stood, pocketing his wand. "You're frightened."

She was, but she wouldn't admit it. "I don't know what to think. What does this mean?"
"It means your magical core will seek our Mr. Malfoy's at all costs. It's not a sentence. Plenty
of soul-bonded people choose not to be with their partner, though I cannot understand why
they would do such a thing to themselves."

"What happens? If we don't?"

"Anecdotal evidence suggests that those with a soul bond are only able to produce children
with their mate. I'm not sure why, but I suppose it's the magic's way of protecting itself. It
wants to be together, and it'll do anything to ensure it happens."

Malfoy spoke for the first time in twenty minutes. "Is there a way to stop it? Permanently?"

Lars' face darkened. "There is a procedure. I've only performed it once, and I'm hesitant to do
it again."

Hermione leaned forward. "What does it entail?"

"It's painful." Lars pursed his lips. "It requires removing the magical core. Fully."

Draco straightened. "That would mean…"

"Sacrificing your magic, potentially. Most people who choose this option are able to recover
some magical ability, though never to the level they retained before. The couple I worked
with many years ago suffered a terrible consequence. While one of them was able to recover
their magic, the other was never able to. I haven't forgiven myself for having a hand in such a
loss. Separating a witch or wizard from their power goes against my very belief system."

"Thank you," Hermione said, voice quaking. She couldn't risk losing her magic. The idea
chilled her to the bone, but she had to ask regardless. "If I did decide to do the procedure,
would you do it?"

Lars pressed a hand to his desk. "You must understand first that it's not possible to remove
only one-half of the core. The consequences would be dire. To perform the procedure, you
would both be required to participate."

Hermione and Draco exchanged a glance, heavy and dark. Their choices seemed destined to
be intermingled, regardless of the path.

"The bond is a gift that many would kill for." Lars looked up at a portrait of a woman just
above his desk. "My own bond was the thing that sparked my interest. My wife was the
greatest thing to ever happen to me - there is nothing like being one-half of a whole. A part of
me died when I lost her, but I wouldn't change a thing. Not everyone gets the chance to say
their home is a person."

Draco swallowed, eyes fixed on Hermione. Her eyes fell to her knees. She couldn't return his
gaze.
 Dress
Chapter Notes

Hi, it's me. I'm the problem... it's me. If your problem is early updates. I'm feeling good
with where my edits have taken the final chapters of this story, so feeling anxious to
post. You might just see twice weekly updates moving forward... we shall see ;) I hope
you enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen - Dress

Inescapable / I'm not even gonna try / and if I get burned / at least we were electrified

The late winter in London was always miserable - grey and depressing, the city's beauty
hidden under a somber haze. Where the snow of December felt festive and new, the coldness
of January was bleak. Despite being painfully aware that it was months away, Hermione
ached for warmth.

It had been a week since the meeting with Lars Millerson. There had been no hint of Draco's
stalker since his room was trashed weeks ago, so while they awaited information about the
location of the Zabini family, there wasn't much to do but wait. For someone who so often
lived in her head, Hermione was awful at waiting. She preferred a plan. Steps to follow, a
formula to wield. This nothingness left her anxious and wanting.

Hermione didn't have the strength to entertain the options presented to her regarding Malfoy.
Neither choice was remotely fair. She could accept a predestined partnership with Draco -
who she wasn't sure would even like her if they weren't magically bound. Or, she could risk
losing her magic to sever their bond forever. She wasn't sure who she'd be without magic. It
felt like such an undeniable part of her soul. Losing it would be like losing a vital organ.
Hermione had never felt at home in her skin until she learned of her place in the wizarding
world. That first zing of magic in her body had been like an awakening - seeing herself for
the first time, her world alight with meaning.

She and Draco had formed a fractured peace in the week since their meeting with Lars.
They'd chosen not to speak of the bond at all - neither accepting nor removing it. Hermione
already knew she would never ask Draco to give up his magic, even if she brought herself to
the unlikely place of willingness.

The chandelier buzzed at half-past eight that morning, as it had every morning for the past
seven days.

Hermione tightened the tie of her robe around her waist. "Come on in."
The lift doors slid open, revealing Draco with two cups of steaming tea. She wasn't sure why
he'd started this tradition, but she didn't complain. Being around him was both painful and
comforting, and his brief visits offered some reprieve from her anxiety. If anything, they had
formed a tenuous friendship.

"Morning." She offered a weak smile.

He wore a navy dress shirt, highlighting the ring of colour around his irises. "Good morning,
Granger. How are you?"

Hermione took a teacup from his hands. "I'm alright. Losing my mind waiting for this stalker
to do something."

He narrowed his eyes. "My mother would call that inviting trouble."

"I've never been very good at waiting," she admitted, crossing her legs. "I've always been
someone who acts. This lack of movement is maddening."

Draco watched her as he drank his tea. "You're speaking about far more than a stalker."

She nodded. "I am. I know you think this should be a simple choice for me."

"I don't." He sat beside her on the couch, not quite close enough to touch. "I've had over a
year to think about this. You're at stage one: denial."

"And what does stage two entail, exactly?"

"Anger. Come to think of it, I'd wager a bet that you've already sailed right on through that.
You're frightening when you're mad."

Hermione nodded, remembering the rage that had filled her chest when she'd realised Draco
had known about the soul bond - and her suspected role - without telling her. "Stage three,
then?"

"Bargaining." His nostrils flared with a subdued laugh.

"Sounds about right. And you never know - I may just find my way out of this yet."

"You're the last person I would underestimate." His mouth turned downward.

Hermione wasn't daft. She knew what he wanted. He'd lost his imagined future because of
this connection, and he was ready to embrace the path handed to him. For the most part,
Draco had been kind and supportive to her since they'd begun working together. She
respected him, and sadness flooded her chest at the realisation that she couldn't make this one
thing easy for him.

He cleared his throat. "I have to go out of town for a few days. I leave tomorrow."
"Shouldn't I come with you? For security?"

"No." He smoothed a hand on the couch beneath him. "I'll bring a team. It's best for you to
stay here, keep an eye on the hotel and the staff."

Hermione was surprised at the sudden tightness that invaded her throat as she considered
them being apart for several days. She supposed this was the power of the bond - her magic
grieving the idea of being without its twin. Ever since their visit with Lars, her doubt had
morphed into fear. Where doubt allowed her to keep the bond at a surface level, closely
guarded with thick walls, fear seemed to crack her open. The soil had been softened, and the
want for him had taken root, little by little.

"Do me a favour," Draco said, his voice low.

"What?"

"Go out with me this evening. Just the two of us."

"As in… a date?" She raised her eyebrows, eyes latched onto his face.

"Yes, a date. Nothing new for us."

"It is absolutely new for us."

"The papers would disagree."

She fiddled with a thread in the sleeve of her robe. "The papers also think we're sleeping
together. We've not been on a proper date. That was work."

"Alright, a proper date then. I'm not proposing marriage, Hermione."

She swallowed thickly. "But why?"

"You are the most maddening witch I have ever had the pleasure of knowing." He shook his
head, eyes toward the ceiling. "Clearly, we enjoy one another's company. I've been between
your thighs, and you're scoffing at the idea of dinner?"

Her body warmed at the memory of his fingertips pressed into the soft flesh of her thighs.
"Very well. A date. On one condition."

He stroked a finger along her shoulder, lazy and deliberate. "Anything."

"I'll pick the location. No press. No fanfare. Just you and me."

He smiled that wolf-like smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Hermione hadn't let Draco see her like this since their Hogwarts days. She'd traded her fancy,
curated wardrobe for denims and a black jumper, her curls wound into a bun at the top of her
head. She'd been tempted, of course, to look her best. But this date was about going under the
radar. Malfoy had seen her in enough pretty dresses and extravagant jewellery to last a
lifetime. Tonight, he would get Hermione Granger - the real version.

She met him in the lobby, smiling tightly as she appraised him. Naturally, he'd failed in her
instruction to remain casual, or perhaps his outfit was as casual as Malfoy was capable of. He
wore dark trousers and a starched white shirt with a black blazer. His hair was still freshly
wet from the shower, and he smelled like expensive soap. She resisted the urge to bury her
face into the curve of his neck, a spot that seemed to call to her like a siren song.

"Where are we going?" He angled his bent elbow toward her.

Hermione slipped one hand into the crook of his elbow, fingers smoothing at the expensive
fabric of his jacket. "You'll see."

"A McDunner's, perhaps?"

She stifled a laugh. "Do you mean McDonald's?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

"No, Malfoy. We are not going to eat fast food. Just trust me." They approached the lobby
doors, and she slowed. "Can you manage an evening without a slew of attention?"

"It'll pain me, but I can survive," he assured her, tugging her close to his side.

They walked silently as she led him toward their destination. They'd walked together a dozen
times, but something about this event felt foreign. There were no cameras to distract, no lines
to utter, no part to play. They were simply two people walking to dinner. It was nearly naked
in its simplicity, bringing with it a vulnerability that Hermione hadn't prepared for.

She looked up at him, noticing the way the tip of his nose had reddened in the cold. "Tell me
about Astoria."

His breath was visible in the frosty air. "You want to discuss my ex-wife on our date?"

"Yes. I'd like to understand. You know the details of my relationship with Ron. I know very
little about Astoria. It might help me if I did."

"The old pureblood families are rather archaic in their practices, as I'm sure you know. My
father and Astoria's father made a betrothal agreement when we were barely out of nappies.
There was never a question of falling in love - which is interesting in hindsight, given my
parents' experience with the soul bond."

Hermione frowned. "You said you chose Astoria."

"The betrothal agreement crumbled after the war ended. My father, as the executor of the
contract, was indisposed in Azkaban. I was free to do what I wanted, and I did for a while. I
invited the Greengrass family to my first hotel opening and as soon as Astoria walked in, I
was drawn to her. She seemed so… miserable ."
"And you were attracted to her misery?"

Draco shook his head as they turned a corner. "Not exactly. But I suppose I saw a role for
myself at her side. To give her something I'd found - a new life outside of the ancient
traditions that kept us all so bound and quiet. I wanted to save her in my own way."

Hermione pursed her lips, unsure if the feeling flooding her could be classified as jealousy.

"I'm a man of my word, Granger. I meant my vows when I married her, even after I learned
about the bond. And yet, I understand why she left. She deserves to be loved in a way I could
never give her. Bond aside, we were never a solid match."

"That's honourable of you," Hermione said, voice tight. She wondered if Malfoy's version of
honour also included chasing a partner selected by fate, even if it made little sense.

"It's the right thing to do. Which matters to me, though it may surprise you to hear it."

"It doesn't surprise me at all." She slowed to a stop in front of a dingy door with peeling
paint. "We're here."

"Where, pray tell, is here?"

"The Thin Man. It's a bar. A muggle bar."

Malfoy wrinkled his nose, then seemed to catch himself. "Delightful."

"There won't be any reporters here. No one will know a thing about us." Hermione smiled as
she pushed the door open.

The bar was dim and crowded, lit only by flickering lamps that swung from the low ceiling.
It was loud, overcome by the sound of raucous conversation and a jukebox playing a muggle
rock song in one corner.

Malfoy looked down, lifting one foot from the floor. "It's very…sticky."

"Yep." Hermione took his arm and tugged him toward the bar, where she promptly ordered
two of the cheapest draught beers.

"Don't judge," she said, leading Malfoy to a high-top table in the back corner.

A dart whizzed past Malfoy's head, nearly clipping his ear. He arranged himself at his seat,
using a serviette to wipe several rings of liquid from the table. He took a long drink of his
beer. "This tastes - and smells - like urine."

"You're a snob, you know."

"As we've discussed, you can take the Malfoy out of the manor, but…" Malfoy's eyes studied
the other patrons as he trailed off. "Muggles are an interesting lot."

"There's something about a place like this that I enjoy."

"And how, exactly, did you find a place like this?"

"Ginny and I stumbled into it one evening after Ron and I fought terribly. For a little while, it
was like I was given the opportunity to pretend to be someone else. I'll never forget the way
he looked at me when I came home, reeking of beer and smoke. He was so angry. So I came
back the next night."

"Spiteful little thing."

His words sounded like a compliment, and Hermione couldn't help but smile. Something was
intoxicating about seeing Draco Malfoy in this place - its dinginess only highlighted his
refinement. Hermione had always been grateful for her ability to be a chameleon. She could
play dress up and look the part of a princess as needed, but she could also blend in at dive
bars and seedy alleyways. Draco, on the other hand, couldn't look anything other than what
he was: a king. He'd been bred for it, which scared her as much as it intrigued her.

And yet, the conversation was easy. They spoke of their childhoods, mused about their school
experiences, and even touched on their hopes for the future. Several beers in, Hermione was
starting to feel the comforting buzz of drunkenness, tingling from the tops of her thighs to the
base of her skull. Like the static of a television, everything was soft and out of focus. Draco
was less obvious in his intoxication - years of training had programmed his ever-present
control, but Hermione had started to learn him. His mouth curled up ever so slightly, and his
posture faltered just a fraction of an inch, the sure signs he had settled into some sort of
comfort.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Hermione leaned across the table.

"It's awful." He smiled.

She hopped from her seat and sidled next to him. "Play darts with me."

"Darts?"

She gestured toward the dartboard on the wall, a few steps from their table. She pressed both
hands on his knees and looked up at him. "Please?"

"You're terrible, Granger."

"So I've been told." She gripped both of his shoulders and urged him out of the seat, then
marched him toward the board. She gave him a quick overview of the rules and then handed
him his darts.

He lifted one to make his first attempt, his eyes narrowed. Just as he was about to throw, she
grabbed his wrist. "I said no magic."

Draco dropped his hand to his side. "How could you tell?"

"You do this thing with your mouth when you're about to cast."
He turned to look at her for a moment, the expression unreadable. Hermione could only guess
it was shock that she'd noticed such a banal detail. He was surprised that she paid attention.
But she did. She had always been the person to take in details, and it was what made her
good at her job. But with Malfoy, it was different. She'd started to memorise him, even as she
put all her effort into forgetting.

"I don't want to play," Malfoy said, carefully stacking his darts back on the board.

"Afraid to lose?"

"Not for a second." He brushed his fingers against her cheek. "I just have other things to
attend to."

As if on instinct, she nuzzled into his hand. The skin where his fingers touched felt hot and
tingly as if some part of his magic leaked into her upon contact. Her heart thundered
uproariously. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, the logical voice reminded her to step
back. To play it safe. But in the hazy glow of their evening, it was a whisper. Easy to ignore.
She pressed a palm to his chest, pushing hard against the hardened muscle hidden by his
shirt.

"I'm going to kiss you, Granger."

He was too magnetic to deny. She nodded.

Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her to him. His lips crested over hers, warm and wet,
and she couldn't help but think that it felt better than it had all the times before. No one was
watching, no cameras were flashing, and this was their moment. He pushed her backward
until she was up against the wall, the chair rail pressing at her lower back. One of his hands
trailed to her hip, squeezing it. She breathed against his lips.

"Malfoy."

He pulled back slightly, his mouth still ghosting against hers.

"You don't have to-"

He pressed forward, kissing her harder than before. "I want to."

His other kisses had been different. Controlled. Choreographed. Like a dance he knew well,
playing out the steps for the most aesthetic view. They'd felt good, but this was different. He
followed no plan, testing and touching, giving and taking with an abandon she wasn't
accustomed to. She let herself sigh against him, her body melting. Despite the lengths of their
bodies touching, it didn't feel like enough. She wanted to sink into Draco and suffocate on
this feeling.

His fingers teased at the hem of her jumper, coasting against the skin just beneath it until she
trembled at his touch. His mouth dipped to her neck, his lips and teeth teasing the sensitive
skin, drawing out the tiniest of gasps from her. It was unfair how much she wanted him.
And why couldn't she have him? She could hardly remember her litany of arguments. What
could possibly be wrong with taking something so clearly meant for her? His lips found hers
again, kissing away the thoughts, allowing her body to take over as she moved against him.

He pulled back, pressing his forehead against the wall behind her. "I'm very close to fucking
you against this wall, Granger."

"Mmmm."

"Don't tempt me." He grazed a hand under her jumper, brushing the soft curve of her
stomach. "If I believe for a second you'll allow it, I won't be able to stop myself."

"You sure no one put a lust potion in our drinks?" She looked up at him, heartbeat throbbing,
knowing full-well that she'd carefully tested each drink herself.

"Just shite muggle alcohol and you." He kissed the space behind her ear. "I can't stop
touching you."

"Don't."

He reached around to grab a palmful of her arse, squeezing it roughly. "I've been dying to do
that since I walked into your office."

She laughed. "A man with a mission."

He looked down at her, eyelashes casting a hazy shadow on his cheekbones. "Always."

She chewed her lower lip, feeling suddenly vulnerable in his gaze. "Was this… was I always
a mission?"

"I wanted to know you. But I never would have forced it. Please believe me."

