Chapter Text
“The first time I loved forever, was when you whispered my name.
And I knew at once you loved me, for the me of who I am.
The first time I loved forever, I cast all else aside.
And I bid my heart to follow, be there no more need to hide.
For all my life and forever, there's a truth I will always know…
When my world divides and shatters, your love is where I’ll go.”
“The first time I loved forever.” Lisa Angelle
4 years later
Hermione Granger was exhausted by the time she reached Number 12 Grimmauld Place and she took a moment on the step to simply lean against the door and breathe.
Oh, what a day.
Lifting her head from the tired slump she stood in, she opened the door and walked in, hearing Harry and Ron already here, chatting with Ginny in the kitchen.
“Is that you Hermione?” Ginny called, “It's not too late to run, it was Ron’s turn to cook.”
“Oh, shut it.” Ron mumbled.
Hermione laughed, already feeling leaps and bounds more relaxed. It was just her, Ron, Harry and Ginny here now. The Order long since vacated, having no need of a headquarters after the fall of Voldemort. The large house had seemed empty for a while… but living here together and rebuilding their lives had given it a new life of its own.
Putting her briefcase down on the stairs she walked into the kitchen, seeing Ginny and Harry sitting together affectionately, Ron standing at the end of the table spooning servings of what looked like an attempt at shepherds pie onto plates. When Hermione approached Ginny smiled and slid a butterbeer across the table towards her. “Happy Friday!”
Ron scoffed. “Look at the state of her, she doesn't want that shite.” Ron accioed the butterbeer back and instead took out a wine glass and filled it with chardonnay, and handed that to her instead. She met his eyes and smiled tightly, an expression which he returned. Even though they’d parted ways romantically over a year ago, he was still an excellent friend and still seemed to know just what she needed.
That's not to say the first few weeks of the four of them living together post breakup weren’t hellishly awkward.
Hermione sat down across from the newlywed and freshly honeymooned couple and took the glass gratefully. She looked at them and shook her head, an amused smile on her face as Harry kissed a blushing Ginny on the cheek. “You two are disgusting, you know that.”
Ginny stuck her tongue out and Ron finished passing out the plates. “It's no use, they’re insufferable. Four years you’d think they’d get all that out of their systems. Thank the gods we’re moving soon…”
It was meant to be a joke but at Ron’s statement they all had deflated a bit. It was time really. They’d gotten well enough on their feet. Harry and Ron were accomplished Aurors, Ginny an invaluable player for the Harpies, after she and Hermione had gone back to finish their last year of Hogwarts, the latter of the two making a name for herself in the investigative department of the Magical Law Enforcement. She had already bought her first apartment and Ron was moving into the flat above the joke shop now that George and Angelina were getting a house. Things were moving along as one might expect. But that didn't stop the twinge of loss undercutting their necessary outward growth…
“Well, thanks for that downer Ron, let's eat.” Ginny said.
Hermione coveted this time of day with a fierce passion and had since her belated graduation from Hogwarts. After the chaos and grind of work that was a day at the ministry, she was all too happy to come here, and be with her friends… her family… With everything that had happened over so many years, being together was the one constant. A reminder that whatever else, they had survived… They ate together, trading news, gossip, jokes about the food and the outlook for the week. And when dinner was complete, they sat reading mail and the evening Prophet over coffee or dessert. Their schedules were so hectic with Ginny’s early practice, Harry and Ron’s time spent so unpredictably and her own many side projects on top of a full work day, mornings were often rushed and disjointed. But here they could relax into the evening and it was easily Hermione’s favorite time of day.
Tonight, Harry was speaking of the recent rise in incidents involving muggles and the hell it was ravaging on all departments across the Ministry. But Ron suddenly interjected, his face buried in the paper.
“Absolutely mad. Still can’t believe this.”
Harry put down his stack of mail long enough to lean over and see what Ron was reading then scoffed. “Ron, let it go already.”
“What?” Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. “Malfoy.”
