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Was it absolutely necessary to put a smile on your face when meeting new people? Hermione pondered this as she watched the steady stream of patients entering her parents' dental practice. Logic said yes - if you wanted to be liked, you plastered on a smile and made yourself approachable. But sometimes smiling hurt more than letting the scowl stay, especially when your insides felt hollow.

It had been a long time since true happiness crossed her face. These days, she spent more time crying than laughing, watching from afar as the people who once made up her whole world lived their lives without knowing she existed. She had made the sacrifice to keep them safe, but losing everything to defeat the noseless wonder still felt like too steep a price.

Sitting outside the practice her parents now owned in Australia, Hermione sipped her tea and tried to accept her choice. Wendell and Monica Wilkins - no longer Granger, no longer her parents as far as they were concerned - seemed happy in their new life, blissfully unaware of the daughter who watched over them. She had survived a war, saved countless lives including theirs. That had to count for something.

Sighing, Hermione tilted her face toward the warm Australian sun, soaking in these last few moments before returning to London. Back to a life she no longer cherished as she once had. She and Ron barely spoke anymore - when she'd told him about her plans to find her parents, he'd just looked at her and asked why she'd bother if they were happy and safe. Some days his cold logic made a twisted kind of sense. After eight years of knowing the man, it still shocked her that Ronald Weasley could occasionally display moments of rational thought.

"Did you make a wrong turn at the Department of Helpless Creatures again, Granger?"

That drawling voice stopped her cold. Hermione lowered her gaze to find a familiar shadowed figure blocking her sun. Draco Malfoy stood before her, looking entirely too put-together for the Australian heat in his crisp dark suit.

"Are you following me now, Malfoy? Bit far from home, aren't you?" She kept her tone bored, uninterested in whatever game her former childhood enemy turned... coworker? Acquaintance? Definitely not friend... was playing.

"I was sent to look for you, actually."

She couldn't hide her surprise at that. "Why would they send you? Harry makes sense, even Ron, but you? Besides, I'm due back tomorrow - I have a portkey scheduled and everything."

"They sent the best tracker to find the Brightest Witch of our Age." His cool, nonchalant attitude grated on her nerves. Would it kill him to answer a simple question without the theatrical delivery?

"I hardly needed tracking, Malfoy. Harry and Ron both knew exactly where I'd be. Not much expertise needed there. I guess you're not that great if you were just told where to go." She punctuated her words with an eye roll.

The smirk dropped from his face. He swallowed hard, and for the first time since he'd appeared, Malfoy looked her directly in the eye. "Potter and Weasley are missing, Hermione. They left for their mission two weeks ago and haven't been heard from since."

The use of her first name, more than anything else, told her how serious this was. Hermione felt the world tilt beneath her feet. "What do you mean, missing? Did Tonks not track their wands? What about you, Mr. Amazing Expert Tracker? Instead of looking for me, why didn't you look for them?"

"Don't insult me with your petulance, Granger." A flush crept up his neck. "What do you think I've been doing since they missed their checkpoint in Greece? Trust me, you're the last person I wanted to involve, but my dear cousin ordered me to come fetch you to help with the search."

His face had turned an interesting shade of pink with irritation. She knew this was serious, that finding her friends should be the priority, but something about riling up Draco Malfoy still gave her a peculiar satisfaction. "Very well, Malfoy. Let's go to my hotel room so you can walk me through everything you've done - and your lack of success - like a good boy."

If she was to be fetched like a dog toy, she would certainly treat him like the mutt in question. His eyes narrowed to murderous slits, but he couldn't quite hide the way his cheeks darkened at being called a "good boy." She filed that reaction away for future reference.

"Bloody witch, do not start with me. I am not a dog."

"Yes, yes, you're very scary and important, Auror Malfoy." She patted his cheek as she passed him, knowing exactly what it would do to his composure. "Now come along, let's get to work."

The short walk and lift ride to her suite passed in tense silence. Hermione led Malfoy into her rooms, mind already racing through possibilities. Yes, he was a successful tracker, but it had been her brilliance that had maneuvered them all through the war and beyond. Her constant vigilance - and perhaps a created charm or two - had helped find countless artifacts afterward, saving hundreds of witches and wizards from lingering Death Eaters. Honestly, that group just didn't know how to lose with grace.

"Would you like some tea, Malfoy?" She gestured toward the sitting area, determined to maintain some semblance of civility despite her growing anxiety.

"Have anything stronger?"

She walked to the room's bar cart and poured him a generous measure of Firewhiskey, then handed him the glass. "Cheers."

"Trying to get me drunk already, Granger?" He winked, then downed nearly half the amber liquid in one go. She caught herself watching the movement of his throat as he swallowed, the way his lips pressed against the glass. Not that she was looking at his lips. He was her coworker, for Merlin's sake. Just because he was fit didn't mean she would drool like some pathetic schoolgirl. Absolutely not.

Clearing her throat, she turned to pour herself an equally hefty glass. "Alright, enlighten me, Auror Malfoy. Where have you left off?"

The git noticed her momentary lapse in judgment, if his widening smirk was any indication. "See something you like, Granger?"

"Hardly. Are you going to tell me what we're working with, or are you going to play the complete prat?"

His smile remained, but he reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a folded parchment. "Potter and Weasley were sent to Greece on the third of April. Their directive was to gather intelligence on a safe house we'd identified. According to our sources, the house contained Dolohov and several of his... associates."

The glass nearly slipped from her suddenly numb fingers. Dolohov. The last time she'd seen him had been at his sentencing, when he'd looked her straight in the eye and promised, "I'm coming for you, Mudblood. I'm going to finish what I started."

"What is it, Granger?" Malfoy was suddenly beside her, genuine concern darkening his grey eyes. "You have that haunted look."

She needed to tell him. If this was a trap designed to lure her out... She had to be strong, keep Malfoy on her side if they had any hope of finding Harry and Ron. "I think it might be a trap," she whispered. "A way to get to me. I was at Dolohov's hearing. When they led him away after sentencing, he promised to come for me. To finish what he started in the Department of Mysteries back in fifth year."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Hermione." Her given name again, soft and worried. "What happened at the Department of Mysteries? What is he trying to finish?"

She couldn't keep anything from him now. If Dolohov was targeting her, she needed every ally she could get. "He hit me with a curse during our duel. I'd managed to silence him first - the healers said that's the only reason I survived. If he'd been able to speak the full incantation..." She pressed a hand against her ribs, remembering the searing purple light, the way the pain had torn through her. "They never identified the curse. But they said it should have killed me."

Without warning, Malfoy pulled her into his arms, as if she needed protection from a years-old memory. It was odd - they were cordial nowadays, professional even, but he'd never shown this kind of concern before. This kind of... tenderness.

"I'm fine, Malfoy, honestly. It was ages ago." She pulled back slightly, but didn't completely break his hold. "What worries me is that if Dolohov has escaped, he's probably taken Harry and Ron to get to me. And Merlin knows what he'll do to them in the process."

The papers had tracked their every move after the war - keeping tabs on the Golden Trio wasn't exactly difficult. She'd have to deal with Rita Skeeter and her beetle form eventually, but one crisis at a time.

"Yes, cousin, I've made contact with Granger." Malfoy knelt before the Floo, fielding Tonks's rapid-fire questions with remarkable patience. "From what she's telling me, this might be a setup."

He had to inform his superior that he'd completed his assigned task, though finding Potter and the Weasel was only part of why he'd taken this assignment. Initially, teasing Granger had been a delightful diversion - he knew exactly which buttons to push to make her hair spark with magic. But after years working together at the DMLE, he'd grown to appreciate more than just her notorious brilliance. She was wickedly funny, delightfully sarcastic, and Merlin help him, absolutely magnetic when she decided to push back against his teasing.

Of course, he'd played it off as irritation at first. Wouldn't do to let her know he'd developed feelings for her. But every moment in her presence made his days brighter, and learning that Dolohov - the Dark Lord's most vindictive follower - might be hunting her made his blood run cold. He'd kill anyone who tried to harm her, though he couldn't exactly admit that without revealing the depth of his feelings.

"Cousin, Granger can set her trace charm in about twenty minutes. We'll set up base here for the night until we have more information." After Tonks agreed and ended the call, he turned to find Granger entering the room with takeaway bags.

"I've got fish and chips, and I picked up some pavlovas while I was at it." She'd changed into lounge wear - criminally short joggers that barely covered her assets and a form-fitting top that made his mouth go dry. If her goal was to stop his heart, she was doing an admirable job. Had her legs always been that long? And was that a hint of a tattoo peeking out near her sternum?

"Alright, I'd look into any changes in check-ins and visitation logs from the month before Harry and Ron went missing," she said, turning to catch him openly admiring her figure. "Now, Malfoy, my eyes are up here." Her smirk was positively wicked.

"Uh, right. So what charm were you thinking of using to locate Potter?" Smooth, Malfoy. Why not just wear a sign declaring 'I want to worship every inch of you' while you're at it?

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. "During the war, I modified some galleons for the three of us - turned them into pendant necklaces with disillusionment charms so we could keep them hidden. They have protean charms for communication if we're separated." She paused, pulling a chain from beneath her shirt. "After we joined the Aurors, I added tracking charms in case any of us couldn't respond to the coin's summons. If they still have them, I should be able to find them."

Brilliant witch. Why hadn't she marketed this to the entire Auror department? It was genius.

She placed her galleon on the map he'd spread across the table, tapping it with her wand. "Locatus." The coin glowed golden, hovering slightly above the parchment. "Locate Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley."

The galleon drifted across the map, vibrating gently before settling on the Scottish Highlands. "Applecross?" Malfoy frowned. "What in Merlin's name are they doing there?"

Had their portkey been tampered with? Was someone in the Ministry's Transportation Department working with Death Eaters? The implications were disturbing - how deep did this infiltration go?

Hermione bent over the map, giving him an absolutely maddening view of those shorts, and cast another spell. "Praescribo. Prongs location?"

"Care to share with the class, Granger?" He shifted his stance, trying desperately to focus on the investigation rather than how badly he wanted to run his hands up those tempting thighs.

"The first spell located the coin itself. The second sends a message to Harry." She glanced at him. "And before you ask - Prongs was Harry's father's nickname. He was an animagus, a stag. Not many people knew about James Potter besides his closest friends, most of whom..." She trailed off. "We thought it would be a secure way to communicate." "Impressive, Granger." A light blush colored her cheeks at his praise.

The galleon suddenly vibrated. They both leaned in to read the message appearing on its surface: "Loutre. Unknown. Underground. No light."

Well, bloody fantastic. Harry and Ron were being held somewhere underground in Scotland - that narrowed it down to about half the bleeding country. Hermione rubbed her face with her palms, forcing herself to think logically. They needed to move quickly - there was no telling how long her friends would remain in one place, or if they were even still... No. She couldn't let her mind go there.

The larger concern was keeping herself hidden. If capturing Harry and Ron was indeed a ploy to draw her out, walking straight into their trap would help no one. "Shit," she muttered. "Okay, we need a team. Malfoy, can you get Theo, Blaise, Pansy, and Greg here by morning?"

He looked at her as if she'd sprouted another head. "Theo and Blaise I understand, but why Pansy and Greg?"

"Pansy's a genius with glamours and disguises - she could hide us in plain sight. And Greg..." She smiled slightly. "Greg will do what he does best: be our muscle. I trust his battle strength."

Malfoy considered this for a moment before turning to the Floo. Within seconds, he was looking at Theodore Nott's amused face in the flames.

"Well, well, well. Look who's decided to grace me with his presence after a month of ghosting." Theo's dramatic sigh echoed through the connection. "I was beginning to feel woefully inconsolable, dearest."

Malfoy rolled his eyes so hard Hermione worried they might get stuck that way. "Theo, I need you to gather Blaise, Pansy, and Greg. Meet me and Granger in Australia as soon as possible. Pack for an extended stay - we're not sure how long this will take. Tell Pansy to bring her full travel workshop, and Greg needs his complete arsenal. The situation's... delicate."

Theo's expression turned mischievous. "Ah, a typical Wednesday night then. Though did you say Granger? Has our favorite swot finally let you into her knickers?"

"THEO!" Malfoy's mortified exclamation only made Hermione giggle as she continued eating her chips.

"Send me the rendezvous point à plus tard, mon amoureux." The flames died out, leaving Malfoy running an agitated hand through his hair.

"My knickers, Malfoy?" Hermione couldn't resist teasing. "Have you been dreaming of me again?"

He turned, fixing her with a smoldering look that made her breath catch. "Toujours, ma petite lionne."

The French rolled off his tongue like silk, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. A blush crept up her cheeks as his eyes darkened. She spun in a half-circle, suddenly unsure where to look or what to do with her hands. He was flirting - openly flirting - and she needed to focus on finding Harry and... yes, Ron too.

She felt him move behind her, his presence like a physical touch even before his finger traced the nape of her neck. "Est-ce que ça te fait ressentir quelque chose, lionne?"

Bloody hell, why did his French have to sound so... so... A small gasp escaped her parted lips. "Malfoy, what are you doing?"

His lips brushed her neck, trailing down to her shoulder and back up again. "I believe I'm kissing you, lioness." His voice was pure velvet against her skin.

"Yes, prat, but why?" She couldn't quite stifle the moan that escaped as he continued his careful exploration of her shoulder.

"You've been teasing me since I arrived, Granger." His hands found her hips, anchoring her against him. "There's only so much a man can take."

"I have not been teasing!" But even as she protested, she knew she was lying. She couldn't help responding to him - he looked ridiculously fit in that suit, and the way he'd been looking at her...

"Lioness," he murmured against her skin, "you can deny it all you like, but I've been craving you for years. If this is my chance to make you mine..." His grip tightened slightly. "I'm not above begging, or making it perfectly clear that you and I will end up in that bed before we leave Australia."

Oh fuck. This was too much. She needed space to think, and being in his orbit made that impossible. Clearing her throat, she stepped away. "Malfoy, we need to focus on the mission. Finding Harry and Ron has to be our priority."

His disappointment was obvious, but something in his expression told her this wasn't over - not by a long shot. And from the way her body was still humming from his touch, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted it to be.

The crack of apparition outside Hermione's hotel room announced their reinforcements' arrival far earlier than expected. Theo burst through the door first, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Darlings! What's this about a rescue mission?" His eyes flickered between Draco and Hermione, noting their careful distance from each other with obvious amusement. "Though from the tension in here, I'd say we're interrupting something far more interesting."

"Theo," Draco warned, but was cut off by Pansy's dramatic entrance.

"Granger," she drawled, levitating several ornate trunks behind her. "Still haven't learned to manage that hair, I see." But there was no real malice in her voice - their relationship had evolved into something approaching friendship over the years, built on mutual respect and a shared appreciation for complex charm work.

"Parkinson." Hermione smiled. "Still haven't learned to enter a room without an audience, I see."

Blaise and Greg followed, the former with his usual languid grace, the latter looking ready for battle despite the early hour.

"Right then," Hermione straightened, sliding seamlessly into planning mode. "Harry and Ron were supposed to be investigating a safehouse in Greece, but something went wrong. They're being held underground somewhere near Applecross in Scotland."

"And we think it's Dolohov," Draco added, his voice hardening at the name. Hermione noticed how his hand twitched toward his wand, but chose not to comment.

"Dolohov?" Blaise's usual casual demeanor vanished. "Wasn't he supposed to be in Azkaban?"

"Supposed to be is the operative phrase," Hermione replied. "We think someone helped him escape, possibly someone inside the Ministry."

"Delightful," Theo muttered. "A prison break, Ministry corruption, and a rescue mission. You really know how to show a boy a good time, Granger."

"Focus, Nott," Draco snapped, but Hermione caught the slight upturn of his lips.

"The challenge," she continued, "is approaching this without alerting them to our presence. We think they're trying to lure me out - Dolohov has a... particular interest in finishing what he started during the war."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Even Theo's perpetual smirk faltered.

"Well then," Pansy broke the tension, throwing open one of her trunks. "Let's make sure they don't recognize any of us, shall we?" The trunk expanded to reveal an impressive array of potions, enchanted accessories, and what appeared to be an entire boutique's worth of clothing. "If we're infiltrating a Death Eater hideout, we're doing it in style."

"I've got the muscle covered," Greg spoke for the first time, patting a deceptively small bag at his hip. "New shipment of shield charms from George Weasley himself. They'll never see them coming."

"And I," Blaise added with a predatory smile, "have several contacts in Scotland who owe me favors. Time to collect, I think."

Hermione watched them fall into planning mode with a surge of gratitude. These weren't the same people who'd made her school years difficult - they'd grown, changed, fought their own battles against their families' expectations. Now they were here, ready to help rescue Harry Potter and Ron Weasley without hesitation.

"Before we get too deep into planning," Theo interrupted, conjuring several glasses and a bottle of expensive-looking whiskey, "a toast. To unlikely alliances and impossible missions."

"And to keeping our favorite swot safe from psychotic Death Eaters," Pansy added, accepting her glass.

Hermione felt Draco's presence warm against her back as he handed her a glass, his fingers lingering against hers longer than necessary. "To success," he murmured, close enough that his breath stirred her hair.

She suppressed a shiver, but couldn't quite hide her reaction from Theo's knowing gaze. This was going to be an interesting mission indeed.

"Right," Pansy declared, spreading a series of photographs across the table. "If we're infiltrating a Death Eater hideout, we need to be unrecognizable. Granger, darling, come here. I have plans for you."

Hermione approached with warranted caution. Pansy's "plans" were usually effective but rarely comfortable. "Nothing too outrageous, Parkinson. We need to blend in, not draw attention."

"Please," Pansy scoffed, already pulling various potions from her kit. "Trust the expert. When I'm done, your own mother wouldn't recognize you." She paused, catching herself too late. "I... sorry, that was thoughtless."

"It's fine," Hermione said quietly, feeling Draco's concerned gaze on her. "That's rather the point anyway, isn't it?"

Theo, bless him, broke the awkward moment. "While our resident glamour goddess works her magic, let's talk strategy. Blaise, what exactly do your Scottish contacts know?"

"There's been unusual activity around several old pureblood properties in the Highlands," Blaise replied, marking points on the map with his wand. "But the most interesting reports center here." He tapped an area just outside Applecross. "The Selwyn family has an ancient estate there - mostly underground chambers, originally used for some rather nasty ritual work. It's been abandoned for decades, officially."

"Officially being the operative word," Draco mused, leaning over the map. Hermione tried not to notice how his shirt pulled across his shoulders, or how his cologne teased her senses. From Pansy's knowing smirk, she wasn't entirely successful.

"Hold still," Pansy muttered, working some kind of charm through Hermione's hair. "Unless you want to end up with eyebrows that don't match."

"The Selwyns were always Voldemort's more... enthusiastic supporters," Greg added, surprisingly thoughtful. "Dad used to say their dungeons went deeper than Gringotts' vaults."

"Charming family," Theo drawled. "Do we know their current wards?"

"That's where it gets interesting," Blaise smiled. "My contact in the Ministry's Architecture Division says the wards were recently updated - officially for 'historical preservation.'"

"When?" Hermione asked sharply, ignoring Pansy's irritated huff as she moved.

"Three weeks ago. Right before Potter and Weasley's mission to Greece."

"So they were planning this," Draco's voice had that dangerous edge again. "The Greece mission was never real - it was just to get them in position for the trap."

"Which means they're expecting us," Hermione concluded. "Or me, specifically." She caught her reflection in one of Pansy's mirrors and barely recognized herself. Her usually unruly curls had been transformed into sleek amber honey waves, her skin tone several shades darker, her brown eyes now a striking violet. "Pansy, this is... impressive."

"Don't sound so surprised, darling. I do have other talents besides making your life difficult at school." Pansy began work on some complicated charm around Hermione's face. "Though that was admittedly fun."

"Speaking of fun," Theo interjected, "we haven't discussed the sleeping arrangements for our little adventure. The Selwyn estate may be massive, but I assume we're sharing rooms at this charming establishment first?"

"Theo," Draco's warning tone held a clear edge.

"What? I'm simply being practical. We need to maintain our covers at all times. Granger's room is already established - it makes sense for her partner to stay here."

"Her partner?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you'll need a convincing reason to be in Scotland," Theo grinned. "What better than a romantic getaway? And since you and Draco already have such delicious tension..."

"I will hex you, Nott," Draco growled, but Hermione noticed he didn't actually disagree.

"He's not wrong," Blaise mused. "A couple on holiday draws less attention than a group of travelers asking questions. The rest of us can maintain separate covers - tourists, business travelers, locals. More eyes in different places."

"And you two already act like an old married couple," Pansy added, applying some final touches to Hermione's disguise. "The bickering, the longing looks when you think no one's watching..."

"I do not give longing looks!" Hermione protested, catching Draco's eye in the mirror and immediately looking away from his heated gaze. Damn.

"Of course not, darling," Pansy patted her shoulder. "Now, for Draco - I'm thinking darker hair, maybe some scruff... something to soften that aristocratic jaw. Can't have anyone recognizing our favorite pointy git."

"Oi!" Draco protested, but moved to take Hermione's vacant seat.

"Don't worry," Pansy assured him with a wicked grin. "I'll make sure you're still pretty enough for Granger."

An hour later, Draco barely recognized himself in the mirror. Pansy had transformed his signature platinum hair to a rich brown, added a slight tan to his pale complexion, and even managed to give him that carefully cultivated stubble he'd complained about. But his eyes - now a smokey midnight blue - were what truly completed the transformation.

"Not bad, Pans," he admitted, turning his head to examine her work. "Though I still say the stubble is overkill."

"Trust me, darling. You look deliciously ordinary - exactly what we need." Pansy stepped back to survey her handiwork. "What do you think, Granger? Will you be able to pretend to be madly in love with this version of our Draco?"

Hermione glanced up from the papers she'd been reviewing with Blaise, and for a moment, her carefully controlled expression slipped. "I... that's... you did good work, Parkinson."

"Eloquent as always, Granger," Theo smirked. "Now, let's work on your cover story. How did you two meet?"

"Keep it simple," Blaise advised. "Close to truth where possible - easier to maintain the lie."

"Work," Hermione said decisively. "We met at work, developed a friendship that turned to more. Simple, believable, easy to remember."

"And technically true," Theo waggled his eyebrows, earning a stinging hex from Draco.

"Fine," Draco moved to sit beside Hermione, close enough that their thighs touched. "But we need details. First date?"

"That little café near the Ministry," Hermione replied without hesitation. "The one with the excellent pain au chocolat. You'd noticed I always got them for lunch, so you suggested it when you asked me out."

Draco blinked, surprised by how quickly she'd constructed that detail. "You've thought about this before, Granger?"

A blush crept up her neck. "I'm being logical. It's a place we both know, so we can describe it accurately if asked."

"Mhmm," Pansy hummed skeptically. "And when did you first kiss?"

"After three dates," Draco answered smoothly. "I walked her home after dinner, and she was rambling about some obscure magical theory. I kissed her mid-sentence, just to see if it would finally make her stop talking."

"You did not!" Hermione turned to face him, indignant. "I kissed you, after you spent twenty minutes arguing about proper potion brewing techniques. Someone had to shut you up."

Their faces were inches apart now, the air between them crackling with tension. Draco's eyes dropped to her lips, and for a moment, Hermione forgot this was supposed to be pretend.

"Well," Theo cleared his throat. "That was surprisingly convincing. Though maybe you should practice the actual kissing part, you know, for authenticity's sake."

"Theo," Greg spoke up, "if you don't stop trying to get them to snog, Draco's going to hex off something you'll miss."

"Spoilsport," Theo pouted. "I'm just trying to help maintain our cover."

"Speaking of cover," Blaise interrupted, "we should discuss sleeping arrangements for the mission itself. The Selwyn estate has a small inn nearby - perfectly positioned for surveillance, and exactly where a romantic couple might stay while exploring the Highlands."

"Already booked," Pansy announced proudly. "Under your new identities - Daniel and Helena Blake, newlyweds from London exploring Scotland for your honeymoon."

"Newlyweds?!" Hermione squeaked.

"It's perfect," Pansy continued, ignoring her protest. "Nobody questions newlyweds wanting privacy or acting besotted with each other. Plus, it explains any awkwardness between you - still getting used to married life and all that."

"And the rest of you?" Draco asked, his hand somehow having found its way to Hermione's lower back.

"I'll be staying at the inn as well - lonely business traveler, very chatty, perfect excuse to talk to everyone," Theo grinned. "Blaise has a contact letting him use their cottage in the village, Pansy's renting a room above the local pub, and Greg's got the cottage on the other side of the estate covered."

"We'll be able to monitor all approaches," Greg nodded. "Any unusual movement, we'll know about it."

"Now," Pansy clapped her hands. "Wardrobe. Granger, darling, please tell me you brought something other than practical cotton and sensible shoes."

"I was hunting for my parents and then planning a rescue mission, Parkinson. Evening wear wasn't exactly a priority."

"Good thing I came prepared then." Pansy opened another trunk, this one expanding to reveal an entire boutique's worth of clothing. "A newlywed would never pack so... practically. We need to make this convincing."

"I can transfigure my own clothes," Hermione protested weakly.

"No, you cannot. Not for this." Pansy began pulling out various items. "You need to look like a woman in love on her honeymoon, not an Auror undercover. Trust me."

"Speaking of trust," Blaise cut in, "we should discuss protection details. If Dolohov really is after Granger..."

"He won't get near her." Draco's voice was pure ice, his hand tightening possessively on Hermione's waist. She wondered if he even realized he was doing it.

"Here," Pansy thrust a handful of silk and lace at Hermione. "Try these on while we discuss logistics. And don't argue - a newlywed would have proper lingerie."

Hermione caught Draco's heated gaze following the delicate items in her hands and quickly retreated to the bathroom, her cheeks burning. Through the door, she could hear the continued planning.

"The wards around the estate are old magic," Blaise was saying. "They've been modified recently, but the original foundation is still blood-based. That could work to our advantage."

"How so?" Greg asked.

"Because they're keyed to recognize pureblood signatures," Draco replied, his voice carrying a hint of disgust. "They won't see us as threats - at least not immediately."

Hermione emerged from the bathroom in a deep blue sundress that made her transformed violet eyes appear even more striking. She caught Draco's sharp intake of breath and tried not to feel too pleased with herself.

"Much better," Pansy approved. "Now you look like a woman in love, not an Auror on a mission. Though we'll need to discuss your walking charm - those diagnostic spells you constantly run make you move like you're hunting dark wizards."

"I am hunting dark wizards," Hermione pointed out, but made an effort to soften her stance.

"Yes, but you need to look like you're hunting a romantic dinner with your new husband instead." Pansy demonstrated a more relaxed gait. "Less 'constant vigilance,' more 'thoroughly shagged.'"

"Pansy!" Hermione spluttered while Theo cackled.

"She's not wrong," Blaise mused. "Your usual approach to everything screams 'competent professional.' We need you to appear thoroughly distracted by love."

"Speaking of distracted," Theo grinned, "perhaps some practical demonstrations are in order? Draco would surely volunteer to help you perfect that 'thoroughly shagged' look..."

A stinging hex from both Draco and Hermione hit him simultaneously.

"Ow! Just trying to help maintain our cover!"

"The cover we need to discuss," Greg interrupted, ever practical, "is how we handle it if something goes wrong. If they realize who you are..."

"They won't," Draco's voice was steel. "But if anything seems off, you get out immediately. No heroics, no last-minute saves. You signal for backup and apparate to the safe house."

"Bold words from someone who once witnessed me punch a Hippogriff," Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"That was different," he moved closer, his glamoured features somehow still managing to convey pure Malfoy intensity. "This isn't about pride or proving anything. If Dolohov realizes it's you..."

His hand found her waist again, and Hermione was struck by how natural it felt. How easily they'd fallen into touching each other, even before their cover story required it. "I can take care of myself, Malfoy."

"I know you can," his voice softened. "But you don't have to. Not anymore. Not with us... with me."

The room had gone suspiciously quiet. Hermione was acutely aware of their audience, but couldn't seem to look away from Draco's transformed eyes. They may have been a different color, but the intensity behind them was all him.

"Well," Theo broke the moment, because of course he did. "I'd say you two have the 'longing gazes' part of your cover down perfectly. Should we practice the kissing now, or...?"

This time, the stinging hex came from Pansy. "Don't interrupt the sexual tension, darling. It's just getting good."

"If we could focus," Hermione stepped back, trying to ignore how cold she felt without Draco's touch, "we need to discuss communication protocols. The galleons I used with Harry and Ron would be too obvious..."

"Already handled," Blaise produced a set of elegant jewelry pieces. "Enchanted with modified protean charms. They'll heat up if anyone needs to signal the others, and they're keyed to recognize our magical signatures for messages."

Hermione accepted a delicate bracelet, admiring the spellwork. "This is beautiful work. How did you...?"

"We all had our own ways of surviving the war," Blaise said quietly. "Some of us got very good at hiding messages in plain sight."

As evening fell, the team made their final preparations. Hermione found herself standing on the hotel room balcony, watching the Australian sunset and trying to calm her racing thoughts. The weight of her new bracelet felt foreign on her wrist, another reminder of how much had changed in just one day.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Draco's voice was soft behind her. Even with his altered appearance, she knew his presence instantly - something about the way he carried himself, the subtle hints of his cologne.

"Just wondering what Harry and Ron would think about all this," she admitted. "Being rescued by a team of former Slytherins, me pretending to be madly in love with Draco Malfoy..."

"Pretending?" His tone was light, but something in it made her pulse quicken. He moved closer, one hand settling on the balcony rail beside hers, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel his warmth.

"You know what I mean," she managed, though she couldn't quite bring herself to look at him.

"Do I?" His other hand came to rest on her hip, gentle but possessive. "Because I'm starting to think there's less pretending involved than either of us wants to admit."

Before she could respond, Pansy's voice cut through the moment. "If you two are done with the romantic sunset scene, we need to finalize transport details."

Hermione turned, grateful for the interruption even as her body protested the loss of Draco's touch. Back in the room, their friends had transformed as thoroughly as she and Draco had. Theo's usually perfect hair was now a mess of ginger curls, his aristocratic features softened into something more approachable. Blaise had aged himself about twenty years, complete with distinguished grey at his temples. Greg looked like someone's kindly uncle, while Pansy had transformed herself into a weather-beaten local, complete with practical tweeds and sensible shoes.

"The portkey to Scotland is set for dawn," Blaise explained. "We'll arrive in staged intervals - nothing suspicious about tourists showing up for breakfast at the local inn, but six people arriving simultaneously might raise eyebrows."