Despite the fear that settled in her heart, she believed him. If tonight had taught her anything,
it was that she wasn't afraid of Draco Malfoy. She was scared of the bond and what it meant
for her future, but not him.

Hermione pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, breathing in his heady scent. "Let's head back."

They didn't speak on the walk back. It felt like they were moving toward some sort of
eventuality, the thing the thrum in their veins had been pushing them toward all along. When
had it started? If things had been different - if they hadn't been existing under the threat of
death and loss - would they have seen it sooner? Hermione imagined herself back at
Hogwarts, turning a corridor, catching his gaze, and knowing. Maybe it would have been
easier back then to accept it - her heart might've been more open, and her soul less broken. It
might have felt like a gift rather than a black hole.

They reached the lobby doors, and Malfoy took her hand. His skin was soft and dry, his
thumb swiping rhythmically against her wrist. Hermione looked upward as they reached the
centre of the lobby. "Why the night sky?"
Draco's eyes tracked hers, watching silently as a comet dashed against the darkness. "There
was an abandoned rooftop garden at the manor. I discovered it one day when I was a boy.
Whether my parents had forgotten about it or simply allowed it to fall into disrepair, I don't
know. But I used to sneak up there on clear nights and lay flat on my back on the stone,
studying the stars. It was one of the few things that felt like peace to me."

"My mum and dad took me camping a lot as a girl. It was always my favourite part - seeing
the night sky without the pollution of light. Something about it is so…"

"Free," Draco finished, squeezing her hand. "The sky abides by its own rules."

They continued walking toward the bank of lifts, and one opened when they were only steps
away. They entered, turning to face the doors as they slid shut. Their shoulders touched, and
their bodies vibrated slightly as the lift moved.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Malfoy said.

"I know."

In one step, he moved forward and turned to face her. "I'm going to make tonight count."

There it was. The eventuality.

Hermione looked up at him, nearly trembling, as she faced the cliff's edge. She could only
peer over for so long without leaping. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Go on, then."

He kissed her again, his hands bracing on the golden wall behind her. She opened her mouth,
her stomach tightening as his tongue found her own. Draco Malfoy - the one who wasn't on
display - kissed like a man who'd never thought about anything. He touched like someone
who acted simply on instinct, logic be damned. And she loved it.

The lift reached her room, and the doors opened. Without stopping their kiss, she reached into
her pocket to grip her wand, then waved it idly. The doors closed, and the lift continued its
ascent. Malfoy slid a hand under her jumper, his hands cool on her heated skin.

"Take it off," she said, the words muffled by his mouth on hers.

Hurriedly, he drew the fabric over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her chest heaved. He'd
seen her half-naked before, but this felt different somehow. That was like a dream. Playing
pretend. This was real. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, allowing the lacy
fabric to drop to their feet.

His eyes travelled downward, drinking her in. "Fuck, Granger. You have fantastic tits."

She shook her head. "All tits are fantastic, Malfoy."

"Yours are especially so." He cupped them both in his hands, and she jolted at the sensation
as he dragged his thumbs along the inner curve of each breast.
The lift hadn't fully locked into place at Malfoy's floor before he grabbed his own wand and
pointed it toward the doors. "We'll get off when we're good and ready."

She raised an eyebrow.

"That's not what I meant."

"It's not wrong. " She arched herself into his hands, her nipples pebbling against his palms.

He dipped his head down to take one of the hardened peaks into his mouth, flicking the tip of
his tongue against it. A gasp escaped her, and she leaned back, pressing her head against the
wall. Moisture rushed between her thighs, soaking her knickers.

It was deadly quiet in the lift, save for her breathing and the low groans that escaped his
mouth as he explored her body. Draco touched her like he was mapping her out and
memorising each inch of flesh. His knee pressed between her thighs, nudging them apart as
he laid an open-mouthed kiss to the side of her neck.

"I have thought about making you come about a hundred times since that night."

She spread her legs wider - the heat that had spread to her core was nearly painful in its
intensity. Draco's knee pressed upward, and the seam of her denims rubbed against her,
causing a shockwave to flutter through her centre.

"Let yourself have this, love."

She nodded furiously.

His hand slid between their bodies and unbuttoned the front of her denims. He slid his hand
down the front of her lace knickers, the heel of his palm grinding against her pelvic bone. She
bucked toward him before his fingers had even reached her. In any other situation, she
might've been embarrassed at how aroused she was, at the wetness that had already soaked
through the thin fabric. That logic was quiet now, and the only thing she could think of was
how badly she needed release.

He pressed one finger inside of her, and she cried out. His head fell forward, mouth finding
the sensitive skin of her shoulder. "Gods, Granger. Are you always like this?"

She didn't have the capacity to ask him like what, so instead, she pressed herself harder
against him, desperate for more friction. He slid a second finger inside of her, curling them
both against her walls until they found the sensitive spot that made her body turn to liquid.

"That's it. Take what you need," he crooned, lips moving over her skin.

She reached forward to undo the button of his trousers, then slid her hand inside to grip his
length. He sucked in a breath of air as she gripped him in her palm, squeezing and exploring
his cock.

"Fuck." He bucked his hips against her hand, curling his fingers inside of her at the same
time. Hermione's head lolled back toward the wall once more - the inside of her body felt like
a rubber band, ready to snap at any moment. She babbled nonsense, but he seemed to
understand what she was asking. "Good girl, you've got this. Let go. Come for me."

He curled his fingers against her once more, pressing the heel of his hand against her until
she saw stars. The rubber band snapped, and an orgasm rolled through her, her cunt clenching
against him while her other hand continued to stroke him. His fingers remained inside of her
for a second as he breathed against her neck.

"I don't want you to stop this time," she whispered, still gripping him firmly. He moved
against her hand, seemingly unable to stop himself from chasing his own pleasure.

He pulled back and stilled for a moment. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." She used her free hand to inch her slacks and knickers over her thighs and then pushed
at his lower back, urging him closer. His eyes closed as he pressed forward, his cock pressing
right at her centre. "That's it."

He drew in a breath, threading a hand through her hair and tilting her head to the side. He
kissed her neck, grinding against her - and then, he stopped.

"I'm never going to forgive myself for this. Fuck."

"What?"

"We need to pause, Granger."

"You have to be kidding me." She yanked her denims up. "Why are you so opposed to
fucking me?"

He eyed her as he tucked himself inside of his trousers and zipped them up. "You know
why."

She did. A lump formed in her throat as she nodded.

"You have to be certain. Otherwise, I can't do that to you."

"I am certain."

"Certain about this." He waved a hand between them. "It's not just about fucking. Once we
cross that line, there's no going back. You're not ready for that."

"You're right."

He touched her face. "I know."

Half of her wanted to cry from disappointment. The way he'd made her come undone had
only increased her need for him, a frenzy that she was hesitant to put into words. The other
half of her warmed with appreciation for his constant willingness to deny himself to protect
her. She kissed him softly. "You're a good man, Draco Malfoy."
He grinned as she pulled her jumper over her head. "Not that good. If I can't fuck you, I'd at
least like to taste you."

She didn't need to be convinced. "Okay."

He pointed the wand at the lift doors, and they opened to reveal his suite.

Unfortunately, they weren't alone.

The sound of breathy kisses stopped as the lights inside the room flicked on. One person
jumped up from Draco's couch while the other ducked back toward the floor. Hermione
moved for her wand, then paused as she recognised who stood before her.

"Theo?" Malfoy barked. "What are you doing in my suite?"

Theo was shirtless, clad in only a pair of black trousers. "The real question is, what are you
doing here? You said you were leaving tonight on business."

"I decided to postpone until tomorrow."

"I'm guessing you forgot you asked me to stay in your suite while you were away."

Draco pressed a hand to his forehead. "I did. But I'm positive I didn't ask you to bring a
fucktoy in my space."

The fucktoy in question slowly stood, surprising no one but Malfoy. His mouth dropped
open. "Potter?"

Harry's face flushed red, and he dragged a hand through his mussed hair, then adjusted his
askew glasses. "Malfoy."

"You're fucking Harry Potter? Of all the men in the world - seriously, Theo?"

Theo's face hardened in a way that Hermione had never seen before. His usual smile had
been replaced by a firm look of irritation. "I'm not just fucking him, Draco. I'm in love with
him." He reached out to grasp Harry's hand, tangling their fingers together.

"You're…in love? You're never in love."

"Things evolve, as I'm sure you're aware." Theo shot a meaningful look at Hermione.

"Yes." Draco nodded, the tension in his body suddenly releasing. "They do. I just wish you
hadn't chosen to evolve things on my couch. I just had it professionally cleaned. A scourgify
can only do so much."

"You interrupted before things could get messy. Unfortunately for me."

Harry shot Theo a severe look, his cheeks flushing red. "Can you not ?"

"Sorry, love." Theo pressed a kiss to Harry's shoulder.

"I'd like to understand all of this," Draco muttered. "Join me for a drink downstairs, Theo?
I'm sure Hermione has some questions for Potter as well."

"Oh, Hermione already knew," Theo said. "She's fully briefed."

"I walked in on them at Ron's wedding," she admitted.

"Does no one tell me anything?"

"We're all a bit too used to tip-toeing around your enormous, yet fragile ego," Theo said with
a wink.

"My ego is not fragile."

"Come on, mate," Theo said. "Let's have that drink." He kissed Harry's cheek.

Draco nodded. "Yes. I'm curious about the origins of your relationship with The Boy Who
Nearly Ejaculated On My Couch."

Neither Harry nor Hermione spoke, watching as Theo smacked Draco on the arm and led him
onto the lift.

Once the lift had left. Hermione lowered herself to the couch. In a normal circumstance, she
would've been embarrassed about her state - though she was fully dressed, it was clear she
hadn't been that way for long. But given Harry's own state of vulnerability, it felt almost
laughable.

"So," she said slowly.

"So, indeed." A small smile crept onto Harry's face. "Did you hear him say he's in love with
me?"

"I did. Do you feel the same way?"

"I do. I have. For a while now."

"I'm happy for you, Harry. Theo is a good man. You deserve goodness."

"You do, too." Harry's eyes roved about the room. "Is Malfoy a good man?"

She bit down on her lower lip, then nodded. "It feels crazy to say, after everything, but he is.
And there's more to it than that. It's complicated."

Harry listened intently as Hermione explained about the soul bond, up to the point of their
meeting with Lars Millerson and their bizarre stand-off in terms of moving forward.

"Wow," he said as she finished the explanation. "And you're sure?"

"I'm pretty sure. I was sceptical at first, but I feel it, Harry. Inside of me. I hate it and yet the
idea of being without it feels unimaginable. I can't tell what's real and what's a consequence
of this magic inside of me."

Harry remained silent, though she could almost see the thoughts filtering through his head.
After several minutes, he reached out to touch her hand. "I understand that soul bonds make
you feel a certain inclination to be near someone, but do they create love ?"

"I don't know, to be honest."

"Do you love Malfoy?"

She shook her head. "I care about him. A great deal more than I've admitted even to myself.
But I'm not in love with him. I don't think."

"It seems to me that if the bond controlled love, you'd already feel that way. And even if you
did, I have to wonder… even without a soul bond at play, is love all that much of a choice?"

"Of course it's a choice, Harry."

He removed his glasses, cleaning them on the edge of his shirt. "I don't know that it is. I
didn't decide to fall in love with Theo. I decided to spend time with him. I decided to open
my heart and mind to him. But I didn't wake up one day and think hmmm, yes, this is the day
I fall in love."

She considered his words for a moment. He had a point. When she thought of the people
she'd loved in her life - whether it be familial, romantic, or platonic - her feelings had
happened organically like breathing. The feeling of love had never been a carefully plotted-
out choice.

"I'm no expert, but if you ask me, our feelings are just a natural consequence of being human.
We don't control them. But we do control what we do with them. I'm choosing Theo. Every
day, I wake up and choose him."

Hermione's face nearly hurt from smiling. If she had been given wishes, a genuine love for
Harry would've been high on her list. He wasn't perfect, but he'd been a good friend to her.
He'd lost so much. To see him in love - and with someone who seemed to match his intensity
- was a gift she didn't' know she needed. She hugged him, pressing her face into his shoulder.
"I am deliriously happy for you, Harry Potter."

He grinned. "Thank you. Theo is… unique. He sees the world very differently than I do. But
it makes sense, somehow. Who would have thought, us both lovesick over a couple of
Slytherins?"

"I'm not lovesick," Hermione said, unable to muster as much fierceness as she usually
would.

"You seem different around him, Hermione. Lighter. Whatever you decide to do, you know
I'll stand beside you. But perhaps it's worth exploring."

"If you'd told me ten years ago that you would someday encourage me to date Draco Malfoy,
I'd have eaten my own hand."
Harry laughed. "You're telling me. But we both know that things are rarely black and white. I
trusted Ron with your heart, and we both know how that turned out."

"It turned out great for Ron," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

"Did it?" Harry shrugged. "He and Lavender are a great match, but I think a part of him will
always regret messing it up so badly with you. He let his ego get in the way of what could've
been the best thing to ever happen to him."

"Thank you for saying that."

"I'm sorry I didn't say it before."

She hugged him again. She had forgotten that this was her favourite thing about people. No
matter how long you knew someone, they were ultimately unknowable. The people you knew
the best could surprise you. She'd seen the dark side of that many times over the years -
betrayal and disappointments from people she'd trusted with her life. But there was also a
pleasant reality, the acceptance that people contained an infinite opportunity to shock you in
the best way possible - to come through, learn, and evolve.

She swiped an abandoned glass of wine from the coffee table and lifted it in the air. "To
evolving."
 Ivy
Chapter Notes

Chapter 15! I can't believe there's only four left. I'm so excited and also a little bit sad to
near the end of this story. It's been such a pleasure to write and even more to share.
Looking forward to your thoughts on this chapter :) Hey, by the way, have you read my
other completed fic, Kill Switch? It's completely different from this one in terms of
genre, but you might consider checking it out if you've liked my writing thus far. Happy
Saturday!

Chapter Fifteen - Ivy

Oh, I can't / stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone / your ivy grows, and
now I'm covered in you

After Draco returned with Theo, he offered to accompany Hermione to her room. Theo and
Harry offered knowing smiles as they stepped onto the lift hand-in-hand.

The lift arrived at her suite, and Hermione tugged Draco inside. A sudden boldness had filled
her veins, the consequence of loosening her white-knuckled grip on their relationship.

"I've got a room upstairs, you know." Draco shrugged out of his jacket and pointed toward
the ceiling.

"You'd rather share a space with Theo and Harry than me?" She grinned, then pulled her
sweater over her head and dropped it to the floor.

"You're playing with fire, witch." Draco stalked after her, and she backed down the hallway,
crooking a finger toward him. As he did, he unbuttoned a line down the front of his shirt,
allowing the fabric to lay loosely against his chest.

She lifted her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. When they reached her bedroom, she
wriggled out of her trousers and left them on the floor. She lifted herself onto the edge of her
bed, eyes locked on his face. "Just five minutes."

Without taking his gaze from her, Malfoy pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it
toward her wardrobe. "Accio least sexy tee-shirt possible."

Hermione laughed as the wardrobe doors flew open, and a bundle of fabric shot toward
Draco's outstretched hand. "I'm curious to see what magic deemed my least sexy tee-shirt."

He unfolded the cotton, holding it up in front of her. It was an oversized shirt bearing the
faded image of Mickey Mouse. "This fits the bill." He tossed it to her. "Where did you even
get that monstrosity?"

She tugged the fabric over her head, stretching it outward to inspect it. "Disneyland Paris, my
fourteenth birthday."

He stepped forward, settling himself between her knees. "Unfortunately, I still want to fuck
you."

"Unfortunately?"

He kissed the side of her neck. "For me. I'm going to have to use one of the guest rooms to
relieve myself."

She laughed. "Or, you know, I could assist…"

He shook his head. "I'm tempted. But if you so much as look at my cock again tonight, I'm
going to have to bury myself in you. And, as we discussed, I've resolved not to do that. Yet."

She lowered her gaze, frowning slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm a patient man, Hermione."

"You can still stay here. It's a big bed." She smoothed the bedspread beside her and looked up
at him hopefully.

"As much as I want to, I'm not sure I have the self-control to share a bed with you without
crossing a line. Ugly mouse or not."

"Mickey Mouse is not ugly. He's an icon."

"Never heard of him, so he can't be that iconic." He kissed her mouth once, then twice. "I'll
be back on Wednesday."

"You'll be safe?"

"Always."

She climbed under the covers and watched him as he left.

Two days after Malfoy left, he sent an owl.

Hermione,

I've just received word from my contacts that the Zabini family lives in a small cottage in
Kent. I've attached the location so you can begin crafting a plan. Please don't go until I've
returned.

X Draco
She set down the letter, quickly showered, and dressed herself. She could easily apparate into
Kent and find the Zabini home from there. Draco had to know - even despite his request -
that she wouldn't be able to wait to go. It was her job, after all.