Oh. Him.
“I can’t believe they let him out to begin with, let alone actually put him back in the ministry!” Ron said incredulously.
“Isn't it considered community service?” Hermione asked distractedly. “I'm sure there's quite stringent requirements and monitoring.”
“Oh yeah.” Harry said gravely. “He can’t get so much as a fee for late taxes without risking prison. And if he’s ever caught in a crime of consequence…. The Kiss.”
Hermione suppressed a grimace of nausea. Kingsley had sent the dementors away from Azkaban immediately upon his oath of office, and he and several allies in the ministry had been trying for two years to get the ministry to stop using them altogether and outlaw the Kiss as a criminal penalty altogether. Thus far, unsuccessfully.
Ginny leaned over scanning the newspaper over her brother's shoulder and scoffed. “It's administrative stuff. Seems harmless.”
“He was supposed to be in prison for life.” Ron scowled.he continued to read. “‘The Ministry has not been forthcoming with the reasoning for the early release or new occupation, but an anonymous source says the order came as the result of a pardon from the minister himself at a closed hearing of the Wizengamot not open for public viewing or comment, a seldom used privilege of the Minister not often seen in recent years’. Ridiculous.”
Hermione didn't understand the reasoning for it herself. Lucius Malfoy had been unexpectedly released from prison 6 months ago, and 2 months ago, it was announced that he had been placed in administration in Law Enforcement of all places. No, it made little sense. But she knew and trusted Kingsley. It must have been a significant reason if the minister himself approved it and argued for it. The minister had either been hit with a particularly strong change of heart, or someone behind the scenes must have been working very hard to get Malfoy out of prison.
“Aurors have a different authority structure than the rest of DMLE.” Harry reminded him, “We don't deal with him.”
“I do.” Hermione huffed. “Every budget, travel permit, work order, counseling statement, everything, all has to go through him to be coordinated with everything else and other relevant departments.”
“Doesn't it bother you?” Ron asked with a disgusted look.
“Of course it does.” she said. “There’s just nothing to do about it. Believe me, I tried.”
Probably not the way Ron meant though. Yes, Lucius Malfoy bothered her. There was something intensely unsettling about the wizard and she couldn't put her finger on it. Most of her interactions over the years with Lucius had not been direct ones, at any point. They more… existed around each other rather than interacted. There was the chamber of secrets naturally. And the assault at the department of mysteries years ago, and of course her capture in his home, but until now… she had never had cause to actually look him in the eye, face to face and have a conversation with him.
And something nagged at her every time she did.
Sometimes it was the way he spoke. Saying something without saying it. Or issuing subtle threats layered under what anyone else might consider general conversation. Sometimes it was a feeling, an intriguing tingling that there was something she was missing, but it always remained just out of reach as she stared into his eyes, tormenting her and frustrating her…
This morning, though, the usual wide berth she gave the Malfoy patriarch was impossible to maintain…
Usually she sent an assistant to deal with him, or sent owls. But that day she’d been incensed. He had refused (for the third time) her budget proposal for the personnel changes in the investigative department. She walked quickly, the refused forms clutched tightly in her hand, her heels clicking a rapid rhythm on the polished floor. Her calf length skirt shifted so swiftly around her legs, the fabric stung.
Employees fell silent as she stormed into the administrative office, strode to the door she knew he was behind and spared only a single impatient glance at the desk of the secretary outside of it. “Is he in?” she asked, trying and failing to sound conversational and NOT like she wanted to start flinging hexes.
“Uh, M-Mr. Malfoy?” the raven haired witch stammered, “Yes, yes he is, Ms. Granger.”
“Lovely.”
She stood hastily. “I can, I can make you an appointment --”
“Absolutely not.” she said, brushing past the stunned witch and throwing open his office door with a harsh snap, and closing it forcefully behind her. She wasn’t about to give him yet another way to avoid her…
The arrogant prick didn’t so much as glance upward from whatever he was writing, his demeanor as nonplussed as the crisp black robes and tightly tied back hair made him appear.