"Granger and I will go first," Draco stated, his tone brooking no argument. "Get established at the inn, start being seen around the village."

"Yes, you two definitely need to be seen," Theo waggled his eyebrows. "Particularly displaying appropriate newlywed behavior. Lots of public displays of aff- ow!" He rubbed his arm where Pansy's hex had landed.

"Actually, he's not wrong," Pansy said. "You need to practice being comfortable with casual intimacy. Right now you both tense up every time you touch - dead giveaway that something's off."

"We do not-" Hermione started to protest, but Pansy was already moving them into position.

"Here," she manipulated them like mannequins, positioning Draco's arm around Hermione's waist, tucking her into his side. "This should be automatic. Draco, you should constantly want to touch her - little things, brushing hair from her face, hand at the small of her back. Hermione, you need to lean into him naturally, like you've done it a thousand times."

"This is ridiculous," Hermione muttered, even as her body betrayed her by melting into Draco's embrace.

"Is it?" His breath ghosted across her ear, making her shiver. "Method acting, Granger. We need to be convincing."

"Exactly," Pansy approved. "Now kiss her."

"What?!" Hermione squeaked.

"You can't flinch like that every time he gets close," Pansy scolded. "You're supposed to be unable to keep your hands off each other. Now kiss. And make it good - your first public kiss needs to look natural."

Draco's hand came up to cup her cheek, turning her face toward his. His transformed eyes searched hers, asking permission even as he leaned in. Hermione's breath caught, her heart thundering against her ribs. This was just for show, just practice, just...

His lips met hers, soft and careful at first, then with growing intensity as she responded. Her hands found their way into his spelled-dark hair, pulling him closer as his arm tightened around her waist. He tasted like firewhiskey and possibility, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered that this felt nothing like practice.

A wolf whistle from Theo finally broke them apart. Hermione's cheeks burned as she realized they'd completely forgotten their audience. "Well," Blaise drawled, "I don't think we need to worry about them being convincing."

Chapter Text

They arrived in Scotland the next morning with a less then subtle landing. Draco grabbed onto Hermione's arm to steady her. It was show time, this was going to be fun for him, he'd loved Granger for so long that for him this was just the time to live out his fantasies. If it were up to him though, she was going to fall in love with him in due time.

At the end of it all, they decided that their disguise needed to be lest subtle, if they wanted to entice Dolohov to come for her she needed to be seen. Therefore, Hermione flaunted her look, while Draco maintained a toned-down version of his usual appearance.

“Ready for the performance Granger?”

He was being cheeky he knew but the goal was to at least make her a bit comfortable. He didn't want to scare her off, he wanted to make this work for the long run.

“Yea I'm thrilled to win my Oscar for best performance” she smirked knowing this was going to be awkward, but she needed to save her best friends

“Who's Oscar?” Draco looked at her with a crease in between his eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked away with a smirk. “Muggle award don't worry. Alright, where is this inn we are to check into?”

Draco clasped onto her hand and started to pull her closer, “alright wife, let us go check in and start perusing the village shall we.”

Hermione was blushing, his hand was warm and soft, and she didn't have the need to pull away like she would normally do, she knew this was just an act but she was going to enjoy it for now. Pretending to be married to Draco Malfoy couldn't be that hard, he was charming, funny, sarcastic and fiercely intelligent. She cleared her throat “Right, well lead the way husband.”

A few moments later they were checked into their room at the inn and starting their way down the steps out of the establishment. The goal was for them to make their-selves seen around town and then meet up with the rest of the team at a nearby club to touch base.

“Shall we go find a book shop wife; I know that the swot in you wouldn't go to a new village without at least finding one bookstore.” She wanted to roll her eyes at him but honestly, she wouldn't mind seeing one book shop. He knew her pretty well considering their relationship, not even Ron would have suggested that option when they were together. Perhaps it wouldn't be a horrible thing spending some time with Malfoy, maybe she could take this time to get to know him a bit better.

“Sure, Malfoy that would be lovely.” She turned to look at him as she said this and noticed he was looking right at him, she quickly turned away to avoid his gaze.

“Maybe, wife, you should call me by my first name seeing as we are married now.” he winked at her and gave her his most breath-taking smirk.

“Very well, Draco. Shall we get a bite to eat as well?”

"Food does sound excellent," Draco replied, keeping his voice low as an elderly witch passed by them on the cobblestone street. "There's a quaint café just around the corner that I spotted when we arrived. They serve traditional Scottish fare."

As they walked, Hermione noticed how naturally they fell into step together. The early morning Scottish air was crisp, and wisps of fog still clung to the edges of the village buildings. She had to admit, for all his past faults, Draco was proving to be a surprisingly considerate partner for this mission.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "for someone who claims to know nothing about Muggle culture, you're doing quite well at playing the attentive husband."
Draco's expression softened slightly. "I may have done some research before this assignment. Know-it-all tendencies must be contagious after all these years of working together." His tone was teasing, but there was a warmth to it that Hermione hadn't heard before.

As they approached the café, Draco held the door open for her. The smell of fresh-baked scones and coffee wafted out. "After you, dear," he said, just loud enough for the waitress inside to hear. "Though do try not to spend the entire meal lecturing me about that new Ancient Runes theory you've been studying."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh - he really had been paying attention to her interests over the years. "Well, husband, if you'd actually read the scrolls I recommended, I wouldn't have to explain everything twice."

They settled into a cozy corner table by a window overlooking the village square. The waitress, a plump witch with rosy cheeks, handed them their menus with a warm smile.

"Oh, you two must be newlyweds!" she exclaimed, noting how close they sat together. "We don't get many young couples in the village these days."

Draco smoothly placed his hand over Hermione's on the table. "Just celebrating our one-month anniversary, actually. My brilliant wife here insisted on Scotland for our delayed honeymoon. Something about historical magical sites she's been dying to research."

Hermione fought back a blush at his touch but played along perfectly. "You promised me ruins and ancient libraries, darling. Though I suspect you just wanted to get me away from my books for a while."

The waitress beamed at them. "How lovely! I'll bring you our special breakfast for two then - on the house for the happy couple!"

After she bustled away, Hermione leaned in closer to Draco, speaking quietly. "Historical sites actually wouldn't be a bad cover for exploring the area. We need to check those coordinates Harry gave us anyway."

"Clever thinking, as always," Draco murmured, his thumb absently tracing circles on her hand. He seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped, though he didn't pull his hand away since the waitress was still watching them fondly from behind the counter. "Though I do hope you'll allow your doting husband to show you more than just dusty ruins while we're here."

"And what exactly did you have in mind?" Hermione asked, surprised to find herself genuinely curious about his answer.

A mischievous glint appeared in his grey eyes. "Well, I heard there's an excellent little pub that hosts traditional Scottish dancing in the evenings. Can't have a proper honeymoon without at least one dance, wouldn't you agree?"

Before Hermione could respond, their breakfast arrived - a generous spread of scones, eggs, sausages, and something that looked suspiciously like haggis. As they began to eat, she found herself wondering if perhaps this assignment wouldn't be quite as awkward as she'd initially feared. There was something almost... natural about bantering with Draco this way.

Hermione carefully cut into what she hoped was not haggis, using the moment to gather her thoughts. "Dancing? I didn't realize you were such a romantic, Draco. Though I suppose we should be seen enjoying typical honeymoon activities."

"Don't sound so surprised," he replied, stealing a bite of scone from her plate despite having his own. "I'll have you know I can be quite charming when I want to be. Besides," his voice dropped lower, "we need to scope out that pub anyway. According to the intel, our person of interest frequents it most evenings."

She nodded slightly, maintaining her pleasant expression for any onlookers. "And you're certain they won't recognize you? The Malfoy name isn't exactly unknown, even in Scotland."

"That's part of why this works so perfectly," he said, reaching over to brush a crumb from the corner of her mouth in a gesture that appeared entirely natural but made her breath catch slightly. "No one would ever believe Draco Malfoy would marry a Muggle-born witch, let alone be honeymooning in a modest Scottish village. We're hiding in plain sight."

The logic was sound, Hermione had to admit. Still, something about the way he said it made her wonder... "And does that bother you? Playing at being married to a Muggle-born?"

For a moment, something vulnerable flickered across Draco's face. "Hermione," he said softly, using her first name with a gentleness that surprised her, "I think we both know I'm not that person anymore. Besides," his signature smirk returned, though softer at the edges, "you're the most talented witch I know. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their wife, pretend or otherwise."

The sincerity in his voice made her cheeks warm. She covered her reaction by taking a sip of tea. "Well, you're not terrible husband material yourself. So far, at least."
"High praise indeed from Hermione Granger," he chuckled. "Now, what do you say we finish breakfast and then go find that bookshop? We should establish our presence in the village properly before meeting the others tonight."

"Already suggesting bookshops and dancing? Keep this up, Malfoy, and I might start to think you're actually enjoying being married to me," she teased, surprising herself with how easily the banter came.

His grey eyes met hers over the rim of his coffee cup, and something in his gaze made her heart skip. "Careful, wife. A man might start to get ideas."

Finishing their breakfast, they stepped back out into the village, which was now coming properly alive with morning activity. Draco kept Hermione's hand firmly in his as they walked, his thumb occasionally brushing across her knuckles in a way that felt almost absentminded.

"The bookshop should be just around this corner," he said, guiding her down a narrow cobblestone street lined with cheerful window boxes. "Unless you'd prefer to browse that interesting-looking apothecary first?" He nodded toward a shop with various dried herbs hanging in the window.

"The bookshop first," Hermione decided, then added with a teasing smile, "Best to let me get it out of my system early, wouldn't you say, darling?"

"As if that's possible," Draco snorted, but his eyes were fond. "I've seen your office at the Ministry, love. I'm fairly certain you're single-handedly keeping several bookshops in business."

They passed a group of elderly witches who cooed at the apparent newlyweds, and Draco used the moment to pull Hermione closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Speaking of your reading habits," he murmured close to her ear, making it appear like sweet nothings to onlookers, "I spotted someone watching us from that tea shop across the way. Dark cloak, reading yesterday's Prophet."

Hermione leaned into him naturally, playing her part while discreetly glancing in the direction he'd indicated. "Mmm, third time we've seen that same paper this morning. Could be nothing..."

"Or could be exactly why we're here," Draco finished her thought. His hand tightened slightly on her waist. "Shall we give them something to watch, wife?"

Before Hermione could ask what he meant, Draco had spun her gently to face him, one hand cupping her cheek with surprising tenderness. His eyes met hers, asking silent permission, and Hermione felt her heart racing as she gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then his lips were on hers, soft and warm, in what was meant to be a show for their observer but felt startlingly real.

When they parted, Hermione had to remind herself this was all pretend, even as her fingers were still clutched in the front of his robes. "Well," she managed, her voice slightly breathless, "that was... convincing."

Something flickered in Draco's eyes before his usual smirk returned, though it seemed a bit forced. "Only the best performance for my lovely wife. Now, about that bookshop..."

The bookshop was exactly what you'd expect in a small Scottish village - cozy, slightly cramped, with towering shelves that seemed to defy both gravity and logic. Books were stacked in precarious piles, and the scent of parchment and leather bindings filled the air.

"Don't get lost in here," Draco murmured, his hand still resting at the small of her back as they entered. "Though I suppose if you did, I'd know exactly where to find you - somewhere between Ancient Runes and Obscure Magical Theory."

Hermione was about to retort when the shopkeeper, a wizened old wizard with spectacles perched on his nose, looked up from his desk. "Ah, customers! Welcome, welcome. Looking for anything in particular?"

"Just browsing," Draco answered smoothly. "My wife can never resist a bookshop, especially ones with such an impressive collection." His voice carried just the right amount of fond exasperation.

"A woman after my own heart," the shopkeeper beamed. "We've just got in some fascinating texts on Scottish magical history, if you're interested, dear."

Hermione's eyes lit up genuinely, and Draco couldn't help but chuckle. "Go on then," he said, pressing a quick kiss to her temple that felt surprisingly natural. "I'll be right behind you."

As they wound their way through the narrow aisles, Draco kept close, occasionally reaching around her to grab books from high shelves. Each time he did, Hermione was acutely aware of his proximity, the warmth of him at her back, the subtle scent of his cologne.

"Look at this," she whispered, showing him a page in one of the history books. "There's a mention of magical gatherings near those coordinates Harry gave us. In the 1800s, it was apparently a popular spot for... less than legal potions trading."

Draco leaned in closer, ostensibly to read over her shoulder. "Convenient historical precedent," he murmured. "Makes our interest in the area even more believable. Though I must say, wife, only you would manage to find actual research while we're supposed to be playacting."

"Multitasking is a valuable skill," she replied primly, trying to ignore how his breath tickled her ear. "Besides, your mysterious friends from the tea shop followed us in about two minutes ago. They're browsing the Divination section."

"Are they now?" Draco's hand slid around her waist again, pulling her back against his chest as he pretended to read the book with her. "Then perhaps we should give them something else to focus on besides our reading material." His lips brushed her ear as he spoke, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

Hermione turned in his arms, the book still held between them. "You're enjoying this entirely too much, aren't you?" she whispered, though she couldn't keep the smile from her face.

His grey eyes sparkled with mischief. "Can you blame me? It's not every day I get to scandalize a bookshop with Hermione Granger."

"Scandalize a bookshop? And just what did you have in mind, Draco?" Hermione asked, very aware of how close they were standing between the towering shelves. Her back was now pressed against one of them, the leather-bound volumes digging slightly into her spine.

Draco's smirk turned softer as he reached past her to grab another book, effectively caging her between his arms. "Well, what could be more scandalous than this?" He held up a worn copy of "Hogwarts: A History" with exaggerated reverence. "The great Hermione Granger, not immediately purchasing a book she's spotted. Our watchers will surely report that something must be amiss."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help laughing. "I'll have you know I already own three copies of that particular volume."

"Only three? I'm disappointed, love. What kind of wife have I married?" His tone was teasing, but something in his eyes made her breath catch. He was still so close, and for a moment, she found herself wondering what would happen if she just leaned forward slightly...

The sound of books clattering to the floor behind them broke the moment. Their observers had apparently knocked over a stack while trying to get a better view of them.

"Clumsy lot, aren't they?" Draco murmured, stepping back slightly but keeping his hand at her waist. "Not exactly subtle."

Hermione straightened up, clutching the Scottish history book to her chest. "Well, they can't all be as skilled at subterfuge as you apparently are. Where did you learn to be so... convincing at this?"

"Would you believe me if I said I had practice?" At her raised eyebrow, he elaborated, "In my head. Imagining... well, different choices I could have made. Different paths." There was vulnerability in his voice that she'd never heard before.

Before she could respond, the shopkeeper called out, "Everything alright back there? Heard quite a commotion!"

"Fine!" Hermione called back. "My husband was just helping me reach a book on the top shelf." She gave Draco a significant look. "Though perhaps we should make our purchases and continue our... sightseeing?"

"Of course, darling," Draco replied, his usual confident demeanor sliding back into place. But as they made their way to the front of the shop, his hand found hers again, squeezing it gently in what felt less like playacting and more like reassurance

As they stepped out of the bookshop, their newly purchased books shrunk and tucked safely in Draco's pocket, the Scottish sun had broken through the morning clouds. Their shadows stretched long across the cobblestones as they walked, still hand in hand.

"Well, Mrs. Malfoy," Draco said, just loud enough for their trailing observers to hear, "where shall we head next? We have a few hours before we need to meet our... tour guide." The slight pause was subtle enough to sound natural while conveying his meaning about their evening meeting.

Hermione leaned into him slightly, playing up the affectionate newlywed angle. "I wouldn't mind exploring those ruins we read about in the book. The ones just outside the village?" She glanced up at him through her lashes, adding more softly, "They're quite close to those coordinates we need to check."

"Clever witch," he murmured, turning to press a kiss to her temple. The gesture was becoming alarmingly natural. "Though I insist we stop for lunch first. Can't have my wife fainting from hunger while we're scrambling over ancient stones."

"I do not faint," Hermione protested, though there was no heat in it. "Though I wouldn't say no to lunch. There was a lovely little place we passed earlier, with the blue door?"

As they walked, Draco kept them to the sunnier side of the street, making it harder for their shadows to follow discreetly. "You know," he said conversationally, "I'm starting to think Tonks knew exactly what she was doing when she paired us for this assignment."

"Oh?" Hermione's heart did an odd little skip. "How so?"

"Well, who else would be able to keep up with your historical research while maintaining a cover?" His tone was light, but there was something serious in his eyes when he looked down at her. "We do make a rather good team, Granger. Even when we're not pretending to be married."

Before she could respond to that loaded statement, a flash of movement caught her eye. "Draco," she said sweetly, squeezing his hand in warning, "darling, I think we should take that scenic route to lunch. You know, the one through the village square?"

He caught her meaning immediately, smoothly changing their direction. "Anything for you, love. Though I do hope you'll save some of your energy for dancing tonight."
"Still insisting on that, are you?" she asked, letting him guide her through a particularly crowded section of the square that would force their followers to either lose them or reveal themselves.

"Obviously," he smirked. "What kind of husband would I be if I didn't show off my wife properly?"

They slipped into the small restaurant, choosing a corner table that gave them a clear view of both the door and the street outside. The interior was warm and inviting, with rich wooden beams crossing the ceiling and soft candlelight despite the early hour.

"They're still out there," Draco murmured, pretending to peruse the menu while keeping watch through the window. "Though they've split up now. One's browsing that shop across the way, the other's taken up residence at the café two doors down."

Hermione nodded slightly, setting her own menu down. "At least they're being more subtle now. That display in the bookshop was rather amateur."
"Speaking of displays," Draco's eyes met hers with that now-familiar mix of mischief and something deeper, "you're quite good at this yourself. I wouldn't have expected the infamous Gryffindor princess to be such a natural at deception."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Malfoy," she replied, then caught herself. "Draco, I mean. Though I suppose the same could be said about you. I never would have guessed you'd be so..." she trailed off, unsure how to finish that thought.

"So what?" he prompted, leaning forward slightly. The candlelight caught the angles of his face, softening them.

Before she could answer, their server appeared to take their orders. Draco smoothly ordered for both of them in perfect Scottish-accented English, adding a romantic anecdote about how this was similar to the restaurant where they had their first date. The server ate it up, clearly charmed.

Once they were alone again, Hermione raised an eyebrow. "A Scottish accent? Is there anything you haven't prepared for?"

"I like to be thorough," he shrugged, though he looked pleased at her impressed tone. "Besides, I had motivation to make this convincing." His hand found hers across the table, and though there was no one close enough to see the gesture, he didn't seem to be acting this time.

"Draco," she started, her voice uncertain, "what did you mean earlier, about practicing different choices in your head?"

Something vulnerable flickered across his face again, but before he could respond, movement outside caught their attention. Their watchers were on the move.

"Tell you what," he said, his thumb tracing patterns on her palm, "save me a dance tonight, and I'll tell you everything."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond to Draco's offer of explanation when a familiar accented voice cut through the restaurant.

"Her-my-oh-nee?"

She turned to find Viktor Krum standing near their table, looking just as surprised to see her. Despite the years since the Triwizard Tournament, he still struggled with her name.

"Viktor!" she exclaimed, genuinely startled. Before she could say more, she felt Draco's hand tighten ever so slightly on hers.

"Darling," he drawled, though there was a new tension in his voice, "aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Of course," she recovered quickly, squeezing his hand back in reassurance. "Viktor, this is my husband, Draco Malfoy. We're here on our honeymoon. Draco, this is Viktor Krum - we've known each other since the Triwizard Tournament, I'm sure you recall darling."

"Husband?" Viktor's thick eyebrows rose in surprise. "I had not heard you vere married."

"It was a small ceremony," Draco said smoothly, standing to shake Viktor's hand. His other hand came to rest possessively on Hermione's shoulder. "We wanted to keep it private, you understand."

While the men exchanged pleasantries, Hermione discreetly slipped her hand into her pocket, feeling for the enchanted coin. It was warm - Harry was trying to contact them. She couldn't check it now, not with both their watchers and Viktor present, but she could feel it vibrating with urgency.

"You must join us for dinner sometime vile you are here," Viktor was saying. "I am coaching the local Quidditch team for the season."

"That's very kind," Hermione smiled, leaning into Draco's touch. "Though we have quite a full schedule with all the sightseeing Draco has planned. Perhaps we could owl you?"

The warmth of the coin was becoming more insistent. She needed to find a way to check it without drawing attention.

"Of course, of course," Viktor nodded. "I vill let you return to your meal. It vas good to see you, Her-my-oh-nee." He gave Draco a calculating look before departing.

As soon as he was gone, Draco leaned in close, his lips near her ear. "The coin?" he whispered.

"Burning up," she confirmed quietly. "We need to find somewhere private."

Exiting the restaurant, Hermione hauled Draco towards the park she had spotted near the square on their way in. Perhaps they could find a secluded tree where they could check what the urgency was with Harry. Quickly striding towards a tree facing the pond, fairly out of view from passersby, Hermione transfigured a leaf into a picnic blanket for them to sit on.

"A picnic, Granger? How romantic of you," Draco said. He seemed to love toying with her, but it only brought a smirk and an eye roll out of her.

Quickly, Hermione sat on the blanket and pulled the coin out of her pocket. It was glowing fiercely, and she flipped it once to reveal the message.

"Loutre, any update?" Harry was trying to find out if she was having any luck locating them. Of bloody course, you dolt, I'm looking for every possible location and way to find you, she thought. Honestly, sometimes she wondered about their faith in her after all these years.

"Prongs, we are on our way. Hold position," she sent back. Hopefully, this would alleviate some of his anxiety but keep him from doing something utterly stupid.

"Do you think St. Potter would pull something crazy?" Draco asked, then immediately shook his head. "Never mind, don't answer that. I know he would." He rolled his eyes, knowing that the boy who died twice but keeps coming back would do something ridiculous to try and play the hero. From the stories back at school, Draco had heard that if it weren't for Granger, the two gits would have been dead after second year at least.

"Harry has been known to act first, ask questions later," Hermione sighed. "I'm hoping by sending that message he will calm down and let us do our jobs." She wasn't absolutely convinced that Harry would follow through, but she had to believe her best friend would trust her judgment as he had in the past.

The coin buzzed again: "Ron is in bad shape, please hurry."

Draco sighed heavily and looked over at Granger. He was surprised to see that she wasn't as hurt by the news as he'd expected. He surmised that their breakup at the end of 8th year must have been pretty bad. He had heard they hadn't been speaking much for at least a year now.

"Are you alright, Granger?" He really didn't want to add to her stress, but he was certain that to keep her close, he needed to ask the right questions.

"I'm fine," she paused. "No, I'm not fine. When the fuck is Ron going to learn to not pick fights when he's defenseless and not get everyone around him in trouble with him?" She was exasperated, tired of saving him from himself. "Honestly, this was one of the biggest reasons we broke up. He never learned how to keep his stupid mouth shut and read the damn room."

Draco could feel the rage radiating from her. He slid closer and put an arm around her waist as he had done in town. "It will be alright, Granger. You can't always fix stupid. Be aware though that we're currently being watched from across the pond. I'm sure he can't hear, but he is staring right at us."

Just as Draco said, there was a cloaked stranger sitting on a bench by the pond, being absolutely obvious with his spy intentions. Frankly, these were the dumbest bunch of blokes Hermione had ever seen—they were not very good at being incognito.

This time, Hermione placed her hand on Draco's chest and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. She pulled away with a smile on her face. "Can you make out any of his features from here?" she asked, keeping the smile plastered on her face, hoping to portray the doting wife while still trying to suss out who this man was.

Draco was momentarily stunned by her move but recovered quickly enough to clear his throat and glance over at the hooded figure. "Shit, I thought he was dead. That looks like my uncle. It can't be—I thought he was killed after the battle."

On the other side of the pond sat Rabastan Lestrange. There was no mistaking that man; Draco could pick him out of a lineup with one eye open. The youngest of the Lestrange brothers, Rabastan was one for unpredictable violence. This made him a bigger threat than Draco was anticipating. Not only were they dealing with Dolohov, already on the top of the psychopathic hierarchy, but now they had to deal with this sadistic twat as well.

"We have to let the others know. Perhaps I can message Harry and see if he can tell us about any other people that may have come in contact with them," Hermione said, trying to remain hopeful. "We should also get to the floo and update Tonks, don't you think?"

Draco couldn't argue with this logic. These two alone were on the top of the wanted list—if they could figure out who else was working with them, they could establish a better plan to rescue Potter and Weasley. "Let's head back to our room, yeah?" Draco stood and offered his hand to Hermione to help her up.

Hermione quickly stood, smiling at Draco. She pulled out the coin and quickly wrote to Harry to keep his eyes open for the death eaters he came in contact with.

Back in their suite, Draco went straight for the floo and called out Head Auror Tonks' office. "Cousin, I have some updates for you," Draco said, kneeling by the fireplace as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"Alright little cousin, what have you found out? And where the bloody hell are you?" Tonks was known for her forwardness, but she was a fierce Auror. Her track record for capturing criminals was the reason she became Head Auror so quickly.

"We're in Scotland—the tracking spell Granger did led us to the highlands. From what we can gather so far, they're being held at the Selwyn estate. We've established a ruse that has allowed us to stake out the area and try to find as many men as possible. So far we've found Rabastan; there was another figure that's been following us around but we haven't identified them yet."

"Fucking arsehole, I thought Rabastan was dead! Well, shit." Tonks' hair had turned a vibrant red, depicting exactly how angry she truly was. "Okay, so what's this ruse, and is it just you two? Do I need to send people your way to help?"

"We're pretending to be a newlywed couple on our honeymoon. Thus far we've been able to make contact with Harry and establish this pretense with the locals. As far as a team goes, you should know me better by now, cousin. I brought my own."

"First of all, do I want to know who this team is? Please tell me Nott isn't involved. And second, am I to believe that you and Hermione are actually getting along and she hasn't hexed you?" Tonks was chuckling to herself—she knew the type of relationship these two had, and it wasn't always friendly.

"As a matter of fact, Tonks, Malfoy here isn't quite as bad as I thought he'd be. Cheers for training a little decency into him," Hermione interjected, thinking she was being clever, though Draco knew she was growing fond of him.

"Well, that's surprising to hear. So who's this team?"

"Yes, Nott is here, and no, he hasn't caused any issues thus far," Draco began. "Then we have Pansy Parkinson, Greg Goyle, and Blaise Zabini. They've all brought their specific traits to the team that have been helpful until now." Draco knew that Tonks held him in high regard and trusted his judgment when it came to missions. Yes, normally she would approve the team he brought with him, but this was an emergency circumstance, and technically the team was chosen by Granger, not him.

Tonks sighed on the other side and rolled her neck. "Very well, keep an eye on them, make sure I don't have to do any extra paperwork, and for the love of Circe, tell Nott if he pulls any of his usual shit, I'm personally going to hex his bollocks off."

With that, the call was over, and Draco stood up next to Hermione. "So what's the next step, boss?" He was being cheeky—he'd had a good time with her today and wanted to continue their easy banter.

Hermione looked like her brain was running a million miles a minute. He knew this look of hers; she was present but her brain was somewhere else, calculating the next several moves. "Granger, your ears are smoking. What's going on up there that you could share with the class?" She turned to him then and seemed to shake herself out of it.

"Sorry, I was just thinking—Selwyn is dead, I remember seeing his autopsy report at the DMLE, so who else could have access to his estate? That might give us some idea of who could be working with Dolohov." She started biting down on her lower lip like she always did when running through the vast amount of information she had stored in that library she called a brain.

"Theo would be the best person to ask. He has the Sacred Twenty-Eight memorized; perhaps he can link Selwyn to someone that may have been sent to Azkaban who might have broken out with Dolohov." Draco started to take out his mobile from his pocket to see if he could get Theo over here before they all met tonight—this type of information couldn't be shared in a public setting without giving too much away.

"Malfoy, is that a mobile phone?" Hermione was shocked. Pureblood Draco Malfoy owning a mobile phone was not something she expected.

"Well yes, Granger, how else do you think I keep in contact with my informants and potential clients? Do keep up, Granger, it is the 21st century." She was gobsmacked; perhaps she had underestimated him far more than she thought.

"Theo should be here soon. We can set up the information we have thus far on the table. Perhaps we should make this base for now. I know the others are situated around town, but we have the most information as of yet."

Within the next hour, the rest of the Slytherins apparated into their suite.

"Granger, love, I missed you! Has our boy been treating you like the lady you are whilst we have been separated?" Theo's theatrics knew no bounds.

"Honestly, Theo," Hermione rolled her eyes—she had been doing this a lot the last couple of days, she noticed. "I'll have you know that Draco has been a perfect gentleman." She wasn't going to lie; he had been a great partner thus far, and she was enjoying this assignment immeasurably more because of it.

"Well then, shall I start planning the wedding? I'm sure Narcissa will be delighted to have it in her garden." Theo's mischievous grin often brought out his dimples, which made his statement even worse.

“Nott don't start please, we have work to do.” Draco honestly wanted to hear what Granger was going to say but he knew that information needed to be shared with everyone so they could start coming up with a plan.

At that moment Granger jumped slightly and everyone turned to look at her. “Sorry the coin is buzzing.” Hermione dug out the coin and flipped it once to read the message.

'Flint, Goyle Sr were the only two we have seen.' Hermione automatically looked up and caught Greg's eyes. “Your dad is working with Dolohov Greg.”

Greg rubbed the back of his neck and looked back at her “Well this is awkward; I wasn't planning a family reunion any time soon.” He sighed heavily.

“Theo, who do you know could be related to Selwyn? Granger said she saw his autopsy so we know he's dead so who could have access to the estate that we can look into?”

For a moment everyone looked at Theo while he made his most charming pensive face. “ Flint's grandmother was a Selwyn I believe, maybe the tosser finally became useful to someone.” That was a start, they could at least attempt to capture Flint to get access to the wards.

“Ok, so we know that on team Pillock we have, Rabastan, Flint, Sr and the captain of all gits Dolohov. “Draco turned to look at everyone for their reaction, no one seemed to want to say anything, so he continued. “Granger and I saw at least two cloaks following us around while we were meandering about.” He ran his hand though his hair disheveling it more.

“We should see who normally runs the pub crowed tonight and we can get a hold of Flint I say we attempt to grab him to get that access.” Blaise stated with his bored drawl.

“Flint, is fairly gormless so that shouldn't be an issue. Have any of you gathered any more Intel since we last spoke? Also do you all have mobiles? I found that tid bit of information out today.” Hermione looked around at the Slytherins they never ceased to amaze her.