Hermione was just sliding her wand into her coat pocket when the chandelier sounded.

“Hermiiiiiooooneeeeeee,” Theo sang. “Open up!”

She looked upward. "I'm busy, Theo. What do you want?"

"Let me in and I'll tell you."

She sighed. "Come in."

The doors opened. "Hello beautiful." Theo extended an arm. "I'm here to escort you to
Kent."

"How do you even know about that?"

"How do you think? Our dear Draco was well aware you wouldn't stay put, especially since
he asked you to. He's not an imbecile."

"I should've known. I don't suppose it's worth arguing?"

"Not in the slightest."

She nodded, resigned, and joined him inside the lift. "What in the world are you wearing?"

"Oh, this?" He admired himself in the reflective siding. He wore black trousers, a black
pullover, and a dark beanie with a leather patch. "It's my reconnaissance uniform."

"We're going to see Blaise's parents. We're not robbing a bank. Where did you even get the
idea for this outfit?"

"Harry has been showing me these things called movies. The muggles always wear these
outfits when they're being sneaky. Have you seen movies, Hermione?"

She laughed. "Yes, Theo, I have seen movies. I'm muggleborn, remember?"

"Sometimes I forget. You're just so…witchy."

"Thanks, I think." The lift arrived at the lobby, and they stepped off. "What's been your
favourite movie so far?"

"Sister Act. We've watched it three times."

"I am not surprised in the least."

"We should show Draco a movie, Hermione. Can you imagine? But then, of course, he'd
probably decide that he needs to star in his own magic version, and I'm not sure I can take
him being any more famous than he already is. Is it even possible for an ego as enormous as
his to grow larger?"

"It's best we leave that stone unturned," she agreed. "Shall we?"

Theo nodded, and she took his hand. Hermione closed her eyes and together, they apparated.

They landed smoothly in a field atop massive cliffs overlooking the water. A frigid breeze
moved through the air, and they shuddered in tandem.

Theo coughed. "Where are we?"

"Broadstairs," Hermione explained. "It looks like the Zabini home is in this field
somewhere."

"There's nothing here," Theo said, planting his hands against his hips. "Just a load of grass
and snow."

"You're the brilliant charms master." Hermione shrugged. "Have at it."

"Revelio!" Theo scanned the horizon line, eyes narrowed. Then he pointed to a spot just
steps from the cliff's edge. "There's something there. Hidden quite well."

Together, they walked toward the area. Theo seemed to be assessing something, walking in
slow, deliberate circles with his mouth pressed into a firm line. "There are strong wards
hiding something. A small structure. I can tell there are people inside."

"Can they see us?"

He nodded. "Yes. It's a one-way charm."

"Excellent." She waved her arms over her head. "Hello? We're friends of Blaise. We've come
to pay our respects."

"You think people who went to this much trouble to stay hidden are just going to reveal
themselves? I'm not calling you stupid, but…"

"It's my introduction, Theo." Her breath plumed out in front of her face in the frosty air. "We
just want to talk about Blaise," she shouted. "But I could give The Daily Prophet a tip on an
interesting story if I have to."

"That's ice cold, Hermione."

She nodded. "Just wait."

Within moments, a weathered cottage with a view of the North Sea came into view. Coastal
winds had clearly etched their signature into the faded white structure, the brass doorknob
oxidised into the colour of seaweed. Hermione could hear muted voices inside, and then the
front door eased open. A grey-haired man stepped out, glaring at her through thick-rimmed
glasses.

"What do you want?"

Hermione stepped forward, speaking against the breeze. "I want to talk about Blaise. We
mean no harm. I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Theodore Nott."

The man's face softened as he looked at Theo. "Theo Nott? Is that really you?"

"Hello, Mr. Zabini. It's been a long time."

Zachariah Zabini said nothing momentarily, then dipped his chin in a nod. "I suppose there's
no sense in sending you away now. Come inside."

Hermione climbed the creaky front steps, hand bracing against a worn handrail. The home's
interior was equally worn, but not from lack of care. It reminded Hermione of a stone
smoothed away from centuries of water rushing over it. The windowsills were littered with
collections of shells and weathered rocks, sunlight glinting against them. In the centre of the
space, a fire crackled noisily.

"Thank you for allowing us inside, Mr. Zabini. My name is Hermione Granger."

"I know who you are. I read the papers. Or, I used to. I don't keep up much these days."

Another voice surprised Hermione. A grey-haired woman stood in the doorway, hands braced
on her hips. "My husband means to say that it's difficult to watch our son's classmates live
their lives. Now that he's gone."

"You must be Rose."

"Yes. Care to explain why you've come here, threatening to bring the press when we're
clearly trying to be left alone?"

"I'm sorry about that." Hermione glanced at Theo. "We've just learned of Blaise's passing and
we wanted to pay our respects. To understand what happened."

Rose stared harshly, unblinking. After what seemed an eternity, she gestured to a sagging
couch in front of the fire. "Sit down, then. Zachariah, some tea please."

The couch creaked as Theo and Hermione sat, their thighs pressed against each other in the
crouched space. Zachariah handed them each a steaming cup of tea. Neither took a sip.

"Thank you," said Hermione. "He had recently gotten out of Azkaban, yes?"

"They never should have sent him there. He was just a boy." Zachariah's voice cracked as he
sat in a rocking chair angled toward the couch. "He got caught up in something bigger than
himself."
"We didn't know," Rose said, standing beside her husband. "That Blaise had taken the mark.
He was such a quiet boy. He seemed different as he aged, but we thought he was just being a
typical adolescent. Distant. Moody. We tried to pull him from Hogwarts when You-Know-
Who started gaining power, but he was insistent on staying."

"When we learned about the battle, we feared he'd been hurt. And then we found out…"
Zachariah trailed off.

"We could hardly fathom it. We thought, certainly, he'd been Imperiused. It was the only
explanation," Rose pressed a hand to her husband's frail shoulder. "But he insisted it wasn't
the case. Do you know what he told me, when I was allowed to visit with him before his
trial?"

Hermione clenched her hand around her still-untouched tea.

"He told me was tired of being a loser. He wanted to be aligned with the winners. That's what
he thought of us - his family."

Theo cleared his throat. "Blaise was the target for a lot of bullies in the early days. He
thought being a Death Eater would make him strong. We all did."

Hermione kept her gaze on Mr. and Mrs. Zabini steady. "What happened when he was
released?"

"He came home. It was wonderful at first. We finally had our boy back, and he had a chance
at a new start. But he was different. I don't know what they did to him in Azkaban, but he was
a shell." Zachariah wiped at his eyes, then cleared his throat. "He couldn't find a job. No one
wanted to hire an ex-Death Eater. Blaise fell in with a bad crowd. Drinking. Using Dragon's
Blood. We moved out here, thinking it would give him a fresh start, but it only made things
worse."

"I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Zabini. It must have been terrible to watch," Hermione said, voice
soft.

"We felt so helpless. About eight months ago, we got into an argument." Rose lowered her
head. "I told him to leave. I didn't mean it. I was just so frustrated."

"Six weeks after he left, we got word that he'd been found. Dead. Aurors couldn't even tell us
how long he'd been there. He died alone. It was the one thing he'd been trying to avoid, and
he was still alone ." Zachariah shook his head slowly, face crumpled in grief.

Hermione stayed quiet for a moment, allowing the space to breathe. Then, she spoke. "Did
any friends come to visit after his release? Any relatives?"

Both Zachariah and Rose looked at Theo, expressions unreadable.

"No," said Rose. "He didn't want anyone to know. He was ashamed. His friends had all
moved on."

"I would've come," Theo said, back ramrod straight. "If I'd known."
"He went to great lengths to ensure no one did," Rose said, giving him a comforting smile.
"It's not your fault. At the end of the day, it was really just our family." She picked up a small
framed photo from a table beside her. Rose dragged her fingertips against the glass, eyes
misty.

"Could I see?" Hermione held out her hand.

Rose handed her the photo. The image showed a younger Blaise - no older than sixteen -
seated on the floor with his arm slung around a dark-haired girl who appeared several years
younger. "Who is this?"

"Olivia. Our daughter."

"I don't remember her from Hogwarts." Hermione stared down at the girl's pretty face,
looking up at her brother with an easy laugh.

Rose nodded. "We sent her to Beauxbatons. By the time she received her Hogwarts letter, it
was just after the Diggory boy's tragic death. It seemed far too dangerous. We tried to
convince Blaise to transfer as well, but he was adamant that Hogwarts was where he wanted
to be. I wish, more than anything, that we'd insisted."

"Where is Olivia now?"

Zachariah smiled. "She's working with the Canadian Ministry. We rarely see her, but she
keeps in contact. She's doing well - our bright star, so to speak."

Hermione smiled. "That's brilliant. Thank you for your time, Mr. and Mrs. Zabini. We are
truly sorry for your loss and what happened to Blaise."

"We have a plot in the garden for him, if you'd like to pay your respects before you go."

"We'd like that," Theo said. "Thank you both."

Blaise's final resting spot was in an overgrown garden overlooking the water. Ivy snaked
itself over the faded fence, and a headstone bore the engraving:

Blaise Zachariah Zabini

Beloved Son

Theo pressed a hand to the headstone. "I'm sorry, old friend."

Hermione pressed a hand atop Theo's. "Are you alright?"

Theo nodded. "Blaise didn't deserve this end. He made bad choices. We all did. But I got a
fresh start. Pansy got a fresh start. Draco reinvented himself. Blaise didn't get the same
opportunity."
Hermione nodded. "Do you think that's the motive, right there? He and Draco were, arguably,
on a similar path. Both took the Mark. Both committed crimes in service of Voldemort. But
Draco got another chance. He's thriving. Blaise faced every consequence that Draco never
did."

"It's a solid theory. I think–"

The back gate creaked open. Hermione turned to face a small figure - a girl - in a bright red
coat with the hood pulled high. "Hello there."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Elizabeth. Are you here about my brother?" The little girl's brown eyes fell to the
headstone.

"Yes," Hermione touched the headstone once more. "We used to know him in school."

"You knew him at Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded.

"I just got my letter." Elizabeth said proudly. "I hope I'm a Gryffindor. Like my brother."

"Blaise was a–"

Hermione elbowed Theo in the ribs. "He was a really good student. Work hard, okay?"

Elizabeth smiled. "Okay. Bye."

Hermione knew Draco had returned as soon as they apparated into the hotel's lobby. She
could feel his presence like a sixth sense, coursing through her bloodstream - and after three
days apart, the need to be near him pulled at her like a planetary alignment. She said goodbye
to Theo, then raced toward the lift at a near run.

As the lift moved closer to him, her heartbeat thudded erratically in her ears. She pulled at a
loose thread in the sleeve of her jumper, wrapping it tightly around the tip of one finger. The
beat of her chest thumped in her fingertip, growing faster with each second. The lift doors
opened as soon as she reached his floor, and she stepped out. All at once, her heartbeat
calmed - it was as if she'd taken a potent drug, numbing her nervous system into peace. Draco
sat at his table, the fireplace roaring beside it. The table was set for a hearty dinner - pasta,
salad, and an enormous bowl of buttered rolls.

"What's all this?"

Draco looked up from the table, firelight flickering against his face. "Dinner, of course."

"For us?"

"No, I planned a romantic dinner with Potter. He's under the table, in fact."
"Very funny." She rounded the table and took the seat diagonal from his. "How was your
trip?"

"Enlightening. How was your visit to Kent?"

"Helpful, I think. I don't think Blaise's parents are a concern. They seem to have a realistic
perspective of what happened, but they're hurting deeply. Did you know Blaise has sisters?"

Draco shook his head. "Like I said, he didn't even admit to having parents until fifth year. He
never said anything about siblings."

"He has a sister - about five years younger - who attended Beauxbatons. Does the name
Olivia Zabini ring any bells?"

Draco sipped his wine and closed his eyes. "I don't think so, no."

"And there's a younger one. Elizabeth. She's starting Hogwarts in the fall."

"And what does this have to do with my stalker?"

"Whoever is behind this seems centred on Blaise and his death." Hermione paused for a
moment, softening her voice. "And perhaps… the course of his life, and how it varied from
yours."

"We were both eighteen years old and marked by the Dark Lord - but I'm here," Draco
gestured around the room, "and he went to Azkaban."

"Precisely. And who would have more reason to be angry than a sister who - however
wrongly - blames you for his death?"

"It's a good theory. You're not half-bad at this."

Hermione cracked a small smile. "Tomorrow morning, I'm going to see what I can find out
about Olivia Zabini's location. Her parents said she's working in Canada, which is the only
hole in this theory. There's no way she could manage the level of access your stalker has from
a continent away."

"Nice work, Granger." Draco set down his wine glass and reached across the table to touch
her hand gently. "I should tell you. I didn't go out of town for work."

"No?" Hermione fought the urge to pull her hand away, pressing it into the hardwood.

"I was in St. Petersburg. Lars Millerson put me in contact with the witch who trained him in
soul bond magic. Lars is well-versed, but I wanted to speak to the best."

"Why didn't you bring me, in that case?"

"Some things are best done alone."

Hermione stiffened. "What does that even mean?"

"It means that this witch, Ekaterina Oborin, is renowned for performing soul-bond removals.
She's completed hundreds. Her success rate is near perfect. She even completed it on herself,
and retained enough magic to continue her work. It's remarkable, really."

Hermione's heart seized involuntarily at the mention of the removal. She could practically
feel the string inside her, curling in on itself in fear. "You went to Russia to investigate the
procedure?"

Draco nodded, nostrils flaring. He tilted toward her and pressed both palms against the table
between them. "Oborin is willing to perform the procedure. Out of more than three-hundred
removals, she's only seen one wizard lose their magic completely. The vast majority of
witches and wizards who undergo the removal retain their magic at a fifty-percent level
within a few weeks."

"But there's still a risk, yes?"

Draco nodded. "There will always be a risk. This procedure means messing with the natural
order of our magic."

"Why are you looking into this, Draco?"

"I needed to know all of the details in order to make my decision." He inched a hand forward,
grazing his fingertips against hers. He swallowed roughly, then fixed his eyes on hers. "If you
decide to get the procedure, I will do it."

Hermione inhaled sharply. "You would risk your magic? Halve your power, or potentially
lose it entirely? Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"I…I… don't know," she sputtered, despite a growing sense that she did know, very much.

"You do know, Hermione. And yet you'll make me say it because you're too fucking stubborn
to meet me halfway. I want you. You are the most determined person I've ever met. You'll
cross lines and demolish rules to do what you know is right - even if the majority says
otherwise. You're funny and brilliant and so powerful that it terrifies me. You're
compassionate and principled, but you're not nice. In fact, you're a little bit mean, and I love
that about you."

"But-"

"Don't insult me by saying I feel that way because of the bond. The bond draws me to you,
but it doesn't invent things that aren't there. I want you and I know - without a doubt - that I'll
want you even when the bond is carved out of me."

"So you'll risk your magic to prove a point?"

"I'll risk my magic to make you happy, Hermione. You're miserable at the idea of being
destined. So… let's remove destiny from the equation. I don't choose this bond. I choose
you."
She choked back a sob. "What if we have it removed and then I don't want you anymore?"

"So, you admit you want me currently?"

"Malfoy."

"I'm willing to risk it. To lose you. If it'll mean you can let go of this unbearable weight you
drag around."

"I don't carry around a weight." Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she realised with a
sudden shame that she was trembling. He had dug his fingers into the softest parts of her,
things she'd kept hidden for most of her life. It was excruciating and lovely to be so wholly
seen.

"You believe no one could ever want you just for you. If that's not a metric ton of baggage, I
don't know what is."

She nodded furiously. "It's so fucking heavy, Draco."

He reached out, cupping her chin with one hand. "Let me help carry it."

She kissed him. She held him by the shoulders, body angled over the table, and poured every
ounce of hurt into him. She believed him more than she'd ever believed anything. Draco
Malfoy wanted her. And not because of the magic coursing through his veins or because he
thought he should. Not because of what she could do for him. But because of who she was
and what he saw in her. She kissed him until their dinner was ice cold, and the wine bottle
was knocked aside, red liquid pooling on the floor. She kissed him until they stumbled into
the bedroom, hands never leaving the constant loop of one another's bodies. He kissed her
back until they laid on the mattress, side by side, hands held together in the darkened room.

They kissed until her mouth was raw and chest throbbing, and Hermione was reasonably
certain she'd memorised the feel of his skin under her palms. She couldn't tell where the bond
ended and her feelings began, but she wasn't sure it mattered as much as she'd thought. Draco
was willing to sacrifice his very core for her. He hadn't chosen the bond, but he had chosen
this. He had chosen her.

She broke the kiss, resting her forehead against his. For a moment, they simply breathed, and
there was an overwhelming sense that they were suspended in tandem - inhales, exhales,
heartbeats, all aligned.

"I don't want the procedure, Draco."

He stroked a thumb against her shoulder. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I can't ask you to risk your magic, and I won't risk mine."