“You’ll forgive my lack of surprise, seeing you here, Ms. Granger.” he said, in that bored, impervious drawl of his. “I could hear your temperamental fury from the moment you left your office.”
“You’re a smug son of a bitch, Malfoy!”
“Am I?” he asked. Still no eye contact. But then he never looked at her if it could be helped.
“Yes!” she insisted. “You have challenged and obstructed me through every possible turn! This is too much!” she crossed to his desk, head held high, not willing to betray in the slightest of hesitations that even after all this time, and every way he had been humiliated… she still found him intimidating.
“I would think,” she spat, leaning forward, palms flat on his desk. “That an allegedly accomplished businessman such as yourself would understand that to create a hire, one must offer a salary. We need an explosives expert.” She placed the crumbled rejected form in front of him. “The auror to replace the guard that was killed.” That form joined the first. “And a trainer for the new post mortem examiners.” That one she slapped down forcefully, the inkwell shifting slightly. “Which we can't do because you keep. Refusing. The budget amendments.”
He continued writing on the parchment in front of him. “Your budgeting is atrocious. Learn to write a proper proposal.”
Anger flared fresh. “My proposal is fine!” she said indignantly.
He finally looked up, leaning back in his chair, his silver eyes skewering her instantly and she faltered. Lucius Malfoy was far removed from the hollow, wretched man he’d once been. Gone was the dark, shadowed eyes and exhausted posture weakened by stress and pain. No, the years of war and Azkaban had fallen away, he was strong, vibrant and imposing, comfortable with his power, graceful in his own assumed superiority, and simultaneously unfairly and distractingly handsome.
It was infuriating really. Such an unpleasant man shouldn’t be allowed to have anything attractive about him… It caused thoughts that stirred up all manner of dubious moral quandaries…
But his eyes glinted in amusement, an insufferable smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Tsk tsk, such pride, Ms. Granger.” he admonished, “But I suppose you cannot be blamed if your premature elevation to power has caused you to outrun your senses. Its a common problem in… shall we say… the over confident and under qualified?”
She ignored the barb and threw one of her own. “If I didn't know better I'd say you didn't care much for the idea of crimes being able to be investigated efficiently. I wonder why that is, Mr. Malfoy. Was human decency just too hard a feat to manage?”
She wasn’t prepared for his stern question. “Well. Do you?” he asked, lacing his fingers together calmly.
Hermone straightened, her brow furrowed. “Do I what?”
Malfoy’s gaze bored into hers and he smirked. “Know better?”
Instead of answering she crossed her arms, her jaw clenching and unclenching in the deepest of irritation. “Give me Finnegan.” she demanded, finally.
He raised an eyebrow.
“There’s been a sharp rise of hidden explosives, we need to know how they’re doing it before someone else gets hurt or dies. Give me Seamus Finnegan, and we can argue and trade blows over the rest of it later. You won’t see a single word from me on anything across your desk for the rest of the month.”
He looked at her impatiently. “That’s three days.”
“Three days of peace, take it or leave it.” she replied, keeping stubborn eye contact. She didn’t actually know what she’d do if “leave it” was his choice.
Malfoy tapped the end of his quill rapidly against the desk as he seemed to look her over, then picked up the parchments she had thrown down like a gauntlet and sifted through them. After an agonizingly long wait, he took the first form and tapped his wand against the page. The red denial across the top changed to a green approval.
“Very well, Ms. Granger. Deal taken.”
With a quiet huff, she extended her hand begrudgingly, but sincerely. They were professionals after all, or supposed to be, and she looked down in disbelief as instead of taking it, he simply glanced down expressionlessly, his eyes flicking back up to her face.
“Let's not get overly excited, Ms. Granger.”
The man was actually refusing to shake her hand?! She gave a breathless laugh of incredulous disbelief and seized the papers and stormed out as infuriated as when she arrived.