All at once they removed their phones from several different places on their person. She would have found this information far more helpful earlier in this. With a sigh and a shake of her head she murmured to herself 'honestly sly and cunning indeed'

By the time night fall came they had a plan; tonight's goal was to figure out who frequented the pub and if they were lucky, they would be able to capture someone. They also needed to be as discrete as possible, they didn't want to give their location away to anyone. Pansy once again made-up Hermione too look more like a newlywed in love and fixed up Draco to look as if they had a fun time prior to arriving at the pub.

“Perfect, the freshly fucked look suits you Draco darling.” Pansy was fairly proud of herself.

He smirked back at her knowing that he indeed was agreeing with her sentiment. “Thanks Pans”

Hermione chose this moment to walk out of the loo and notice Draco, her eyes widened, and she froze.

“Granger darling, do stop eye fucking Draco in front of me it is making me rather jealous.” Theo quipped from his armchair. Blaise snorted from his other side on the couch.

Quickly Hermione turned a bright pink and sputtered a response. “Oh, um sorry you look...nice Malfoy.”

“Thank you dear wife, I aim to please.”

Smug prat, he was getting to her, she no longer had the strength nor the urge to deflect him. With a sigh she turned around and looked at the team.

“Alright, everyone knows the plan?” they all nodded once.

Draco came to stand next to her and gave her his arm “ready to dance the night away wife?” She looked at him briefly and took hold of his proffered arm. Just before they headed out he leaned in close to her ear and with a tone only she could hear “by the way Granger, you look gorgeous” and off they went.

Chapter Text

The pub was just your typical local hangout—nothing out of the ordinary, but it was obviously the place to be. Hermione and Draco landed with a soft pop, dressed for a date night as if this was a normal occurrence for them. The plan was simple: scope out the pub, figure out who else could be working with Dolohov, and get back to the Inn to deliberate. After several hours of discussion among the team, they had decided that deep undercover work for Hermione and Draco wouldn't work. They needed to be seen just as they had been around town earlier. So with Pansy's talents, Hermione and Draco were ready to tackle whatever came their way, while the rest of the team maintained their undercover positions.

"Ready for our date night, wife?" Draco held out his arm for Hermione to take.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. Greg, can you hear us?" They were given small Bluetooth devices so the team could keep in contact the whole time.

"All clear from this end, Mia."

Perfect—they were ready to do this. She needed to save her best friends, wanted to do away with Dolohov once and for all, and try to dismantle any potential resurgence. "Ready, husband," she smiled over at Draco, ready to get this over with.

The inside of the pub wasn't much of a surprise: booths lined the outer walls, washrooms were towards the back of the building, and a large square-shaped bar sat right in the middle, surrounded by stools. Flags from different football and Quidditch teams hung haphazardly around. The ambiance was fairly comfortable, nothing that would prompt suspicion.

"How about we grab a booth towards the back to keep an eye on both the door and the general area?" Draco led Hermione towards the corner booth. He caught sight of Greg, Blaise, and Theo right off the bar, all sitting around the center spread out evenly.

Once settled, Hermione started to look around the room to see if she could spot anything or anyone she recognized. The pub was admittedly not very large, so finding someone wouldn't be that difficult. She tilted towards Draco to pretend she was whispering sweet nothings to her loving husband. "Any eyes on anyone yet?" She wanted to make sure everyone was really taking in everything.

Well, you look quite fetching if I do say so myself," came Theo's charming response.

"Honestly, Theo, are you able to focus for more than a moment on the target rather than flirting your way through everything?" She smiled briefly, knowing that Theo was always going to flirt his way through life, and it just made her love him that much more. He was a breath of fresh air in a world full of shit.

"What would be the fun in that, darling? I'd rather be looking at your gorgeous figure than the complete twat in front of me that reminds me far too much of Mr. Flint himself." Theo said this with such nonchalance that Hermione almost missed what he had said.

"I have eyes on him as well. He seems to be with Macnair, if I'm not mistaken," Greg stated in his business tone, which left little to the imagination as far as what he was planning to do to these two.

"Okay, what's the current tally in this group—do we know?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Well, with the confirmation of Flint now, we have Dolohov, Rabastan, Flint, Macnair, and Senior. I'm sure if Macnair is involved, Rosier isn't far behind. If I remember, Dad used to have them over quite often during the war." The mention of his father made Greg tense, and everyone could tell. He had never forgiven his father for making him do the things he did during the war. Given Greg never raised a wand to those undeserving, it was still an uncomfortable topic of conversation among them all.

"I see Rosier coming out of the washroom," Blaise said, barely turning his head to notice the newcomer getting closer to the others.

"Well, that answers that question then. What's the plan, Avengers?" Theo could always bring the mood to a halt.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione looked over to Draco. "Honestly, Theo, the Avengers? Which one are you then?"

"I'm going to get us something to drink, make sure they see me," Draco said, standing and starting for the bar.

"I'm the hot one of course, darling. You can be the sexy one that wears the spandex." At this, Hermione chuckled—Theo's sense of humor was fun at times.

"Theo, you're about to be turned into the big green git if you don't tone it down a bit," Draco warned. He was close to the bar now, but she could still sense his irritation through the connection.

She could see him ordering two fire whiskeys for both of them and slightly angle himself towards the two next to him. He wanted to make himself seen but not put himself in any danger. Of course, they wouldn't be daft enough to make a move in the middle of a crowded pub... she hoped.

Just as predicted Macnair tilted his head just enough to spot Draco “you've been spotted mate” Blaise's cool voice came through.

Draco grabbed the drinks from the barman and thanked him as he strutted back over to Hermione. “I was able to place the tracker in his pocket Greg can you see if you can pick anything up on it.” When Greg was told to bring his full arsenal, he did not disappoint, Hermione was beginning to think she would have to start calling him James Bond with the amount of trick Greg had up his sleeve.

“Confirmed I have a target and I'm starting to get audio feedback on it” Greg started to get the attention of the barman for a refill needing to blend in better.

“What the fuck is Malfoy doing here? Is he alone, no don't turn around you buffoon you don't want to be caught looking at him.” Macnair came through all of their head sets at once.

“He's here with the mudblood, Rabastan told us he saw them together at the park earlier. What could they possibly be doing here? Do you think she knows her chosen one is missing?” Flints voice though a bit lower came through next, he looked a bit twitchy.

“Impossible how could she, we need to keep an eye on them though. I always suspected that Malfoy was a blood traitor, I'm sure daddy is very proud.” with a sneer Macnair turned back to the bar.

“Do you think Dolohov should be updated now? Should we head back?” Rosier looked over at Macnair, he seemed to be the leader of this little group here and they were diverting all questions to him.
“Nah, there's no rush and I still haven't finished my drink. He can wait.” with that all three of them went back to their drinks.

“Mia, I need you to make yourself seen somehow. They know you're together, but you need to make yourself a bigger target. Stop looking at me like that Draco, they want her and we need more confirmation on their location.” Greg looked right at Draco when he said this last part, it made sense if they were after her she needed to make sure they knew she was attainable, even if she wasn't.

“I'll be right back I'm going to go strike up a conversation with Theo really quick.” Hermione slid out of the booth heading for him.

“Oh, goody we can pick up our discussion on which Avenger I am again.”

The group had to hide the mutual eye roll they all let loose at that point. As she walked past the bar, she could feel multiple eyes on her, given the outfit Pansy left very little to the imagination clinging to her curves like a second skin she knew those particular eyes were evil ones. As she approached Theo, she could see from the corner of her eye Macnair was burning the side of her figure with his eyes. The immediate reaction to retch was there but she keeps the nausea at bay.

“Fucking mudblood, who does she think she is. Walking around here like she belongs.” Hermione could feel the hate from Macnair's tone from this far away.

“She has grown up I'll give her that she's fucking fit, don't remember her having those curves back at Hogwarts” Flint was literally salivating. Yup here comes back the bile she was keeping at bay.

Hermione reached Theo's table, forcing herself to maintain her composure despite the nauseating awareness of being watched. She slid gracefully into the seat next to him, letting out a genuine laugh at his Avengers quip.

"Still insisting you're Thor?" she asked loudly enough to carry, playing up their friendly rapport. "We both know you're more of a Bruce Banner."

Through her earpiece, she could hear Macnair and his cohorts continuing their discussion, their words growing more venomous with each passing moment. She kept her expression light, even as her hand tightened around her concealed wand.

"Banner? I'm wounded," Theo replied with theatrical offense, catching onto her performance. "Though I suppose there are worse comparisons. At least give me Tony Stark – I've got the charm and the bank account to match."

From across the room, Draco watched their interaction with calculated intensity, his fingers drumming a pattern on his glass that matched his growing unease. Greg's surveillance equipment continued picking up the targets' conversation, each word confirming they were on the right track regarding Harry's disappearance.

"Movement at your six," Blaise's voice came through, cool and controlled. "Rosier's getting antsy."

Hermione maintained her animated discussion with Theo about the merits of various superheroes, all while keeping track of the subtle shifts in the room's atmosphere. She could feel the net tightening – not around her, as their enemies assumed, but around them.

"Target locked," Greg murmured into the comm. "Recording everything. Keep them talking."

The piece tracked in Macnair's pocket was proving more valuable by the minute, picking up not just their immediate conversation but their tells – the nervous habits and subtle signs that they were indeed involved in something far bigger than a simple pub gathering.

"Time to start phase two?" Theo asked quietly, disguising the question behind a sip of his drink.

Hermione nodded almost imperceptibly. "I think our friends are getting lonely at the bar," she said, her voice carrying just enough to be overheard. "Perhaps we should give them something to talk about."

"Let's give them something to talk about," Hermione repeated, standing from her seat with deliberate slowness. She fumbled with her purse, letting a small piece of parchment flutter to the ground – just noticeable enough to catch attention.

"The tracker's picking up increased movement," Greg's voice crackled through their earpieces. "Flint's heart rate just spiked. He's definitely noticed."

Through the comm system, they could hear the harsh whispers from the bar. "She dropped something," Flint muttered. "Should I—"

"Don't be an idiot," Macnair cut him off. "Let's see what the little mudblood's up to first."

Draco's jaw clenched at the slur, but his face remained impassive as he watched Hermione make her way back to their table. She noticed the tense way he held the glass and was afraid he would make it shatter should he continue.

"Vital signs are interesting," Greg commented, eyes fixed on his modified monitoring device disguised as a newspaper. "Macnair's maintaining steady levels – he's done this before. But Flint and Rosier... they're practically broadcasting amateur hour. Elevated heart rates, irregular breathing patterns."

Blaise shifted slightly at the bar, angling his mirror to catch the reflection behind him. "Rosier's got a tell – keeps touching his left forearm. Could be where they're keeping their emergency portkey."

Hermione slid back into her seat beside Draco, her hand finding his under the table. To anyone watching, it would look like an intimate gesture between a couple. In reality, she was tapping out a coded message against his palm: Three minutes. Back exit.

"Interesting," came Macnair's voice through their earpieces. "Very interesting. Dolohov will want to know about this... development."

"Should we move now?" Rosier's anxious whisper carried clearly through the tracker.

"Patience," Macnair drawled. "Let's see where our lovebirds fly off to first. The mudblood might lead us right to Potter – or what's left of him."

Did that mean Harry got away? Was he hiding out? What about Ron? Hermione had so many questions.

Greg's equipment picked up a dark chuckle from Flint that made Hermione's skin crawl. She maintained her composure, laughing at something Draco had said while her eyes tracked the exits in the mirror behind the bar.

"Team positions," Blaise murmured into his drink. "I've got eyes on the front."

"Side alley's clear," Theo responded, having moved to a window seat. "Anti-apparition wards are still in place around the building."

"Monitoring gear packed and mobile," Greg confirmed, folding his newspaper with practiced casualness. "Ready to track on the move."

Draco's thumb brushed across Hermione's knuckles – a silent question. She squeezed his hand once in response. They were ready.

The next phase would require perfect timing. They needed Macnair's group to follow them, but not too closely. They needed to appear vulnerable, but not suspicious. Most importantly, they needed to maintain their cover long enough to find out where Harry was being held, or if he did escape how far he had gotten.

"Remember," Hermione's voice was barely a whisper, masked by the pub's ambient noise but clear through their comms, "we only get one shot at this. Make it count."

The tracker in Macnair's pocket picked up his next words with crystal clarity: "Tell Dolohov to expect company. I think it's time we showed Ms. Granger exactly what we do to nosey little mudbloods who don't know their place."

Draco's hand tightened around Hermione's, but his face remained carefully neutral. Everything was going according to plan. Now they just had to spring the trap without becoming trapped themselves.

"Show time," Draco murmured, rising smoothly from his seat. He helped Hermione up with exaggerated gallantry, making sure their targets had a clear view of his hand lingering at her waist. "Ready for our evening stroll, darling?"

"You're making me feel like a princess," Hermione replied with a deliberately breathy giggle that made Blaise almost choke on his drink. They all knew how much she despised playing the damsel, fragile was not in Hermione Grangers vocabulary.

Greg's monitoring equipment picked up immediate movement from the bar. "They're taking the bait. All three showing elevated heart rates now – they think they've got you cornered."

"Heading out the back exit now," Draco announced quietly into his comm. "Theo, status on the alley?"

"Still clear. I've got the tracking charms in place – they'll register any magical signatures that pass through. Blaise, you're up."

At the bar, Blaise made a show of checking his pocket watch and gathering his things. He'd be their tail on the tail – following Macnair's group once they inevitably pursued Draco and Hermione.

Through their earpieces came Macnair's gravelly voice: "Wait two minutes after they leave. Flint, you circle around the west side. Rosier, take the east. I'll follow directly. Remember – Dolohov wants the mudblood alive. Malfoy... well, accidents happen."

Hermione felt Draco's hand tense against her back but kept her flat smile firmly in place as they made their way to the door. The parchment she'd dropped earlier had done its job – she could see it now in Flint's meaty fist, crumpled but legible. The false intelligence about Harry's possible location would keep them distracted just long enough.

"Tracking charm registering new signatures," Theo reported as Draco and Hermione stepped into the cool night air. "They're moving. Flint's already heading west, just like they said. At least they're predictable."

Greg's voice came through next, all business. "Audio feed still strong. Macnair's muttering something about... wait..." There was a pause, then: "Shit. They've got backup waiting. Two more signatures just appeared on the west end."

"Good," Hermione breathed, her girlish demeanor dropping instantly as they moved swiftly down the alley. "That means we're getting closer. They wouldn't waste resources if we weren't onto something."

Draco pulled her closer as they walked, his wand hand free and ready. "Five against five then. I like those odds."

"Six," came a new voice through their comms, causing everyone to freeze momentarily. "Sorry I'm late to the party."

"Pansy?" Hermione hissed. "What are you—"

"Did you really think I'd let you lot have all the fun? Besides, someone needs to make sure you don't ruin that outfit I picked out. Do you know how hard it was to find those boots in your size?"

"Incoming," Theo cut in sharply. "Flint's approaching your position. Rosier's about thirty seconds behind on the parallel street."

Hermione and Draco slowed their pace, making themselves an obvious target. Everything hinged on the next few moments – on appearing vulnerable while being anything but.
"Remember," Draco murmured, his lips barely moving, "we need at least one of them conscious enough to take back to the Ministry. Preferably Macnair. He's the only one with direct access to Dolohov."

"Oh, he'll be conscious," Hermione promised, her voice hard. "He's going to tell us exactly where Harry is, and then he's going to tell us everything else he knows about Dolohov's operation."

Through their comms, they could hear Macnair's voice getting closer: "Almost time to play, little mudblood. Let's see if you're as clever as they say when you're screaming."

Hermione's answering smile was anything but flat now. "No, Macnair," she whispered, though he couldn't hear her yet. "Let's see if you're as tough as you think you are when you realize exactly what kind of trap you've walked into."

Around them, hidden in strategic positions, their team tensed and readied themselves. The real game was about to begin.

The first spell came whistling out of the darkness, a sickly purple streak that Hermione deflected with a casual flick of her wand. The vapid socialite act vanished entirely, replaced by the battle-hardened warrior who had fought in the War.

"Predictable," she muttered. "Flint always did wear his intentions on his sleeve."

"Movement on your left," Greg's voice came through crisp and clear. "Rosier's trying to flank you."

Draco's shield charm bloomed just in time to deflect Rosier's curse. "I expected better from former Slytherins," he drawled, his tone dripping with contempt. "Attacking from the shadows? How... predictable."

"Careful," Blaise warned through the comm. "Macnair's holding back. He's smarter than the others."

As if on cue, Macnair's voice cut through the darkness. "Come now, Draco. Is this what your father would want? Consorting with mudbloods, betraying your own kind?"

"Funny you should mention betrayal," Draco replied, his voice carrying clearly down the alley. "Speaking of fathers – how's yours enjoying Azkaban? Oh wait, he didn't survive his first month, did he?"

The snarl that ripped from Macnair was purely animal. Three curses shot from different directions – they were surrounded now, but exactly as planned.

"Now!" Hermione commanded.

Pansy's disillusionment charm dropped as she stepped out from behind a dumpster, her curse catching one of the backup thugs square in the chest. He went down hard, wrapped in conjured chains.

Theo's voice rang out from above: "Like fish in a barrel!" His stunning spell from the rooftop took down the second backup, who had been so focused on Draco and Hermione that he never thought to look up.

"Three down, three to go," Greg reported calmly. "Macnair's heart rate is spiking. He's realizing it's a trap."

Flint broke first, as they'd predicted. He charged forward with a roar, abandoning stealth for brute force. Hermione sidestepped his attack with practiced ease, her counter-curse precise and brutal. He collapsed, his legs locked in a full bind.

"Getting sloppy, Macnair," Draco taunted. "Your team's falling apart."

A curse sizzled past his ear – Rosier had better aim than Flint, but his nerve was weaker. When Blaise appeared behind him with a whispered "Boo," he practically jumped out of his skin. The subsequent stunning spell was almost unnecessary.

"Just you now," Hermione called out. "Want to do this the easy way?"

Macnair's laugh was ugly. "You think you've won? You think this was my whole team? Dolohov sends his regards, mudblood. And a message."

"Multiple apparition signatures!" Greg's warning came just as five more figures materialized in the alley.

"Finally," Pansy sighed, twirling her wand. "I was worried this would be too easy."

Hermione's back pressed against Draco's as they circled, facing outward. Through their earpieces, they could hear their team moving into new positions, adapting to the changed situation with well-practiced efficiency.

"Remember," Draco murmured, just loud enough for their comms to pick up. "We need Macnair alive."

"Alive," Hermione agreed, her wand trailing sparks as she tracked the moving shadows. "But nobody said anything about comfortable, the bastard did scuff my new boots after all."

The teams chortles could be heard throughout the comm.

The new arrivals spread out in a loose circle, wands raised. Macnair's confidence had returned, his voice thick with anticipation. "Last chance, Malfoy. Step aside and we'll make her death quick. Stand with her, and we'll make you watch what happens to blood traitors."

Draco's answering smile was all teeth. "Counter-offer," he said pleasantly. "Surrender now, tell us where Potter is, and we'll let you keep all your limbs."

"Your choice," Hermione added, her voice hard as steel. "But choose quickly, I'm growing rather tired of this game."

The alley crackled with magical tension as both sides readied themselves. Through their comms, they could hear their team's steady breathing, everyone waiting for the signal. One way or another, this would end tonight.

And somewhere in the darkness, Macnair made his choice.

Macnair's choice came in the form of a Blasting Curse that lit up the entire alley. But Hermione and Draco had already moved, their synchronized dodge leaving the spell to explode harmlessly against a pre-placed shield charm.

"Pansy, now!" Hermione called.

From her new position, Pansy cast in quick succession, her spells illuminating the alley in rapid bursts. Not aimed to hit, but to illuminate – exposing the positions of their opponents to Theo on the rooftop.

"Got them mapped," Theo confirmed through the comm. "Two at your ten o'clock, three spread between two and four, Macnair's moving to six."

Greg's monitoring equipment crackled. "They're using short-range communication charms. Breaking through their encryption now..."

A volley of curses erupted from the darkness, forcing Draco and Hermione to split apart. But this was part of the plan – dividing the alley into zones of control.

"Watch the crossfire," Blaise warned, sending a volley of stunners from his position. "They're trying to shepherd you toward the dead end."

One of the new arrivals went down with a grunt, caught between Pansy's binding spell and Theo's stunner. Another suffered a nasty combination of hexes from Draco that left him wrapped in thorny vines and unconscious.

"Their apparition point is compromised," Greg reported with satisfaction. "Anti-apparition wards are holding."

Hermione ducked under a Cruciatus Curse, her retaliatory spell catching her attacker in the chest. He flew backward, slamming into the alley wall with a sickening crunch. "That's three down."

"Four," Theo corrected, as another of Macnair's backup collapsed under his well-aimed Impediment Jinx.

Macnair's voice carried an edge of desperation now. "Kill them! Kill them all!"

"Someone's getting sloppy," Draco taunted, deflecting a wild curse. "What would Dolohov say about this performance?"

The mention of Dolohov had the intended effect. Macnair's next spell was overpowered, wildly inaccurate. The moment of loss of control was all they needed.
"Blaise, Pattern Delta!" Hermione called.

Their formation shifted seamlessly. Blaise and Pansy pushed forward from opposite sides, forcing Macnair's remaining men to cluster. Theo's spells from above prevented retreat, while Greg maintained the anti-apparition field.

Hermione and Draco moved in perfect sync, their spells weaving together in a deadly dance. One more of Macnair's men fell, then another, until only Macnair himself remained.

"It's over," Draco said coldly, his wand trained on his former associate. "Drop it."

Macnair's eyes darted around wildly, seeing his entire team incapacitated. His wand hand trembled slightly – the first real tell he'd shown all night.

"Last chance," Hermione added, her voice hard. "Though I'll admit, I'm hoping you choose the hard way, I want a good story to tell the kids you see."

A twisted smile crossed Macnair's face. "You think you've won? You think this gets you closer to Potter?" His free hand moved toward his pocket – toward what they now knew was more than just a tracker.

"Greg?" Hermione questioned sharply.

"It's a trigger," Greg confirmed, his monitoring equipment picking up the magical signature. "Some kind of detonator."

"Dead man's switch," Blaise observed coolly. "How unoriginal."

Macnair's smile widened. "Want to risk it, mudblood? Want to bet Potter's life that you can stop me before I activate it?"

The alley grew deathly quiet. Through their comms, the team could hear each other's steady breathing, waiting for the signal. Everything hinged on this moment.
And then Hermione smiled – a smile that made Macnair's falter slightly.

"About that trigger," she said softly. "Did you really think we wouldn't have planned for that?"

Impossible," Macnair whispered, his hand still hovering over the trigger in his pocket. "There's no way you could have—"

"Disabled your entire network of deadman switches?" Greg's voice carried from the shadows as he emerged, holding up his monitoring device. "Did that about twenty minutes ago, when you were too busy leering at Hermione to notice my scanning charms. Amateur hour, really."

Macnair's face contorted with rage. His hand plunged into his pocket, desperately triggering the detonator again and again. Nothing happened.

"See, that's the problem with you lot," Draco drawled, advancing slowly. "You're so convinced of your superiority that you never stop to consider you might be outmatched."

"Pansy," Hermione called out, "would you like to show our friend what we found when we traced his little network?"

Pansy stepped forward, levitating a familiar-looking device. "Fascinating bit of spellwork, linking all those explosives. Shame about the central hub being so... accessible. Though I have to thank you – finding it led us straight to your whole operation."

"Ministry teams are probably cleaning out your safe houses as we speak," Theo added from his perch above. "Rather helpful of you to keep everything connected like that."

Macnair's wand hand shook as he backed away. "You're lying. There's no way—"

"That we've spent weeks planning this?" Blaise interrupted, moving to cut off his retreat. "That we knew exactly who would be here tonight? That we've been three steps ahead of you this entire time?"

"That's exactly what happened," Hermione said softly, dangerously. "And now you're going to tell us everything about Dolohov's operation. Starting with where Harry is."

Macnair's back hit the alley wall. His eyes darted between them all, searching for an escape route that didn't exist. When he spoke again, his voice had lost all its previous bravado. "Dolohov will kill me."

"That's assuming he gets the chance," Draco replied coldly. "Now, shall we discuss terms? Or would you prefer we turn you over to the Aurors and let them know about your... creative interpretations of the post-war amnesty agreements?"

A long moment of silence stretched through the alley. Then, finally, Macnair's wand clattered to the ground.

"Fine," he spat. "But I want protection."

"Start talking," Hermione commanded, already conjuring her Patronus to send word to the Ministry. "And if Harry has so much as a scratch on him, you'll wish we had let Dolohov find you first."

As Greg began recording Macnair's confession and Theo coordinated with their Ministry contacts, Draco moved to Hermione's side. "Not quite how we planned to spend our evening," he murmured.

"Oh, I don't know," she replied, a small smile playing at her lips as she watched their prisoner begin to crack. "I'd say it worked out rather well, bit of an adventure never killed the romance don't you think?"

Through their comms, they could hear Pansy's snort of amusement. "Next time, though, can we skip the part where I have to watch Hermione play ditzy arm candy? It was physically painful."

"Agreed," chorused several voices at once.

Hermione gasped dramatically, "what, was my performance not adequate to the way of the pureblood decorum?"

As the Ministry teams began to arrive and secure the scene, Hermione allowed herself to relax slightly. They had what they needed. Harry would be found. And somewhere in London, Dolohov was about to learn exactly what happened to people who threatened those she loved.

"Well then," she said, straightening her 'impractical' boots, "shall we go rescue Harry?"

Draco offered his arm with an exaggerated flourish. "After you, 'darling.'"

The night wasn't over yet, but for the first time in weeks, they had the upper hand. And this time, they intended to keep it.

Chapter Text

They all arrived back at the inn with Macnair in tow. They didn't feel it safe to leave him to be picked up by the aurors like the other prisoners. The real reason was also because they needed to get as many answers as possible from him before he was sent to Azkaban.

"Anyone in the mood for a cocktail?" Theo strutted straight to the bar cart to start the inebriation process.

"We should celebrate, seeing as we captured the majority of the git crew. Just play bartender, Theo—make a round for all of us, darling." Pansy went straight for the chaise near the wall.

"I love the way you think, Pans. Celebrations it is." Theo threw back a smile to her and proceeded with his task.

“Have you attempted to reach out to Potter again Mia?” Greg was still in business mode he didn't seem to want to drop the task at hand until he slept, if he even did so.

“Not yet, I was going to try now and update him, see if he can tell us what's going on over there as well.” Hermione was taking off her boots and heading for the table where they had all the plans laid out.

Hermione dug out the galleon out of her pocket and murmured 'Praescribo' “Prongs, we have updates are you awake?” She wasn't expecting him to respond so soon but she was excited all the same when the galleon glowed right away.

“Dolohov is pissed. What did you do?” Harry was agitated it seemed.

"We captured his whole team, at least we think it's his whole team." Hermione couldn't help but smirk at this comment; she was proud of her team.

"That explains it. Yes, it's just him. Myself and Ron here—are you coming?" Honestly, Harry could have a bit of patience. Hermione could understand what his hurry was, but they had done quite a bit to get to him.

"Working on it, please stay safe. Tell Ron to shut the hell up and stop provoking him." She had to remind him once more that the less talking they did, the better their own outcome could be.

"I'll try, but you know how he is." Harry was frustrated; she could tell.

Hermione slipped the galleon back into her pocket and turned to face the group. "Dolohov's got Harry and Ron cornered somewhere. We need to move quickly."

"Bloody hell, can't those two stay out of trouble for five minutes?" Theo paused mid-pour, the amber liquid splashing against the crystal tumbler.

Pansy sat up straighter on the chaise, her previous relaxed demeanor vanishing. "So much for celebrations. Should we wake up our guest for a friendly chat about where his boss might be?"

"I'll do it," Greg volunteered, already moving toward the room where they were keeping Macnair. "He might be more inclined to talk to a fellow Slytherin."

"Wait," Hermione called out, her mind racing. "Macnair was Dolohov's second in command. He wouldn't just know where Dolohov might be—he'd know his patterns, his safe houses, his backup plans."

"And his weaknesses," Theo added, setting down the unfinished cocktails. "Merlin knows those two spent enough time plotting together."

"You're right," Greg paused at the doorway. "But how do we make him talk? He's not exactly been forthcoming so far."

Hermione's eyes flickered to the bar cart Theo had abandoned. "Sometimes the simplest solutions are the best. Theo, how's your Veritaserum brewing these days?"

Theo's face split into a wide grin. "Why, Granger, I'm offended you even have to ask. Always carry a vial or two—occupational hazard and all that."

"That's my boy," Pansy smirked, rising from the chaise. "Though I have to say, Granger, you're getting more Slytherin by the day."

"Let's say the war taught me that sometimes the ends justify the means." Hermione's voice was steady, but there was a hardness in her eyes that hadn't been there in their school days. "Especially when Harry and Ron's lives are at stake."

"Right then," Theo pulled a small crystal vial from his inner pocket, the clear liquid catching the lamplight. "Shall we go have a chat with our guest?"

"Wait," Hermione held up her hand. "We need to be smart about this. Macnair's been with Dolohov long enough to have built up some resistance to Veritaserum. We need to catch him off guard."

"I might have an idea," Pansy's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Macnair always had a weakness for pretty faces and firewhisky. Perhaps we combine both with your Veritaserum, Theo?"

"And who's going to be the pretty face?" Greg raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I would volunteer, but he knows me too well." Pansy's gaze shifted deliberately to Hermione. "However, our resident war heroine here might be just unexpected enough to throw him off balance."

Hermione crossed her arms. "You want me to what exactly?"

"Just play the sympathetic ear," Theo caught on quickly. "The compassionate Gryffindor who thinks everyone deserves a second chance. He'll never expect it, especially not from you."

"And that's exactly why it might work," Greg nodded slowly. "He'll be looking for threats from us, his fellow Slytherins. But you—you're the last person he'd expect to show him kindness."

Hermione bit her lip, considering. The galleon in her pocket felt heavy, a reminder of Harry and Ron waiting somewhere with an increasingly agitated Dolohov. They didn't have time for lengthy debates about ethics.

"Fine," she agreed finally. "But we do this my way. And if he tries anything—"

"We'll be right outside the door," Greg assured her. "One wrong move from him and he'll wish the Aurors had taken him instead."

Theo quickly prepared a glass of firewhisky, carefully measuring the Veritaserum drops before mixing it with practiced precision. "Remember, it'll take about two minutes to fully kick in once he drinks it."