"Do you believe that I want you?"

"Yes."
"Do you believe that you want me?"

She closed her eyes. "Yes."

"Open your eyes and say it again, Hermione."

She opened her eyes, forcing herself to look straight into his - grey-blue and hazy. "I want
you."

They kissed until they exhausted themselves, then lay silently in the bed. Hermione
remembered she hadn't eaten dinner and yet felt more satiated than she could remember. She
fell asleep with her fingers tangled in his hair.
 The Lakes
Chapter Notes

Hello! This is my favorite chapter of the fic, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I
always select songs/lyrics to represent the chapters, but I think this one is an especially
nice fit. The lyrics and music really capture the idea of two lonely people who create
something beautiful when put together. There's another great lyric: "A red rose grew up
out of ice-frozen ground, with no one around to tweet it," which I feel captures the
concept of this story so well. We've watched our favorite couple as they're interpreted by
outside forces: their friends, the media, the bond - but this story is really about what
blooms when all of that is in the background.

I hope you enjoy! I can not say thank you enough to everyone who has given their
precious time to Pick + Choose.

Chapter Sixteen - The Lakes

I don't belong / and my beloved, neither do you

Hermione knew now that her biggest flaw wasn't her lack of trust - it was her inability to see
the capacity for good until it existed in foresight. She lay awake, watching as slices of
sunlight danced against Draco's skin. They hadn't moved since the night prior; their hands
tangled together despite a growing ache that had started to form in her body. She was afraid
to move - to even breathe too hard - lest the peace they'd found become shattered by reality.
The roots that had started to take place in her had bloomed, and she could no longer pretend
she didn't feel something for him.

It felt bigger than love. It reminded her of the way she sometimes felt when she looked at her
parents during particularly happy moments - like she was seeing them anew for the first time
and unable to wrap her brain around the fact that they were hers. Awe, wrapped in
absolution.

She had sometimes tried to force that feeling with Ron, squinting her eyes until he was out of
focus and then bringing him back, waiting for the moment her brain would rejoice in his
existence. And yet, it never did. She'd convinced herself over the years that she was being
overly sentimental, clinging onto girlhood romance.

Her eyes travelled down Draco's face - his aristocratic nose, full mouth, and dark eyebrows.
And though she couldn't see them at the moment, his eyes - the one thing that seemed to
betray him, even as he tried to put up walls. In the light of morning, she could feel two very
different things growing in her chest. One - the bond, surging more strongly than ever before,
almost animalistic in its' need to be with him. The other was an ever-growing list of what he
had become to her: a friend, a partner, an equal, an almost-lover.

Draco blinked his eyes open, and Hermione shut hers immediately.

"You can pretend all you want, but I could feel you staring at me."

She opened her eyes. "I wasn't."

"Add another to my list - you're a terrible liar." He kissed her, stroking his thumb along her
jawline.

"We need to work," she mumbled against his mouth.

"In a minute."

He inched downward, sliding her slacks and knickers down her legs. And then he made her
see stars.

The next several days were spent in full research mode - punctuated by kisses (and obnoxious
awws and ewws from Theo and Pansy, respectively). One afternoon, Hermione and Draco sat
thigh-to-thigh on his couch, with Theo on the other end and Pansy cross-legged on the floor.

Pansy slid a stack of parchment onto the coffee table. "Here's what I've gathered - every press
mention of Olivia Zabini over the last few years. It's not a lot, but it's something. She's made
quite a name for herself in Canada as a consultant to the Ministry. And you'll never guess
what for."

Hermione looked up from her own parchment, containing an intricate series of notes and
theories. "What?"

"Potioneering."

"That lines up," Draco said. "My biggest fan loves a good potion."

"What's Olivia's endgame? Just… annoy you to death?" Theo crossed one leg over his knee
and took a long sip of his coffee. "I could do that without half the effort."

"Undoubtedly," Draco agreed.

Hermione held up a finger. "What if he apologised?"

"For what? Not being a junkie?" Pansy snapped.

"It's more complicated than that. Blaise wanted to be liked - and he likely saw Draco as the
person that could make that happen. He was a popular little shite, if I remember correctly."

"I was." Draco shrugged.

Hermione continued. "Blaise Zabini sees Draco and decides he's going to emulate him in
order to make friends. This leads to Blaise joining the Death Eaters, like Draco. But unlike
Draco, Blaise didn't have parents doing the bulk of the dirty work. He went all in, because he
believed he had to. He's given a long sentence, which undoubtedly damages him. He's
released and is faced with more hurt and pain, and then he dies - alone. All while his sister is
watching Draco thrive in the press. Draco Malfoy is popular and well-liked. He's wealthy.
He's got women fighting to be with him. All the things that Blaise wanted so badly. It must
have felt like a slap in the face to a grieving sister."

Pansy drummed her dark-lacquered nails on the tabletop. "Valid, but like… see a mind healer.
Get some fresh air. Adopt a half-bald niffler. Don't try to ruin someone's life."

Theo nodded. "Moderately bitchy, but Pans has a point."

"I'm not saying it's right, but the biggest mistake we could make is assuming this person is
thinking rationally. Grief changes people. We all know that," Hermione said.

Theo, Draco, and Pansy all nodded silently.

Hermione flipped a few pages in her stack of parchment, then felt her stomach drop.
"Unfortunately, I don't think it's going to be as simple as we thought. According to the
documentation from my contact overseas, Olivia was accounted for in Canada for the entirety
of the past six months. It appears she returned home for a week last summer around the time
of Blaise's death, but she's been in Canada since. Her travel would've been documented
somewhere."

She chewed her lip. It wasn't lining up. Olivia had been their most promising lead so far - yet
it seemed impossible with her a continent away during every attack. She'd even been
photographed at a highly-publicised Ministry event the night of the hotel opening in Paris.
Hermione set the parchment down. It wasn't quite back to square one, but it felt like it.

Theo looked up at the clock on Draco's wall. "I've got to head out anyway. I have a date."

"I still can't believe you're shagging The Boy Who Lived," Pansy said, tucking her sleek hair
behind her ears.

"Don't pretend you're anything but happy for me, Pansy. You're a romantic at heart and I
know it." Theo leaned forward and tapped a finger to her nose. "Boop!"

"First of all, fuck off. Second of all, yes - you know I'm happy for you. Theo in love is the
gift I never knew I needed, but there's no need to ram it down our throats ad nauseum.
Thankfully, I have to be off as well. I have a meeting regarding Hermione's upcoming profile
in Witch Weekly ." Pansy stood, gathered her things, and waved goodbye before stepping onto
the lift.

Theo looked toward Hermione and Draco. "You two should join us. We're getting dinner at a
muggle spot. It's gross, but in a cute way."

Draco shook his head. "I have a budget meeting with Jasper."
"I forgot that old bore even existed. Jasper can wait. Can't he, Hermione?" Theo pressed his
hands together, widening his eyes.

She smiled. "Look at him, Draco. He's begging. I don't think I can say no…"

"Well, witch. If you're going, I suppose I'm going. I'll have Aurelia reschedule."

Hermione, Draco, and Theo met Harry in a small restaurant on the outskirts of the city. It was
dark and mostly barren, outfitted with flickering lights and peeling wall art depicting dogs
eating pizza. It reminded Hermione of the types of restaurants her parents used to take her to
when she was little, and they were still building their practice: cheap but delicious.

Harry sat in a booth in the back, feasting on a heaping plate of chips. He slid inward to allow
Theo to join. "You brought guests."

"I did." Theo grinned. "Don't be angry, love."

"I'm not. Just surprised." Harry smiled, tight-lipped, at both Draco and Hermione. "Mostly
that you'd step foot in a place like this, Malfoy."

Draco adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. "I'm a man of varied taste, Potter. I'm mostly concerned
about your ejaculate marring this fine establishment."

"Draco," Hermione hissed, slapping him on the shoulder. "Don't be an idiot."

"I'm teasing. This place looks like it could stand a bit of ejaculate. No harm intended."

There was a protracted silence in which all four stared at one another, finally broken as Theo
slung an arm around Harry. "Ah, double dates. Such fun."

Theo pressed a soft kiss to Harry's temple, then flagged down the waitress to order a round of
drinks and food.

When their food arrived, Hermione decided quickly that she loved nothing more than
watching Draco Malfoy attempt to eat a cheeseburger.

"It looks…filthy." Draco eyed the greasy cheeseburger atop his plate, lip curled in disgust.

"It's supposed to. That's how you know it's good," Theo encouraged, pushing the plate across
the table.

"Is it even from a cow? Or some muggle beast I'm not aware of?"

"It's a cow," Hermione assured. "Give it a bite."

Draco grabbed his knife and fork and started to cut a slice.

"Absolutely not!" Hermione smacked the cutlery from his hand, and they landed on the plate
with a clatter. "Use your hands."
"That's…vulgar."

"It's the only way," Harry agreed.

Tentatively, Malfoy lifted the cheeseburger, mayonnaise dripping down to the plate. He
opened his mouth and took a small bite, then chewed thoughtfully. For a moment, he said
nothing. And then he took another bite. And another. "This…" he said with a mouthful, "is
actually quite good."

Theo stuck his tongue out. "Told you."

Harry looked at Draco, his face saccharine. "I hate to tell you, Malfoy, but I think this makes
you an honorary muggle."

"So be it." Malfoy set the burger down and dabbed daintily at his mouth with a serviette. "So,
Potter, what are you doing for work these days?"

Hermione rolled her eyes - Draco knew fully what Harry did for work. Not only was Draco
the most well-informed man she'd ever met, but Harry was frequently mentioned in the
Prophet.

"I'm an Auror."

"The lead Auror," grinned Theo, placing a hand on the back of Harry's neck. "Or shall I say
the top Auror?"

Harry's cheeks flamed red, and he crammed a handful of chips into his mouth.

"Harry's very well-respected at the Ministry," Hermione bragged. "He always was."

"Good for you, Potter. I'm glad we've all found our path in life."

"Cheers." Theo held out his pint, and the four clinked glasses.

Draco drained the last of his beer. "I need another. Coming, Theo?"

Theo followed Draco out of the booth and toward the bar at the back of the restaurant. As
they disappeared from view, Hermione settled her gaze back on Harry. "You seem happy."

"I am. You too. Different from the last time I saw you. Are you and Malfoy together now?"

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "We haven't really put a name to it, but I think we are."

Harry nodded slowly, saying nothing for a moment. Then he smiled. "It makes sense,
somehow. You know I love Ron - he's a brother to me - but he was never going to be happy
chasing after you."

"Chasing after me?"

"There's nothing wrong with the life Ron wants. But you've always been ten steps ahead of
him. I didn't see it at the time, but I see it now. Malfoy can hold his own."

"It's not a sparring match."

"Isn't it?" Harry adjusted his glasses. "I'm going to ask Theo to move in with me."

She reached forward to touch his hand. "That's brilliant, Harry."

"I haven't figured out how to tell Ron. Or Ginny."

Hermione nodded, understanding. Though Ginny's heartbreak was eclipsed by her desire to
see Harry happy, Hermione suspected she carried some sadness over her breakup with Harry.
Their relationship hadn't been long, but it had been intense, and Theo would be Harry's first
serious partner since. Ron, on the other hand, had no right to feel anything other than joy for
his best friend but would probably find some way to make it about himself.

"Tell them when you're ready, Harry. You don't have to justify your happiness or find reasons
not to enjoy it."

He looked at her pointedly. "Take your own advice, Hermione Granger."

Before Hermione could scold him, Draco and Theo returned with a tray of fresh drinks.
Hermione settled in as the foursome eased into conversation. The minor tension between
Draco and Harry faded readily, and the two seemed to get a kick out of trading well-meaning
barbs. Hermione and Theo exchanged several relieved glances, clearly both feeling a sense of
peace about how well their respective partners were getting on. At one point, Draco's hand
pressed against her knee under the table, and the feel of his hand against her was a grounding
reminder: they were here. Together.

Draco - of course - insisted on paying the cheque, and the four of them gathered their things
to leave the restaurant.

"I thought for sure that was going to be a mess," Theo said in Hermione's ear.

She looped her scarf around her neck. "Why in the world did you push it so hard, then?"

He shrugged. "Draco and Harry would never admit it, but they have a good deal in common.
And one of those things is a desperate need to be pushed."

Hermione nodded. "You have a point. And it wasn't bad at all, was it?"

Theo linked arms with Hermione, following several steps behind Harry and Draco. "It went
swimmingly if I do say so. Now, I'm going to take my boyfriend home. I hope, for your sake,
that you'll also be enjoying multiple orgasms."

"No."

Theo wiggled his brows. "Maybe."

She allowed a small smile to cross her lips. "Maybe."

"That's my girl." Theo pressed a kiss to the side of her head, then quickened his pace to join
Harry and Draco, who stood at the front door.

"Shall we?" Draco pushed the door open, and the four stepped out.

They were met with the flash of a camera. A single wizard - a regular fixture from the Daily
Prophet - stood on the cement with an enormous camera in hand. Immediately, Theo dropped
Harry's hand from his and stepped to the side.

The man lowered his camera. "Harry Potter? Is that you?"

"Hullo." Harry breathed out a plume of visible air, stuffing both hands in the pockets of his
winter coat. "Good evening."

"Is that…Theodore Nott?" The man snapped another series of photos. "Care to give a
statement as to what you're doing together?"

Harry's face blanched, and he looked hurriedly between Theo and Hermione. "Just out for a
meal." He lowered his gaze to the ground.

The wizard looked down at his camera as if studying a prior photo. "You and Mr. Nott were
very close as you exited."

Hermione's mouth went dry. Harry's story was his own - he'd been burned so badly by the
press in the past, and involving them in his personal life was his worst nightmare. She took
Draco by the hand and pulled him forward until they blocked Harry and Theo.

"Oh! You caught us!" She tittered, making a sound unlike any that had ever left her mouth in
the history of her existence.

Draco arched a confused eyebrow at her but said nothing.

"We were having a little celebration meal. Of course, Draco wanted his best friend present, as
did I."

The reporter snapped another photo and then lowered the camera. "Celebration?"

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand, then looked up at him lovingly. "We're engaged!"

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock. "I thought we were going to keep this quiet until the
official announcement, love."

"I can't contain it, I'm so excited!"

Draco kissed her, pressing his fingers into her hair.

"Can I get a photo of the ring?"

Hermione slid her left hand into her pocket. "That will be an exclusive reveal, I'm afraid."

"We should be going. I want some private time with my bride-to-be." Draco gripped her by
the elbow and steered her toward the hotel. Theo followed several steps behind them while
Harry took off in the opposite direction.

"That was creative, Granger, but incredibly rash," Draco said, his voice low.

"I know." She pulled her arm from him. "I panicked. Harry doesn't need to be dissected in the
papers. There was an article in Witch Weekly this morning with commenters debating how
soon we'd be engaged, so it was fresh on my mind."

"This will be everywhere tomorrow. You have to realise that."

She nodded. "I do."

"We'll talk to Pansy about how to frame this. A long engagement perhaps - let the buzz die
down, then call it off."

"I don't think the buzz will die down," Hermione said, her voice soft. "This will be an
enormous deal. Not just from a gossip standpoint, but from a post-war perspective. Our
dating relationship has been the focus of news for that very reason. The romance between an
ex-Death Eater and a member of The Order is compelling. But a marriage? A lifelong
commitment? The implications go beyond you and me, Draco."

They slowed in front of the hotel, and Draco adjusted the collar of his shirt. "You're right. It
was exceedingly kind of you to do that for your friend."

"Exceedingly kind or exceedingly stupid?"

He laughed a low rumble. "Both, I'd wager."

Someone suddenly crashed into Hermione with staggering force. She stumbled backward,
then looked up into Theo's honey eyes. "Erm, hi."

"Hermione Granger, I've said it before and I'll say it again - you're an angel." He kissed each
of her cheeks. "Thank you."

She stepped backward as he released her. "It was nothing. Draco and I are already front page
news. No need to force you and Harry into the spotlight too."

"It's a shame, because I look fantastic in the spotlight." Theo frowned.

"But your boyfriend would rather be eaten alive by a giant spider than be Witch Weekly's
newest gossip."

"Yes." Theo smoothed his hair. "I better catch up with him. I refuse to let that unfortunate blip
spoil my upcoming orgasms."
The doors to Hermione's suite opened, and she stepped inside before looking back at Draco.
"I'm sorry to have dragged you into this."

Slowly, he stepped across the barrier of the lift and into the room. "Hermione Granger, you
haven't done a single shred of dragging."

"I publicly announced our engagement, Draco. You didn't get much of a say in that."

He said nothing, eyes fixed on her as he stepped out of his ridiculously expensive shoes.

She swallowed a lump in her throat, watching him shrug off his jacket. "What are you
doing?"

"I was thinking - perhaps you could assuage your guilt by letting me have a taste of you."

"You haven't had your fill?"