It had been a visit that only left her more flustered than before.
Oh, yes. Lucius Malfoy bothered her. Intensely.
Her reverie was broken by Ginny's sudden, excited shriek, “Oh my god!” she cried, leaning forward clutching the envelope and card she’d just opened in her hand, “Luna and Neville are getting married!”
Hermione leaned across the table, her own mail forgotten, “What?”
“Really?” Ron added.
“Yes!” she beamed, “We’ve all got an invitation,” she said, passing them out. She continued reading, “And they’re inviting us to the engagement dinner next week, that fancy restaurant in Diagon.”
Hermione went back to opening her mail, smiling as she listened to the others talking about the next in line for upcoming nuptials, and came to a larger envelope on the bottom of the stack. She paused with the envelope in her hand, brow furrowed as the noise around her faded and she looked at the address that was simply her name. No return address on the front or back…
She didn’t know what made her wave her wand over it to check for potions, or poisons or hexes but she did. It came up with nothing… but for some reason her suspicion was aroused.
She opened the envelope and pulled out the contents, surprised to see it was merely a torn out Daily Prophet article. It was one detailing the caseload of muggle involved incidents, accidents, unexplained events, breaches of secrecy spells and muggles ending up with wizard illnesses, and how the ministry as of yet had not discovered a common link between them or had any idea the reason for the increase. She knew all that of course. Behind that one were several articles from muggle papers, detailing several accidents, attacks, and odd occurrences that had not made the ministry's notice. But what drew her eye was a bold script across the top corner next to the headline. Two words.
Death Eaters.
She looked at it perplexed and searched the envelope for something else. But there was nothing. Just the article and the written answer atop the page. She held it up. “Do you know who brought this?”
Ginny looked up at her questioning. “Nope. Just came in with the post. Why?”
Hermione looked back down at the note. “No reason.”
Something teased at the edge of her memory. A coincidence surely. An impossibility really. But with all the odd things that had been happening to her and around her lately… she wondered.
Hermione rose slowly still staring at the envelope and the note and made a vague excuse to her friends before going into the hall and ascending the stairs. She reached her bedroom with no windows, and boxes being readied for moving piled in each corner and slipping off her heels she walked to the bed and sat down next to the nightstand.
She had not opened this drawer in quite some time…
It was not that it held unpleasant memories. Not entirely. But she could easily find herself lost in the remembering, and wasting hours reading through sonnets that stirred her thoughts when she should be working and so she tried very hard not to start but sometimes… she needed the comforting nostalgia it provided.
Hermione closed her hand around the cool iron knob and pulled. A soft smile graced her lips as she reached in and lifted first the book of sonnets. A bit of dust gathered on it and she wiped it clean, holding it up to her nose and resisting the urge to open it. The thornless dried rose was long robbed of its fragrance but it stirred the memories and warmed her heart all the same. She set both aside. It was a different item she sought tonight.
Beneath the black silk blindfold, was the folded note left for her so long ago. She touched it gently before unfolding it and looking at it once more. Reading the words brought a smile to her eyes and an ache to her chest. But she forced it down and laid it on her bed next to the prophet article and envelope. She knew the spell. It was standard investigative work. She tapped the handwriting of each with her wand.
“Revelare et comparare.”
With bated breath she waited. The words glowed and images of them lifted from the pages and arranged themselves over top of one another and after a moment glowed gently and melted into one another before dissipating in the air.
They were the same.
Luke.
A breathless laugh of disbelief fled her lungs and she raised her hands to thread through her hair. Her stress vanished and she knew this was no trick. But where had he been and why now to reach out when he had been so certain she would never encounter him again?
But despite the questions, she was elated. He was alive. More than that, he had reached out to her. And her heart soared with excitement and relief.
So distant did all the events after the war’s end seem to her that sometimes she convinced herself it was all a fever dream. But she had tangible reminders that could hardly be ignored. Not puzzling out his identity proved harder than she thought. She could ask Kreacher to track down an elf named Mitzy, she could find out what children were born that year and cross reference it with divorces. Follow through on his jest and run that against property owners in Wales and—
But she didn’t.