Hermione nodded, taking the glass. She shrugged off her outer robes, leaving her in her skin tight dress that she had worn on her date night. Running a hand through her curls to loosen them, she took a deep breath.

"Wait," Pansy stepped forward, pulling the front of her dress down to expose more of her cleavage. When Hermione shot her a questioning look, Pansy shrugged. "Trust me. Men like him are easier to manipulate when they're... distracted."

"Lovely," Hermione muttered. "Any other tips for seducing information out of Death Eaters?"

"Just one," Pansy's voice turned serious. "Don't let him see how much you despise him. Men like Macnair can smell contempt a mile away."

Greg opened the door to the small room where they were keeping their prisoner. Macnair sat in a wooden chair, his hands bound behind him with magical restraints. His once-pristine robes were dirty and torn from the earlier fight, but his aristocratic features still held that typical pure-blood arrogance.

"Someone's here to see you," Greg announced, stepping aside to let Hermione enter.

Macnair's eyes widened slightly at the sight of her, then narrowed with suspicion. "The Mudblood comes to gloat?"

Hermione forced herself to smile softly, ignoring the slur. "Actually," she said, holding up the glass, "I thought you might be thirsty."

He glared at her for a moment, trying to puzzle out her real intentions. She noticed his eyes wander down to her cleavage, just as Pansy had predicted. She tried really hard not to roll her eyes and show she had noticed. He licked his lips and looked back up to her eyes. "I suppose I could use a drink. It's the least you could do after the attack."

She honestly wanted to smash his head into the window but kept her composure for just a bit longer. "Of course, sorry about all that... I'm just worried about Harry. I'm sure you understand—he's like family." Playing the weakness card wasn't something she liked to do too often, but it would help her at this time, she was sure. She needed to break him down long enough for him to start answering her questions.

As she watched, Macnair took a large drink from the glass and put it back on the side table in the room. "Not bad. I reckon you at least have good alcohol." She was waiting for the Veritaserum to start kicking in.

“So, you're the man that helps make all the plans, I presume?" She wanted to start slow, stroke his ego a bit; perhaps that would help him open up a bit more. Most men loved a little stroking to feel important.

He sat up a bit straighter on the bed and puffed out his chest. "I am, of course. Dolohov wouldn't be where he is today without me."

She had to roll her eyes internally; honestly, she could only do this for a bit longer—he was talking out of his ass and she knew it. She fluttered her eyes a bit and smiled lasciviously. "I can tell you are not just the beauty of the operation but the brains as well. He's lucky to have you. I'm sure you're the real prize in this capture."

She would not vomit on the floor; she needed to keep her composure and get the information out of him, but that would be the last time she stroked his ego. It was time for some answers.

"Well, well, darling, it seems you are the brightest witch—you can perceive a real leader when you see one." He must have hit his head when they were fighting because there was not a chance in hell that this man was anywhere near the brains of anything. She would be surprised if he could find the ass on a manticore, let alone a plan to capture the chosen one.

Alright, idle chit chat was over—it was time to find out some answers. "So, since you are the brains, care to share where Harry is hidden?" She followed this with another bat of her eyes to highlight her point.

He smiled at her again. "Of course, he and the ginger traitor are hidden at Selwyn Manor at the moment. Although Dolohov wanted to move him to Goyle Manor soon because he feels that you somehow found out our location." His eyes went wide at this declaration; he didn't want to give this much information away.

Perfect, she was on to something. "Well, that's clever. How does he know I'm looking?" She was going to get every bit of information she could get.

Macnair was a bit thrown off, but he conceded he wasn't really getting the credit that was due to him lately, so why not play along. "Well, he didn't know for sure, but he had an idea that if we took your chosen one, you would eventually come looking for him."

Hermione leaned into him so that her dress dipped lower to show him a bit more skin. "And how do we get into Selwyn Manor? Surely Dolohov didn't trust anyone to know that bit of information. You're too clever to be told, I'm sure." She gently ran her finger on his forearm where his Dark Mark lay. Small shivers ran down him, and he started to get that stupid look Ron used to get back when they were dating.

"Ha, I'm the one that suggested we keep them in Selwyn Manor. The only way to get in was to break all the wards, and the only way to do that is to procure an ivory dagger and the enchantment found in the book we hid in Hogwarts when the Carrows had taken over."

Perfect—that was all the information she needed. This she could work with. "Did you get all of that, Greg?" They had kept the comm in for this little meeting so that Greg could record the whole conversation in case they needed evidence.

"Loud and clear, Mia. Come on out; we are already packing up to head out." Hermione knew that Greg was the perfect person for this mission; he was always on point when it came to the delicate matters of getting what they needed.

"Well, Macnair, we will be moving you soon. Thank you for your time and information. I hope they give you the most comfortable cell in Azkaban." With a wink, she sashayed out of the room.

"Well done, Granger. I always knew there was a vixen in that little swot body of yours." Pansy was very hard to please, so she would take that praise.

"Thank you, Pans. I learned from the best." Hermione winked back at her Slytherin friend and moved her way towards the table where everyone else was standing.

"Alright, what's the plan? We have to find these artifacts if we are to move in." She had crossed her arms across her chest and looked up from the map placed on the table.

"Draco, love, my eyes are still up here." She had caught him devouring her with his eyes.

Draco cleared his throat and had the decency to look slightly abashed, though his trademark smirk remained. "Can't blame a bloke for appreciating the view, especially when you've gone to such lengths to create it."

Greg rolled his eyes at their banter. "If we could focus on the mission? According to our intelligence, the book is still at Hogwarts, hidden during the Carrows' tenure. That's our first priority."

"And where exactly in Hogwarts?" Pansy leaned over the map, her dark hair falling forward. "It's not exactly a small place."

Hermione tapped her wand thoughtfully against her lips. "The Carrows would have wanted somewhere they thought students couldn't access. Somewhere they considered safe from the DA."

"The dungeons," Draco said suddenly. All eyes turned to him. "Specifically, Snape's old private stores. The Carrows trusted him implicitly, and that room has wards that even most teachers can't break."

"And the ivory dagger?" Greg pressed.

"That's trickier," Hermione mused. "Those are rare artifacts, usually found in old pureblood collections."

Pansy's eyes lit up. "The Greengrass vault. Daphne mentioned her grandmother had a collection of ceremonial daggers. If we reach out to Astoria..."

"Perfect." Hermione straightened up, her expression determined. "Greg, you and Pansy handle the Greengrass angle. Draco and I will take Hogwarts—we know those dungeons better than anyone."

"Just try to keep your hands off each other long enough to find the book," Pansy drawled, earning herself a glare from Hermione and another smirk from Draco.

"Time is critical," Hermione continued, ignoring them both. "Harry and Ron have been captive for five days already. We move at dawn." She glanced around the room, meeting each of their eyes in turn. "Any questions?"

The silence that followed was answer enough. They had their mission, they had their teams, and they had a chance to bring their friends home. It would have to be enough.

Draco moved closer to Hermione, dropping his voice so only she could hear. "We should talk about what happened earlier... before the interrogation."

"Not now," she whispered back, though her pulse quickened at his proximity. "We need to focus on the mission."

"Right then," Greg interrupted, rolling out another map—this one of Hogwarts' lower levels. "The private stores are here, but the wards will be tricky. Even with your clearance as faculty, Hermione, Snape's protections were legendary."

Pansy was already gathering her things. "Astoria's still in France, but I can reach her by Floo. The Greengrasses won't be happy about us borrowing a family heirloom, but they've never supported the Dark Lord's remnants either."

"Two hours," Hermione declared, checking her watch. "Meet back here, ready to move. Greg, make sure the containment spells on Macnair hold—we can't risk him warning anyone."

As the others dispersed, Draco caught her arm. His touch sent sparks through her despite everything. "You don't have to keep pushing me away, you know. What happened between us—"

"Was a moment of weakness," she finished, but couldn't quite meet his eyes. "We were both emotional after the attack and well...."

"Is that what you really think?" His voice was soft, dangerous. "Because that's not how it felt when you—"

"Draco, please." She finally looked up at him, seeing the intensity in his grey eyes. "Harry and Ron need us. Whatever this is... it has to wait."

He held her gaze for a long moment before releasing her arm. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over, Hermione."

She watched him stride away, trying to ignore the way her skin still tingled where he'd touched her. There would be time later to sort out her complicated feelings for Draco Malfoy. Right now, she had a mission to plan, friends to save, and absolutely no room for distractions—no matter how appealingly they wore their Auror robes.

Chapter Text

The familiar sight of Hogwarts' gates loomed before them in the pre-dawn light. Despite the urgency of their mission, Hermione couldn't help but feel that familiar flutter of homecoming—even after all these years, the castle still felt like her first real home in the magical world.

"Professor McGonagall is waiting for us in her office," she said, tapping the gates with her wand. They swung open silently, recognizing her faculty status. "She's not happy about a midnight excursion to the dungeons, but she understands the stakes."

"Some things never change," Draco muttered as they walked up the path. "Though I suspect she likes me rather better as an Auror than she did as a student."

The halls were mercifully empty as they made their way to the Headmistress's office. The gargoyle stepped aside without a password—clearly, they were expected.

"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger." McGonagall stood as they entered, her expression grave. Despite the late hour, she was as impeccably dressed as ever. "I trust you understand the delicacy of this situation. Searching Severus's old stores..." She pressed her lips into a thin line.

"We wouldn't ask if it weren't crucial, Professor," Hermione said earnestly. "Harry and Ron's lives depend on what we might find there."

"Yes, well." McGonagall's expression softened slightly. "I suppose you three have always had a knack for finding yourselves in dire situations." She turned to Draco. "And I must admit, Mr. Malfoy, that having you on the right side of such adventures is a marked improvement."

Draco inclined his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. "High praise indeed, Headmistress."

"The wards on the storage room remain as Severus left them," McGonagall continued, all business now. "Even I have not been able to fully unravel them. However..." She withdrew a small silver key from her robes. "He did leave this in my possession, though I've never had cause to use it."

Hermione took the key reverently, recognizing the intricate potion vials etched into its surface. "This is incredible. But why didn't you mention this before?"

"Because, Miss Granger," McGonagall said with a hint of her old classroom severity, "some secrets are best kept until they are truly needed. Now, shall we proceed to the dungeons?"

They made their way through the silent castle, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridors. The dungeons were just as cold and damp as Hermione remembered, though the oppressive atmosphere felt different now—more nostalgic than intimidating.

"It's just around this corner," Draco murmured, his wand illuminating the way. "Though I have to admit, even as Head of Slytherin House, I was never allowed in Snape's private stores."

McGonagall stopped before an unremarkable stretch of wall. "Severus always did appreciate subtlety." She raised her wand, revealing a door that seemed to materialize from the stone itself.

Hermione stepped forward with the key, but Draco caught her wrist. "Wait. Knowing Snape, it won't be that simple." He moved closer to the door, examining the frame. "There are traces of blood magic here. See how the stone's slightly darker?"

"Very observant, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall nodded approvingly. "Severus mentioned that only those who understood the true nature of sacrifice could enter safely."

"The true nature of sacrifice," Hermione repeated thoughtfully. She looked at the key more closely, noting how the etched vials seemed to shift in the wandlight. "Of course—Lily Potter. His greatest sacrifice was losing her, but his love for her drove everything he did." She pressed the key to the door, then added a drop of her own blood from a small cut on her palm.

The door shimmered, and they heard the distinct click of multiple locks disengaging.

"Well done, Miss Granger," McGonagall said softly. "Though I suggest we move quickly. Severus's protections tend to reset themselves after a short time."

Draco pushed the door open, revealing a room that seemed to stretch far deeper into the castle than should have been possible. Shelves lined every wall, filled with books, vials, and artifacts that seemed to hum with dark energy.

"Merlin," he breathed. "No wonder he kept this hidden. Some of these items would have the Ministry in fits."

"Focus," Hermione reminded him, though she too was fighting the urge to examine everything. "We're looking for a specific book about ward-breaking enchantments. It would have been placed here during the Carrows' time."

"Something this dark would have appealed to the Carrows," Draco said, moving along the shelves. "They wouldn't have bothered with the lighter texts." His fingers traced along the spines of ancient-looking volumes.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall called from near the door. "I'll keep watch, but do hurry. Dawn isn't far off, and students will begin stirring soon."

Hermione nodded, already scanning the shelves methodically. The books seemed to be organized by subject rather than alphabetically—very Snape-like in its precision. Her eyes caught on a section that seemed newer than the rest, the books less dusty.

"Draco, here." She pointed to a shelf at eye level. "These look more recent. The Carrows must have added their own collection."

He moved closer—too close. She could feel the warmth radiating from him, smell the familiar scent of his cologne. "Focus, Granger," he murmured, echoing her earlier words with a smirk.

"Prat," she muttered, but continued searching. Then she saw it—a slim volume bound in black leather, its spine unmarked. "This has to be it." She reached for it, but Draco grabbed her hand.

"Wait. Let me check for curses first." He waved his wand in a complex pattern, frowning in concentration. "Clear, but... there's something else. A tracking charm, cleverly hidden."

"Can you disable it?"

"Already done." He plucked the book from the shelf and handed it to her. "Though I suggest we leave a duplicate. Wouldn't want anyone noticing it's missing."

Hermione quickly conjured an exact copy, right down to the worn edges, and placed it on the shelf. As she slipped the real book into her robes, a sudden chill ran through the room.

"The wards," McGonagall called sharply from the doorway. "They're beginning to reset. Out, both of you, now!"

The chill in the room intensified, and Hermione felt the familiar prickle of dark magic activating. Draco grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door. They burst through just as the room began to seal itself, the wall solidifying behind them.

"Well," McGonagall said, straightening her robes, "that was rather more exciting than I'd hoped for. Did you find what you were looking for?"

Hermione patted her robes where the book was hidden. "Yes, though I'd rather not examine it here. The less you know about its contents, the better, Professor."

A noise from above made them all freeze—the distinct sound of footsteps.

"Filch," Draco whispered, his hand still holding Hermione's. "Some things really never do change."

McGonagall's lips twitched. "The staff entrance near the potions classroom. Quickly now. I'll handle Mr. Filch."

They didn't need telling twice. Draco led the way, his years as a Slytherin evident in how confidently he navigated the dungeon corridors. They slipped through the hidden staff entrance just as they heard Filch's voice echoing from around the corner.

"Mrs. Norris saw someone, Headmistress, down in the dungeons at this hour..."

Once outside in the cool pre-dawn air, they finally slowed their pace. The castle loomed behind them, its windows starting to glimmer with the first hints of sunrise.

"We should get back," Hermione said, reluctantly pulling her hand from Draco's. "Pansy and Greg will be waiting with news about the dagger."

"Granger." His voice stopped her. "What you said earlier, about us being a moment of weakness..." He stepped closer, his expression intense. "I don't believe that. And I don't think you do either."

"Draco—"

"We have time before we meet the others," he pressed on. "And I think we need to talk about what happened in your office that night."

She inhaled sharply, memories of that night flooding back—his hands in her hair, the way he'd pressed her against her desk, how natural it had felt to finally give in to years of tension.

"Fine," she conceded, crossing her arms. "You want to talk? Let's talk about how you disappeared for two days after, or how you've barely looked at me since—until this mission forced us together."

"I didn't disappear," he growled, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I was following a lead on a dark wizards location. And when I got back, you were suddenly 'too busy' to see anyone."

"Because I was doing my job!" Her voice rose slightly before she caught herself. "What was I supposed to do? Sit around pining while the wizarding world was in danger, you're not the only one that tracks down dark wizards Draco."

"No, but you could have talked to me. We're partners, Granger. Or have you forgotten that?" He stepped closer, and she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "You don't have to handle everything alone anymore."

"I—" she started, but was cut off by a silvery wisp materializing beside them—Pansy's Patronus.

"We've got it," Pansy's voice echoed from the ethereal form. "Astoria came through. Get back here—we need to move fast."

The Patronus dissolved, leaving them in tense silence.

"This isn't over," Draco said quietly, but his expression had shifted back to professional focus. "We should apparate from outside the gates."

Hermione nodded, grateful for the interruption yet somehow disappointed at the same time. "Let's go get our friends back."

The early morning mist swirled around them as they made their way to the gates. The walk was silent, charged with unspoken words and lingering tension.

Just before they reached the apparition point, Draco caught her elbow. "One thing before we go back." Before she could react, he pulled her close, one hand cupping her face, and kissed her deeply. It was nothing like their frenzied encounter in her office—this was slow, deliberate, almost tender.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark with intensity. "That wasn't weakness, Granger. Remember that when all this is over."

Still slightly dazed, she could only nod. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself, and held out his arm. "Shall we?"

They apparated back to their makeshift headquarters, where Pansy and Greg were already waiting, a gleaming ivory dagger laid out on the table before them.

"About time," Pansy drawled, eyeing their slightly disheveled appearance with knowing amusement. "The Greengrasses send their regards, by the way. Astoria says you owe her dinner, Draco."

"Did you get the book?" Greg asked, all business.

Hermione withdrew the volume from her robes, placing it next to the dagger. "Snape's wards nearly trapped us, but we managed. Have you looked at the dagger's properties yet?"

"Clean," Greg confirmed. "No tracking charms, no curses. Old family magic, but nothing dark. It should work perfectly for the ward-breaking ritual."

"Then we move tonight," Hermione said firmly, pushing thoughts of Draco's kiss aside. "We'll need to study this book quickly—the ritual has to be precise."

"And what about our... guest?" Pansy gestured toward the room where they'd left Macnair.

"The dreamless sleep drought I gave him will keep him out for another few hours," Hermione replied. "By then, we'll be long gone. The Ministry can deal with him after we get Harry and Ron out."

Opening the ancient book carefully, Hermione began scanning its contents while the others gathered around. The musty pages crackled under her fingers as she searched for the specific ritual.

"Here," she said finally, pointing to an intricate diagram. "The ward-breaking ritual requires four participants—one for each cardinal direction. The ivory dagger acts as a focus point for the magical energy."

Draco leaned over her shoulder, his breath warm against her neck. "Look at these runes. They're old magic, pre-dating most modern ward systems. No wonder Dolohov chose this location."

"The ritual needs to be performed at moonrise," Pansy observed, frowning at the text. "That gives us about twelve hours to prepare. The timing has to be exact."

Greg pulled out a map of Selwyn Manor. "The wards extend in a perfect circle around the property. Based on Macnair's intel, they're keeping Harry and Ron in the east wing, here." He pointed to a section of the blueprint.

"We'll need to split into teams once we're inside," Hermione said, her tactical mind already working. "Two to secure Harry and Ron, two to handle any resistance."

"I'll take point on the extraction," Draco said immediately. "I know the layout of these old manors better than anyone here."

Hermione nodded, trying to maintain professional distance despite the lingering memory of his kiss. "I'll go with you. Pansy, Greg—you two handle any Death Eaters we encounter. Just..." she hesitated, "try not to kill anyone unless absolutely necessary. We want them to stand trial."

"Always the humanitarian, Granger," Pansy smirked, but there was no real bite to her words. "Even after everything they've done."

"That's what makes us different from them," Greg said quietly, surprising them all. "We don't kill unless we have to."

Hermione looked over to her team, “Comms back in then? This way we can keep in contact with each other throughout.” She wasn't taking any chances to lose anyone else.

"And what about Dolohov?" Pansy asked, tucking the device into her ear. "He's not going to be easy to deal with if we encounter him."

Draco's expression darkened. "Leave him to me. He and I have unfinished business after what he's done to Hermione in the past."

All eyes fell on Draco at that statement, he was certainly not being subtle on his intentions any more.

"We stick to the plan," Hermione said firmly, placing a hand on Draco's arm. "No one goes after Dolohov alone. That's exactly what he'd want."

Greg started laying out their equipment: Shield cloaks, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and various other items they'd need for the mission. "The ritual will create a five-minute window in the wards. Once they're down, we'll have to move fast."

"The dagger needs to be placed at the center point," Hermione continued, studying the diagram. "Pansy, you're best with ancient runes—you'll need to handle that part. The rest of us will take positions around the perimeter."

"And what if Potter and Weasley aren't in any condition to move?" Pansy asked, voicing what they'd all been worried about.

Hermione's jaw tightened. "Then we improvise. But we're not leaving without them."

"Six hours until moonrise," Draco noted, checking his watch. "We should rest in shifts. We'll need to be sharp tonight."

"I'll take first watch," Greg offered. "Been dosing myself with pepper up Potion anyway."

Hermione nodded, feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping in. They'd been going non-stop since they first arrived in Scotland . "Two-hour shifts then. Wake me for second watch."

"Has anyone reached out to Tonks recently? She needs to be updated in case we need backup." Blaise made a good point—they didn't know what they were walking into, and having the safety net of the DMLE could be useful.

"I'll call her now. She needs to send someone to pick up the brainless boy wonder in the other room." Draco was heading towards the fireplace as he threw this over his shoulder.

Calling out Tonks' office, Draco knelt in front of the fireplace when Hermione came up next to him. "Thought you could use some backup." She nudged him with her shoulder with a smile on her face.

"Little cousin, please tell me you have some good news for me. I might have to break Flint's face if he doesn't stop yelling about traitors and that he is innocent in all this. If one more person cries Imperius, I'm going to lose my ever-loving shit." Tonks was pinching the bridge of her nose now.

"Always lovely to speak with you, cousin. Yes, we have Macnair on Dreamless Draught over here. We need you to send someone to get him." He smirked at the end of the statement.

"Secondly, we know where Potter and Weasley are and how to get in. We may need you on call for backup if something goes wrong." Draco didn't want to involve anyone else on this mission, but sometimes he needed to admit when help was needed.

Lastly, McGonagall sends her regards."

Tonks eyed Draco for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. "Okay, I'm not even going to ask where you saw McGonagall. Second, send me the coordinates of where you'll be so I can get a team prepared, and third, why did you give Macnair Dreamless Sleep? Please tell me you have a good reason, Draco—I don't want more paperwork to complete." Hermione could see the exhaustion written all over Tonks's face; she could understand why.

"I had to question Macnair with a touch of Veritaserum. It was the only way I could get straight answers from him. Afterwards, I thought having him pass out would be easier than just letting him ramble for hours about how dirty I am or how we're all going to die a painful death once Dolohov gets us." Hermione rolled her eyes as if Dolohov had a chance.

"Oh, for the love of fuck, I did not hear a damn thing about Veritaserum from you just now. I'm going to ignore it because my blood pressure is already high enough. Furthermore, I don't give a shit how you got the information—I'm just glad you did. So, what did you find out?" Tonks might have been the Head Auror, but Hermione still saw the mischievous look in her eye.

"Dolohov has Potter and Weasley at Selwyn Manor, as you're already aware. From what Greg gathered, the wards have been updated since the new rules changed, and because of this, we needed to find a way to break said wards in order to get in. Potter has communicated that it's just Dolohov, Weasley, and himself at the manor. Guess we really did take down his whole team." This was said with a smirk; Draco was thrilled to dismantle Dolohov once and for all.

"We have obtained the items we need from a couple of... sources, so we are prepared to go in. The plan is to go in in twelve hours and start breaking through. We have separated the team: myself and Granger will go after Dolohov, Greg and Pansy will be breaking down the wards and keeping an eye on the outskirts in case Dolohov tries to leave, and finally, Blaise and Theo will go after Potter and Weasley."

The plan was simple, really, and with the way the six of them had been working, it wouldn't be a difficult one at that. If all went according to plan, they should be in and out fairly quickly. The issue was that when the Golden Trio was involved, quick and easy plans usually didn't go that way at all.

"All right, sounds pretty straightforward. Make me proud, team, and maybe you'll get a holiday off for this." Tonks's lip hitched up to one side. With that, she was gone.

"Well, that was easy, so umm... I'm going to get some sleep before we head out." Hermione made to get up and head out the door when Draco reached out for her arm.

"Hermione, please, I want to talk to you before we go. I don't want to have another regret sitting on my shoulders," Draco sighed heavily. "Honestly, Hermione, I can't stop thinking about you. I can't get that day in your office out of my head—I've been replaying that day over and over, dissecting it." His expression was open; he looked a mixture of worried and vulnerable. This was not an expression Hermione had ever seen on Draco Malfoy before.

With a sigh, Hermione gestured to the settee by the fireplace. "All right, I suppose you are right—we do need to talk about this." Hermione was nervous; she knew how she felt about Draco, but she was afraid to admit the connection between them.

"Look, Hermione, I know we have our history." That was an understatement, but she knew what he meant. "But I feel like since our conversation back in eighth year, we really have gotten closer. Not only do we share friends, but we work together."

Hermione could hand it to him—they had moved past all the negativity from when they were younger. She appreciated the way he had attempted to make a change and become a better person. It didn't hurt that he was incredibly good-looking. Oh, who was she kidding? The man was a walking god; she couldn't lie to herself anymore.

"You're right, Draco, we do have a connection. I didn't want to admit it because honestly... I'm frightened. I don't like putting myself out there, and you know that relationships for me are arduous." If they were going to have this conversation, she wasn't going to lie to him; she wanted him to understand what was keeping her from making that step. She rolled her eyes and just decided to jump in head first. She was, after all, a Gryffindor and all that rot.

She heaved a long sigh. "I like you a lot, you enormous prat. I can't help it—you're charming, intelligent, and I will admit this only once, but you're fucking hot."

That was all Draco needed to hear; he smiled his genuine smile and lunged for her. He cupped her face and kissed her, a deep passionate kiss that made her toes curl. She ran her fingers through his hair just the way she knew he liked. There was no denying they had chemistry. He kissed down her neck, lingering right below her ear just where she liked the most; a soft moan escaped her lips. His hands trailed down her sides, leaving no room for lack of intention. She knew what he wanted, and she couldn't really say she didn't want him to take it from her.

She moved her hands to his buttons, slowly removing one at a time; he was nibbling on her neck, working his way lower as each button was undone. The feather-light touches were causing her skin to shiver. "Gods, Hermione, you're perfect." He was becoming breathless around her; she was everything he wanted, and nothing would stop him now.

Hermione worked his shirt off his shoulders and let it drop to the ground. His toned body was idyllic to her—everything she never thought she wanted but was here, right in front of her, under her fingertips for her to enjoy. All of the perfect dips and curves of his arms—his abs were carved perfectly into his body as if Michelangelo himself had sculpted them. She wanted to kiss down his body and memorize every dip he contained.

"Draco—"

"Oi, love birds, when you're done having a romantic moment in front of the fireplace, we need you in here. Potter has sent a message." Draco was going to kill Theo.

"Shit, we should umm... yeah." Hermione was mortified; she knew she wanted this with Draco, but she also needed to remember that saving her friends needed to be done first.

All Draco knew was that this was not the last time he was going to get his witch, because she was his now. Whether she wanted to accept it or not, he would never let her go now.

Draco quickly grabbed his shirt from the floor, buttoning it with practiced efficiency while Hermione smoothed her hair and clothing. They exchanged a heated look that promised "later" before heading to where the others were gathered.

"This better be important, Theo," Draco growled as they entered the room.

Greg held up Hermione's galleon. "Message from Potter through the emergency channel. Dolohov's getting suspicious—he's moved up his timeline. He's planning to transfer them to Goyle Manor tonight instead of tomorrow."

"Shit." Hermione's mind was already racing. "That changes everything. We can't wait for moonrise."

Pansy leaned forward, her expression grim. "The ritual requires moonrise. There's no way around that."

"Then we need to stop the transfer," Blaise said, speaking up for the first time. "Intercept them when they move Potter and Weasley."

"No," Hermione shook her head. "That's exactly what Dolohov would expect. He's trying to flush us out, force us to act rashly." She turned to Draco. "What time is sunset?"

"About two hours from now. Why?"

A familiar glint appeared in Hermione's eyes—the one that had always meant trouble back at Hogwarts. "Because we're going to make Dolohov think his plan is working. We'll let him see exactly what he expects to see—us, making a desperate attempt to intercept the transfer."

"While the real team..." Draco's eyes lit up with understanding.

"Performs the ritual at moonrise and breaks into Selwyn Manor while he's distracted," Hermione finished. "We just need to make sure our distraction is convincing enough to keep him occupied."

His witch was brilliant, of course everyone already knew this but it always left him awestruck.

“Alright love, I'll send Tonks a patronus with the update. Have her send aurors to both Goyle and Selwyn Manor as a precaution.”

“Avengers Assemble!” The collective eye roll and groans from group could be heard from miles away.

“Honestly Theo we're back to that?” Hermione moved to pat his shoulder. “ Move on darling, it is not going to happen.”

The plan was set, they would meet at Selwyn Manor and send Aurors to patrol Goyle Manor in case they got out. Greg would set the Anti-apparition wards around Selwyn to deter Dolohov from taking her friends. This would end tonight. She was done playing with her prey.

Chapter Text

They apparated thirty minutes later, all in their combat utilitarian gear. Hermione stood next to Pansy surveying the area. Greg had already started throwing monitoring charms in the area, anti-apparition wards just in case and casting any other sensing charms to make sure they were not caught off guard.

"Charm is detecting three bodies inside, two towards the south west of the manor while the third is pacing on the north east wing. I'm guessing that's our favorite maniac." Greg was monitoring his casts in the most precise military manner. Hermione never understood how he was not working with them at the DMLE he was excellent at what he did.

"I'll send Harry an all-clear so they can be ready to move once we are in." Hermione was digging her galleon out of her fitted Auror uniform, all black like the others.

"Prongs' we are outside, stand by to haul ass when we get in. We have about 5 min to get in and out." She was hoping Ron would cooperate just this once so she could save his sodding life. She didn't think Susan would be too thrilled to find out her boyfriend had been taken, let alone that he couldn't keep his bloody mouth shut.

"Ready when you are Mione." Simple he knew we were here and that we were going to get them out.

"You know love, black really is your color." Draco was so close she could feel his soft lips on the shell of her ear. Her breath hitched just a bit at his proximity. Why did he have to do this to her right now.

"Draco-"

"What's wrong love, can't concentrate when I'm this close? Hmm" He placed the lightest kiss to the back of her ear knowing everyone else were busy doing their perimeter checks. That bastard.

Hermione tried to focus her thoughts back to the mission at hand, even as Draco's warmth lingered against her back. "We need to move. Greg, you're with me on point. Draco, Pansy—sweep and clear behind us. Remember, we're here for extraction only. No heroics."

A gentle breeze rustled through the dense foliage surrounding the manor, carrying with it the metallic tang of dark magic. The wards around the property crackled ominously, a testament to the paranoia of their target.