He stalked forward, fingers moving to unfasten the buttons at the collar of his shirt. "I'm not
sure I ever will. I think of nothing else."

Her heartbeat fluttered like a frenetic drum, thundering in her ears with each swell.

Shirt fully unbuttoned, he stepped closer. "I find everything else to be tedious these days. I
could spend my life between your thighs, if only you'd allow it."

"Who said I wouldn't allow it?"

He smiled, then dropped his shirt to the floor. Her eyes tracked the hard lines of his chest and
shoulders, from the scar slashing against his pale skin to the tapestry of tattoos. He ran a hand
through his hair. "I don't know if you've realised yet that almost nothing I do for you feels
like a sacrifice."

She allowed him closer, gliding her fingertips against the soft skin of his chest. "I wish I were
so generous."

"It's not generosity."

She stared up at him, mouth dry. "No?"

"That day I saw you in Diagon Alley wasn't as much of a shock to me as you might think. I
had wondered if it were you, even before then." He touched the side of her neck, an odd
smile playing on his mouth. "I felt something back in school. I wrote it off as the hormonal
desires of a teenage male, but it never quite left me. Even years after we graduated, I found
myself thinking about you. Reading the mentions of you in the Prophet over and over. My
magic inadvertently shattered a three-hundred year old mirror when I read about your
wedding. I told myself it was my dislike of Weasley. When I learned about the bond, the first
image in my mind was of you and that obnoxious smile you make when you know you're the
smartest person in the room."
Hermione's heart rate ratcheted to a dizzying speed. His fingers continued their rhythmic
touch, dragging over her neck and shoulder, moving down to the bones of her wrist. She
leaned into him. "How have you always been so certain? You're always so sure of
everything."

"I know my heart. I always have. It is yours, Hermione."

"I don't think I know my heart very well." She bit down into her lower lip. She envied him
for his willingness to follow his feelings so deeply. Hermione trusted her mind. She trusted
her magic. She had never - not once - trusted her heart.

He stared down at her. "What you did tonight was a sacrifice. You didn't question it. You
aren't even terribly wrapped up in the consequences even now. Why?"

"Because I love Harry," Hermione said, closing her eyes. "And I would do anything to protect
my best friend."

"What do you feel for me?"

She opened her eyes, remembering the feeling she'd had the other day as she watched him
sleep. Awe and absolution. It wasn't the bond. It wasn't even her dizzying attraction to him. It
was something heavier and more complex than she'd allowed herself to consider. "I don't
know how to say it."

"We have time." He kissed her, soft and slow, drawing her into him with both hands on her
lower back. It was safe, gentle, and lingering - and it settled something heavy and certain in
the center of her gut.

She pulled back. "I love you."

"You don't have to say that to be nice."

"I'm not that nice. In fact, I'm a little bit mean."

His eyes were wet as he held her close to him, so tightly it became difficult to tell where one
body ended and the other began. "You love me?"

"I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I'm still learning my own heart."

He pressed a palm over her chest, and she could almost feel the beating muscle lurching
forward, reaching for him. "We can learn it together, Granger."

She parted her lips as he kissed her, tongue brushing against hers until a shudder rolled over
the length of her spine. His hands were everywhere at once - her hair, her arse, tugging her
jumper over her head and undoing the clasp of her bra. She kissed the salty skin of his chest,
moving her lips against the puckered scar slashing across it. Draco moved his hand to grip
the hair that had escaped from her low bun and tilted her head back. She gasped as his mouth
found her breasts, licking and sucking at the sensitive peaks of her nipples.
They'd done this enough that she could predict the path of his movement - the way his hands
would slide and pull and grasp, the movement of his mouth against her collarbone and neck.
She had never felt familiar before, not only that she knew him, but that he knew her. He'd
learned her in just a few short weeks, and each touch felt devastatingly intentional. It made
her pulse race, realising how much care went into the simplest of his touches.

She reached downward and gripped him through the fabric of his trousers. He pressed
forward, hissing through his teeth. "Stop. Hermione, stop."

She shook her head and gripped him more tightly in her fist. "I don't want to."

"Tell me to stop or I won't be able to."

"I don't want you to stop," she whispered, grazing her lips against his ear.

He shoved her trousers down her hips with surprising force. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. Please. "

"Fuck. Okay." He guided her toward the couch, hands never leaving their rhythmic path over
her body. He dragged her knickers over her thighs and pressed her knees apart, dragging one
knuckle at her centre.

She bucked against his hand, a high-pitched moan escaping her mouth. He slid his fingers
into her easily, curling his fingers in the way she craved. Her head fell back against the
couch, and for a moment, the only sound was her heavy breathing filling the room.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he murmured, eyes trained on his hand as it moved against
her. He pressed his opposite hand against her pelvic bone, causing a rush of warmth to spiral
within her.

Hermione was close to coming apart, the coil building within her, when he pulled his hand
from away and gripped her hip. She arched upward, trembling and uncomfortable with need.
"Don't stop. I'm so close."

He smiled, almost haughty, and shook his head. "It's mine tonight, love."

She couldn't argue with him. He'd given so much and taken almost nothing from her. She
gripped his cock through his trousers once more. She squeezed him, and he moaned, rolling
his head back and thrusting forward. "You're going to be the death of me, witch."

She unzipped his trousers and pushed them down, gripping him in her hand as she did. Her
want was suddenly replaced with something very different - an aching, almost desperate,
need. "Fuck me, Draco."

He looked up at her, eyes heavy and hooded. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, gods, yes."

His face shifted into something almost vulnerable, and it nearly broke her heart. "You want
me?"

"I want you. I need you."

He settled himself between her thighs and looked at her once more, checking for any
hesitation, before he pushed into her. Hermione gasped in unison with him, feeling the
sensation of him filling her. Draco held still, pressing his forehead against hers, and a part of
her wondered if he could read her mind. The stillness was almost torturous, and Hermione
was overcome with the need for him to lose himself in her. She hitched forward almost
imperceptibly, but it was enough to push him over the edge.

He pulled out of her almost entirely, then pressed forward, burying himself in her. "Oh, fuck.
You feel so sweet, Granger."

"Hermione," she whispered against his lips.

He nodded, wordless, and drove into her more roughly. A thousand tiny sparks burst behind
her eyes with each thrust. He angled himself perfectly as if he knew exactly how she needed
him to move. She breathed him in and pulled him downward, one hand placed firmly at the
nape of his neck. Even darkened with lust, he looked open in a way he never had. Hermione
was wracked with the sudden understanding that she was seeing him in his entirety.

He slid a hand between them, finding her clit with his finger and thrumming against it. She
arched into him, clenching around his cock as the pleasure intensified. It was almost too
much - almost painful in the way he overwhelmed her senses.

He breathed roughly against her ear. "I love you."

She nodded, meeting another slow, intentional thrust. "I love you."

They moved against one another until Hermione could no longer think. She only knew she
wanted him, needed him, and that this was everything her body had been made for. His hands
continued their movement against her clit until she was dizzied and warm. She trembled, the
tense need within her beginning to unravel.

"That's it," Draco said, free hand moving to grip hers. "Let yourself have it."

She broke, body tightening around him as the orgasm coursed through her. His thrusts lost
their steady rhythm as he pressed into her, hands moving to dig into the flesh of her hips. She
couldn't understand the words tumbling from his mouth, punctuated by the drag of his lips
against her skin.

"Fuck - so sweet - perfect - need you. Fuck." He came, groaning her name against her ear
and clutching against her skin.

Neither of them moved. The pleasure had embedded itself within every cell of her body, from
the roots of her hair to the bottoms of her feet, and she had never felt quite so sated in her life.
She looked up at him, waiting for the thing to overtake her - the irrefutable, undeniable bond
that would wrap around her heart until she was no more than a prisoner to her own heart. The
chains she'd willingly agreed to.

It didn't come.

"Draco?"

He blinked his eyes open. "Yes?"

"Do you feel different?"

He seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head. "Other than the realisation that I
might have to fuck you twice a day for the rest of our lives…no."

"The bond doesn't feel any different?"

He kissed her neck, open-mouthed. "No. You?"

She shook her head, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "No."

"Are you…sad?" He furrowed his brow, watching one tear as it slipped down her cheek to
pool on the dip of her shoulder.

More tears fell. "I'm happy ."

He smiled, then kissed her deeply. "Let's go to bed."

She reached backward and pulled a throw blanket from the arm of the couch, then dragged it
over their naked bodies. He fell asleep quickly, cheek pressed against her sweat-sheened
chest. She lay awake a while longer, considering what the night had given her: love and
freedom. Two things she'd started to believe would never coexist.
 Peace
Chapter Notes

Happy Saturday! I hope you enjoy and have a lovely weekend!

Chapter Seventeen - Peace

All of these people think love's for show / but I would die for you in secret

Hermione's body ached as she woke on the floor, naked and half-covered by the blanket.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Draco had woken her with soft kisses. He'd slid into her
wordlessly, taking his time until they were nearly liquid on the marble floor. Hermione
couldn't remember falling back asleep, only the resounding sense of peace as she'd lay next to
him. She stood, stretching her arms above her head, and padded toward the bathroom.

Hermione stepped into the shower and closed her eyes as the searing water rushed over her.
The bond was real - she believed it to the very depths of her soul - but it being somehow
changed by sex had been overstated. She felt no different than she had the day before. Drawn
to him, connected to him, in love with him. But she was no mindless zombie. She had chosen
to chain herself to him, and in the end, it hadn't come to fruition. The relief was tangible, a
warmth that covered her like a thick blanket.

The soap swirled the drain as she rinsed her body. She felt a sudden certainty that no amount
of showering would fully remove him from her. He was part of her now, and it didn't feel
nearly as unnatural as she'd feared. In her past experience, romantic love had been heavy - a
terrifying weight she held on her shoulders. But this felt light and airy, and she couldn't
remember something ever feeling so... simple.

The shower door creaked open, and chilly air rushed in. Hermione looked up. "Morning."

Draco leaned against the doorframe, eyes still hooded from sleep. "May I join you?"

She stepped backward to allow him in. They'd been naked the entire night before, but this felt
somehow more intimate - both fully nude in the light of day, studying each other with the
wide-eyed abandon of their much younger selves. Her eyes roved over the lean muscle of his
arms and chest. From what she had witnessed, he put no effort into maintaining his outward
appearance. He was genetically blessed. It was almost unfair.

As if he were - again - reading her mind, Draco reached forward to trace his fingers over the
soft slope of her stomach. He swiped over her skin like he were painting a picture, his eyes
lingering on her naked body. "You are addictive. Do you know that?"
Hermione remained silent, her eyes fixed on his hands as they smoothed over her skin, then
slid down to cup her at the apex of her thighs. He stroked a finger along her folds, and she
exhaled. She was oversensitive, but the idea of telling him to stop was unthinkable. He
moved both hands to grip her hips and spun her around, pressing her face against the wall of
the shower.

The wet stone was cool against her cheek as he moved her hair over one shoulder. "You are
unreal," he said, lips soft on her ear. Draco's mouth found the curve of her neck, and he
scraped his teeth against her skin. "What do you need?"

She flattened her palms against the slick wall and pressed backward against him. "You."

He pressed his cock between her thighs, head brushing at her entrance. "I could die inside
you, Hermione. It's fucking heaven." He hitched forward, and she gasped involuntarily, her
breath catching in her chest. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her backward as she used the
wall for leverage. He buried himself to the hilt, breathing roughly against the damp skin of
her neck.

"You're good at this," she whispered, and he pushed her against the wall harder in response.

"I know."

He fucked her slowly and intentionally. She could envision the half-moon-shaped marks of
his nails on her skin, and she almost hoped they would permanently scar her - a reminder of
what this felt like. Though they muttered only half-finished phrases and encouragements,
there was a language to what they did - an understanding and rhythm that seemed to flow
between them.

He made a sound in the back of his throat. "Fuck. I don't want to…"

She smiled against the stone and arched herself into him. "I want to feel you come."

He needed no further encouragement. He slammed into her, hands sliding up to squeeze at

her breasts as he gasped out an incoherent stream of words. He pulled out of her and slid
down her body, pausing only to press a kiss at her lower back. Then, with no warning, he
gripped her hips and spun her back around. From his knees, he looked up at her. He was an
intoxicating mix of powerful and vulnerable - confident but willingly on his knees for her.

She shifted to the side, allowing the warm spray to hit her on the upper back, rivulets of water
sliding down her body. Draco remained on his knees and inched himself so he was directly in
front of her. Then he slid his tongue against her sensitive clit, hands gripping her thighs
roughly.

"Oh gods." Her head fell back against the wall. He held her thighs, bracing her as she
trembled against him. He moved his tongue deliberately: up, down, circling the sensitive
bundle of nerves until she was shaking and begging for relief. He lifted one of her legs in the
air and draped it over his shoulder, then used both hands to pull her more closely to him. He
was everywhere and nowhere at once, and she felt like she was being consumed.
Her orgasm was slow and subtle, dragged out of her with each lick and suck from his mouth.
As she reached her peak, her legs shook, and she pressed the majority of her weight onto him.
He held her up with his arms, refusing to pull away until he had absorbed every ounce of
pleasure from her body. Her chest heaved as she came down from her high, sliding down the
shower wall until she reached the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest, then smiled.
"That was…I've never..."

"I know." He leaned forward to kiss her. "I love the way you shake when you're close. It's like
that brain of yours is still resisting, but your body can't help but take what it needs. You
should let her be in charge more often."

"I'll take it under consideration." Hermione was dizzied and dazed. He had a point.

"I have a rescheduled finance meeting with Jasper. Meet me for lunch afterward? There's a
wine bar that's just opened up nearby."

"Okay." He could have asked her to leap out the window, and, at this moment, she would
have obliged.

He kissed her once more. "Can you do one more thing for me?"

Anything.

"Depends."

"Try not to overthink this."

He closed the shower door, and she sat there for another twenty minutes without a single
thought.

A Granger-Malfoy Wedding?

Rabid fans of Draco Malfoy, prepare yourselves. The beloved Malfoy has popped the
question to his girlfriend, war hero Hermione Granger. Malfoy and Granger were seen
exiting a London restaurant yesterday evening, where they eagerly announced their
engagement to our reporter. The pair were joined by their close friends, Harry Potter, and
Theodore Nott. Granger and Malfoy declined to share the details of their upcoming nuptials.

One source was none-too-happy about the development. "Hermione doesn't have the social
graces to survive in Draco's world. I can't see this lasting," the anonymous source stated.
Another source gushed, "Hermione is the best thing that's ever happened to Draco. He's the
happiest he's ever been."

Only time will tell what the future holds for the couple.

Hermione sighed, allowing the fresh copy of The Daily Prophet to fall to her lap. She had
known this would happen - in fact, she'd been banking on it when she'd made the
announcement. She didn't regret it. But in the light of day, the reality of her decision seemed
much more risky. Even so, she had more important things to attend to. She would discuss it
with Draco over lunch and devise a plan to wade through it together.

For now, she had a freshly delivered stack of parchments to go through, information she'd
requested after the visit to Broadstairs. Her interaction with Elizabeth Zabini had left her
curious. While she found it unlikely that an eleven-year-old would be behind Draco's
stalking, Hermione couldn't entirely ignore the niggling sense in her brain that she needed to
know more.

She'd written to Professor McGonagall, requesting photographs of the incoming Hogwarts

students under the guise that she was creating a welcome yearbook. She hated to lie to the
Headmistress, but Minerva wasn't stupid. She was familiar with Hermione's work and had
often been a valuable contact for her, even when it meant bending the rules. There were perks
to being a respected alumnus, it turned out.

At the bottom of the stack, just after Venetia Yex, Hermione found Elizabeth's photograph.
The little girl smiled at the photographer, dark hair stark against a yellow jumper. Hermione
had searched for that same face ever since the opening of The Golden Goblet - the little girl
with the rose. In Broadstairs, Elizabeth's face had been obscured by her hood. But in this
photo, smiling and pink-cheeked, it was unmistakable.

And then she was hit with another realisation. The night of that opening, there'd been a
woman standing on the opposite side of the crowd. She'd charmed the words Marry Me Next,
Malfoy in glittery pink font. At the time, she'd been just another face. An admiring fan. But
the face that had once been unfamiliar now pressed at a new memory. She'd seen photographs
of Olivia Zabini a dozen times now, and there was no denying it was her. Hermione was sure
of it. Despite the evidence pointing to her continued presence in Canada, Olivia had been in
England.

Hermione gathered up her parchments and stuffed them into her briefcase. She needed to get
to work on finding Olivia Zabini. She rode the lift downstairs into the lobby, wand in one
hand and case in the other. The lobby was busy - a line of guests stood at the check-in desk,
and another group of witches and wizards sat in the plush chairs near the main doors. As she
moved toward the main doors, Aurelia and Jasper entered from the street. Both clutched
steaming cups of coffee and were whispering, heads bent low.

"Jasper!" Hermione slowed to a stop.

The man's head lifted. "Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Did your meeting end early?"