It chafed that she was deliberately choosing willful ignorance. But when she remembered his aid to her, she could hardly bring herself to strip him of the only thing he had asked her for. His anonymity. And so, she went on with life. She studied. She worked. She dreamed. She planned. She met men and broke hearts. Had her own broken a few times. But every now and then a scent would come to her, a wisp of memory and she would find herself sitting at the edge of her bed much like she did tonight, running the length of black silk that had been her blindfold so long ago, the memory of a kiss in the shadows, a man in darkness, a firm and comforting presence amidst chaos and pain. A reminder that once upon a time, she had had a guardian angel.
But there were other moments. Moments when something magical and foreign flared up in her and she was taken off guard. Foreign a feeling as it was, it was familiar as well. Feelings and emotions that weren't hers coming to the surface. It wasn’t frequent or constant. But when it happened it was so intense as to be mystifying. The first time it happened, she was giving a presentation in her redo year of Hogwarts, Charms class, and half way through her project she was overcome with such a violent wave of despair, hopelessness and grief... So shocking was the sudden onslaught, that she fled the room to the gaping confusion of her professor and classmates and doubled over in the hallway struggling for composure and breath and when it was over, she sank to the steps, arms around her middle, and wept.
The incident had disturbed her deeply for days afterwards. It had taken a bit to orient herself, but once she did she felt the familiar undercurrent that she’d known so many months previously, and she knew it was connected to the man she had known briefly as ‘Luke’. She could feel the flare of his magic triggering her own, and she spent several days in saddened worry, knowing that wherever he was, he was suffering terribly. And she had no idea how to get to him or know he was alright, let alone return the favor of aid that he had extended to her. And she could only stare out of the window of the dormitory into the rain and darkness, a blanket clutched around her to stave off the chill and hope that wherever he was and whatever he was going through… that her warm thoughts somehow reached him…
The feeling eventually faded and she could only wonder if he was safe, for it did not happen often - waves of anxiety, of confliction and confusion… sometimes of rage. And she knew she was feeling his distress. But she soon concluded she couldn’t control it and could neither banish nor summon it. And she both dreaded and coveted the moments she would feel it. Covet because it was at least confirmation that somewhere in the world he was still alive. Dreaded because she was so utterly helpless to do anything to help him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The following weekend, Hermione went ahead of her friends, needing a solitary breather in the warm night air as they lingered to talk to some mutual acquaintances in the restaurant. It had been a pleasant evening with Neville and Luna full of reminiscing and future wedding plans. Their presence here was to be asked to be in the wedding party, to which all four of them readily agreed. But enjoyable as the evening was, Hermione had far too much on her mind and soon found herself overwhelmed in the close space with so many people around.
With a deep steadying breath, Hermione smoothed the wrinkles from her cocktail dress and began to walk slowly and aimlessly as she waited for Ginny, Harry and Ron. Diagon Alley had an altogether different feel to it in the dead of night. Most shops were closed save a few late ones and the fact that there was practically nothing with the lights on inside told her they’d lost track of time a while ago. The alley was peaceful. Empty. A rare moment of calm, almost complete silence in the usual bustle of her days, and she was content enough to lose herself in it for a moment.
A mistake. For she had let herself get so lost in the ambiance, she didn’t notice the shimmer of disillusionment at the corner she passed…
Strong hands grabbed her and pulled her into the alley, one palm coming firmly against her lips. There had been no danger in Diagon Alley in years so she’d not even had her wand in hand, it was secured to a holster beneath her skirt. Somewhere, Mad Eye was rolling in his grave. Constant vigilance, Granger!” Her heart pounded as she screamed uselessly against the man’s hand, striving to wrench herself from his grip or at least maneuver so she could fight but he too quickly pinned her to the brick wall of the nearest building with his body.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Forgive me. I had to be sure you wouldn’t scream…”
Hermione froze and stopped struggling in shock, her wild, ready to battle eyes, turned perplexed rather than fearful. The initial adrenaline rush from the surprise ebbed, and a tingle of familiarity coursed through her at his touch… The warm hand on her face. Touch firm but non threatening. The way she fit in his grip was more embrace than force. The altered voice barely above a whisper. A spark of magic that flared and spiraled when his hand touched her skin…
“Don’t turn around,” he warned.