"Three minutes until we are able to tempt the wards," Pansy whispered, checking her enchanted timepiece. "They are set to reset every hour on the hour."

Hermione nodded, her fingers tightening around her wand. "That's our window. As soon as they start moving, we slip in through the servant's entrance. Blaise and Theo will create a diversion on the opposite side."

She could feel Draco's eyes on her, that protective gaze she'd grown so accustomed to over their years working together. But now wasn't the time for their usual dance of tension and affection. Ron's life hung in the balance, Harry needed to come out of this alive, and she wouldn't let personal matters cloud her judgment.

"Movement at the east gate," Greg's voice cut through her thoughts. His monitoring charm pulsed a soft blue, tracking the guards' movements with precision. "Two signatures moving away from the target area."

Hermione raised her eyes to Theo and Blaise. "Theo, you're up. Make it count."

Seconds later, a series of explosions rocked the far side of the manor. Brilliant flashes of red and gold lit up the night sky—classic Theodore Nott theatrics. She could almost hear Blaise's voice complaining about Theo's flair for the dramatic.

“Wards are down we move.” Pansy's voice wrung out.

"Now," Hermione commanded, already moving forward in a low crouch. The team fell into formation behind her, their footsteps silent thanks to countless cushioning charms. They had three minutes to get in, grab Harry and Ron, and get out before their target realized this was all a carefully orchestrated rescue mission.

As they approached the servant's entrance, Hermione caught Draco's eye. He gave her that familiar smirk—the one that promised they'd finish what he started earlier, once this was all over. She allowed herself a small smile in return before turning back to the task at hand.

"Alohomora maxima," she whispered, her wand movements precise and controlled. The door's locking mechanisms clicked open one by one, each sound making her heart beat faster. This was either going to be the smoothest extraction they'd ever pulled off, or everything was about to go spectacularly wrong.

With practiced precision, they slipped through the servant's entrance. The narrow corridor was dimly lit by ancient wall sconces, casting long shadows that worked to their advantage. Greg's monitoring charms pulsed steadily, guiding them towards their targets.

"South wing clear," Pansy whispered, her wand trailing blue detection spells along the walls. "But I'm picking up traces of blood magic. Recent too."

Hermione's jaw clenched. Blood magic meant torture, and knowing their captor's reputation, she didn't want to think about what Harry and Ron had endured. At least Harry had managed to keep his galleon hidden and functional - a trick they'd all learned after one too many capture scenarios in their line of work.

"Two signatures still in the basement level," Greg confirmed, his eyes focused on the magical readouts only he could interpret. "The third one's moved to the upper floor. Looks like our diversion worked."

Draco's hand brushed against Hermione's lower back as they approached the basement stairs. "I don't like this," he murmured. "It's too easy."

"When has anything involving Potter ever been easy?" Pansy retorted, but her voice held more concern than snark.

They descended the stairs in formation, years of training evident in their silent movements. The basement air was thick with the metallic smell of blood and the acidic residue of dark curses. Hermione's detection spells revealed a complex web of wards ahead - nasty ones designed to trigger flesh-eating curses.

"Cover me," she whispered, beginning the delicate process of ward breaking. This was her specialty, the reason she led these kinds of operations. Her wand moved in intricate patterns as she unraveled the magical threads one by one.

A sudden crash echoed from above, followed by enraged shouting. Their target had discovered the deception.

"Hurry," Draco urged, his back to her as he guarded their position.

"Almost... there." The last ward fell with a faint sizzle. "Greg, take point."

They rushed forward, finding themselves in a long chamber lined with cells. At the far end, illuminated by sickly green torchlight, they spotted two familiar figures.

Harry was propped against the cell wall, his glasses cracked and blood staining one side of his face. Ron lay beside him, unconscious but breathing. Both showed signs of the Cruciatus curse - their muscles spasming involuntarily.

"Took you long enough," Harry managed a weak grin as Hermione worked on the cell's locks. "Ron's been out for about an hour. Caught the worst of it trying to protect me."

"Typical Gryffindor heroics," Draco muttered, but his wand movements were gentle as he cast diagnostic charms over them both.

Footsteps thundered above them.

"Time to go," Pansy warned, her wand trained on the stairwell. "Company's coming."

"Can you walk?" Pansy's usual sharp tone softened as she reached for Harry, her fingers gently probing the wound on his temple. His hand caught hers briefly, squeezing in reassurance.

"I'll manage. Ron needs more help though." Harry struggled to his feet, leaning heavily against Pansy who wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him with practiced ease.

Draco and Greg had already conjured a magical stretcher for Ron, securing him with stabilizing charms. Hermione took point, her wand at the ready as they moved towards the exit. The shouting above had multiplied - clearly their target had called for backup.

"New plan," Hermione announced, her mind racing through scenarios. "Greg, you and I will clear the path. Draco, guard Ron. Pansy—"

"I've got Harry," Pansy finished, her grip on her boyfriend tightening protectively. The fierce look in her eyes dared anyone to suggest otherwise.

They made it halfway up the stairs when the first spell came crashing down. Hermione's shield charm deflected it, but the force still shook the stairwell.

"Well, well... if it isn't the Ministry's finest," a silky voice called from above. "Come to collect your precious golden boys?"

Greg's monitoring charm flared red. "Six hostiles, surrounding the exit."

"Seven," Harry corrected through gritted teeth. "She always keeps one disillusioned as backup."

Pansy's lips quirked in a grim smile. "Good to know that thick skull of yours is still working, Potter."

Another barrage of spells rained down, more violent than the first. Greg and Hermione worked in tandem, their shields interlocking to create a protective dome around the group.

"Draco," Hermione called out, maintaining her shield. "Remember Barcelona?"

A slow smirk spread across Draco's face. "Granger, I love how your mind works."

"Would you two save the flirting for when we're not about to die?" Pansy snapped, though there was no real heat in her words. She'd already started casting the necessary charms around Harry, who was looking paler by the minute.

"On my mark," Hermione instructed, reaching into her pocket with her free hand. "Three... two..."

The stairwell exploded into chaos.

A flash of peruvian darkness powder filled the stairwell, followed immediately by a cascade of decoy detonators - one of George's special batches that emitted not just noise but also false magical signatures. In the confusion, Hermione's modified Protego created a tunnel through the darkness, visible only to those wearing the enchanted contact lenses they'd all adopted after that mess in Barcelona.

"Move!" she commanded, already running up the stairs. Greg kept pace beside her, their spells working in perfect synchronization to clear a path through their attackers who were still firing blindly into the darkness.

"Potter, don't you dare pass out," Pansy's voice was tight with concern as she half-carried Harry through the tunnel of light. "I swear if you make me carry you completely-"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry managed, though his steps were becoming increasingly unsteady. "You'd never let me live it down."

Behind them, Draco guided Ron's stretcher with precise movements, deflecting the few spells that made it through their defenses. The darkness powder was starting to thin - they had maybe thirty seconds before visibility returned.

"Anti-apparition wards are still up," Greg reported, his monitoring charms pulsing urgently.

"Ten meters to the edge," Hermione called back. "Pansy, you take Harry and Ron first. Greg, cover their exit. Draco-"

A spell burst through their defenses, slamming into the wall beside them. Stone exploded outward, and Hermione felt Draco's hand grab her waist, pulling her out of the debris path.

"Focus on the path, love. I've got your back," he murmured, already deflecting another curse.

They burst out of the manor's entrance, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy darkness behind them. Greg's monitoring charms were screaming warnings - their pursuers had regained their bearings.

"Now, Pansy!" Hermione shouted.

Pansy didn't hesitate. With one fluid movement, she tightened her grip on Harry and grabbed the edge of Ron's stretcher. A crack of apparition, and they vanished.
"Greg, you're next. We'll be right behind-"

An inhuman shriek cut through the air. Their target had emerged from the manor, her face contorted with rage, wand already moving in a familiar, deadly arc.

"Avada-"

"Protego Maxima!" Draco and Hermione's shields merged just as the killing curse slammed into them, the force of it sending them stumbling backwards. Greg had already disappeared with a crack, following protocol.

A new voice joined the fray. "Need a hand?"

Blaise and Theo had arrived right on schedule, their backup plan in case anything went wrong. They emerged from disillusioned positions at opposite ends of the property, catching their opponents in a crossfire.

"Cutting it rather close," Draco shouted, maintaining his shield while Hermione switched to offensive spells.

The air crackled with magic as curses flew in every direction. Their target was advancing, her followers spreading out in a practiced formation. A sickly yellow curse broke through their defenses, catching Theo in the side. He collapsed with a strangled cry, blood blossoming across his shirt.

"Theo's down!" Blaise abandoned his position, racing toward his fallen friend. A cutting curse caught him across the shoulder as he moved, but he didn't slow.

"Cover them!" Hermione commanded, her wand moving in complex patterns as she cast a series of containment charms, trying to buy them time.

Draco sprinted toward Theo and Blaise, deflecting curses as he ran. "Granger, we need to move! The wards are about to—"

An explosion rocked the ground beneath them. Their target had triggered the manor's ultimate defense system - the entire property was about to collapse in on itself.
"Blaise, take Theo and go!" Hermione ordered, backing toward Draco. "We'll be right behind you!"

Blaise didn't argue, gripping Theo's unconscious form tightly as they disapparated. Blood was still seeping from Theo's wound, his face ashen in the darkness.

"Just like old times, eh love?" Draco grabbed Hermione's hand as the ground began to splinter beneath their feet. Their target's maniacal laughter echoed across the crumbling property.

"Less talking, more running!" Hermione yanked him forward as a section of the manor's wall came crashing down behind them. They sprinted toward the ward line, spells still flying past them.

Just as they reached the edge of the anti-apparition wards, a curse caught Draco in the leg. He stumbled, nearly pulling them both down. Hermione's grip on his hand tightened painfully.

"Hold on!" She spun them into apparition just as another killing curse sailed through the space they'd occupied.

They crashed onto the floor of St. Mungo's secure wing, Draco's leg immediately giving out beneath him. The sterile white walls were a stark contrast to the chaos they'd just left behind.

"I need a healer here!" Hermione's voice rang out, though she hardly needed to shout. The emergency response team was already rushing toward them, having been alerted when Pansy arrived with Harry and Ron.

"Report," Harry commanded from his bed nearby, despite Pansy's attempts to make him lie still. His face was still pale, but the bleeding had stopped.

"Manor's gone," Draco managed through gritted teeth as a healer began examining his leg. "Complete collapse. But he got away."

"Theo?" Hermione asked, turning to where Blaise sat beside another bed, his own shoulder now bandaged.

"Critical but stable," Blaise answered, his usual smooth voice rough with concern. "Curse caught him deep - they're working on identifying it now. Where's Greg?"

As if on cue, Greg strode through the doors, his military precision evident even in his walk. "Perimeter's secure. I've got five Auror teams sweeping the area around the collapsed manor, but I doubt they'll find anything. He never stays in one place long."

"Mr. Malfoy, hold still," the healer instructed, waving her wand over his leg. "The curse is still active. We need to contain it before it spreads."

Hermione moved to Draco's side, her fingers intertwining with his. He squeezed her hand as the healer worked, his jaw clenched against the pain.

"Susan's on her way," Pansy informed them, still hovering protectively near Harry's bed. "She's going to kill you, Weasley, once she's done making sure you're alive."

Ron, who had finally regained consciousness, managed a weak groan. "Bloody hell. Can't you just tell her I'm still unconscious?"

"Not a chance," Harry chuckled, then winced at the movement. Pansy immediately adjusted his pillows, muttering about reckless Gryffindors.

The healer working on Draco's leg finally straightened up. "The curse is contained, but you'll need to stay off this leg for at least 48 hours while the counter-curse takes effect. No apparating, no spell work, and absolutely no field work."

"Perfect," Draco drawled, though his grip on Hermione's hand remained tight. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to play nurse, Granger?"

"In your dreams, Malfoy," Hermione replied, though she didn't move from his side. "Someone has to file the incident reports, and since you've managed to get yourself confined to bed rest..."

"Speaking of reports," Harry interjected, fighting against Pansy's attempts to make him drink a blood replenishing potion. "We need to talk about what we found before they grabbed us."

"After you drink this, Potter," Pansy insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I didn't drag your heroic arse out of there just to watch you collapse from blood loss."

A commotion at the door drew their attention as Susan Bones burst in, her Healer robes billowing behind her. "Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Her face was a mixture of relief and fury as she rushed to his bedside.

"Hey, love," Ron attempted a weak smile. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Don't you 'hey love' me! Do you have any idea—" She stopped, taking a deep breath and switching to her professional healer mode as she began running diagnostic spells. "Multiple exposure to Cruciatus, severe magical exhaustion, three broken ribs..."

"Susie..." Ron caught her trembling hand in his.

"You promised me you'd be careful," she whispered, her professional demeanor cracking slightly.

Meanwhile, Theo was starting to stir, drawing Blaise's immediate attention. The healers had managed to identify and counter the curse, but he'd lost a significant amount of blood.

"What hit me?" Theo groaned, trying to sit up.

"Stay down, you idiot," Blaise pushed him back gently. "It was a modified cutting curse. Nasty piece of work. You're going to have a lovely scar to add to your collection."

Draco shifted on his bed, trying to find a comfortable position for his cursed leg. "Potter, what did you and Weasley find that was worth this much trouble?"

Harry exchanged a significant look with Ron, then glanced at the door. Hermione caught his meaning immediately.

"Greg?"

He nodded, casting privacy wards around their section of the ward. "Clear."

"Right," Harry sat up straighter, ignoring Pansy's disapproving look. "We found their supply chain. The potions they've been trafficking - they're not just making them. They're altering them at a molecular level."

"Bloody brilliant, really," Ron added, wincing as Susan prodded his ribs. "Sorry, love - but it is. They're taking standard healing potions and tweaking them into something entirely different. That's why we couldn't trace them before - they're registered as legitimate healing potions until the very last stage."

Hermione's mind was already racing. "That's how they've been getting past the import regulations. The detection spells only look for known illegal substances."

"Exactly," Harry nodded. "But here's where it gets worse. The modifications they're making? They're using blood magic to stabilize the changes. And not just any blood-"

"Children's blood," Draco finished grimly, his face darkening. "That's why the trafficking cases and the potions cases overlapped."

A heavy silence fell over the group. Theo was the first to break it.

"We found something similar in Prague last month," he said, his voice still rough from the curse damage. "But we thought it was isolated. Just another sick experiment."

"It's bigger than that," Harry continued. "Much bigger. We found documentation - shipping manifests, buyer lists, formulae. The operation spans at least twelve countries. And the woman who had us? She's not the one in charge. She's just a lieutenant."

"Bloody hell," Blaise muttered. "How deep does this go?"

Hermione squeezed Draco's hand, her other hand already reaching for her enchanted notebook. "Did you see any names? Locations?"

"Better," Ron managed a small grin despite Susan's continued fussing. "We managed to grab some of their ledgers before they caught us. Shrunk them down - they're in my boot."

Greg moved to retrieve the evidence while Hermione was already forming plans.

"We'll need a secure location to analyze these," she started. "Someone needs to contact the ICW, but carefully - we don't know who's compromised. And we need-"

"What you need," Susan interrupted firmly, "is rest. All of you. These ledgers won't disappear overnight, but your healing progress might if you don't properly recover."

"She's right," Pansy backed her up, placing a restraining hand on Harry's shoulder. "We've got enough to start with. Let's take twenty-four hours to heal up before we dive into an international trafficking ring."

Speaking of rest," Blaise glanced at his watch, "Padma's shift starts in ten minutes. She's going to hex me into next week when she finds out what happened."

As if summoned by his words, Padma Patil strode into the ward, her healer robes matching Susan's. She took one look at the gathered group and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I had plans tonight, Zabini," she said, making her way to his side to examine his shoulder. "Nice, romantic dinner plans. Instead, I get to patch up my boyfriend and his reckless friends. Again."

"To be fair, love," Blaise caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, "I was only reckless because Theo was being more reckless."

"Don't drag me into this," Theo protested weakly. "I'm injured enough already."

"Yes, you are," Padma's diagnostic spells washed over both men. "And where is Ginny? Has anyone-"

The doors burst open again, revealing a furious Ginny Weasley, still in her Holyhead Harpies practice gear. "What is it with you lot and getting cursed? I was in the middle of practice!" Despite her words, she rushed to Theo's bedside, her hand immediately finding his.

"Missed you too, Red," Theo managed a smile, though it turned into a grimace as she gently touched his bandaged side.

"Don't you 'Red' me, Theodore Nott," Ginny warned, but her eyes were soft with concern. "Padma, how bad is it?"

"He'll live," Padma replied, moving between patients. "Though all of them will be out of commission for at least a few days. The curses need time to fully dissipate."

"Perfect timing, actually," Harry spoke up, earning curious looks from everyone. "Those ledgers we found? They're coded. And who do we know that's brilliant at breaking codes?"

"No," both Padma and Ginny said simultaneously.

"You are not turning our forced recovery time into a covert operation," Padma continued, crossing her arms.

"Although..." Ginny bit her lip thoughtfully. "My flat is the most heavily warded after Harry's and Draco's. And I do have that large study room..."

"Ginevra Weasley!" Ron looked scandalized. "You're supposed to be the responsible one!"

"Says the man who got himself kidnapped and tortured," Susan muttered, still working on his ribs.

"It could work," Hermione said slowly, her mind already mapping out possibilities. "We need somewhere secure to analyze the evidence anyway. Somewhere they wouldn't expect..."

"I can't believe I'm even considering this," Padma sighed, exchanging a resigned look with Susan. "But if you're all going to work on this whether we approve or not, at least at Ginny's we can monitor your recovery properly."

"And by monitor, she means make sure none of you idiots try to go back into the field before you're healed," Ginny added, her fingers still intertwined with Theo's.

"We'll need to set up proper security protocols," Greg interjected, ever practical. "If these ledgers are as valuable as Potter says, they'll be looking for them."

Draco shifted on his bed, wincing slightly. "I can have my house elves transfer the necessary equipment from the Manor. Books, code-breaking tools, secure communication devices."

"And I'll bring my research materials," Hermione added. "The molecular transformation of potions isn't entirely unlike some of the work I did in the Department of Mysteries."

"Hold on," Pansy raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that classified?"

"Technically," Harry grinned, "this entire operation is now classified under Special Operations Protocol 7. Which means..."

"Which means we have clearance to use whatever resources necessary," Hermione finished. "Including classified research."

"Brilliant," Ron managed to sit up slightly, despite Susan's protests. "But what about the Harpies? Won't they notice if their star Chaser suddenly stops showing up to practice?"

Ginny's eyes glinted mischievously. "Already handled. I've got two weeks of approved leave. Told them I was treating my boyfriend to a private holiday after his latest 'business trip' went wrong."

"Not entirely a lie," Theo smirked, then groaned as the movement pulled at his wound.

"Right then," Padma took charge, her healer training kicking in. "Here's how this is going to work. You're all staying here tonight for observation. Tomorrow, assuming no complications, we'll move you to Ginny's. But I want magical oaths from each of you that you'll follow healing protocols."

"And no field work," Susan added firmly, looking pointedly at Ron.

"What about the woman who tortured us?" Harry asked, his face darkening. "She's still out there."

"Let the Auror teams handle the search," Hermione insisted. "These ledgers might lead us to something bigger than just one lieutenant."

As the group discussed logistics, the ward doors opened once more to reveal a striking woman with olive skin and dark curly hair. Isabella Goyle swept into the room with the grace of her Spanish aristocratic upbringing, though her usual composure cracked slightly at seeing them all in hospital beds.

"Mi amor," she made her way directly to Greg, switching rapidly between English and Spanish as she often did when worried. "I was in a meeting with the Spanish Embassy when I got your message. ¿Estás bien? Are you hurt?"

Greg's usually stoic expression softened as he drew her close. "I'm fine, Bella. I wasn't injured. Just making sure everyone else got patched up."

"Ah, sí, your friends who cannot stay out of trouble," she turned to survey the others, hands on her hips. "¿Qué pasó esta vez? What happened this time?"

"The usual," Draco drawled from his bed. "Secret missions, dark wizards, heroic rescues."

"And my husband, as always, keeping you all from getting killed, ¿verdad?" Isabella's tone was light, but there was an edge of genuine concern beneath it.

"He was brilliant," Hermione assured her. "His monitoring charms saved us more than once tonight."

Isabella nodded, then turned back to Greg. "And now you are planning something else dangerous, no? I can see it in your faces."

"Actually," Padma interjected, "we're moving them all to Ginny's flat tomorrow for recovery and... research."

"Research?" Isabella raised an elegant eyebrow. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"You could help," Greg suggested carefully. "Your expertise in international magical law and diplomacy could be useful, especially with the ICW connections."

Isabella studied him for a moment, then sighed. "You know I cannot say no when you ask for help, mi amor. Besides, someone needs to help keep you all alive." She turned to Ginny. "Your flat has a proper kitchen, yes? These English healers," she shot an apologetic look at Susan and Padma, "they mean well, but proper healing requires proper Spanish food."

"Oh thank Merlin," Blaise groaned. "Real food."

"Oi!" Susan protested, but she was smiling. "Hospital food isn't that bad."

"The kitchen's all yours, Isabella," Ginny grinned. "Though you might have to fight my mum for it when she inevitably shows up to fuss over everyone."

"Ah, Molly," Isabella's eyes lit up. "Perfect! Between the two of us, we will have you all healthy in no time."

The next morning found them all settling into Ginny's magically expanded flat. Isabella and Molly had indeed taken over the kitchen, the aroma of Spanish paella mixing with traditional English comfort foods. The combination somehow worked, much like the unlikely group gathered around Ginny's dining room table turned command center.

"Right," Hermione spread out the recovered ledgers, her quick-quotes quill hovering ready. "These are encoded using at least three different systems. The shipping manifests use numerological substitutions, but the buyer lists seem to be using something else entirely."

Draco leaned forward in his chair, his injured leg propped up carefully. "Some of these symbols look like ancient runes, but they're... off somehow. Modified."

"They're using a bastardized version of Celtic runes," Theo observed from his position on the enchanted recliner that Ginny had insisted he use. "Look at the base formations - they're similar to what we found in that trafficking case in Dublin."

Harry, who was supposed to be resting on the couch but had insisted on joining them at the table (much to Pansy's annoyance), pointed to a recurring symbol. "This keeps showing up next to what look like dates. Could it be indicating delivery points?"

"Greg," Hermione called out, "can you cross-reference these dates with your monitoring data from the past six months? See if there's any pattern in magical surge activities?"

Greg was already setting up his specialized monitoring equipment, Isabella helping him organize the complex array of magical sensors. "On it. Though some of these dates correspond with diplomatic functions. That can't be a coincidence."

"It's not," Ron spoke up from his own cushioned chair, Susan hovering nearby with healing potions. "Harry and I overheard them talking about using diplomatic pouches to transport something. They're exploiting international magical cooperation treaties."

Padma, who had taken a break from her shift to join them, leaned over Blaise's shoulder to examine a particularly complex section of code. "These ingredient lists... some of these combinations shouldn't be possible without severe adverse reactions. Unless..."

"Unless they're using the blood magic as a stabilizing agent," Hermione finished grimly. "The question is, why children's blood specifically? There must be a magical property they're exploiting."

"I might have an idea about that," Ginny said, entering from the kitchen with a tray of healing teas Isabella had insisted they all drink. "In professional Quidditch, we sometimes see cases of spontaneous magic from younger fans - their magic is more... adaptable, less set in its ways. Could they be using that property?"

A heavy silence fell over the room as the implications sank in.

"Adaptable magic," Draco muttered, his face darkening. "Bloody hell, that's why the modifications are holding. They're using children's inherent magical flexibility to stabilize otherwise impossible potions combinations."

"Look at this," Isabella moved closer to the table, pointing to a section of diplomatic correspondence she'd been translating. "These shipment routes - they all pass through countries with recent changes in magical trade laws."

"Changes that were lobbied for by certain members of the ICW," Greg added, his monitoring equipment pulsing with new data. "Members who've been unusually vocal about reducing trade restrictions."

Hermione's quill was flying across parchment as she connected the dots. "They're not just exploiting the system, they're actively changing it. Creating legal loopholes for their operation."

"Here," Theo called out suddenly, wincing as he sat up straighter. Ginny immediately moved to adjust his position. "These numbers in the margin - they're not dates. They're vault numbers. Gringotts vault numbers."

"How can you be sure?" Blaise asked, moving closer to examine the ledger.

"Because," Theo's voice was grim, "I recognize the sequence. It's similar to old Death Eater financial records. My father..." he trailed off, but everyone understood.

"I can check those vault numbers," Bill Weasley's voice came from the fireplace, where his head had just appeared in the flames. "Sorry to interrupt - Mum told me where to find you all. Ginny, mind if I come through?"

At Ginny's nod, Bill stepped through the fireplace, brushing ash from his Gringotts uniform. "The goblins have noticed some unusual transactions lately. Large withdrawals followed by deposits of exactly the same amount in different vaults. Money laundering, but with a twist - the magical signatures of the galleons change during the transfer."

"They're using the same principle as the potions," Padma realized. "Modifying something at its core while maintaining its surface appearance."

"But that kind of magic..." Harry started.

"Would require an enormous amount of power," Hermione finished. "Unless..."

"Unless they're using children's magic as a catalyst," Draco concluded, looking sick. "They're not just trafficking children for their blood. They're harvesting their entire magical cores."

"We need to bring this to Tonks," Harry said firmly, already reaching for the secure communication mirror in his pocket. Pansy tried to snatch it away but he dodged her grasp, wincing at the movement.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, let someone else call her," Pansy scolded, though she was already accepting the mirror from his shaking hand.

The mirror's surface rippled before revealing Tonks's heart-shaped face, her hair a serious shade of dark blue - her 'Head Auror' color, as the department had come to know it.

"Wotcher," she greeted, then frowned as she took in the group of injured agents. "Bloody hell, you lot look terrible. Report."

"We've uncovered something big, Tonks," Hermione spoke up, moving into view of the mirror. "Bigger than we initially thought. We need secure clearance for multiple departments - Gringotts, International Cooperation, and the Department of Mysteries."

"Shit, that bad?" Tonks's hair shifted slightly darker. "Give me the overview."

As they outlined their discoveries, Tonks's expression grew increasingly grave. Bill jumped in with the Gringotts angle while Isabella provided context about the diplomatic implications.

"Right then," Tonks said finally. "I'm implementing Protocol Black. No one outside this group discusses this with anyone - not even other Aurors. I'll handle the department clearances personally." She paused, then added, "Remus is already arranging emergency portkeys for your families, just in case. These people won't be happy when they realize what you've found."

"Dora," Harry started, using her preferred name, "we need to move fast on this. The children-"

"I know, Harry," she cut him off gently. "But we move smart, not just fast. I want all of you to heal up first - yes, that's an order. Use the time to crack those codes. I'll have Kingsley's crypto team standing by to assist, but they'll work remotely. The fewer people who know where you are, the better."

"What about the woman who had us?" Ron asked, his arm wrapped protectively around his still-tender ribs.

"We've got teams tracking her, but she's gone deep underground. The manor collapse destroyed most of the evidence, but we did find something interesting in the ruins - a signet ring. Ancient family, supposedly died out during Grindelwald's war. I'm having the genealogy records pulled now."

Chapter Text

The next morning found the team spread across Ginny's living room, surrounded by papers, books, and half-empty cups of Isabella's restorative tea. Draco watched Hermione from his position on the couch, admiring the way she bit her lower lip in concentration as she worked through another section of code.

She was wearing one of his oxford shirts she'd stolen months ago, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hair piled messily on top of her head with her wand stuck through it. Even sleep-deprived and frustrated with the complex codes, she was bloody gorgeous.

"Stop staring at me, Malfoy," she muttered without looking up, though a slight blush colored her cheeks.

"Can't help it, Granger. You're wearing my shirt." He smirked as her blush deepened. "Though I prefer how it looks on my bedroom floor."

"If you two could keep it in your pants for five minutes," Theo groaned from his chair, "some of us are trying to work."

"Speak for yourself," Ginny winked, perched on the arm of Theo's chair. "I find their unresolved sexual tension entertaining."

"Hardly unresolved," Draco drawled, his eyes still fixed on Hermione. She finally looked up, meeting his heated gaze with one of her own.

"Children's magical cores now, flirting later," Harry called out from where he and Pansy were mapping financial transactions. Though his stern tone was somewhat undermined by the way Pansy was practically in his lap.

"The genealogy reports Tonks sent over just arrived," Greg announced, walking in with Isabella. Both were carrying fresh tea and what smelled like chorizo and eggs. "The signet ring belonged to the Báthory family."

Hermione's head snapped up, all flirtation forgotten. "Báthory? As in Elizabeth Báthory?"

"The Blood Countess," Draco's voice had lost all playfulness. "Well, that's appropriately horrifying."

"Who?" Ron asked through a mouthful of breakfast that Susan had just handed him.

"Hungarian-Slovak nobility," Hermione explained, already reaching for reference books. "Elizabeth Báthory was infamous in the late 16th century for allegedly murdering hundreds of young girls. She supposedly bathed in their blood to maintain her youth."

"Pleasant breakfast conversation," Blaise muttered as Padma handed him a plate.

"But here's the thing," Hermione continued, now fully in research mode as she paced. Draco watched her movement, torn between concern for her still-recovering energy levels and appreciation for the way his shirt rode up slightly as she reached for another book. "Muggle history recorded her as a serial killer, but in magical records..."

"She was experimenting with blood magic," Draco finished. "My father's library had several references to her work. She was trying to create permanent magical enhancement through blood absorption."

The Báthory research was supposedly destroyed," Hermione continued pacing, absentmindedly brushing past Draco's good leg. He caught her wrist gently, tugging her down beside him.

"You're going to wear yourself out, love," he murmured against her ear, smirking at the slight shiver she couldn't suppress. "Sit. Think."

"He's right," Padma spoke up from where she was checking Blaise's shoulder wound. "All of you need to pace yourselves. These healing potions won't work properly if you're overtaxing your magic."

Hermione settled against Draco's side, though her mind was clearly still racing. "The Báthory connection explains the blood magic, but not the financial network. It's too sophisticated, too modern."

"Unless," Greg looked up from his monitoring equipment, "they're just using the old research as a foundation. Isabella, those diplomatic functions you mentioned - when did they start increasing?"

Isabella flipped through her notes. "About eighteen months ago. Around the same time the ICW started pushing for trade reform."