Jasper shook his head. "Meeting?"

"Draco said you had a meeting this morning."

Jasper's brows knitted together in confusion. "I wasn't aware of any meeting. I'll send him an
owl… perhaps I forgot."
"No." Aurelia handed her coffee to Jasper and flipped open her datebook. "Draco has a
finance meeting next week. He's open this morning." She sighed. "He's overworking himself.
He must've gotten the dates mixed up."

"I'll help you find him." Jasper reached forward to take her shoulder. "I should apologise for
not confirming with him."

He gripped her a little too hard, and Hermione jerked away. A flicker of annoyance crossed
Jasper's features. "Come on, Miss Granger. No need to be dramatic."

"I'm fine." She squeezed her wand. "I'll wait for him upstairs."

"You heard her." Aurelia narrowed her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears. "She's fine.
Go on, Jas. No need to cause a fuss."

"Fine then." Jasper shook his head and carried on toward the lifts.

"I'm sorry about him," Aurelia shook her head. "He's been trying to become inner circle for
years. I think he's jealous that you've worked your way in so quickly."

Hermione watched Jasper's retreating form. "It's alright. Thank you, Aurelia."

"No need to thank me. You've become quite special to Draco. I hear congratulations are in
order."

"Oh, you know the Prophet. They'll say anything to sell a paper."

Aurelia preened at her long, fair hair. "No need to be coy with me, Hermione. You'll make a
beautiful bride."

Hermione felt her face redden. "Is there any way you could do me a favour?"

"Of course."

"I need to go to my office to grab some things. I'm sure Draco is on his way back here. Can
you please let him know that I'll be back in time for lunch?"

"Not a problem. We wouldn't want him to be worried about you, would we?" Aurelia smiled,
but it didn't reach her eyes. In fact, when Hermione looked at them - really looked - she saw
a coldness she had never noticed. Hermione took a hesitant step backward, hand still on her
wand. And then, before she could think, Aurelia leaned forward and gripped her in a bone-
crushing hug. Her briefcase fell to the floor as they disappeared with a crack.

Hermione slammed down onto a hardwood floor. Aurelia had apparated them, and badly.
Both women lay on a dusty floor, wands thrown from their hands. A spot on Hermione's neck
ached badly as if she'd been stabbed. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her wand, and then
pointed it at Aurelia.

Aurelia looked up from the floor, her expression unbothered. "Go ahead, Hermione."
“Petrificus Totalus!” A few muted green sparks flew from her wand, then quickly fizzled
out. "Stupefy!" Again, no more than a few dull sparks. "What did you do?"

Aurelia stood, brushing dust from the knees of her trousers with one hand. She lifted the
opposite hand, fingers clutched around a small syringe. "Magic Dampening Draught. Don't
worry, it isn't permanent. I wouldn't neuter the Golden Girl. I'm not a monster."

"You. You've been stalking Malfoy," Hermione said, her voice nearly a whisper. She turned to
reach for the doorknob but was zapped by a potent charm. She hissed, pulling her hand back.

"I thought you'd get it a bit more quickly, to be honest. You were too busy opening your legs
for Draco Malfoy, weren't you?"

Hermione scanned the room. "Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?"

Aurelia choked out a laugh. "I'd rather die than touch Draco Malfoy. And, to be honest, I
thought you'd feel the same way. I was thrilled when he decided to pursue you for security. I
thought you'd help me."

"Why in the world would I help you?"

"You're a good person, Hermione. He may have dug his claws into you - convinced you he's
changed, but he hasn't. He's a monster and he doesn't deserve a shred of the goodwill he's
been given since the war."

Hermione swallowed, understanding settling into her gut. "Olivia?"

"Finally." Aurelia produced a small vial from her pocket. She drained it, and the image of
Aurelia began to melt away. Left in her place was a petite woman with curly black hair and
wide-set green eyes. She stepped out of the heels that were now too big for her feet, kicking
them to the side. "You were getting there, I see."

"Your sister handed me the rose at The Golden Goblet."

"It wasn't meant for you." The sleeves of Olivia's jumper were now several inches too long.
She rolled them to her elbows. "None of this was meant for you."

Hermione looked down at her bracelet, still and colourless against the bones of her wrist.

"You're wondering why the bracelet and watch didn't alert you?"

Hermione nodded.

"Theo is single-minded. That charm is hyperfocused on physical harm. And I have never
once intended to harm Draco myself. What Theo failed to understand is that harm doesn't
have to be physical to be important. Draco didn't hold the vial of dragon's blood and force it
down my brother's throat, but he might as well have. Without lifting a finger, he murdered my
best friend. He set the events in motion, even if he missed the finale."
"Olivia." Hermione took a hesitant step forward. "He has changed. I know he isn't perfect,
but he didn't want anything bad to happen to Blaise."

"It doesn't matter what he wanted. Bad things did happen. Because of him!" Olivia pointed
her wand at Hermione, tears forming in her eyes. "Sit down!"

Hermione didn't move.

"Incarcerous!" Ropes shot from the tip of Olivia's wand and wrapped themselves around
Hermione, binding her arms at her sides. It was a weak spell - Hermione could feel it - but
she was unable to fight it without her full magic.

"I don't want to hurt you, Hermione. You've done nothing wrong, except for having
exceptionally poor taste in men. But I'm confident you'll change your mind once you let me
show you."

Hermione nodded. She wasn't going to win with magic or physical strength - not at this
moment. But there were other ways to win. "Show me, then."

Olivia spun around and rifled in a nearby cabinet before producing a small marbled bowl
filled with smoky liquid - a Pensieve. "My brother shared these with me in his final months. I
need you to see what happened to him. Then you'll understand." She took the tip of her wand
to the liquid and pulled one shimmering strand from the bowl before bringing it to
Hermione's temple.

Hermione was instantly transported to the memory, watching from an outsider's perspective.
She was in what she presumed to be the Slytherin common room, and a young Draco leaned
against a green velvet couch, his arms spread over the back. His hair was slicked back, and he
wore a taunting smile. He couldn't have been more than thirteen.

A young Blaise stood before him, hands outstretched. "It took me all day, but I've gotten the
ingredients you asked for. Professor Snape caught me and I've been given three evenings of
detention for going into his stores, but he didn't notice what I'd taken."

Draco sneered. "Good. You can return them tomorrow."

"Return them? You said you needed them for a potion."

"I was messing with you, Zabini, to see if you'd do it. You think I'm brewing potions in my
spare time?" Draco looked over at Gregory Goyle seated in a nearby chair. "I told you he'd do
it. Pay up!"

Goyle huffed and then handed Draco a handful of Galleons.

Blaise's face was a mixture of hurt and shock. He stammered. "But..I..."

"Speak up, Zabini. I can't hear you." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Coward."
Blaise turned and ran out of the room, the sounds of Malfoy and Goyle laughing as the door
shut behind him.

Hermione was pulled from the memory, then immediately pushed into another as Olivia fed
her another strand.

Draco and his followers mocking Blaise's secondhand clothing in second year.

Blaise attempting to tell jokes at the table in the Great Hall, only to be met with irritated
looks from the rest of the Slytherins.

Vincent Crabbe stealing Blaise's pyjamas while he showered, forcing him to run through the
common room in only a towel while Draco laughed.

Draco had been a little prick to Blaise for years, treating him like a lapdog and getting
evident amusement from his desperation and loneliness. And then things shifted. As Draco
and Blaise aged, a friendship formed.

Blaise and Draco chucking oranges through Peeves, as he spun in enraged circles above
their heads.

The boys stifling laughter as they stuck Bertie Botts Beans to Hermione's cheek as she slept
in the library.

Draco coaching Blaise on his flying skills, until he tumbled off of his broom and landed
straight in the mud.

Draco confiding in Blaise about his desire to please his father and his fear that he could
never quite live up to the Malfoy name.

Somewhere along the line, Blaise had been accepted into the fold. He and Draco were
friends, and it seemed the pain of their earlier years had been wholly forgotten.

And then she was pulled into a new memory. Blaise looked to be sixteen or so. He swept into
the boy's dormitory, arms full of books. A sound - whimpering - came from one of the beds
with its curtains tightly pulled shut. Blaise drew the curtains open slowly, leaning his head
inside. Draco was seated at the foot of the bed, knees drawn to his chest. He was crying, face
red and swollen as he tipped his forehead onto his knees.

"Draco? What's going on?"

Draco's head snapped up. "Nothing. Just go."

"You can tell me. I won't tell anyone." Blaise sat on the bed, shut the curtains, and cast a
Muffialato charm.

Slowly, Draco drew the sleeve of his robes upward to reveal his forearm. The Dark Mark was
heavy against his skin, the flesh red and raw around it. Blaise reached forward as if to touch
it, and Draco yanked the fabric back down. "He would've killed my parents if I said no,
Blaise. I didn't want it. I don't want this thing. You can't tell anyone. I'll be expelled."
Blaise nodded quickly. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. It'll be okay."

"Okay? I'm bound to a psychotic dark wizard. Nothing will ever be okay again. My fucking
father is thrilled. My mother hasn't stopped crying since."

Blaise leaned forward, then raised his arm. "I'll get it too. You won't have to be alone."

Draco laughed in disbelief. "Don't be absurd, Blaise."

"I want to. You're a brother to me. I won't let you do this alone."

"Have you ever met the Dark Lord? He's not a kind master."

Blaise's face was flushed with some sort of excitement. "You shouldn't have to do this on
your own. I want this, Draco."

Draco wiped his eyes and sniffed. "You would do that for me?"

"Anything. Brothers, remember?"

The memory faded. Draco's expression would be forever etched on her consciousness - a face
of love and hope. But more so, guilt.

Hermione blinked, looking up at Olivia. Olivia's eyes were narrowed, and she stared down at
Hermione as if trying to see into her skull and gauge her reaction to the memories. "Do you
see now? Do you understand?"

Hermione swallowed. She had seen Draco bully Blaise terribly, yes. She'd also seen him open
up and share the ways in which his own brutal upbringing had impacted his childish behavior.
She'd seen how he looked at Blaise - he cared about him. Valued him. Perhaps he didn't fight
Blaise about taking the Mark as hard as he should have, but he'd been a terrified, traumatized
child. The memories she'd witnessed painted the picture of a tragedy on both accounts. Blaise
and Draco were both led astray by a desperate fear of being alone.

She forced her expression into disgust as she looked up at Olivia. "Draco was cruel to him in
school. And he took the Mark to try to support him."

"Draco made his life hell, Hermione. I was just a child back then and he didn't want to lay it
on me, but he told me after he got out of Azkaban. He was so lonely. He just wanted friends.
He would've done anything to have them."

Hermione said nothing for a moment. Blaise truly believed that taking the Mark would give
him the connection he deeply craved. It must have hurt him deeply to come out of Azkaban
and see Draco thriving: rich, famous, and adored.

She also knew that Draco wasn't entirely to blame. Draco had spent his life trying to atone for
his mistakes as a scared, misguided child. Blaise had chosen his path, and Olivia had chosen
hers. Hermione looked down at her bracelet. Her hands were too bound to reach the
apparition clasp - and even if she could, she doubted it would work with her dampened
magic.

"You're right, Olivia."

Olivia paused. "You agree with me, then? Draco doesn't deserve the life he's been given."

"I do. He used me too - for sex and a headline. I'm just a mudblood to him. You see it, don't
you?"

"Yes. Yes." Olivia started to pace, her hairline beading with sweat. "I'm not going to hurt him,
Hermione. I just need him here. I need him to admit everything he did so I can finally show
the world how he ruined Blaise."

Hermione nodded. "Okay. What's next then?"

Olivia frowned. "I'm sorry about this, Hermione."

The diamond bracelet glowed red just seconds before the room went dark.

Hermione blinked her eyes open. Her head was pounding. She tried to reach her hand to her
head but could not - she was still bound. Slowly, the room came into focus. This time, she
was seated in a chair, ropes tying her tightly to its frame. Across the room sat an unconscious
Draco, arms and hands bound and his head lolling to the side. Olivia stood between them,
hands on her hips.

"I think he really does love you, Hermione. He showed up the moment I hit you, just as I
expected." Olivia reached out and tapped on the watch encircling Draco's wrist. "Handy little
tool."

"He doesn't love me. He's just using me."

"You can cut the act now, Granger. As much as you all love to underestimate me, I'm not an
idiot." Olivia grabbed a small leatherbound book from her end table and flipped it open. "He
does love you, you know. He's been waxing poetic about it in this diary for months." She
flipped through several pages before settling on one, then pointed at the page and began to
read aloud. "My suspicions were spot on. The moment I saw her, I felt like a light had been
turned on inside of me. She hates me, and I don't blame her. She'll never want me, despite the
bond that draws us together."

Olivia dropped the book to the floor and smiled. "See? Even he knows he's trash. But you'll
never turn on him. Not with that pesky bond in place."

"You don't need to do this, Olivia. There are other ways to honour your brother."

Olivia dropped her head. "I'm sorry. I am. I didn't expect you to become a barrier. And yet... it
seems you're the biggest one." She pointed her wand at Draco's slumped form. "Wakey,
wakey. Arousus!"
Draco blinked his eyes open. "What in the–"

"Silencio. That's better, I'm so tired of hearing your self-important ramblings." Olivia gripped
her wand in her fist. "Let me catch you up to speed. You've probably sorted out that I'm
Olivia Zabini. I'm not a killer, unlike you. I was going to destroy your reputation little by
little. It wasn't even all that devious. All I needed to do was show the world who you really
are - a morally bankrupt Death Eater who uses his power to manipulate people and take what
he wants. Like poor Hermione Granger - do you think she'd really love you without this
ridiculous bond in place?"

Hermione shook her head furiously, eyes locked on him. He had to know it wasn't true.

"And you." Olivia looked at Hermione, face tight. "You're supposed to be someone who does
the right thing. How can he possibly be the right thing? He represents everything you used to
stand against, Hermione. I idolised you growing up, and now you're going to pieces for a
Death Eater?"

"People are more complicated than you think, Olivia. People change."

"Not people like him." Olivia wiped away a stray tear, then steadied herself with a breath.
"He has to pay."

"And how? You said you didn't want to hurt him."

The bracelet on her wrist suddenly warmed, the third diamond glowing a brilliant crimson.
The face of Draco's watch did the same, glowing red in the dimly lit room.

Olivia looked down at the bracelet. "I think you just witnessed my mind change in real-time,
Hermione. It's not what I want, but what choice do I have? Before you, Draco's entire world
was his reputation. When I started working for him just after Blaise died, he was singularly
focused on crafting his image. Destroying it would've been easy. But you've ruined
everything - now he doesn't care about those things nearly as much as he did. He cares about
you." Sne kicked the diary across the floor angrily. "Seeing you here together only confirms
it."

Draco struggled against his bonds, silently shouting with eyes full of fear. She could sense
the power emanating from him, like a homing beacon. Olivia hadn't dosed him with the
dampening draught. Hermione wasn't sure why she could feel it, but she knew it at her very
core.

Draco continued to shout silently as he fought to free his hands, his face twisted in anger.

"Calm down. I'm not going to kill her." Olivia dug into her pocket and pulled out a vial of
yellow liquid. "Did I mention that I was a potioneering prodigy at Beauxbatons? This elixir is
something I've been developing for a while. It's almost like the cousin of Veriterseum -
except it allows someone to infuse their truth. I can give this to Hermione and shift all those
feelings of romance into disgust and dislike. I can take her from you in an instant. It is
experimental, so I can't guarantee it won't scramble her brains, but I'm hoping for the best.
The world can finally be as it should be."
Olivia opened the vial and approached Hermione. She gripped her cheeks roughly, squeezing.
Hermione wriggled her head back and forth roughly as Olivia pressed the vial toward her
opened mouth.

"Wait," Hermione gasped. "You've got it wrong."

Olivia paused for a moment, fingertips digging into Hermione's face. "How so?"

"The bond doesn't mean I have genuine feelings for him, Olivia. Think about it. You read
Draco's journal. I've been rejecting him for months. I've been pretending as part of my job.
Do you really think I'd settle for someone like him?" The words felt like acid in the back of
her throat, and she navigated against the instinctual desire to look at Draco.

"He's good at fooling people, Hermione. He's convinced the whole world he's a saint."

"If you do this, you'll be arrested. Your parents will be devastated. Elizabeth will have lost
both you and Blaise. You can't do that to her."

Olivia's face shifted just enough that Hermione knew she'd found her hook. All she had to do
was sink it in more deeply. "I'll tell you everything. We can make a statement to the Prophet
together. We can tell Blaise's story, and I'll tell mine - how he used me. Hired me under false
pretences."

"How do I know you won't betray me?"

"I'll take an Unbreakable Vow. We can do it right now. You just have to untie one of my
hands."

The corner of Olivia's mouth lifted, and she turned to look at Draco. "That has to hurt,
Malfoy." She pointed her wand at him, lifting the Silencio. "How does it feel?"