And slowly his grip loosened, his hand dropping from her mouth cautiously and resting gently on her shoulder, the other against her hip.
Hermione was breathing deeply to collect herself. “Luke?”
There was a pause. And then,
“Yes. It's me.”
The air caught in her lungs and she laid her palm flat against the brick wall in front of her to hold herself up as relief flooded her body and weakened her knees, but then a measure of indignation.
“It's been 4 years, where the hell have you been?!” she demanded quietly.
She felt rather than heard a deep, low laugh in his chest against her back. “Did you miss me?”
“Yes!” she said quickly. Then quietly. “Yes. I did. You said I’d never hear from you again.”
Her quick, honest response seemed to surprise him and after a pause she felt his hand at her shoulder flex slightly, his fingertips causing gooseflesh to burst across her bare skin. “I didn’t think it would be possible. Have you been well?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.
Hermione swallowed and nodded. “Yes I have. I’m…. I’m glad to know you’re alright. But I don’t understand… Why are you here, why now?”
“To warn you.” he answered. “Hermione… you must stop this. I gave you that note to alert you. To keep you safe. Not so you’d continue chasing after them…”
The death eaters.
“I had to.” she explained. “They weren’t exactly receptive to my intuition or an anonymous tip and they didn’t think it worth investigating.”
“Well.” he replied. “I suppose it's a good thing I brought more than that.”
She felt something that felt like a stack of folded parchment, not unlike the one he'd given her the day she left him in Hogsmead, pressed into her belly. She reached down and took it in her hand. “What's this?”
“Proof the death eaters are still active and gaining strength. Give it to the Aurors. Leave it be, Hermione. Your reform work is already making you enemies. Give them no more reason to target you.”
“More reason?” Hermione repeated. “I don’t understand how you know all this, why are they back?”
“Because they. Have not. Given. Up.” he insisted, his voice urgent against her ear. “Fanatics. True ones. They do not quit, they simply find a new cause…a new figurehead to worship.”
Her heart pounded. “What figurehead? What do they want?”
“I do not know,” he admitted. “I’m trying to find out…”
Her brow furrowed. “Find out – no!” Panic rose in her throat. “Luke, you have to stay away from these people…”
“I cannot.” he countered simply.
“Why?!” She asked in distress, all manner of dangers being conjured in her mind.
She felt his face press gently against her temple, his hand drifting down her arm to thread his fingers through hers. “Do you remember what you told me before you left?”
Thoroughly confused, her mind a whirlwind trying to keep up with the thoughts and feelings raging through her rapidly. She shook her head. “About what?”
“Sometimes you cannot undo it. You can only go forward… and do things differently.”
Before she could say a word in response, however, they heard voices and laughter approaching. She looked towards the street and felt the brush of his cloak against her hair as he turned as well.
“Be careful.” he said quickly. “Stay alert. You are a threat to them.”
His hand crossed in front of her face and rested gently against her cheek the barest of moments before he suddenly released her and when she turned, she saw only a tall cloaked figure walking briskly down the side street before disapparating into nothing…
The voices materialized as Ginny, Ron, Harry and Luna and Neville rounded the corner expectantly. “See, I told you, it is Hermione” Ginny said certainly.
“Who were you talking to Hermione?” Luna asked.
Hermione glanced once more at the space he’d disappeared from, her hand subconsciously drifting to the place at her cheek still tingling from his touch…
“No one.” she lied breathlessly. “Just a passing stranger.”