"Here's something," Harry called out, shifting papers carefully to avoid jostling his injuries. Pansy reached over to steady them. "The vault transfers Bill mentioned? They all route through a series of shells before ending up in accounts held by companies registered in... Hungary."

"Bloody hell," Ron straightened up, wincing slightly. "It's all connected."

"But who's running it?" Theo asked, accepting a pain potion from Ginny. "The woman who had us clearly answers to someone higher up."

"Someone with access to both old blood magic knowledge and modern financial systems," Draco mused, his hand absently tracing patterns on Hermione's lower back. "Someone who could move in both ancient pureblood circles and modern diplomatic ones."

"Check the ICW membership records," Hermione suggested, trying to ignore the distracting way Draco's fingers were moving. "Cross-reference with old European magical families."

As Greg and Isabella began pulling up the records, a silver lynx Patronus bounded through the wall. Kingsley's deep voice filled the room:

"Tonks has been attacked. She's secure at St. Mungo's. They knew we were close. Watch your backs."

"We need to move," Harry was already trying to stand, but Pansy forcefully pushed him back down.

"You're not going anywhere, Potter," she snapped, though fear tinged her voice. "Not in your condition."

"I'll go," Greg stood, Isabella immediately rising with him. "We need eyes at St. Mungo's anyway. My monitoring charms can track any suspicious magical signatures around her room."

"Take the secure mirror," Hermione tossed it to him, still pressed against Draco's side. "And Greg - be careful."

After they left, a tense silence fell over the room. Draco's hand had stilled on Hermione's back, now holding her protectively closer.

"They're trying to scare us off," Blaise observed, his good arm wrapped around Padma's waist as she stood beside his chair.

"Or draw us out," Draco added grimly. "They know we're injured, probably hoping we'll make mistakes."

"Speaking of injuries," Padma straightened into full healer mode. "Everyone's due for another round of potions. No arguments."

As Susan helped her distribute the medications, Hermione shifted to face Draco, their faces inches apart. "We need to crack these codes faster. Every day we spend decoding is another day they're hurting children."

"I know, love," he brushed a loose curl from her face, his touch lingering. "But getting ourselves killed won't help anyone."

"Hermione," Harry called out suddenly, interrupting their moment. "The Báthory research - wasn't there something about that in the Department of Mysteries? In the Blood Magic archives?"

"Yes, but..." her eyes widened. "Oh! The preservation spells! They weren't just preserving blood, they were preserving its magical properties!"

She jumped up, excitement overriding her exhaustion. Draco caught her hand before she could start pacing again, pulling her back down beside him.

"Explain, Granger," he said, his thumb absently stroking her palm. "Preferably while sitting still and not aggravating your injuries."

"The preservation spells were revolutionary for their time," Hermione explained, unconsciously leaning into Draco's touch. "They didn't just prevent decay - they maintained the blood's magical properties indefinitely. But they required constant renewal unless..."

"Unless they were anchored to something," Theo finished, sitting up straighter despite Ginny's protests. "Something with inherent magical properties of its own."

"Like Gringotts vaults," Bill added, emerging from the Floo. "Sorry, came as soon as I could. The goblins found something. Those vault transfers we tracked? They're all happening in vaults with goblin-forged artifacts inside."

"Merlin's balls," Ron breathed, earning a light smack from Susan. "They're using the artifacts as anchor points for the preservation spells!"

Draco's hand tightened around Hermione's. "And goblin-forged metal absorbs that which makes it stronger..."

"Including blood magic," Hermione finished, turning to face him fully. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling. "Draco, if they're using the artifacts as anchors..."

"Then the vaults themselves become repositories of magical power," he completed her thought, gray eyes darkening with both concern and something else entirely.

"If you two could stop finishing each other's sentences and looking like you're about to snog," Pansy interrupted dryly, "We might want to focus on the fact that someone's turning Gringotts into a massive blood magic battery."

"And they just tried to take out the Head Auror," Harry added grimly, his hand finding Pansy's. "They're escalating."

A massive werewolf Patronus bounded through the wall - Tonks's voice emerged, though weaker than usual: "I'm fine. Lost some blood, gained some interesting intel. The attacker was speaking Hungarian. And wearing a very particular ring..."

The mirror in Hermione's pocket heated up - Greg's signal. She pulled it out just as Draco shifted forward, his chest pressing against her back as he looked over her shoulder.

"You need to see this," Greg's face appeared in the mirror. "We found something in Tonks's attacker's belongings. It's... well, you should probably come to St. Mungo's. The secure ward."

"Absolutely not," Padma declared, stepping forward. "None of you are in any condition to-"

"We'll go," Blaise stood carefully, his shoulder wound the least severe of the injuries. "Padma and I can check it out. Hermione, give me that code breaking sequence you've been working on - I'll see if anything there matches what Greg's found."

"I'll come too," Bill offered. "If there's any connection to the Gringotts angle, I need to see it."

"Fine," Hermione reluctantly agreed, though she didn't move from her position against Draco. "But take this too." She pulled a small purple beaded bag from her pocket. "It's got everything we might need if we have to move locations quickly."

As Blaise, Padma, and Bill prepared to leave, Isabella's lynx Patronus burst into the room: "More diplomatic meetings being called. Emergency session of the ICW. Something's happening."

"They're making their move," Harry said, frustration evident in his voice. "And we're all stuck here injured."

"Not all of us," Ginny stood, her expression determined. "I'm supposed to be at a Harpies publicity event today. Perfect cover to do some digging at the Ministry."

"Absolutely not," Theo tried to sit up but grimaced in pain. "Red, it's too dangerous."

"Which is exactly why I'm perfect for it," she bent to kiss him quickly. "No one suspects the Quidditch player of espionage. Besides, I'll have Luna with me - she's covering the event for the Prophet."

"Speaking of cover," Draco murmured against Hermione's ear, making her shiver slightly, "we should get those Department of Mysteries files you mentioned. And I know for a fact you have access to your office through that private Floo connection..."

"Draco Malfoy, if you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting-" Hermione turned to face him, their noses almost touching.

"That we should take advantage of everyone being distracted to sneak into your office and grab vital research materials?" His smirk was infuriating. "Obviously. What did you think I was suggesting, Granger?"

The heat in his eyes suggested something entirely different.

Separate rooms, you two," Susan called out as Draco and Hermione moved toward the Floo. "Those injuries still need at least 24 hours to heal properly."

"We're just getting files," Hermione insisted, though her flushed cheeks suggested she'd been thinking of other possibilities.

"Right," Ron snorted. "Because that's exactly what happened last time you two were alone in your office."

"That was one time, Weasley," Draco drawled, though his hand had slipped possessively to Hermione's hip.

"One time that resulted in a broken desk and a very awkward explanation to the Department of Mysteries about equipment damage," Harry reminded them, earning a glare from Hermione.

"If we could focus," Pansy interrupted, though she was smirking. "Blaise, Padma, and Bill are heading to St. Mungo's. Ginny's going to the Ministry with Luna. You two are getting the files - JUST the files," she emphasized. "The rest of us will continue working on these codes and waiting for Isabella's update on the ICW meeting."

Just then, Greg's voice came through the mirror again: "You lot need to see this now. Bring Hermione and Draco. The files can wait."

Something in his tone made them all tense.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, already reaching for her cloak.

"They found another ring. And a letter. It's... it's addressed to Draco."

The room fell silent. Draco's grip on Hermione tightened almost painfully.

"From who?" he asked, though his pale face suggested he already knew.

"Your grandmother. Druella Black."

That was absolutely not who Draco thought it was. Druella Black had been dead for years; Mother had mourned her death for so long that he couldn't forget that detail.

"Alright, we're on our way." Hermione intertwined her fingers with Draco's and squeezed to show her support and perhaps impart some of her strength to him.

Arriving at St. Mungo's, the group kept their eyes open for any potential threats. They were obviously a target now, and they needed to make sure to survive all of this.

"There you are. Come this way—Tonks is down this hall." Greg looked a bit frantic, not his normal demeanor, which put Hermione on edge. He was nothing if not always in control.

"What is it, Greg? What did you find out?" This time Draco was the one to comfort her; he could feel the tension radiating throughout her body.

"Wotcher gang, fancy seeing you all here." Remus was sitting by Tonks's bed, holding her hand with concern on his face.

"She's on some strong pain potions. They... well, they have a similar effect to several fire whiskeys." Remus looked down at Tonks with such adoration Hermione felt she needed to look away as to not intrude on a private moment.

"How are you feeling, Tonks?" Hermione smiled over to Tonks.

"Brilliant! Although there are currently hippogriffs flying around the room. Is anyone going to take care of that?" Yes, she was out of it. Hermione was absolutely sure she needed to find out what Tonks was on.

"Well, on that note, we should set up over here and talk." Greg led them towards the enlarged loveseat he'd transfigured in the corner of the room.

"Right then," Greg pulled out a sealed envelope, its edges charred but the wax seal still intact. The Black family crest was clearly visible in the dark green wax. "This was found on Tonks's attacker. Along with this."

He produced a ring that made Draco's breath catch. The silver serpent design was unmistakable, its emerald eyes glinting in the hospital lighting.

"That's impossible," Draco's voice was barely above a whisper. "That ring was buried with her. I was there."

"Apparently not," Greg replied grimly. "The goblins confirmed it's authentic. And the letter..." he handed it to Draco carefully. "It's definitely her magical signature."

Hermione pressed closer to Draco's side as he broke the seal with slightly trembling fingers. His grandmother's elegant script flowed across the parchment:
"My dearest grandson,

If you're reading this, then the plans I set in motion long ago are finally coming to fruition. The Báthory research was merely the beginning. What we discovered... it changes everything. The power to reshape magic itself. Your mother never understood the significance of our work. She was too weak, too concerned with protecting you from our family's true legacy. But you, Draco... you have always been worthy of the Black inheritance. The children are necessary sacrifices for a greater purpose. Their magic, their blood - it's all part of a transformation that began centuries ago. The ICW, the Ministry, they're all just pieces in a game they don't even know they're playing. Find me where it all began. Where the first blood was spilled in the name of power. Your loving grandmother, Druella Black"

"It's dated last week," Hermione noted softly, her hand tightening around Draco's.

"No," he shook his head, his face a mask of controlled fury. "This is some sick game. She's dead. This isn't possible."

"Unless," Tonks called from her bed, suddenly sounding more lucid, "she never died at all."

"What do you mean 'never died at all'?" Draco turned towards his cousin, his voice sharp. Hermione's thumb traced soothing circles on his hand.

"Think about it," Tonks said, pushing herself up slightly as Remus adjusted her pillows. "When was the last time anyone actually saw her body? The funeral was closed casket. Narcissa handled all the arrangements..."

"Because Mother was devastated," Draco interrupted, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Or because she was protecting you," Greg suggested quietly. "Isabella's been going through old diplomatic records. There were a series of private meetings between certain ICW members and a representative from an old Hungarian family about twenty years ago. Right around the time Druella supposedly died."

"The timing fits," Hermione mused. "If she was already working with the Báthory research, already making connections..."

"No," Draco pulled away from her, starting to pace despite his injured leg. "You don't understand. She wouldn't... she couldn't have..."

"Used children for blood magic experiments?" Tonks asked gently. "Draco, this is the woman who cursed her own house-elf to test magical absorption theories. Who used to practice memory charms on Muggle children for fun."

Hermione watched as Draco's face went through a series of emotions before settling into a cold mask she hadn't seen since their early days working together.

"Where it all began," he quoted from the letter. "The first blood spilled..." His eyes widened. "The Báthory castle. The original one, in Slovakia. That's where Elizabeth performed her first experiments."

"We need to-" Hermione started, but was cut off by multiple monitoring charms suddenly flaring to life.

"Movement in the hospital," Greg announced, his wand already drawn. "Multiple signatures converging on this floor."

"They followed us," Hermione realized, drawing her own wand despite the protest of her healing injuries.

"No," Draco's voice was ice cold. "They were waiting for us. This was a trap."

Remus immediately moved to shield Tonks, while Greg's monitoring charms pulsed faster. The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

"Three from the east wing, two more coming up the emergency stairs," Greg reported, his wand movements precise despite the tension. "All using magical signature dampeners."

"Hermione," Draco's voice was tight as he moved in front of her. "That emergency portkey you always carry..."

"We are not leaving you," she hissed, stepping beside him instead of behind him. "Don't even think about it."

The lights in the corridor flickered ominously. A cold feeling began creeping through the room - the kind of chill that reminded Hermione far too much of dark magic.

"Tonks needs to get out," Remus said firmly, already reaching for what looked like a spare button on his coat. "Emergency portkey to the safe house."

"Wait," Tonks grabbed his arm, fighting through the potion-induced haze. "The ring - they can't get the ring."

Draco snatched the ring from where it lay on the side table, shoving it into his pocket just as the first spell hit the door.

"Protego Maxima!" Hermione and Draco cast in unison, their shields merging into a powerful barrier.

"Go!" Greg shouted to Remus, who activated the portkey, disappearing with Tonks in a swirl of magic.

The door burst open in a shower of splinters. Dark-robed figures poured in, their faces obscured by shimmering magical masks. But it was their leader who made Draco's breath catch - a tall, elegant woman with streaks of silver in her dark hair, wearing a familiar emerald brooch.

"Hello, darling," Druella Black smiled, looking exactly as she had the day of her supposed funeral. "Grandmother's missed you."

Chapter Text

You're not my grandmother," Draco snarled, shifting slightly to better cover Hermione's left side - her still-healing injury making her movements slower than usual.

"No?" Druella's smile turned cruel. "Tell me then, darling, do you remember that little chat we had the night before your first year at Hogwarts? About the secret compartment in the library and the books your father wasn't to know about?"

Draco's face paled slightly, but his wand remained steady. Hermione could feel the magic building around him, cold and dangerous.

"The children," she spoke up, her own wand trained on Druella. "How many have you killed for your experiments?"

"Killed?" Druella laughed, the sound eerily musical. "My dear girl, death would be wasteful. They're all still very much alive - their magic is more powerful that way. Though I doubt they'd call it living."

Greg had positioned himself near the window, his monitoring charms now focused on the streets below. "More coming in through the main entrance. Hospital's being evacuated."

"We really must discuss your choice in companions, Draco," Druella sighed, gesturing dismissively at Greg. "Though I suppose Miss Granger here is a step up from that dreadful Parkinson girl. At least she has power, even if it is... borrowed."

"Enough," Draco's voice was deadly quiet. "You died. Mother mourned you. Whatever you are now - whatever you've become - it ends here."

"Oh, my sweet boy," Druella raised her wand, "it's only just beginning. Crucio!"

The spell shot forward just as Hermione yanked Draco sideways, her shield charm deflecting the curse into one of Druella's own men. The room erupted into chaos.

"Greg go! We are right behind you!"

Hermione was going to get Draco out of there. She was not losing anyone today—especially not him. Not after everything they'd been through to get to this point. Months of secret meetings, stolen glances across Ministry hallways, and the gradual realization that the boy she once despised had become the man she couldn't imagine living without.

Hermione didn't have to say anything else; with a quick pop, Greg had left with his portkey.

Her hands trembled as she struggled with her own portkey, her body pressed close to Draco's. His cologne—sandalwood and something uniquely him—filled her senses even in this moment of panic. The momentary distraction was all it took; the hex hit her side with searing force. Finally holding tight onto the portkey, she gritted her teeth against the pain and clutched Draco closer. With a pop, they were gone.

A scream tore through her when they landed; the hex was ripping through her side. "Someone help! She's been hit!" Draco's voice cracked with desperation. His normally composed demeanor shattered as he cradled her head in his lap, his aristocratic features twisted with fear. He couldn't lose her, not now that he finally had her—not now that she had shown him what it meant to be truly accepted, truly loved despite his past.

From the other room, they could hear two sets of footsteps running towards them. A moment later, Susan and Padma ran into the room.

"What the hell happened?!" Susan was frenzied, quickly kneeling next to Hermione to assess her injury. "She's losing a lot of blood. Padma, get me my bag—I have blood replenishing vials in there."

Quickly, Padma ran out of the room and headed towards the sitting room where they were researching. By the door, Harry and Ron stood watching the chaos.

"My...my grandmother showed up with others in cloaks. We had words, and she threw a hex that hit Hermione." Draco's hands shook as he brushed her curls away from her face. This was his fault. The weight of his family name, the prejudices he'd been trying to escape—they had followed him here, and now the woman he loved was paying the price. If he had moved her out of the way, if he wasn't a target, she wouldn't be bleeding out beside him. Every drop of her blood on the floor was like a dagger to his heart.

Padma returned with Susan's bag. In tandem, they began to work on her, slowly sewing up her side with their intricate spell work. "Padma, start pouring the vials in her mouth."

Slowly, Hermione began to open her eyes; her vitals were starting to stabilize, and she was regaining the color she had been losing. A collective sigh rang around the room.

"Hermione, love, how do you feel?" Draco's question was tender, soft—the tone he used only with her, the one that had first made her realize there was more to him than his harsh exterior. He was falling hard for his witch, had been falling since that first project they'd worked on together at the Ministry, when she'd shown him kindness he didn't deserve. Now he wanted nothing more than to take any and every pain away from her, to spend his life making up for the years of animosity between them.

She turned her head to look at him, and despite everything, her eyes held that warmth that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. A small, beautiful smile graced her face. "Hello, darling, I'm fantastic—just a scratch is all." Even injured, she was trying to ease his worry. It was so typically Hermione that his chest ached with emotion.

She was perfection—his brilliant, fierce, compassionate witch who had somehow seen past every mistake he'd made. He chuckled low and placed a small kiss to her lips, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, needing to feel her warmth, her life. "Don't scare me like that again, love. My heart can't take it."

Her fingers weakly intertwined with his. "You're stuck with me, Draco Malfoy. A little hex from your grandmother isn't going to change that."

It had started, as most things did these days, at the Ministry. Three years after the war, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been tasked with reviewing and updating centuries-old wizarding laws. Hermione Granger, rising star of the Legislative Division of the DMLE, found herself assigned to work with the last person she expected—Draco Malfoy, who'd joined the department's Historical Archives team after a quiet year of rehabilitation.

Their first meeting had been cold, professional. Hermione arrived armed with color-coded folders and determination. Draco came with impeccable robes and carefully constructed walls. They worked in silence those first few weeks, exchanging only necessary words across the cramped office they were forced to share.

The shift began over a cup of coffee. Draco had noticed her rubbing her temples one afternoon, drowning in research about archaic blood laws. Without a word, he'd placed a steaming cup on her desk—prepared exactly as she liked it. She'd looked up, surprised to find him already back at his desk, pretending to read. It was the first crack in their carefully maintained distance.

"I never thanked you," he said one evening, as autumn rain drummed against their office window. Hermione had been gathering her things to leave, and his words stopped her mid-motion. "For speaking at my trial."

She'd settled back into her chair, really looking at him for the first time. Gone was the sneering boy from their school days. In his place sat a man carrying the weight of his past like a visible shadow. "You deserved a second chance, Malfoy. We all did."

Their conversations grew longer after that. They discovered a shared love of ancient runes, debated magical theory late into the evening, and slowly, the walls between them crumbled. Hermione found herself looking forward to their discussions, to the way his eyes lit up when defending a particularly complex argument, to his dry wit that now made her laugh instead of bristle.

The first time he called her Hermione, they were celebrating a breakthrough in their research. The word had slipped out naturally, wrapped in his distinctive drawl, and something shifted in the air between them. She'd found herself studying the sharp line of his jaw, the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal strong forearms, and wondering when Malfoy had become Draco in her mind.

Their first kiss happened in the Ministry archives, of all places. They'd been searching for a specific tome, shoulders brushing in the narrow aisle. Hermione had reached for a book on a high shelf, and Draco stepped behind her to help. The warmth of his chest against her back, the subtle scent of his cologne, and three years of slowly building tension culminated in her turning around to find his face inches from hers. Neither could say who moved first.

But it wasn't all easy. The wizarding world had opinions about their relationship. Rita Skeeter had a field day when they were first spotted together at a café in Diagon Alley. Draco's pure-blood relatives were livid—his father especially had never forgiven him for "betraying their values." Even some of Hermione's friends struggled to accept it at first. It was a friendship, yet everyone had an opinion about it.

"They'll come around," Draco had whispered one night, holding her close as she worried about Ron's cold shoulder and Harry's concerned glances. "And if they don't, we'll face it together."

That was the moment Hermione knew she was falling for him. Not the arrogant boy from their past, but this man who had fought to become someone better, who matched her intellect and challenged her assumptions, who looked at her like she was something precious.

Their relationship grew in quiet moments: shared lunches in their office, heated debates that turned into passionate kisses, gentle touches that spoke volumes in public where they had to maintain professionalism. Draco showed his affection in subtle ways—keeping her favorite tea stocked in their office, leaving academic articles he knew would interest her on her desk, standing slightly closer than necessary during Ministry functions.

And Hermione found herself softening his sharp edges, teaching him to laugh at himself, showing him that vulnerability wasn't weakness. She introduced him to muggle literature, delighting in his grudging admission that Shakespeare was "acceptable." He taught her to fly properly, his arms wrapped around her on his broom as she finally learned to enjoy being in the air.

They were an unlikely pair, the Gryffindor Princess and the reformed Death Eater, but somehow they fit. Their shared past made their present more meaningful—every gentle touch a reminder of how far they'd come.

They had parted ways a few months after Draco was assigned to a case, taking him away for a month. The separation put a visual crack in their friendship that she tried so hard to ignore.

Now, watching him hover over her with worried eyes as she recovered from his grandmother's hex, Hermione knew they'd face whatever came next together. They'd earned this love the hard way, and no amount of prejudice or past hatred could take it from them.

The week following the attack, Draco barely left Hermione's side. His transformation from the composed Ministry official to devoted caretaker would have amused her if she wasn't so touched by his concern. He'd converted her cozy flat into a makeshift recovery room, complete with a small potions laboratory in her kitchen where he brewed healing draughts under Susan's supervision.

"Draco," Hermione sighed one evening, watching him fuss with her pillows for the third time in an hour. "I'm fine. Susan cleared me yesterday."

He paused, his grey eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "I almost lost you," he said quietly, perching on the edge of her bed. "When I saw you fall..." His voice cracked slightly, and Hermione reached for his hand.

"But you didn't lose me," she reminded him softly, tugging him closer. "Come here."

He carefully settled beside her on the bed, and she immediately curled into his warmth. His arms wrapped around her protectively, his chin resting on top of her curls. They lay in comfortable silence for a moment, just breathing each other in.

"Move in with me," Draco said suddenly.

Hermione shifted to look up at him, surprised. "What?"

"Move in with me," he repeated, more confident now. "Or I'll move in here. I don't care which. I just—" he took a deep breath, "I want to wake up with you every morning. I want to argue about whose turn it is to make coffee and where to shelve your ridiculous number of books. I want..."

"Yes," Hermione interrupted, her heart full.

Draco blinked. "Yes?"

She reached up to touch his face, smiling at the way he leaned into her palm. "Yes. But we're keeping my flat. Your manor has too many peacocks."

His laugh was warm and rich, and he leaned down to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. "I'll evict every peacock in Britain if it means having you there."

"Don't you dare," she murmured against his lips. "I've grown rather fond of them. Even if they did try to eat my research papers that one time."

"To be fair, love, you were the one who insisted on working in the garden."

"Because someone," she poked his chest playfully, "claimed the fresh air would 'improve my concentration.'"

"Did it not?"

"It did, until your father's prized peacock decided my notes on house-elf legislation looked tasty."

Draco's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Father's face when you charged after his precious bird, throwing wandless stunning spells..."

"Your mother's face when I apologized at dinner!"

"'My dear,'" Draco mimicked his mother's elegant tones, "'any woman who can terrify Abraxas's peacocks is welcome in this family.'"

Their laughter faded into comfortable silence. Hermione traced idle patterns on Draco's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers. "Your grandmother won't stop, will she?" she asked quietly.

Draco's arms tightened around her. "No," he admitted. "But I won't let her hurt you again. We'll face her together—just like we've faced everything else."

"Together," Hermione agreed, tilting her face up for another kiss. As his lips met hers, slow and sweet and full of promise, she knew that whatever came next—whether it was disapproving relatives, Ministry politics, or rogue peacocks—they would handle it side by side.

Candlelight flickered across the walls of their bedroom at the Manor, casting everything in a warm golden glow. Hermione stood by the French doors leading to the balcony, watching the sun set over the gardens. She could feel Draco's presence before his arms slid around her waist from behind.

"What are you thinking about, love?" His voice was low in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. His lips brushed against her neck, just below her ear.

"Mmm," she hummed, leaning back against his chest. "Just how far we've come." She turned in his arms, reaching up to trace his jawline with her fingers. "Do you remember our first kiss in the archives?"

"How could I forget?" His grey eyes darkened as he caught her wandering hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "You had ink on your cheek and were furious about misplaced documentation." His other hand slipped under the hem of her silk blouse, tracing patterns on her lower back. "You were beautiful."

"I was a mess," she laughed softly, but the sound caught in her throat as his lips found that sensitive spot beneath her jaw.

"You were perfect," he murmured against her skin. "You are perfect."

Her fingers tangled in his platinum hair as his kisses grew more insistent. "Draco..."

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes intense with desire and something deeper. His thumb traced her bottom lip. "I love when you say my name like that."

She rose on her tiptoes, pressing herself against him. "Show me how much," she whispered against his lips.

His response was immediate, passionate. One hand cradled the back of her head while the other pulled her impossibly closer. The kiss deepened, and Hermione lost herself in the sensation of his mouth on hers, his hands starting to roam...

The world narrowed to sensation—his hands trailing fire across her skin, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt. Draco walked them backward until her legs hit the edge of their four-poster bed. His lips never left her skin, trailing kisses down her neck as he slowly undid each button of her blouse.

"You're trembling," he whispered against her collarbone, his fingers pausing.

"Don't stop," she breathed, helping him slide the silk from her shoulders. The candlelight played across her skin, and Draco's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her.

"Merlin, you're beautiful." His voice was rough with desire as he laid her back against the emerald sheets. He followed her down, hovering above her, his partially unbuttoned shirt revealing the defined muscles of his chest. Hermione reached up to trace the faint scars there—remnants of their past that had somehow led them here, to this moment.

His breath hitched at her touch. "I love you," he murmured, capturing her lips again in a searing kiss. His hand slid down her side, carefully avoiding the healing wound from his grandmother's hex. When he reached the waistband of her skirt, he paused, looking into her eyes for permission.

She answered by arching up to kiss him deeply, her hands finishing their work on his shirt buttons. As the fabric fell away, she ran her hands over his shoulders, down his chest, delighting in the way his muscles tensed under her touch.

"Hermione," he groaned as she placed open-mouthed kisses along his jaw. His control was slipping; she could feel it in the way his hands gripped her hips, in the tremor that ran through him when she nipped lightly at his neck.

The rest of their clothes fell away slowly, each new expanse of skin explored with reverent touches and heated kisses. Draco worshipped her body with his mouth and hands, drawing sighs and moans from her lips. When he finally joined their bodies together, he intertwined their fingers, pressing them into the pillow above her head.

"Look at me, love," he whispered, and she opened her eyes to find his intense gaze fixed on her face. The intimacy of the moment overwhelmed her—the way he looked at her like she was everything, the feeling of completeness as they moved together.

Their pace quickened, and Hermione felt herself getting close to the edge. Draco must have sensed it because he shifted slightly, changing the angle until she cried out his name. "That's it, love," he encouraged, his own voice strained. "Let go for me."

She did, wave after wave of pleasure washing over her as she clutched at his shoulders. He followed shortly after, burying his face in her neck as he shuddered above her. They lay tangled together afterward, skin cooling in the evening air. Draco traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder while she rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

"I love you," she murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest right above his heart.

He tightened his arms around her. "And I love you, my brilliant witch." After a moment, he added with a smirk she could hear in his voice, "Even if you did try to hex my grandfather's peacocks."

Hermione propped herself up on an elbow to look at him, trying to maintain a serious expression. "That was one time, and they started it."

His laugh rumbled through his chest, and he pulled her down for another kiss. As their lips met, soft and sweet this time, Hermione smiled. This was home—here in his arms, trading kisses and teasing remarks, their past forgotten in favor of their future together.

Chapter Text

The next morning found them in Ginny's expansive kitchen, surrounded by their unlikely team of allies. Early sunlight streamed through the windows as Harry and Ron pored over maps spread across the wooden table. Susan and Padma were comparing notes on defensive healing spells, while Greg stood guard by the window, his wand at the ready.

Hermione leaned against the counter, inhaling the steam from her coffee. She could feel Draco's presence behind her before his hand ghosted across her lower back as he reached for his own cup. The touch was brief but intentional—a reminder of last night, of everything they now shared.

"Right then," Harry's voice cut through the quiet morning atmosphere. "We need to talk about what happened yesterday. Malfoy, what exactly did your grandmother say before the attack?"

Draco's jaw tightened as he moved to stand beside Hermione. "She made it clear that she considers my relationship with Hermione a betrayal of everything the Black family stands for. But it wasn't just about that—she mentioned something about 'the old ways rising again.'"

"Typical pure-blood propaganda," Ron muttered, but his expression was serious.

"No," Draco shook his head, unconsciously shifting closer to Hermione. "This felt different. She spoke about specific rituals, ancient magic that the Ministry banned centuries ago. She believes there's a way to restore pure-blood supremacy through these old ceremonies."

Hermione set down her coffee cup with a sharp click. "The archives," she said suddenly. "That's why those particular documents went missing last month. Remember, Draco? The ones about blood magic and familial bonds?"

"Druella wouldn't be working alone," Padma interjected, looking up from her notes. "These kinds of rituals require multiple participants, usually from different pure-blood lines."

"The cloaked figures with her," Greg spoke up from his post. "I recognized some of their movements. my father was there, and I'm almost certain I saw Dolohov."

Harry started marking points on the map. "We need to identify likely locations for these rituals. Malfoy, what properties did the Black family own that might have the right... specifications?"

As Draco began listing possibilities, Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. She knew that look in his eyes—the one that said he was blaming himself for putting them all in danger. Under the table, she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. He squeezed back, not looking at her but drawing strength from the contact.

"The full moon is in three days," Susan observed, checking her calendar. "If they're planning something big..."

"We need to move fast," Ginny finished, entering the kitchen with a stack of books levitating behind her. "I've been through the Black family histories that you had sent over Malfoy. There's mention of a ritual site in Cornwall, supposedly unplottable."

"I know it," Draco said grimly. "My mother spoke of it once. It's where the Black sisters took their family oaths."