Draco spoke, voice cracking slightly. "I can't believe you would do this to me, Granger. After
everything." He shook his head, darting his gaze to stare at the floor.

Hermione gripped the arms of the chair, digging her nails into the wood. "You can't believe
I'd turn on you? After you used me? You underestimate me, just like you did when we were
children. You've never seen me as an equal, and you were never going to."

Olivia looked between the pair, then wiped a hand across her brow. "Fine. An Unbreakable
Vow." She pointed her wand at Hermione and the bindings on her left wrist unravelled,
freeing it.

Immediately, Hermione grabbed her wand and pointed it at Olivia. "Sit down."

"You don't have magic, remember?"

"I don't need it. I have the pesky little bond, remember?" Hermione could still feel Draco's
magic pulsing from across the room. In some deep part of her, she knew exactly what to do
with it. She imagined herself grasping the thread of power and tangling it into her fingers. As
she did, the thrum of magic flooded her veins. She gripped her wand more tightly, still aimed
at Olivia. "Petrificus Totalus! Silencio!"

The magic shot from her wand immediately, the most powerful spell she'd ever cast. It
blasted Olivia in the centre of the chest, knocking her to the floor with such force that it
cracked the floorboards beneath her. Hermione paused, body trembling. The entire room was
lit by a hazy pink glow emanating from her chest. It was the bond - she knew it - the impact
of their magic fusing together as she pulled Draco's power into herself. It was, despite the
situation, breathtakingly beautiful. She could feel his power surging through every vein and
artery, filling every crevice of her body.

Sucking in a breath of air, Hermione removed her remaining bindings and stood. Olivia lay
on the floor, frozen and silent. Hermione crossed the room in three large steps, then dropped
to her knees in front of Draco. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Did you just…use my magic? I could feel you pull on it."

"I think I did." She used a charm to slice through his bindings.

Draco stood, rubbing his thumb against the raw skin of his wrist. "In all my research, no one
mentioned the option to channel one another's magic."

"Lars did say the magic would do just about anything to be together." Hermione touched her
forehead, then looked at her fingers. They were covered in blood.

"You've got a nasty cut. I'm going to kill that bitch."

"I'm fine." Hermione looked down at Olivia. "I'll owl Harry. I have a feeling that being
apprehended by The Boy Who Lived will be yet another blow. Another person acting out of
accordance with her skewed value system."

Draco frowned. "It's a shame. She was a good assistant. On top of my schedule."

"She was on top of your schedule because she was stalking you, Draco."

"True. But good help is hard to find."

They stood in silence for a moment, the sunlight streaming through the windows and
highlighting suspended specks of dust in the air.

"You know I didn't mean anything I said, right?" Hermione frowned. "I was trying to get in
her head."

"You're one hell of an actress, Granger. Luckily, so am I."

She buried her head into his chest for a moment before looking back down at the woman on
the floor beside them.

Hermione thought of Rose and Zachariah Zabini - how their constant grief seemed only
soothed by their pride and joy for their eldest daughter. The relief in her gut ebbed, overcome
by the acid-tang of guilt. The Zabini family was still suffering from the wounds of a war that
had ended a decade prior. Voldemort's reign of hatred had permeated their lives, even long
after his death.

Olivia's silent screams stopped, and as she stared blankly up at the ceiling, a tear tracked
down her cheek. Hermione couldn't muster up her usual smug satisfaction at a job well done.
It was too late for Blaise. He was gone - lost to the brokenness that had followed him much
of his life. Hermione closed her eyes and allowed herself to wish it could be different for his
sister.
 The Archer
Chapter Notes

Here it is - our second to last chapter! I hope you enjoy the wrap up of this story :)
Thank you for reading, for sharing your thoughts, and your generous compliments. It
has been so fun to share this story with you!

Chapter Eighteen - The Archer

Who could ever leave me, darling? /But who could stay? /You could stay

The real Aurelia Quinn was a quiet and awkward woman - enough so that Hermione
wondered how she'd pulled off playing the part of another for almost a year. According to
Aurelia's testimony to the Canadian Ministry, Olivia had blackmailed her using some
sensitive family secrets. While Aurelia Quinn would likely face some charges related to the
impersonation, it appeared that the Canadian officials would hand her a light sentence for her
role in Draco's stalking.

Hermione felt a slight sting of shame that she hadn't seen it sooner. Aurelia-Olivia had all the
access necessary to coordinate her attacks on Draco. What she hadn't accounted for was how
Hermione and Draco's fake relationship would impact the public's perceptions of each
attempt. Hermione couldn't help but consider how easy it would've been for Olivia to kill or
maim Draco if she'd really wanted to. He'd trusted her, and as his assistant, she'd had
significant access to his life.

A few days after Olivia's apprehension, the team gathered for a dinner.

"That bitch," said Pansy, drinking deeply from a glass of red wine. "I should have known.
She was always interested in hearing about my dating stories from Draco. She just wanted
ammo."

"And what did you tell her?" Draco arched an eyebrow with an amused smile.

"That you slobbered all over me and forgot my birthday. Nothing but the truth." Pansy
shrugged, then looked over at Hermione. "Are you alright?"

Hermione touched the faint cut on her forehead. A healing salve had almost entirely cleared it
up, but her head still stung. "I'm alright. Thanks to some borrowed power."

"The magic wants what it wants, Granger."

Theo topped off each of their drinks. "Do you think Olivia will go to Azkaban?"

Hermione shook her head. "The standard for imprisonment is pretty high. She didn't kill
anyone–"

"Yet," snapped Draco. "She was going to liquefy your brain."

"Might have liquefied my brain. It wasn't her main goal."

"That makes it just fine then, right?"

Hermione shrugged. "She needs help. I imagine she'll get house arrest - probably have to
surrender her wand for a period of time. Hopefully they'll send her to a mind healer.
Encourage her to adopt a niffler."

Draco smiled. "Is that.... optimism, I hear?"

"It might be," she admitted.

"I think we need a cheers," said Theo. "To Hermione Granger no longer being your personal
security consultant."

Hermione raised her glass. "My biggest failure to date."

"It wasn't a failure," Draco argued.

"I should have put it together far sooner, Draco. No need to coddle me."

Theo reached out to touch Hermione's hand. "Next time, don't work for someone you want to
boink. It can be hard to think critically when you're fantasising about rock hard abdominals.
Believe me, I suffer the same ailment."

"I'll drink to that," Pansy agreed. "May the Granger Magical Protection Agency swear to
sever it's working relationship with Draco Malfoy, effective immediately."

Hermione smiled.

Five Months Later

August 2009

The Return of Hermione Granger

Hermione Granger has much to celebrate, and we're not just discussing her upcoming
birthday. The renowned war hero sat down with our reporter for an exclusive interview about
her business, the Granger Magical Protection Agency. Granger initially opened her business
by relying on her modest savings and, in the early years, was able to offer services at a
reduced cost to those most in need of help. One anonymous client shared that Granger took
on her case free of charge, assisting her in locating her missing son. The stories are plentiful
- people who couldn't otherwise receive help relied on Granger to get them out of challenging
(and sometimes dangerous) situations.

Granger is open to the fact that her business model wasn't initially profitable. "Those who
can afford assistance have so many options. I always dreamt of supporting those in our
community who need it most - and for many of those individuals, they don't have the funds to
pay high prices. That shouldn't prevent them from feeling safe."

When asked about the generous donation her company recently received from her fiance,
hotelier Draco Malfoy, Granger is surprisingly loose-lipped. When asked about the rumours,
she smiled brightly. "Draco's generous donation to GMPA is the reason we are able to
continue to provide both of our service lines. He saw the value in offering support to those
able to afford standard prices, and in offering reduced or free-of-cost services to those in
need. With a robust staff, I'm excited to offer both options."

Malfoy allegedly provided a staggering donation to GMPA, and only weeks later, Granger
opened a new office in downtown London and has since worked on growing her company.
Just last year, Granger was running the operation by herself. As of the writing of this article,
she manages six skilled employees and has plans to bring on four more by year's end.

One thing Hermione Granger is tight-lipped about? Her romance with Malfoy, which
allegedly began late last year. Malfoy and Granger announced their engagement in early
March but have remained quiet about any wedding plans. When asked by our interviewer,
Granger simply smiled and said, "when we're ready to share, you'll be the first to know."

Hermione was excited to share one fascinating detail that gives insight into her relationship
with Malfoy. Malfoy and Granger recently partnered on a new venture: The Zabini Memorial
Reintegration Program. An offshoot of GMPA, this new service line will work to support
newly released prisoners in securing gainful employment. Beyond that, the service will also
offer assistance in locating accommodations, referral to mind healers, and the opportunity
for social connection with witches and wizards in similar circumstances. Both Granger and
Malfoy share a passionate belief that reintegration is possible.

One thing's for sure - the future is bright for Hermione Granger.

Helen and Steve Granger finished reading the article, leaning over their kitchen table. The
article had come out only days before Hermione and Draco left for their visit to Perth.

"Sweetheart, this is incredible." Steve Granger closed the copy of Witch Weekly, wiping a tear
from his eye.

"We're so proud of you," agreed Helen. "You've worked hard."

"However," Steve stared pointedly across the table at Draco, "what's this fiance business? Are
you two engaged?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's a rumour, dad. And a long story. No engagement here."

"Thank goodness." Helen pressed a hand to her chest in relief.

Draco's face dropped slightly.

"Oh! Not like that, Draco. You know we love you. I just didn't want you two to overshadow
my good news."

Hermione leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. "Good news?"

"I saw my doctor last week. I'm in remission. Cancer-free, so they say."

"Mum! That's brilliant." Hermione leaned further over the table to grab her mother's hands.
"How do you feel?"

"Like a new woman." Helen smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'll have to be checked
every six months, but the doctors seemed optimistic."

"Congratulations, Helen. Does this mean you'll finally take up my offer of a vacation to
Fiji?"

"Maybe, Draco. I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask."

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand. It had been difficult to accept his offer to fund GMPA at
first - a blow to her ego. But with his gentle convincing, Hermione had decided that the
minor hit to her pride was a small price to pay to be able to help so many who might not
otherwise be helped. She was further convinced when Draco proposed the reintegration
program. Draco had spent the last few months grieving his prior friend and processing the
guilt he felt for the role he played in Blaise's painful early years. Doing something that
could've helped Blaise seemed to heal him.

Hermione looked out the window. "Draco, do you mind hanging back here? I'd like to go on a
walk with my parents. Have a little alone time."

"Only if you promise I can play with the television."

"It's a deal." She tossed him the remote.

December 2009

Malfoy/Granger Wedding: When Will It Happen?

Though Hermione Granger excitedly shared news of her engagement to Draco Malfoy almost
nine months ago, the two have yet to officially tie the knot. Some have speculated this means
trouble in paradise for these lovebirds, who give the new meaning to the term "on-again off-
again."

Hermione tossed the paper into the fireplace, then kicked her feet atop the coffee table. "The
Daily Prophet is getting antsy about our alleged engagement. Again."
"And whose fault is that?" Draco joined her on the couch, drawing a lazy circle on her thigh
with one finger. "You're the one who keeps saying no."

Hermione looked upward at him. "I'm not saying no. I've said not yet."

Draco had proposed to her twice in the past nine months - though he argued only one could
be fairly counted. The first was in April, just after they'd testified at Olivia's hearing with the
Wizengamot. Hermione had told him about her ill-fated trip to Spain with Ron years prior,
and Draco insisted that it was his duty to give her a new experience. After six blissful days,
he'd proposed on the balcony of their hotel suite with a ring nearly the size of her head. She'd
kissed him, told him how much she loved him, and gently asked him to give her more time.

She loved him more than she could have thought possible. The moment she'd allowed herself
to fall for him, it had rooted itself into her on a cellular level. She was constantly taken aback
by the intensity of it, the love that was inseparable from her blood. She'd grappled with the
soul bond for a long time and could now see that the bond and love were two different,
symbiotic things. The bond had pulled them together, but it was him that she'd fallen in love
with.

His second half-proposal had occurred only a few weeks ago. He'd whispered it into her ear
as he'd pressed inside of her, their heartbeats pounding and bodies slick with sweat. She'd
almost said yes then, in the throes of their combined pleasure, but she'd found a way to stop
herself. For… reasons.

Draco stood from the couch, smoothing the front of his trousers. "I'll wear you down
eventually."

"Perhaps." She looked down at her wristwatch. "We've got to be going."

"Going?"

"I have a surprise for you." She stood and grabbed her wand from its spot on the table.
"Come on."

"What have you got up your sleeve, Granger?"

"You'll see." She pointed her wand toward the lift, and doors slid open, then she curled a
finger to beckon him toward her.

Draco followed her onto the lift, stopping to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. "It's almost
never a good sign when you're acting cagey."

"Just trust me." She gripped her wand tightly in her free hand, and the lift started to ascend.

"The rooftop? Don't tell me you've gotten over your fear of flying carriages."

"Not even close."

The doors slid open. Instead of the rooftop, they stepped out onto a small balcony. The space
was covered in greenery - ivy along the half-walls and potted plants in the corners. On the
ground lay an enormous pad of crushed velvet covered in an array of pillows and blankets. It
was nearly pitch black, lit only by a handful of tiny orbs that floated gracefully.

Hermione took Draco's hand. "Look up."

Together, they both looked toward an unobstructed view of the sky. The stars and
constellations were as numerous and bright as if they were standing on a remote
mountaintop, thanks to a clever spell Hermione had found to reduce light pollution.

Draco was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the sky. After a while, he lowered his gaze
to look at her. "What is this?"

"It's ours. No one else can access it."

"How did you do this without me knowing?"

She smiled. "I've got a lot of help around this hotel - a charms master, an expert in secret-
keeping, and a multitude of talented witches and wizards with all sorts of handy skills. I think
your staff like me better, truth be told."

"I don't blame them." He kissed her. "Thank you."

A rush of nerves swelled in Hermione's gut as she took a steadying breath. "I'm sorry."

Draco's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"I was an idiot. I ran from you for so long because I couldn't let myself believe that anything
could ever just be good. I felt like the world let me down, and I put myself on the defence. I
hurt us both, Draco."

Confusion flicked across his face, and he jammed his hands into his pockets. "You're not
running now, though. Or… are you?"

"No," she breathed. "But I needed to say it. You were always a bright spot for me, and I never
should have tried to look away."

He pressed a hand to her cheek, expression soft. "It's a good thing I'm not easily deterred."

"No, you're not." She closed her eyes for a moment, relishing in the feel of his hand on her.
Then she opened them up and indulged in the awe and absolution. Draco Malfoy was here.
He was hers. And she was his. "I have something else."

"Oh?"

She dug into her pocket until the tips of her fingers pressed against smooth metal. She
clutched it tightly between her thumb and forefinger as she spoke. "I know I always tell you
that you're a snob. And you are … but also, I love that you see the infinite possibility in the
world. Things can always be better. More beautiful. And you won't stop until you make them
that way. You're honourable, and funny, and kissing you still overwhelms me. I love you,
more than I ever believed was possible."
He blinked, mouth agape. "I love you too, Hermione."

She pulled out the ring - silver and slightly tarnished and held it toward him. "Please, be my
partner. My husband."

He looked down at the ring. "You're… proposing?"

She nodded. "I know the ring isn't anything special. It's not goblin-made and it didn't cost as
much as a manor. It's just a muggle ring, and we can get something–"

He pressed a finger to her mouth. "Be quiet." He plucked the ring from her finger and slid it
on.

"Is that a yes?"

"Do you truly think I'd say no?"

She shook her head as she touched the band of metal now encircling his ring finger,
marvelling at the silver contrasting against his fair skin. "It was my grandfather's wedding
ring. I picked it up from my parents when we were in Perth."

"You've had this for four months? And you let me propose to you twice?"

"One and a half times."

"Regardless. I shouldn't be shocked that you had to do it your way. Stubborn witch."

She gripped both of his hands in hers, heart thundering against her ribcage. "The idea of you
thinking you'd simply worn me down was too much to bear, Draco. I kept thinking… what if
you woke up one day wondering if I'd only said yes because I felt I had to? I've certainly
done enough to plant that seed. I was wrong when I worried that the bond would force my
hand. The options have always been there. I'm choosing you, Draco."

He brushed a curl from her face. "Finally."

"I was willing to break my own heart to avoid being let down. I had to get my head on
straight."

"My mother would have called that cutting off your nose to spite your face."

Hermione kissed him, running the tips of her fingers through his hair. She'd realised it while
they were in Australia with her family - she'd been fighting a war that was over. Draco wasn't
a forced eventuality, and he wasn't a predestined path. He was the destination she chose to
land at, the home she never knew she was missing.

Draco broke the kiss first. "I suppose I can finally rid myself of this." He dug into his pocket,
pulled out a ring box, and creaked it open. Nestled in the champagne-coloured pillow was a
delicate ring - a marquise diamond, no larger than a half-carat, with a band that resembled
tangled vines.
She touched the diamond with a fingertip. "This is different."

"You hated the first one."

She did. It was gaudy and pretentious and would've gotten in the way. But she hadn't said
that, trying to be gentle in her not yet. She leaned closer, inspecting the ring in the dim light.
"Hold on. I recognise this ring. This is…"

"Your grandmother's?"

She pulled the ring from the pillow and held it against one of the floating orbs of light.
"Where did you get this?"

"I picked it up from your parents in Perth."

"We both took engagement rings from them while we were there?" Hermione laughed.
"They've probably been hedging bets."

Gently, Draco took her hand and eased the ring onto her finger. "A perfect fit. Even without
magic."

"It's kind of like us," Hermione said, feeling oddly vulnerable. "We never needed the bond to
fit together."

"I wish we'd seen it sooner. Think of all the years we could've been enjoying. I could have
fucked you in every alcove at Hogwarts. Bent you over a table in the Great Hall," he paused
momentarily, face growing serious. "I could have been loving you for years, Granger."

"We'll have to make up for lost time, won't we?" Hermione pulled him down onto the velvet
pad, and he settled between her thighs with the stars above them.
 This Love
Chapter Notes

Well, folks... here we are at the end. I cannot say thank you enough for spending your
time reading this fic. It's been such a blast hearing your thoughts, speculations, and
insights. I can't wait to hear how this ending feels for you! Kudos + comments are
appreciated, if you feel so compelled to leave one. Thank you!

Chapter Nineteen - This Love

This love came back to me

July 2009

Hermione eyed herself in the full-length mirror, dragging her fingers against the gauzy fabric
of her dress. The summer sun had brought out her freckles, which dotted the bridge of her
nose like tiny constellations. Her hair was wild and curly, held back with a golden comb. On
her finger, her engagement ring glinted in the overhead lighting.

Pansy came up behind her, leaning close to the mirror as she applied lipstick the colour of
oxblood. "You ready, Granger?"

"Trying to be. Are you?"

Pansy sighed. "I'm not sure. This wedding is going to be quite a task."

Hermione chewed on her lip. "I know. I've been up all night thinking about it. Keeping the
photographers out is a job in and of itself."

"Well, at least you look incredible." Pansy winked, clearly happy that she'd been able to bully
Hermione, yet again, into allowing her to select her gown.

Theo swept into the room. "Why are you two flitting around like you're the ones getting
married?"

Pansy grinned. "We're both fully aware that you're the blushing bride, Theo."

"Thank Merlin, because I need someone to tell me why this hair keeps standing up like she's
revolting." He pointed to an errant hair, which pointed straight up. "None of my charms are
working."

Hermione pointed her wand at Theo's head. "Laxo."

The hair dropped back into place, and Hermione reached forward to arrange it. "All fixed. I'm
sure your charms are just faulty because you're nervous."

"You better not be getting cold feet, Theodore." Pansy offered him a glass of champagne.

Theo shook his head. "No, thank you. I promised Harry I wouldn't drink before the ceremony.
He doesn't want me to say something regrettable ."

"Which is code for please don't embarrass the shite out of me," Hermione said with a solemn
nod.

"I would never," Theo gasped. "I look good, right? Ugh… is this what marriage means? I've
never had to ask that before."

"You look handsome," Pansy confirmed, brushing a hand against the shoulder of his jacket.
Theo's tuxedo was a deep maroon, bringing out the honey colour of his eyes. He'd adorned
the jacket with a golden pin shaped like a lightning bolt. Hermione was fairly sure that Harry
would pretend to hate the pin but would secretly love it.

The bathroom doors burst open, and all three turned to watch Draco step inside. "Are you
three ready? The ceremony starts in fifteen minutes, and I'd rather carve out my eyeballs than
have Potter thinking you've left him at the altar. The drama would be unbearable."

"I wouldn't want to keep my man waiting," Theo agreed.

Pansy took Theo by the arm and led him out of the bathroom.

Hermione took Draco's hand, lingering for a moment longer. He leaned in and whispered in
her ear. "You look ravishing, Granger."

"What are you going to do once I change my name in a few months? I would prefer you don't
call me Malfoy mid-thrust."

"Decided on that, did you?"

"Yes. Well… it'll be Granger-Malfoy," she clarified. "I can't drop Granger entirely. But
calling me Granger-Malfoy seems like a bit of a mouthful, doesn't it?"

He nodded. "Fair point. I suppose you'll always be Granger to me. At least sometimes."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "Fine by me."

The pair rode the lifts from their suite down to the main lobby, which was already swimming
with wedding guests. Hermione was of the belief that Draco had decided to co-opt the Potter-
Nott wedding to fulfill his personal fantasy. Hermione was adamantly against a large
ceremony, opting for a destination wedding in France in two months' time. There would be
less than twelve guests - only their nearest and dearest. While Draco had pretended to be on
board with a no-frills event, he'd taken a surprising interest in Theo and Harry's wedding.
According to Pansy, it would be the grandest event in the history of Malfoy Residences
London.
The lobby was decked to the nines with enormous floral arrangements. A single fluffy cloud
floated above each floral arrangement, the colours shifting to mirror a sunrise. It appeared
Draco had hired the entire staff of The Golden Goblet for the event. No less than fifteen
house elves dressed in tiny tuxedos moved about the room, serving guests escargot and
stuffed mushrooms.

"This looks incredible."

Draco smiled. "Wait until you see the dragon."

"There's a dragon? Have you gone mad?"

"Who else would deliver the rings?"

"Draco!"

He shook his head. "I'm joking. We have a unicorn for that."

"Merlin, help us. I better go find Harry." Hermione kissed Draco quickly before moving
through the crowd to Harry's groom's suite.

She opened the door slowly, peeking her head inside. Harry was perched on a chaise lounge,
nervously fiddling with his tie and muttering under his breath.

She closed the door behind herself. "Hi, Harry."

He looked up at her. "Hermione. I'm glad you're here. Help?" He gestured to the tie.

"Up you go." Hermione stood before Harry, tied his tie neatly, and lightly brushed the front of
his jacket. "You look handsome."

He smoothed the top of his hair, which only caused it to look messier. "I hope Theo thinks
so."

"Of course Theo will think so, Harry. He thinks you hung the moon."

Harry's cheeks turned pink. "I'm not so sure about this elaborate wedding, but I'm certain
about the man I'm marrying."

Hermione hugged him. "It's going to be a beautiful day."

Just then, the door creaked open. A head of ginger hair poked inside, looking sheepish.
"Hullo."

"Hello, Ronald." Hermione smoothed her hands against the front of her dress. She'd known
he would be here - they were Harry's only two attendants.

"Hermione." He pressed his lips together. "Harry. Mate, you look great."
Hermione was glad that Ron was here at all. He'd taken Harry's relationship with Theo hard -
his judgement against Slytherins ran deep even a decade later. It was childish for him to hold
a grudge against someone for such a thing, but Hermione hadn't been surprised. Thankfully,
he'd eventually come around. Everyone had, it seemed. No one wanted to stand in the way of
Harry Potter finally getting the one thing he'd always wanted: family.

She looked up at the clock. "We should go line up. It's almost time."

Harry swallowed. "You two go ahead. I'll be there in a moment, once I deep breathe myself
out of this panic attack."

"I can stay," Hermione offered.

"I think a moment alone would do me some good," Harry lowered himself back onto the
chaise.

Ron and Hermione stepped out of the room and down the hall, stopping at the double doors
leading into the ballroom. They avoided looking at one another, both seeming to take a
sudden interest in the intricate wallpaper. A minute ticked by, the tension palpable.

Ron cleared his throat. "You look good, Hermione. How are you?"

"I'm well. How are you? I hear congratulations are in order."

Ron nodded, burying his hands into his pockets. "Twins! Can you believe it? My mum is
beside herself."

"That's fantastic, Ron. I know you always wanted a big family." She smiled, imagining the
chaos that would ensue in the coming months. Ron and Lavender would undoubtedly have
their hands full.

Ron brushed his hair out of his eyes, then ran his hand over his jaw. "I owe you an apology.
For the way I acted at my wedding."

"We don't have to talk about that now," Hermione said, voice soft.

"I know we had our problems, and I love Lavender. But I never thought about how hard it
would be to see you move on. Especially with someone like Malfoy." To Ron's credit, he
seemed to notice the way his lip curled upward and quickly softened his face. "I think there's
a part of me that always assumed it would be you and me, even if it was falling apart. I'm still
struggling to wrap my mind around you being engaged to Malfoy, of all people."

"Draco is a good man. And he makes me happy."

"I'm sorry that I couldn't. Make you happy, I mean."

She bumped his shoulder with her own. "No hard feelings."

And she meant it, for the first time. She and Ron would never be friends, not like they had
been as children. Too much hurt had passed between them; betrayal and loss had dug deep
pits in a once solid foundation. And still, she would always care for him. He'd been an
integral part of her past, even if he had little place in her future. It felt good to finally look at
Ronald Weasley and feel only a vague sense of goodwill.

Hermione turned at the sound of footsteps to see Pansy and Draco moving down the hallway.

She took a step toward them. "How's our boy?"

"Vacillating between overly-confident and anxious-wreck. He can't decide if he wants to

admire himself in the mirror or hyperventilate in the foetal position," said Pansy. She caught
sight of Ron and narrowed her expertly-lined eyes. "Weasley. I hope you're being kind to
Granger, because if not, I'll have to–"

Hermione held up a hand. "We're good, Pansy."

Pansy shrugged. "I'll just let you imagine the threat, though I can assure you it's worse than
anything that brain of yours can cook up, Weasley. And it still stands."

Ron sighed. "Understood."

Draco stepped forward, dragging his fingers along the curve of Hermione's waist. "Try not to
outshine the grooms today. Though," he rubbed the thin strap of her dress between his
fingers, "you could outshine anyone, I suspect."

Hermione's cheeks flushed. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "You don't have to
make him jealous anymore."

Draco responded at full volume. "I can guarantee you, he's already jealous. I'm just speaking
the truth." He kissed her cheek, then stepped backward with a smirk.

Much to Hermione's relief, the moment was broken as Harry ambled down the hallway.

"Finally," Pansy sighed. "You better get out there."

Hermione pushed through the double doors, followed by Ron. The ballroom was a sight to
behold - wisteria garlands hung from every wall, and the floral scent overwhelmed the room.
The ceiling had been charmed to a blue sky, fluffy white clouds billowing in an imaginary
breeze. Nearly three hundred guests sat in attendance, their chairs facing an enormous
archway crafted of silver vines. Hermione stepped onto the aisle, covered in white fabric and
lined with smooth grey stones.

Slowly, Hermione moved toward the archway, eyes landing on a multitude of familiar faces -
the Weasleys, Hagrid, Luna, Neville, and Seamus, to name a few. It seemed that everyone
who'd ever loved Harry had come to celebrate his marriage.

Hermione and Ron stood together at the altar, watching Harry move toward them. He
awkwardly mussed his hair, eyes avoiding the faces in the crowd by fixing on the archway.
When he finally joined them, Hermione leaned in to whisper. "You're doing great, Harry."
He smiled just as an enchanted tune filled the air. After a few beats, the double doors opened
once again. Draco and Pansy walked down the aisle arm in arm. Hermione's eyes never
strayed from Malfoy, assessing the easy way he moved through the crowd. As always, he was
magnetic. It wasn't even his wedding, and he managed to command the energy the room with
only his presence. Once they reached the altar, Pansy and Draco moved to stand opposite Ron
and Hermione.

After a dramatic pause befitting Theodore Nott, he stepped into the room. At first, he looked
almost nervous. His eyes flitted through the crowd before landing directly on Harry. He
inhaled, smiled, and moved toward his soon-to-be husband.

Hermione turned to look at Harry, her heart twisting at the look on his face. Just behind his
glasses, his eyes shone with tears, and he watched Theo as if he were witnessing the final
pieces of his life slide into place. Before she knew it, Hermione was wiping away heavy
streams of her own tears.

Theo and Harry's vows were simple and beautiful - and by the time they sealed their promises
with a kiss, half of the crowd had also devolved into tears. Hermione watched Draco
throughout the ceremony - though he didn't cry, she noticed how his hand trembled ever-so-
slightly as he looked back at her. She knew he was thinking the same thing - that she couldn't
wait for their moment.

By some miracle, Theo's anti-photography charms worked beautifully. Not a single

photographer made it into the hotel during the ceremony - those brave enough to try were
thrown onto the sidewalk with a force that threatened to destroy their equipment. Instead,
Harry and Theo stepped outside to greet the press, give a brief statement, and allow them to
take a few photographs.

Harry had chosen to publicly come out - and announce his engagement - in one fell swoop.
Since it had only been the month prior, the press were still hungry for photos of the couple.
Hermione watched as he posed awkwardly, allowing Theo to soak in the majority of the
spotlight.

"This is Theo's dream come true," Draco mumbled, pressing a hand to her lower back. "He
always wanted to be a princess."

"And it's Harry's nightmare," Hermione whispered, "but he's willing to put up with it for
love."

They watched as Harry and Theo kissed briefly for the crowd, then waved goodbye to reenter
the party. The guests in the lobby cheered and hollered as the couple entered hand-in-hand.
Even Harry seemed to have relaxed, smiling broadly for their friends and family. Across the
room, Hermione spotted a familiar brunette holding a wriggling toddler.

"I didn't realise Astoria was coming," she said, turning to Draco.

"Theo insisted. He claimed it was to fulfil his fantasy of a drama-filled wedding, but I suspect
he misses her a bit. She was a big part of our lives for a while."
"That makes sense. Do you know her date? He looks familiar." A broad-shouldered man with
blonde hair and a dark sports coat stood beside Astoria, making silly faces at the child in her
arms.

Draco shrugged. "Never seen him before. I think Astoria said his name is Dennis? Dagley?"

"Hmm." Hermione watched as the man took the little girl from Astoria and tossed her in the
air. The little girl shrieked delightedly, then buried her face in the crook of the man's neck.
Astoria's eyes caught Hermione, and she smiled, offering a small wave. "She looks happy."

Draco snapped his fingers. "Dudley! That's it."

Recognition prickled in Hermione's brain. Dudley? Wasn't that the name of Harry's terrible
muggle cousin? It couldn't be. She made a note to ask Harry later.

"That was quite a celebration," Hermione murmured as she and Draco stepped off the lift and
into their suite. "They both seemed happy with it."

"They did," Draco affirmed, shrugging out of his jacket.

"They're so different." Hermione removed her heels, then turned to allow Draco to unbutton
her dress. "But it makes sense."

Draco allowed the back of her dress to fall slack, baring a swath of skin. He brushed his
knuckles against her spine. "Much like us."

"Do we?"

He kissed the back of her neck lightly, fingers still brushing at her back. "You know we do."

She tilted her head back, allowing him to slide her dress into a puddle at her feet. Draco was
right. He'd always been right. Together, they made perfect sense - even without the bond. Her
uncertainty was matched by his conviction, his darkness balanced in her light. He seemed to
fill every empty space inside her, illuminating the dim spots she'd never dared show anyone
else.

"I love you," she whispered, dropping her head against his shoulder.

"Always." He circled his hands around his waist, drawing a lazy route along the lacey band
of her knickers. "We were made for each other."

"Maybe." She spun around, sliding her hands to curl at the base of his neck. "But, more
importantly, we chose each other."

He kissed her suddenly, mouth warm and wet against hers. She moaned against him, hands
splayed against his back. Her body's response to him was nearly automatic. It only took a
touch. A kiss. A look. And she was ready for him, buzzing on a near-high. Her fingers moved
to unbutton the front of his dress shirt.
He pulled off the shirt and dropped it to a heap on the couch. "You are perfect. I wouldn't
have you any other way."

She grinned. "Likewise."

They kissed for an unreasonable amount of time, hands exploring one another's bodies until
they were both nearly naked. They moved into the bedroom, and Draco lifted her onto the
foot of the bed. He nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck, then moved to breathe against
her ear.

"I want to put a baby in you, Granger."

She pulled back. "What?"

He smiled lazily. "I think about it sometimes - your body round with our child. Can't you
imagine it? They'll be beautiful - curly-headed and powerful as fuck."

"They? We've moved on to multiple children?"

"Do you want them? With me?"

She thought for a moment, imagining a tiny blonde-haired toddler in her arms. She could
almost see Draco's practised exterior broken into goofy smiles as he soothed a wailing child.

She imagined children nestled between them in their bed on a Sunday morning.

She thought about watching each child discover their magic, knowing that it came from the
same singular source that created their love in the first place.

She pictured Draco becoming the father he hadn't gotten, the parent she knew he would be.

Her chest warmed. "I do. Not today. But soon."

He kissed her forehead. "Whenever you're ready. Or never, if that's what you decide. You're
more than enough for me."

"It's not never. But you know what we should do before you knock me up?"

"What?"

She wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her heels into the back of his thighs.
"Practise. Lots of practise."

And practise they did.

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