"Then that's where we start," Harry decided. "We need teams—reconnaissance, research, and defense. Hermione, you, Isabella and Malfoy know more about these old laws than anyone. Start going through Ginny's books, find anything that might tell us what ritual they're planning."

"I'll help with the research," Padma offered. "And Susan should be on the defense team—we can't risk another situation like this last one."

As they divided into groups, Hermione felt Draco's lips brush her ear. "Are you sure you're well enough for this?" he whispered, concern evident in his voice.

She turned to face him, keeping her voice equally low. "Together, remember? Besides," she added with a small smile, "someone needs to make sure you don't do anything foolishly heroic."

A ghost of a smirk crossed his face. "That's typically your department, love."

"Oi, lovebirds," Ron called from the table, though his tone held more amusement than annoyance these days. "Some of us are trying to prevent an ancient pure-blood uprising over here."

Hermione rolled her eyes but moved toward the table, Draco close behind her. As they began sorting through Ginny's books, their shoulders touching, she couldn't help but think how far they'd all come—from schoolyard enemies to fighting side by side, from prejudice to understanding, from hatred to love.

Harry cleared the kitchen table with a wave of his wand, replacing the books with a detailed magical map that shimmered with ley lines and magical signatures. Draco stepped forward, his Auror training evident in his stance.

"The ritual site is here," he said, pointing to a spot where several ley lines intersected near the Cornish coast. "It's warded against most forms of magical transportation. We'll need to apparate to this point," he indicated a spot about a mile away, "and approach on foot."

"What kind of defenses are we looking at?" Ron asked, his strategic mind already working through scenarios.

"Ancient Black family magic," Draco grimaced, unconsciously rubbing his forearm. "Blood wards, cursed barriers, and likely some nasty surprises Druella's added recently. The property recognizes me, but..."

"But bringing us in will trigger the defensive magic," Hermione finished, moving to stand beside him. "We need to find a way to disable the wards without alerting them."

"I might have something for that," Ginny interjected, pulling out a small leather pouch. "Bill's been working on these for Gringotts. Ward-disruption stones. They create a temporary 'blind spot' in magical barriers."

Greg shifted from his position by the window. "How long does the disruption last?"

"Ten minutes, maximum," Ginny replied. "We'll need to be quick and coordinated."

Harry nodded, beginning to sketch out positions on the map. "Right. We'll need three teams. Team One: Draco, Hermione, and I will take point on the ward breach. Draco knows the property, Hermione's our best at magical theory, and I've got experience breaking through dark magic barriers."

"Team Two," Ron continued, catching Harry's thinking, "will be Greg and me on perimeter control. We keep their reinforcements from showing up and secure our escape route."

"Which leaves Team Three," Susan added, "Padma, Ginny, and me as tactical support and emergency healing. We'll maintain a position here," she pointed to elevated ground overlooking the ritual site, "ready to provide cover fire or medical intervention."

Draco leaned over the map, his expression intense. "There's something else we need to consider. If they're planning what I think they are, they'll need certain artifacts. Family book of shadows, ritual tools, possibly even blood samples from specific bloodlines."

"Which means they'll be expecting us," Hermione said quietly. "They'll want your blood for the ritual, Draco. This could be a trap."

"It's definitely a trap," he replied, his hand finding hers under the table. "But it might be our only chance to stop them before they complete whatever they're planning."

"We should move tonight," Harry decided. "Full moon's in three days, and they'll need time to prepare the site. Better to catch them during setup than face whatever dark magic they're trying to resurrect."

"I'll contact the Ministry," Ron offered. "Get some unofficial backup stationed nearby, just in case."

"No," Draco said sharply. "My grandmother has too many connections there. We don't know who we can trust."

Ginny began distributing emergency portkeys. "These are keyed to the safe room here. If anything goes wrong, if anyone gets separated..."

"Everyone memorize these coordinates," Padma added, writing a series of numbers on a piece of parchment. "If your portkey fails, this is your apparition point."

As the group broke up to prepare, Hermione caught Draco's arm. "A word?" she murmured. He followed her into the adjoining study, closing the door behind them. "Whatever you're planning," she said immediately, turning to face him, "don't you dare try to protect me by keeping me out of it."

His face softened slightly. "I wouldn't dream of it. You're rather terrifying with a wand, Granger." But then his expression grew serious. "Just... if things go wrong..."

She silenced him with a kiss. "They won't. We've faced worse odds." She straightened his collar, a gesture so domestic it made his heart ache. "Besides, I have plans for you, Malfoy. They involve a future with considerably fewer murderous relatives."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Do they now?"

"Mm-hmm. And a library."

"Of course there's a library."

A knock at the door interrupted them. "Time to gear up," Harry called through the wood.

Draco pulled Hermione into a secluded corner of Ginny's library as the others checked their gear. Shelves of books towered around them, providing a moment of privacy. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the stained glass windows, painting them in shades of amber and blue.

"Do you remember," he said softly, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear, "what you told me the first time we worked late at the Ministry? When I was convinced I didn't deserve a second chance?"

Hermione leaned into his touch, her eyes meeting his. "I told you that redemption isn't given, it's earned. And that you were earning it every day."

"You saw good in me when no one else did," his voice was rough with emotion. "Even my own family..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening. "Hermione, if anything happens tonight—"

"Don't," she interrupted, pressing her fingers to his lips. "We're both coming back. I didn't face down your father's peacocks and your mother's formal dinner parties just to let your grandmother ruin everything."

A small laugh escaped him. "Those peacocks were terrified of you for weeks."

"As they should be," she smiled, but then grew serious. "Draco, look at me." She waited until his storm-grey eyes met hers. "Your grandmother, these pure-blood fanatics—they're fighting for a world that's already gone. But you? You chose to build something new. Something better." Her hand came up to cup his cheek. "You chose love over hate. That makes you stronger than them."

He turned his face to press a kiss into her palm. "How do you always know exactly what to say?"

"Years of practice arguing with you," she teased gently. Then she reached into her robes and pulled out a small object on a silver chain. "I want you to wear this tonight."

Draco looked down at the delicate time-turner pendant—not a real one, but a replica she'd worn during their fourth year. "Your lucky charm?"

"Mhm. A reminder that time changes everything—even stubborn pure-blood prats who used to make fun of my hair."

His eyes softened as he let her fasten it around his neck. "I was an idiot back then."

"Yes, you were," she agreed, smoothing the chain. "But you're my idiot now."

He pulled her close then, one hand tangling in her curls as he kissed her deeply. She melted into him, memorizing everything about this moment—the warmth of his body, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his heart beating against hers.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. "When this is over," he murmured, "I want to take you to Paris. There's this little magical bookshop off Rue de la Magie that you'll love. The owner has an entire section of rare arithmancy texts."

"Are you trying to seduce me with books, Malfoy?"

"Is it working?"

She laughed softly, the sound warming his heart. "It always does." She straightened his collar one last time, her touch lingering. "Paris sounds perfect. But first..."

"First we deal with my grandmother," he finished grimly.

"Together," she reminded him.

"Together," he agreed, pressing one last kiss to her forehead.

The sound of footsteps approaching broke their moment. Harry's voice called out, "Five minutes!"

Hermione stepped back, though she kept hold of Draco's hand. "Ready?"

He squeezed her fingers, drawing strength from her touch. "With you? Always."

When Draco and Hermione rejoined the others in Ginny's living room, the atmosphere had shifted from strategic planning to tense anticipation. Harry stood by the fireplace, his Auror robes replaced with darker, more practical gear. Ron was distributing communication devices—enchanted galleons, an improvement on Hermione's original DA design.

"Everyone clear on the signal?" Harry asked, passing out the last of the coins. "Two taps for danger, three for immediate extraction needed."

"And one long press if you discover anything about the ritual," Padma added, securing her medical kit to her belt. Her usual Healer's robes had been traded for form-fitting dragon hide armor.

Greg moved from his watchpost to join them, his large frame casting shadows in the dimming light. "Latest perimeter check is clear. No sign of surveillance, but..."

"But that doesn't mean they're not watching," Draco finished, his hand automatically finding the time-turner pendant beneath his shirt. "My grandmother's always been subtle."

Susan emerged from the kitchen, levitating a tray of small vials. "Last-minute provisions. Blood-replenishing potions, Pepper-Up, and something special I've been working on—it temporarily boosts magical shields."

"Brilliant," Hermione said, accepting her share of the vials and tucking them into her charmed bag. "How long does the shield boost last?"

"Thirty minutes, give or take. Use it just before we breach the wards."

Ginny finished laying out a row of broomsticks—their emergency escape plan if the portkeys failed. "Weather report shows clear skies, good visibility. If we need to fly out, we'll have cover of darkness in about two hours."

Harry checked his watch. "It's time. Everyone remember: we're not just stopping a ritual tonight. We're preventing the rise of another pure-blood supremacy movement. We can't let them bring back these dark practices."

"No pressure then," Ron muttered, but his stance was determined as he checked his wand one last time.

"Last chance to back out," Draco announced to the room, his voice tight. "My grandmother's quarrel is with me. None of you have to risk—"

"Oh, shut up, Malfoy," Ginny interrupted with a fond eye roll. "We didn't spend months planning your birthday party just to let your grandmother kill you now."

"It was a lovely party," Padma agreed, smiling. "Even if the peacocks did try to eat the cake."

A wave of quiet laughter broke some of the tension. Hermione squeezed Draco's hand, and he looked around the room at their unlikely family—former enemies and rivals turned trusted allies.

"Right then," Harry said, drawing his wand. "Everyone to their positions. Remember your teams, remember your signals. If anything feels off—anything at all—don't play hero. Signal for help immediately."

As they moved toward their designated apparition points, Draco pulled Harry aside. "Potter... thank you. For trusting me with this. With her." His eyes flickered to Hermione. Harry's expression softened slightly. "You proved yourself trustworthy a long time ago, Malfoy. Now let's go stop your grandmother from ruining all your hard work at redemption, yeah?"

The group gathered in their teams, wands ready. The last light of day was fading, and with it, their last moments of preparation. "On my mark," Harry called out. "Three... two... one..."

The crack of multiple apparitions broke the coastal silence. Team One materialized in a small clearing, the distant sound of waves crashing against cliffs providing cover for their arrival. The salty air carried a metallic tang—the first sign of dark magic.

"Wards start fifty meters ahead," Draco whispered, his wand already tracking invisible lines of magic. In the growing darkness, his pale hair was barely visible beneath the hood of his black cloak. "They've added new layers since I was last here."

Hermione moved forward, her wand performing intricate detection spells. Golden threads of magic became visible, weaving a complex web before them. "Blood wards, detection charms, and... something else. Something old."

Harry's communication coin warmed slightly—Team Two signaling their successful positioning. A moment later, a second signal confirmed Team Three was in place on the ridge.

"Ginny's ward-disruption stones," Harry murmured, pulling them from his pocket. "How do you want to play this?"

Draco's eyes narrowed as he studied the magical barriers. "We need to create three breach points. The wards will try to repair themselves—we'll have roughly eight minutes to get through and disable them from the inside."

A sudden shift in the air made Hermione stiffen. "Wait," she breathed, pulling both men back into the shadows. Seconds later, two cloaked figures passed through the wards ahead, their magic signatures creating ripples in the defensive web.

"Dolohov and Goyle Sr," Draco identified them by their gaits. "They're early for the ritual."

"Or right on time for something else," Harry added grimly. "We need to move now, before they finish whatever they're setting up."

Hermione pulled out her own communication coin, sending a quick warning to the other teams. Then she removed Susan's shield-boosting potion from her bag. "Bottom's up, gentlemen."

They each downed the potion, and Hermione felt her skin tingle as her magical shields strengthened. Draco moved closer to her, his voice barely audible. "Stay close to me when we breach. The wards might recognize my blood, but they'll react violently to yours."

She nodded, then leaned in to kiss him quickly. "Try to keep up, Malfoy."

A ghost of a smirk crossed his face before his expression turned serious again. He took position at the center of their formation, with Harry and Hermione flanking him. "Three stones, three targets," Harry outlined. "Draco, take the main ward point. Hermione, left anchor point. I'll take right. On my signal..."

They moved in perfect sync, years of training and trust evident in their movements. The ward-disruption stones began to glow as they approached their targets.

"Now!" Harry commanded.

Three stones hit their marks simultaneously. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the air itself seemed to tear apart, creating a dark tunnel through the magical barriers.

"Eight minutes," Draco reminded them, already moving forward. "Let's make them count."

As they passed through the breach, the magic around them screamed—a sound only those attuned to magical frequencies could hear. Hermione gritted her teeth against the sensation, pushing forward until they were through.

They emerged into what appeared to be an ancient stone circle, half-hidden in the growing darkness. At its center, black candles had been arranged in a pattern Hermione recognized from their research—a ritual circle for blood magic.

"We're too late," Draco said quietly, his eyes fixed on the circle. "They've already started the preparations."

A cold laugh echoed through the stones. "Indeed we have, grandson."

From their concealed position in the dense treeline, Ron and Greg watched the confrontation begin to unfold through omnioculars. They'd secured the perimeter with detection charms and hidden proximity wards—anything or anyone trying to enter would alert them immediately.

"This isn't right," Greg muttered, adjusting his viewing range. "Where are the others? Druella never works with so few people."

Ron nodded grimly, his experienced Auror instincts on high alert. "Too quiet. No guard rotation, no patrol patterns." He tapped his communication coin twice—warning of potential danger—before returning to his surveillance. "They're making this too easy."

A sudden ripple in their detection field made both men tense. Greg turned sharply, his large frame moving with surprising stealth as he tracked the disturbance. "Northwest corner, moving fast."

"I see them," Ron confirmed, his wand already tracking the movement. Through the omnioculars, he could make out at least three figures moving in a pattern he recognized all too well. "They're herding."

Greg's face hardened. "Like in the war. Push the targets exactly where you want them."

Ron's coin burned hot—Team Three signaling they'd spotted movement on their side too. He quickly signaled back their own findings.

"We need to warn them," Greg started, but Ron held up a hand.

"Wait." His voice was tight with concentration. "If we move now, we'll spring whatever trap they're setting. We need to identify all the players first." He adjusted his omnioculars again, scanning the tree line. "There—by the old oak. Is that...?"

"Rabastan," Greg confirmed darkly. "Sneaky fucker."

"Bloody hell," Ron swore softly. "This isn't just about pure-blood supremacy. This is a jail break operation too. They're using the ritual as cover."

The coin burned again—this time with Padma's specialized healer's warning. Someone in Team One was in magical distress, likely from the wards.

Greg shifted, his loyalty to Draco warring with his mission orders. "Weasley..."

"I know," Ron cut him off, already calculating. "But if we blow our position now, we lose our advantage. We need to—"

A scream cut through the night air—Hermione's voice. Both men jerked toward the sound instinctively.

"Forget the bloody mission," Ron growled, sending a rapid series of signals through his coin. "New plan. Greg, remember that chaos strategy we used in Auror training?"

A slow, dangerous smile spread across Greg's face. "The one that got us both detention for a week?"

"That's the one. On my mark..."

Ron pulled a small bag from his robes—a gift from George that he'd been saving for the right moment. "Like the muggles say, mate: go big or go home."

Greg grinned, already moving into position. Despite his size, years of Auror training had taught him to move like a shadow. "Your brother's Wheezes or mine?"

"Both," Ron replied, pulling out what looked like ordinary marbles. "Peruvian Instant Darkness combined with Greg's personal touch of wandless concussion charms. Should create enough chaos to give Team One some breathing room."

Another scream pierced the night, but this one was different—filled with rage rather than pain. Druella's voice carried across the ritual grounds: "You dare bring a mudblood into our sacred space?"

"Now," Ron commanded, throwing the first marble high into the air. Greg's wandless magic hit it at precisely the right moment, causing it to explode into a massive cloud of impenetrable darkness shot through with bursts of magical energy.

They moved in perfect sync, years of partnership evident in their coordinated attack. Greg took the left flank, his powerful stunning spells forcing Rabastan and his group to retreat from their hidden positions. Ron worked the right, his tactical expertise showing as he herded the enemy exactly where he wanted them.

"Like training with the Cannons," Greg called out, referencing their unique practice of combining Quidditch strategies with combat maneuvers.

"Except the Cannons never had this much success," Ron shot back, sending a series of precisely timed hexes that forced three cloaked figures into the open.

Their coins burned hot—Team Three had spotted their opening and was providing cover fire from the ridge. Ginny's distinctive Bat-Bogey Hex lit up the darkness, followed by Susan's specialized binding charms.

"Incoming!" Greg warned, spotting movement from the east. "More than we counted!"

Ron swore creatively. "They had a second team in reserve. Clever bastards." He tapped his coin rapidly, warning the others, then turned to Greg with a grim smile. "Fancy a game of 'Who Can Take Down More Death Eaters'?"< br/>

"Winner buys drinks at the Leaky?" Greg asked, already moving to cover Ron's blind spot.

"Deal. But no counting the ones Ginny hexes—that's cheating."

They worked their way closer to the ritual site, maintaining their defensive position while gradually pushing forward. Ron's strategic mind was already mapping exit routes, contingency plans, calculating odds—

A massive explosion rocked the ground, and through the chaos, they heard Draco's voice shouting an unfamiliar spell. The air crackled with ancient magic.

"That's not good," Greg muttered, blocking a curse that came whistling out of the darkness.

"When is it ever?" Ron replied, but his voice was tense. "We need to get closer. Whatever's happening in there..."

"Down!" Greg suddenly roared, tackling Ron as a jet of sickly green light passed over their heads.

Ron rolled to his feet, casting shields instinctively. "Thanks, mate. Remind me to tell Hermione she was right about those reflexes exercises."

"If we survive this," Greg grunted, already back in fighting stance, "you can tell her yourself."

I'll shift back to the ritual site to show what's happening with Draco, Hermione, and Harry:

"Indeed we have, grandson." Druella Black emerged from the shadows, her aristocratic features illuminated by the black candles. "Though I must say, your choice of companions continues to disappoint."

Draco stepped slightly in front of Hermione, but she moved right back to his side, her wand steady. Harry flanked them, his green eyes scanning the stone circle for other threats.

"The only disappointment here," Draco replied coldly, "is watching how far the noble House of Black has fallen. Blood supremacy? Ancient rituals? You're clinging to a dead world, Grandmother."

Druella's laugh was like breaking glass. "Dead? Oh, my foolish boy. We're about to bring it roaring back to life." She gestured to the ritual circle, where the black candles began to pulse with an eerie light. "Your blood, freely given or taken by force, will help restore the natural order."

Sudden explosions and darkness from the perimeter caught everyone's attention—Ron and Greg's distraction taking effect. Hermione used that moment to cast a quick diagnostic spell on the ritual circle, her eyes widening at the results.

"Draco," she whispered urgently, "these runes—they're not just for blood magic. They're trying to tap into the old ley lines, to corrupt the very magic of Britain itself."

"Clever girl," Druella sneered. "Perhaps you're not entirely useless after all. A pity you won't live to publish your findings."

Multiple things happened at once: Harry shouted a warning as figures emerged from behind the standing stones, Druella raised her wand with frightening speed, and Draco pushed Hermione aside as a curse crackled through the air where she'd been standing.

"Protego Maxima!" Hermione's shield expanded just in time to deflect a barrage of curses from the new attackers. Harry engaged two of them immediately, his Auror training evident in his fluid movements.

Draco found himself facing his grandmother, their wands locked in a deadly dance. "Your mother would be so disappointed," Druella taunted, her spells becoming increasingly dark and vicious.

"Actually," Draco replied, deflecting a particularly nasty curse, "Mother sends her regards." He pulled something from his robes—a small black crystal that pulsed with familiar magic.

Druella's eyes widened in recognition. "Narcissa wouldn't dare—"

"She would," Draco smirked, just as Hermione finished a complex series of spells behind him. "And she did. Now, love!"

Hermione's spell hit the crystal in Draco's hand just as he threw it into the ritual circle. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Narcissa's crystal—imbued with Black family magic—began to interact with the ritual circle's energies.

"No!" Druella screamed, realizing too late what they'd done. The black candles' light turned blindingly white, the runes began to shift and change.

"Harry, now!" Hermione called out. Harry immediately cast a containment spell they'd practiced for weeks, designed to control the magical backlash.

The explosion that followed lit up the night sky.

From the ridge, Team Three watched the blinding light tear through the night sky. Susan immediately grabbed her medical kit, already moving before the light had faded. "That wasn't supposed to happen," Padma said tersely, running diagnostic spells through the air. "The magical readings are off the charts."

Ginny's fingers tightened on her wand. "Cover me," she ordered, mounting her broom. "I'm going to get a better look—"

Meanwhile, in the forest, Ron and Greg were already sprinting toward the ritual site, all pretense of stealth abandoned.

"Protego Maxima!" Greg bellowed, creating a shield large enough to protect them both from the falling magical debris. "Tell me that was part of the plan!"

"Knowing Hermione?" Ron vaulted over a fallen tree. "Probably not exactly part of the plan, but likely something she calculated as a possibility—duck!"

They dropped as another wave of magical energy pulsed outward from the stone circle. Through the chaos, they could see multiple figures disapparating—Druella's followers fleeing the backlash.

Both teams converged on the ritual site from different directions, meeting a scene of devastating magical aftermath. The ancient stones were scorched, the ritual circle completely destroyed. And in the center...

"Hermione!" Susan called out, rushing forward with her medical kit.

Harry was already on his feet, though looking worse for wear. "We're okay," he coughed, helping Hermione up. "Mostly."

Draco was the last to stand, his usually pristine appearance marred by soot and magical residue. The time-turner pendant around his neck was glowing faintly.

"Your grandmother?" Greg asked, helping steady his friend.

"Gone," Draco replied grimly. "But not before—" He suddenly stumbled, and Hermione was at his side instantly.

"He's been hit," she said urgently. "Susan!"

"Get him flat on the ground," Susan commanded, her Healer training taking over as she knelt beside Draco. "Padma, I need the blue vial from my kit."

Hermione cradled Draco's head in her lap, her fingers trembling as she brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Stay with me, love. No falling asleep on the job."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he muttered, though his voice was strained. "Someone has to keep you from running headfirst into more explosions."

"That was partially your mother's crystal, I'll have you remember," Hermione retorted, but her relieved smile betrayed her worry.

Susan ran her wand over Draco's body in complex diagnostic patterns. "Multiple hex residue, magical exhaustion, and... something else. Padma, look at this reading."

Padma leaned in, her own wand adding to the diagnostic spells. "It's like the magic is trying to rewrite itself. The ritual must have—"

"Less discussing, more healing," Ron interrupted, keeping watch with Greg. "We need to move. This place isn't secure."

Harry was already setting up temporary wards with Ginny, both moving in sync despite their own injuries. "Five minutes," he called out. "That's all I can guarantee."

"Pass me the silver vial," Susan instructed Padma. "Draco, this is going to feel strange, but it should stabilize the magical fluctuations."

As the Healers worked, Hermione couldn't help but notice the time-turner pendant was still glowing. "Susan, look at this." She carefully lifted the chain. "It seems to be... absorbing something."

"Clever witch," Draco murmured, his color slowly improving as the potions took effect. "You gave me protection without even knowing it. The pendant's been collecting the ritual's residual magic."

"That's why you're not worse off," Padma realized. "It acted as a buffer."

A sudden warning flare from Harry's temporary wards had everyone tensing. "Time to go," Greg announced, moving to help Draco up.

"I can walk," Draco insisted, though he accepted Greg's support on one side and Hermione's on the other.

"The portkeys might not be safe with all this magical interference," Ginny warned, mounting her broom. "We'll need to fly part of the way."

Ron conjured additional brooms while Susan and Padma quickly packed their medical supplies. "Pairs," he ordered. "No one flies alone in this condition."

"Hermione, you're with me," Draco said immediately, his arm tightening around her waist.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you're in any condition to—"

"I trust you," he interrupted softly. "And I'm not letting you out of my sight right now."

Hours later, the team found themselves back at Grimmauld Place—Harry had insisted it was safer than Ginny's home, given its extensive protective enchantments. The grand old house's sitting room had been transformed into a makeshift medical ward, with Susan and Padma still tending to various injuries.

Draco lay on a transfigured chaise lounge, finally stable after several rounds of potions. Hermione sat beside him, her own minor injuries healed, absently running her fingers through his hair as she studied the still-glowing time-turner pendant.

"The magical signatures are fascinating," she murmured, more to herself than the others. "It's like it captured the essence of the ritual but transformed it somehow."

"Trust you to turn near-death experiences into research opportunities," Draco teased weakly, catching her free hand and bringing it to his lips.

Across the room, Harry and Ron were debriefing with Greg while Ginny made everyone tea—though hers had a generous splash of Firewhisky added.

"So Druella escaped," Harry confirmed grimly, "but we destroyed her ritual site and most of her support scattered."

"And we identified at least six supposedly-imprisoned Death Eaters," Ron added, reviewing his notes. "The Auror department will have some explaining to do about those mysterious prison breaks."

"Speaking of explaining," Padma interrupted, looking up from where she was restocking her potions kit, "someone should probably tell Narcissa that we used her family crystal to blow up an ancient ritual site."

"Already done," Draco said, attempting to sit up until both Hermione and Susan shot him warning glares. "Mother sent her congratulations via Patronus. Apparently, destroying sacred family artifacts to prevent pure-blood supremacy is the new fashion."

"Your mother," Hermione said fondly, "is full of surprises."

"As is her son," Susan added, running one final diagnostic spell over Draco. "You should be fully recovered in a few days, but no apparition or complex spellwork until then."

"Does that mean our Paris trip needs to wait?" Hermione asked softly, remembering their conversation from earlier.

Draco's tired smirk held a promise. "Just a slight delay, love. I still intend to seduce you with rare books.

"If you two are quite finished being disgustingly romantic," Ginny called out, levitating cups of tea to everyone, "we should discuss security measures. Druella won't take this defeat lightly."

"Let her try something," Greg rumbled from his position by the window, his protective instincts clearly on high alert. "She'll find out exactly how many friends Draco has now."

"Speaking of friends," Harry interjected, "Neville and Luna are back from their expedition tomorrow. They'll want to help with whatever comes next."

Hermione felt Draco squeeze her hand. Looking down, she found his grey eyes watching her with a mixture of love and concern. "No regrets?" he whispered, quiet enough that only she could hear. "About choosing this life? About us?"

She leaned down to kiss him softly. "Never," she assured him. "Though next time, let's try solving family disputes without experimental magical explosions."

"Next time," he promised with a slight smile, "we'll just set the peacocks on them."

Chapter Text

Blaise Zabini arrived at Grimmauld Place shortly before midnight, his usual elegant composure slightly ruffled. He burst into the sitting room without ceremony, Theo Nott and Isabella Goyle close behind him.

"You know," Blaise drawled, taking in the scene of injured friends and scattered medical supplies, "when I said 'don't do anything interesting while I'm in Italy,' this is exactly what I was afraid of."

"Zabini," Draco greeted from his chaise, attempting to sit up straighter until Hermione's hand on his shoulder kept him in place. "How was the Mediterranean?"

"Less explosive than your family reunion, apparently." Blaise's dark eyes swept the room, assessing. "We came as soon as we got Ginny's Patronus."

"And by that," Isabella cut in, moving to examine the still-glowing time-turner pendant around Draco's neck, "he means we left in the middle of a rather important meeting with the Italian Magical Coalition."

Theo snorted, dropping into an armchair. "Important is an interesting way to describe being threatened by the Italian branch of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

That got everyone's attention. Harry straightened from where he'd been reviewing maps. "What do you mean, threatened?"

"He means," Blaise said grimly, accepting the tea Ginny offered, "that Druella's little ritual attempt wasn't an isolated incident. The old families are mobilizing across Europe.

Whatever she was trying to do here was just one piece of a much larger puzzle."

"The Fawley family in France have been acting strange too," Theo added, his aristocratic features tight with concern. "My cousin Henri mentioned something about 'restoring the natural order' before he stopped responding to my owls."

Hermione's fingers tightened on Draco's shoulder. "That's exactly what your grandmother said."

"It gets worse," Theo said, pulling out a worn journal. "Father's old research notes. I've been decoding them since Greg warned me about the prison breaks. The ritual you interrupted? It was supposed to be synchronized with others across the continent."

"Synchronized with what purpose?" Ron asked, moving closer to examine the journal.

"To tap into the old ley lines," Draco answered, his face pale. "Not just Britain's magical core, but all of Europe's."

"Ten points to Slytherin," Blaise confirmed darkly. "They're trying to rewrite the very foundation of magic itself. Make it recognize only 'pure' bloodlines."

"That's impossible," Padma protested, but her voice was uncertain.

"Is it?" Isabella challenged. "Look what they've already managed—prison breaks across multiple countries, coordinated ritual sites, ancient artifacts surfacing after centuries..."
"They're organized," Harry concluded. "More organized than we thought."

"And they have my grandmother leading the British faction," Draco added bitterly.

Hermione, however, had that look in her eyes that usually meant she was putting pieces together. "The time-turner pendant," she said suddenly. "The way it absorbed and transformed the ritual magic. What if that's the key?"

"To what?" Susan asked, looking up from her medical supplies.

"To stopping them," Hermione replied, her mind clearly racing. "If we could understand how it changed the magical signature, maybe we could develop a counter-ritual. Something to protect the ley lines instead of corrupting them."

Hermione exchanged a knowing look with Draco. "Draco, I think we need to speak with your mother, try to get more information on your grandmother and how these ley lines work."

"Oh goodie, dinner with Mother Malfoy." Theo jumped up from his seat and headed towards the floo.

"Theo where do you think you're going?" Draco stood up and crossed his arms.

"Well, we're a team, it's time to go get some answers so we can stop your psychotic grandmother and all her pure-blood minions," Theo said matter of factly.

With a sigh, Draco intertwined his hands with Hermione and headed towards the floo. "Alright, everyone gather up what you can for research and let's head to the manor, I'm sure Mippy will be thrilled to prepare a feast for all you lot. and we can get some more research done on the time turner."

Arriving in the receiving room at Malfoy Manor, Draco looked around to see if his mother would be there or anyone at all. With a small pop, Mippy arrived right in front of them. "Good afternoon, Master Malfoy, we is not expecting you and your friends," Mippy said this with such excitement on her little face.

"Hello Mippy, my team and I are here to get some research done for a case, and if you wouldn't mind, they will be joining us for dinner. Also, do you happen to know where my mother is?" Mippy looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and excitement for having so many people to take care of.

"Yes, sir, Mistress is in the Library taking her tea."

Draco looked back at his team and motioned for them to follow. "Perfect, thank you Mippy. We will all be in there whenever dinner is ready. Thank you so much again."

Draco led his team through the expansive hallways of Malfoy Manor, the polished marble floors reflecting the soft afternoon light. The Library's heavy wooden doors stood slightly ajar, and he could hear the gentle clinking of china from within.

As they entered, Narcissa Malfoy looked up from her delicate teacup, her elegant posture immediately shifting as she noticed the group. Her sharp blue eyes swept over her son and his companions, a mixture of curiosity and mild concern crossing her refined features.

"Draco," she said, setting down her cup. "I wasn't expecting you today. And with colleagues, no less." Her tone was measured, but there was a hint of intrigue in her voice.

Draco stepped forward, offering a brief smile. "Mother, we're working on a sensitive case. I was hoping we might discuss some family records that could be helpful to our investigation, specifically on Grandmother Druella."

Narcissa's eyebrow arched slightly. "Druella? But my mother is dead Draco." she said, her voice cool and calculating. "What could you possibly need to know about my mother that would require a full investigative team?"

Draco pulled out a chair, sitting opposite her. "She isn't dead mother, It's a sensitive matter, but just know that we have fought against her recently, she's very much alive. We've tracked her to a potential location, but we need family history - her typical hiding patterns, any connections she might leverage."

Narcissa's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her teacup. "She's dangerous, Draco. Whatever you're planning, proceed with extreme caution."

Pansy, the witch with sharp, observant eyes, stepped forward. "Narcissa, we believe your mother may be involved in a series of dark artifact smuggling operations, with the intention of harming children. Her connections could be critical to disrupting the network."

A brief moment of tension filled the library. Narcissa studied her son, weighing her response carefully. Looking around at his friends and calculating how much information to divulge.

Narcissa's gaze hardened. "Druella Black was never a conventional witch," she said quietly. "After my father's death, she became increasingly isolated, cultivating connections in the darkest corners of magical society, I overheard her once speaking of restoring the natural order. But I was young and did not really pay mind to it."

They all looked at one another, knowing that this was the third time that particular phrase was mentioned. They knew they were on to something.

She pulled out an old leather-bound journal from a nearby side table. "These are her personal notes from the years after the war. They might reveal her current network."

Draco leaned forward, noting the tension in his mother's shoulders. "You've been tracking her too, haven't you?"

"She's my mother, I never really believed that she was dead" Narcissa replied, her voice a mix of duty and disdain. "But she's also a threat. Her vendetta against certain magical families has never truly ended. And if she is somehow now involving children, I want to help."

Hermione gently took the book from his outstretched hand and began examining the journal, carefully turning its fragile pages. "These look like coded communications," she muttered. "Potential meeting locations in Eastern Europe. These could be other families working the ley lines that Isabella, Theo and Blaise were speaking of."

Narcissa's lips tightened. "Be careful. Druella doesn't just hide. She sets traps."

The team began spreading out around the library, each member taking a different approach to investigating the journal and potential leads.

Greg, standing near a window, used a detection spell to verify the journal's authenticity. Hermione was already cross-referencing the coded locations with historical magical mapping records. Ron stood guard near the door, his Auror training keeping him alert.

Pansy and Blaise were examining a series of genealogical charts Narcissa had pulled from a hidden drawer, their sharp eyes tracking potential connection points. Susan and Padma were collaborating on translating the more obscure coded sections of the journal.

Theo and Harry were discussing potential magical tracking methods, while Isabella sketched out a preliminary movement map based on the information emerging. Ginny was quietly consulting a set of dark artifact identification guides.

"These coordinates," Hermione said, her finger tracing a complex network of markings, "suggest a series of safe houses across Romania and Bulgaria. They're magically concealed, but not untraceable."

Draco looked to his mother. "Do you recognize these locations?"

Narcissa's expression was unreadable. "Some. Not all."

Greg's detection spell began revealing hidden magical signatures on the journal. "These markings," he muttered, "suggest Druella's been in contact with multiple international dark artifact networks. Mia can you cross-reference some of these families with pure blood lineage. They might be the international ley lines we are looking for."

Hermione started to notate the different family names and cross-referencing the pure blood names in her book. Finding several connections she looked over to Draco. "They're all a match."

Blaise pointed to a specific coordinate. "Romania. Near the Carpathian Mountains. Classic Black family hiding spot. Narcissa have you ever been to this location?" Blaise looked over to where Narcissa was pacing, she looked up at his inquiry.

"My father used to take my mother there on holiday, I nor any of my sisters have been there." She returned to her pacing

"She's predictable," Pansy remarked, her finger tracing an intricate magical route. "But dangerous."

Narcissa interrupted, her voice sharp. "She has a safe house in an abandoned monastery near Sibiu. Heavily warded. Not even I could breach those protections easily."

Draco turned to his team. "Preliminary plan. We'll split into three groups. Harry, Hermione and I will handle primary reconnaissance. Blaise, Ron, and Greg will prepare magical containment spells. The rest will provide backup and strategic support."

Greg pulled out a detailed magical tracking device. "I've got a trace on her magical signature. Weak, but present."

"She knows we're coming," Theo said quietly. "And she'll be prepared. Greg, can you verify how many magical signatures are with her?"

Greg waved his wand over the device and paused a moment. "There are at least three magical signatures, but it's faint and very hard to pinpoint."

With the new information the team readied themselves to apparate to Sibiu. "Draco, should we take the time turner with us, perhaps we can destroy it on the land, it might sever the connections." Hermione wondered aloud.

Dracon simply nodded once. "Perhaps you're right, I ran a few charms on it, and it has just enough energy to bring down the existing ley lines to where they would have to start the whole process again. It might take them hundreds of years to obtain that much natural power again."

The team apparated simultaneously near the abandoned monastery, their movements precise and coordinated. Protective enchantments rippled around them as they approached.

"Perimeter's clear," Draco whispered, his wand casting silent detection spells.

Hermione's advanced tracking charm pinpointed a magical signature in the monastery's eastern wing. "She's here. And she knows we're coming. I'm detecting two others with her."

Suddenly, a series of dark magical traps activated. Blaise and Greg quickly countered them, their combined defensive magic creating a protective shield around the group.

Draco signaled to Harry and Ron. "Eastern entrance. Careful."

As they moved forward, a figure materialized—Druella Black, her silver-streaked hair wild, her eyes blazing with a mixture of defiance and calculation.

"Well at least we now know where Bellatrix got her crazy from." Ron said towards Harry as they ran to their post.

"I wondered how long it would take for my grandson to come find me," she said, her voice sharp as a blade.

Druella's magical attack came swiftly—a cascade of dark curses that Harry deflected with a powerful shield charm. Ron moved simultaneously, casting a binding spell that momentarily trapped Druella's wand hand.

"Clever," Druella hissed, "but not clever enough."

From the shadows, Rabastan Lestrange emerged, and behind him, Gregory Goyle Sr. appeared, their combined magical presence creating a threatening triangulation.

Hermione's voice cut through the tension. "Multiple targets. Synchronized approach. Watch your flank boys."

In a choreographed movement, the team split. Harry and Ron engaged Rabastan, their Auror training creating a relentless magical assault. Blaise and Greg focused on Goyle Sr., their spells designed to restrict movement and magical capability.

Draco confronted his grandmother directly. "It's over, Druella. Surrender."

Her laugh was brittle. "Never."

A complex magical battle erupted—spells flying, protective shields shimmering, the monastery's ancient stones absorbing the magical conflict.

Theo's strategic positioning and Isabella's precise counter-curses began to overwhelm their opponents. Susan's containment spells started restricting their magical mobility.

The final assault was precise and strategic. Hermione's complex binding charm caught Rabastan mid-spell, immobilizing him. Harry's targeted stunning spell dropped Goyle Sr. before he could mount a significant defense.

"Draco now!" with a swift movement Draco impaled the time turner into the soil below him. The earth where the tuner was tethered began to quake.

Seeing this Druella doubled down on her resistance, it was more formidable. She unleashed a series of dark curses that forced the team to scatter, but Draco anticipated her movements. With a perfectly executed containment spell learned from his mother, he trapped Druella in a magical restraint.

"You'll never truly stop me," she snarled.

Draco knelt in front of her, "It's over grandmother, your ley lines are gone." The look on Druella's face could kill, she was full of rage and everyone could sense it.

Ron secured magical suppression devices on each of the three, ensuring none could apparate or cast wandless magic.

"Target neutralized," Theo reported calmly. "Who's hungry? I could go for some shawarma."

The group let a collective chuckle out. "Honestly Theo." Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

Greg began documenting the scene, collecting evidence. Theo and Isabella started dismantling the complex magical wards protecting the monastery.

"Three high-profile targets secured," Ron confirmed. "Clean extraction."

Draco looked at his captured grandmother, a mixture of professional satisfaction and familial complexity crossing his expression. He knew he had to break the news to his mother but he wasn't sure she would be too broken up about it.

The team quickly secured their prisoners. Ministry transport vehicles arrived within minutes, specialized magical containment units designed to suppress any potential escape attempts. After all the escapes they could not be too careful.

Draco approached head auror Tonks with a bit of a confident smirk on his face. "Full documentation on Druella Black, Rabastan Lestrange, and Gregory Goyle Sr. Charges include dark artifact trafficking, illegal magical conspiracies, multiple counts of magical interference, as well as child endangerment and possible kidnapping charges."

“Well done Auror Malfoy and Auror Potter.” Tonks clapped them on the back.

“Any updated on the capture of the Lieutenant that tortured us?” Harry was anxious to have all the criminals thrown in Azkaban and being done with it.

“The Lieutenant was captured attempting to cross the border in Romania, apparently, she was trying to transport a unit full of magical children. All have been secured and are currently being treated at St. Mungo's so they may be released to their families.

"Case closed," Harry said quietly to Draco, a mutual understanding passing between them.

As the prisoners were transported, Hermione began organizing the extensive evidence collected—magical artifacts, coded journals, intricate communication networks that would likely lead to additional prosecutions. She placed the now damaged time turner in a bag and in her pocket, she would personally escort this into the department of mysteries to be secured.

Draco looked over to Hermione and asked Tonks “what about Dolohov?”

With a heavy sigh Tonks followed Draco's line of sight. “We haven't found him yet, we still have a team out looking though. We will find him, that is the one fucker I won't mind if he gets killed in the cross fire.”

The team quickly pivoted their focus to tracking Antonin Dolohov, the last major target in their ongoing investigation.

"Dolohov's been more elusive," Hermione explained, spreading out a magical tracking map. "His last known location was in Albania, but he's skilled at magical concealment."

Harry studied the map. "We'll need a multifaceted approach. International magical cooperation will be critical to taking him down."

Draco looked over to Isabella, “Isabella do you think you could take point on the international Law angle?” Pansy began analyzing Dolohov's known communication networks, while Blaise cross-referenced historical movement patterns.

Hermione's advanced tracking spells began mapping potential routes. Greg prepared international extraction protocols.

"This isn't just about capture," Draco said. "We need to dismantle his entire network, if he's trying to gain support we may have a bigger battle on our hands."

The international tracking team quickly narrowed Dolohov's potential locations. Satellite magical surveillance identified a series of abandoned warehouses near the Bulgarian-Serbian border that showed suspicious magical signatures.

"He's using old Death Eater communication networks," Greg explained. "Fragmented, but traceable."

Ginny and Ron developed a strategic infiltration plan. Blaise and Pansy prepared advanced concealment and tracking spells. Isabella coordinated with international magical law enforcement for a synchronized approach.

"We'll have one chance," Draco warned. "Dolohov won't hesitate to use extreme measures."

Hermione's magical detection revealed a complex web of protective enchantments around the warehouse complex. Theo began systematically mapping potential escape routes and magical vulnerabilities.

"We move at dawn," Harry confirmed. "Full team. No room for error."

The dawn operation against Dolohov began with precision.

Harry, Greg, and Ron led the initial magical breach of the warehouse complex. Powerful protective spells shimmered and collapsed under their coordinated assault.

Hermione's tracking charms pinpointed Dolohov's exact location within the labyrinthine structure.

"He's in the central chamber," she whispered. "Multiple magical signatures. He's not alone."

Draco signaled the team to spread out. Blaise and Pansy created magical containment barriers to prevent any potential escape routes. Ginny and Theo monitored external magical communications to ensure no reinforcements could arrive.

Dolohov, sensing the approach, began preparing a complex dark magical defense. But the team's synchronized assault left him little room to maneuver.

"Surrender is your only option, don't make this harder on yourself Dolohov we have you surrounded." Harry called out.

Dolohov's magical defense erupted violently. Dark curses shattered protective barriers, forcing the team to scatter and counterattack. He was in a panic and his magic was showing it.

Hermione's quick shield charm deflected a lethal curse. Ron and Harry moved in synchronized attack patterns, systematically breaking down Dolohov's magical defenses.

"You'll never take me!" Dolohov shouted, unleashing a complex series of dark magical bombardments.

Draco anticipated his movement, casting a precise containment spell that began restricting Dolohov's magical capabilities. Blaise and Pansy reinforced the magical barriers, preventing any potential escape.

Hermione's tracking spells revealed hidden magical signatures—additional concealed weapons and potential escape mechanisms.

"Now!" Draco commanded.

A simultaneous magical assault from multiple team members overwhelmed Dolohov's defenses. Harry's final stunning spell struck precisely, immobilizing the target.

" You won't keep me for long, I'll get out again you'll see." He was frantic a crazed man cornered like a rat.

Hermione got close to his ear with a mischievous smirk on her face. "Silly little death eater, you won't make it past the night." As she rose she whispered the sectumsempra curse and watched as several cuts emerged from Dolohov's torso.

"That was a nice touch love." Draco placed a hand around her waist as she came to stand beside him.

"Full documentation," Draco instructed to his cousin Tonks. "Charges include multiple counts of dark magic conspiracy, illegal artifact trafficking, and attempted resistance to magical authorities. Unfortunately for him, he won't make it to see the trial, pitty." Draco smirked down at Dolohov as he took his last few breaths.

“Pitty indeed. Honestly, I might have to make all of you a permanent team, you've captured more assholes in one month then most of my other aurors combined.” Tonk's was proud of her people and she showed it in her vibrant pink hair and smirk securely plastered on her face.

Harry looked at Draco. "Another major target neutralized. That particular curse looked familiar." His eye brows rose a bit as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You can thank Hermione for that one, she was feeling a bit vengeful I suppose." Draco looked back and Hermione with pride and adoration in his eyes.

As the team began processing the evidence, Ron couldn't resist cracking a joke.

"Well, that's another dark wizard off the streets," he said, nudging Harry. "Bet Mum will want to celebrate with a massive family dinner."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "More like interrogate us about every single detail."

Blaise smirked. "Weasley family interrogations are more terrifying than most dark wizards."

Pansy snorted. "Especially your mother, Weasley. I'd take Dolohov over her cross-examination any day."

Hermione was trying to suppress her laughter while sorting magical evidence. "She does have a way of extracting information."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of extraction, we just did something similar to Dolohov - just with less home-baked biscuits involved."

The entire team burst into laughter, the tension of the mission momentarily broken by their camaraderie.

Harry looked around. "Dinner at the Burrow?"

A unanimous chorus of groans and laughs followed.

Chapter Text

The team decided to celebrate at the Burrow, with Mrs. Weasley already preparing a massive feast before they could even arrive.

"How does she always know?" Ron muttered reaching out for Susan's hand.

As they entered, couples naturally gravitated together. Hermione leaned into Draco, whispering something that made him chuckle. Harry and Pansy were playfully arguing about mission strategy, their hands intertwined. Susan was listening to Ron's dramatic retelling of the capture, occasionally rolling her eyes.

Padma and Blaise sat quietly, analyzing the mission's magical mechanics. Theo and Ginny were engaged in an intense chess match, magical pieces moving dramatically across the board.

Isabella and Greg were discussing tactical improvements, their professional partnership blending seamlessly with their personal relationship.

Molly Weasley surveyed the group, beaming with a mixture of maternal pride and exasperation.

"Anyone care for a sausage rolls?" she asked, already moving to serve before anyone could respond.

Immediately Ron sprung to action and grabbed a few rolls for himself, while everyone chuckled at his gluttony. “What?” He said around a mouthful.

As the gathering progressed, the conversation flowed between mission details and playful banter.

"I still can't believe we tracked down all of them down," Harry said, raising his butterbeer.

Draco smirked. "Family reunions just got more interesting."

Molly, overhearing, rolled her eyes. "More complicated, you mean."

Ginny leaned into Theo. "Another dark wizard network dismantled. Not a bad day's work." She ran her hand down Theo's neck, causing a shiver to run down his back.

Hermione was already sketching out potential follow-up investigations on a napkin, Draco watching her with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

Ron was stuffing more food in his face while overelaborating the capture of Dolohov with Susan. This caused the witch to chuckle at her boyfriends antics but she loved him and wouldn't take him any other way.

"Dinner's ready!" Molly announced, floating massive platters of roast, potatoes, and her famous treacle tart.

Arthur and Charlie arrived just as dinner was starting. Fred and George, with their trademark mischievous grins, brought an assortment of experimental magical joke products that had everyone on edge.

"Testing new defensive pranks," George explained. "Perfect for Auror training."

Bill and Fleur entered with their children, adding to the already chaotic family gathering. Percy arrived last, meticulously organizing his Ministry reports even as he sat down.

"Another successful operation?" Arthur asked the team. His intrest in the ins and outs of their missions always made Arthur light up like a child.

Draco nodded. "Druella's network is completely dismantled, took down a few death eaters that escaped Azkaban as well."

Charlie, just back from a dragon research expedition, was more interested in the tactical details. "Tell me about the magical containment spells," he said to Blaise and Greg.

The Weasley children – Victoire, Dominique and Louis and the others - were creating a magical ruckus in the background, occasionally sending sparks flying between the dinner plates.

Fred suddenly stood up, pulling out a small magical device. "Who wants to test our new 'Auror Alert' prank?"

The device started spinning wildly, shooting tiny sparks that transformed into miniature dancing wizards. One tiny wizard landed directly in Percy's perfectly styled hair, causing him to yelp.

"Fred!" Percy shouted, trying to swat the tiny magical figure.

Ron couldn't contain his laughter. "Perfect landing!"

Bill leaned over to Fleur. "Our children get this mischief from somewhere," he whispered, eyeing his twin brothers.

Charlie was demonstrating a dragon-handling technique to Greg and Isabella, accidentally knocking over a pitcher of pumpkin juice in the process.

"Another successful family dinner," Arthur chuckled, using his wand to clean up the spill.

Molly just shook her head, magically refilling plates and muttering about "these children."

Louis Weasley, Victoire's mischievous little brother, suddenly transformed Percy's carefully pressed Ministry robes into a bright pink tutu. Percy's horrified expression sent the entire table into hysterics.

"Victoire!" Percy bellowed. "Control your brother!"

Fleur tried to look stern but couldn't suppress her laughter. Bill was openly smirking.

George gave Louis a high-five. "That's my future prankster!"

Molly, torn between disciplining the children and laughing, managed to turn Percy's tutu back to its original gray color.

"More treacle tart?" she asked, as if nothing had happened.

Padma suddenly cast a mild charm that made everyone's utensils start dancing across the table. Forks were waltzing with spoons, knives doing a complicated tango.

"Not my specialty," Blaise deadpanned, watching his fork pirouette.

George applauded. "Brilliant!"

Arthur was laughing so hard his glasses were sliding down his nose. Molly just waved her wand, returning the utensils to their proper place with astern look.

Ginny leaned into Theo. "Your family is so... normal," she whispered sarcastically.

Draco caught the comment and raised an eyebrow. "Define normal."

The magical chaos continued, with Victoire and Dominique now attempting to make the salt and pepper shakers sing famous hits from Celestina Warbeck to Molly's great surprise.

As the evening wound down, the couples began their goodbyes.

Harry and Pansy were the first to stand, Harry giving Molly a quick kiss on the cheek promising to visit again soon. Pansy rolled her eyes at the family's continued chaos but smiled warmly.

Ron and Susan were next, Susan carefully avoiding a last-minute prank from George by ducking behind Ron.

Blaise and Padma left with elegant efficiency, while Theo and Ginny shared a quiet moment, plotting their next adventure.

Greg helped Isabella with her coat, whispering something that made her laugh. They exchanged a quick, private moment before saying farewell to the Weasleys.

Draco and Hermione were the last to leave, Draco carefully avoiding Louis' remaining magical surprises.

"Another successful family gathering," Arthur chuckled, as Molly began magically cleaning up the spectacular mess.

As the others prepared to leave, Arthur gently touched Draco's elbow. "A moment?"

They stepped into the kitchen, away from the bustling family.

"How are things with you and Hermione?" Arthur asked, his eyes warm and genuine.

Draco's typically guarded expression softened. "She's... remarkable. Brilliant beyond measure. Our work complements each other perfectly."

Arthur nodded. "And personally?"

A rare, genuine smile crossed Draco's face. "Better than I ever imagined possible. She challenges me, supports me. Makes me want to be better."

"That's all a father can hope for," Arthur said, squeezing Draco's shoulder.

Hermione, sensing the conversation, looked over with a curious smile.

Draco glanced around to ensure no one was listening. "Arthur, Hermione sees you as a father so I feel I should be speaking to you about this" he said quietly, "I'm planning to propose to Hermione."

Arthur's eyes lit up with excitement. "You've found a ring?"

"My mother helped," Draco revealed. "It's a Black family heirloom - an emerald and diamond ring that belonged to my great-grandmother. Hermione doesn't know I've been wanting to ask her for quite some time now, some might say it's too soon, but I know it's right. She's my soul mate."

"She'll be surprised," Arthur said, his smile warm and knowing.

"I want to propose somewhere meaningful," Draco continued. "Somewhere that represents our journey - not just romantically, but professionally. Perhaps where we solved our first major case together, or the archives where we first reconnected."

Arthur squeezed Draco's shoulder. "She'll say yes."

Draco pulled a small velvet box from his inner robe pocket, showing Arthur the ring. It was an exquisite emerald surrounded by delicate diamond baguettes, set in an antique platinum band.

"I'm thinking of proposing during our next major case presentation," he said softly. "She'll never expect it."

Arthur chuckled. "Hermione loves surprises that aren't overly dramatic."

Just then, Hermione called, "Draco? Ready to go?"

Draco quickly tucked the ring away, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Arthur.

Draco promptly rejoined Hermione, maintaining his composed demeanor.

"Ready?" he asked, offering his arm.

Hermione smiled, linking her arm through his. "Goodbye, everyone!" she called to the Weasley family.

As they prepared to apparate, Arthur watched them with a knowing smile, thinking about the proposal secretly planned.

The rest of the Weasley's were already saying their final goodbyes, creating a warm, chaotic scene of hugs, jokes, and affectionate farewells.

As everyone departed, Molly turned to Arthur. "Well?"

Arthur's eyes twinkled. "Draco's going to propose to Hermione."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "About time. And using a Black family heirloom, no less I'm sure."

"Our Hermione couldn't have chosen a more unexpected partner," Arthur chuckled. "But they're perfect together."

Molly began magically cleaning the kitchen, her wand dancing through the air. "Love works in mysterious ways."

Arthur watched her, smiling, knowing their own unlikely love story had paved the way for their children's happiness.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Draco and Hermione sat in their shared home office, reviewing case files from the previous day's successful operations.

Hermione was meticulously organizing documentation from the Dolohov capture, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. Draco watched her, his mind briefly drifting to the ring hidden in his desk drawer.

"We need to coordinate with international magical law enforcement," Hermione said, breaking his reverie. "Dolohov's network was more extensive than we initially thought."

Draco nodded, pulling out a map of magical communication routes. "I've got contacts in Eastern Europe who can help trace the remaining connections."

Draco reached across the desk, his hand gently touching Hermione's. "We make a good team," he said softly.

Hermione smiled, intertwining her fingers with his. She leaned over and kissed him briefly, her focus returning quickly to the case files.

"These communication networks are fascinating," she murmured, tracing magical routes on the map. "The way Dolohov maintained his infrastructure is remarkably complex."

Draco watched her, admiring how her mind worked. He loved these moments - professional collaboration mixed with intimate connection.

"Another coffee?" he asked, already moving to the enchanted coffee maker that knew their exact preferences.

Hermione accepted her coffee with a grateful smile. "Your timing is impeccable," she said, taking a sip.

Draco moved behind her, gently massaging her shoulders. "Tension from the case?"

"Always," she murmured, leaning back into his touch. "International magical networks are intricate."

He kissed the top of her head. "We'll unravel it together."

Suddenly, an encrypted magical message arrived, shimmering in mid-air. Hermione's eyes lit up with professional excitement.

"Another lead on Dolohov's remaining network?"

Draco leaned closer, studying the shimmering message. "Encrypted with Karkaroff's old cipher," he muttered, his fingers tracing complex magical patterns in the air. "It's got Romanian Ministry encryption overlays."

Hermione's wand was already out, her brilliant mind processing multiple layers of magical security simultaneously. "Not Dolohov's direct network," she said sharply. "This looks like a secondary contact channel. Possibly an intermediary we haven't tracked yet."

The message slowly rotated, revealing fragments of coded text that glinted like fractured glass. Draco raised an eyebrow. "Shall we?"

She nodded, a dangerous glint in her eyes. Their combined magical decryption skills were formidable - he with his intricate understanding of dark magical networks, she with her unparalleled analytical precision.

"This could be the break we've been hunting for the past three months," Hermione said, her voice a mixture of professional intensity and barely contained anticipation.

Hermione's fingers intertwined with Draco's as they worked, their magical signatures harmonizing while decrypting the message. Her body leaned into his, their professional synchronicity mirroring their intimate connection.

"Got it," she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. The coded text shimmered, revealing geographic coordinates and a partial name: "R. Volkov - Prague safe house."

Draco's lips brushed her temple. "Another connection to the eastern European network?"

"Precisely," Hermione murmured, turning to face him. Their eyes locked - hers burning with professional intensity, his with a mixture of admiration and desire.

He pulled her closer, one hand still tracing magical decryption patterns, the other firmly on her waist. "We'll solve this," he said softly, "together."

The magical message continued rotating, casting ethereal blue light across their intertwined bodies - partners in every sense of the word.

The decryption momentarily forgotten, Draco pulled Hermione into a deep kiss, his hands sliding beneath her thinly wrapped dressing gown. She responded with equal passion, her fingers threading through his hair.

"We should finish analyzing the message," Hermione murmured against his lips, even as she pressed closer.

Draco's fingers trailed along her neck, making her shiver. "The message can wait," he whispered.

Their professional intensity transformed, becoming something more heated and personal. Outside their magical workspace, the encrypted message continued its silent rotation - a promise of work to be continued, but not now.

Draco lifted her onto the desk, not once removing his lips from hers. He treasured this woman, respected and praised her, and if he was a lucky man, she would be his forever soon.

"Hermione, you know I love you more than life itself," Draco said, trailing his hands down her side as he sat in front of her at the desk.

"And I you, Draco. What's this about?" She was curious where this conversation was leading; he wasn't normally one for sentimentality.

He ran his hands through his already tousled hair, making it far worse. "Hermione, I know we haven't been living together for very long, and we haven't rekindled our relationship much more than that. But love... Shit, what I'm trying to say is that I can't see my life without you in it."

She looked at him with as much tenderness and love as she could manage. How could she deserve this man, this wonderful, brilliant, and gorgeous man?

"I know, Draco, but you are my everything. I don't particularly think that there is any rule about how quickly a relationship should progress. What's this really about?"

He started to fidget with the hem of her dressing gown. "What I'm trying to say, very poorly it seems, is that I love you. I want to spend the rest of our lives together and... If you would do me the honor of being my wife." At this proclamation, Draco went down on one knee, removed the ring box he had tucked away in his desk drawer, and prayed to every deity that she would finally claim him as hers.

Hermione momentarily looked like she was struck with a binding jinx; she couldn't believe that this was happening. The love of her life was right in front of her, declaring his undeniable love for her.

"Love, please say something. You're driving me mad here." Draco started to bite down on his lower lip, doubt starting to cloud his vision.

Hermione placed her hands on either side of Draco's face and gave him the most brilliant smile he had ever seen. "Oh, Draco, I have been waiting for you to ask me this question for ages, love. I would love to be Mrs. Malfoy." She bent down and placed a tender kiss on his lips.

With the confirmation of her approval, Draco wrapped his arms around her and deepened their kiss. Finally, she was his—all his forevermore. He would memorize every inch of his brilliant witch, this moment, and cherish her until his dying breath.

She pulled back from him for just a moment. "Wait, Draco, we have to tell everyone. This is wonderful news." He couldn't help but chuckle. Of course she would find it more important to share the happiness with others.

"We will, love, but for right now I'd like to take you back to our bed and have my way with my fiancée." The lecherous look he gave her made her body shiver a bit. She bit down on her lip and gave him a small nod.

With that, he grabbed her by her bum and lifted her up onto him, moving as quickly as he could to their room. For the next hour, he would claim her in every sense of the word. This witch was his, and no one would separate them.

"Oh, Draco, yes! More... I'm... I'm so close." With one final thrust, both of them came tumbling down. Every fiber of their senses was oversensitive. They hadn't left the bedroom for more than an hour, and their bodies were starting to protest every movement they made. Draco fell sideways next to her, both heaving for breath.

"I will say that last time was the best one yet, although I need sustenance, my love. Shall we go down and grab a bite, and perhaps several liters of water?" Draco smirked up at his soon-to-be bride. Their marathon of sex only solidified in him that she was made for him.

"Yes, please, although I cannot fathom walking for another couple of minutes. I feel that I would take a tumble if I try." She started to giggle like a schoolgirl. All sense and sensibility left her at that moment. She wasn't complaining; this was the best night she had with her future husband, and she would not trade it for anything. Every muscle in her body ached; her legs were trembling deliciously. Life was finally perfection.

Thirty minutes later found them in the kitchens, seated side by side, enjoying some freshly baked scones Mippy had prepared for them and a strong cuppa. "Draco, we should finish evaluating the information we left in the office and report to the team. If we found a new development to finally bring down the other pure-blood families, we should take care of it before they run." Hermione was always thinking of the bigger picture; she wanted to make it safe for other witches and wizards to live in their world, even if she didn't get a break.

"Yes, love, I've already sent a Patronus to Potter. The team will be coming over for dinner tonight so we can go over everything and maybe share the good news." Draco wanted everyone to know; he wanted to scream it from the highest building that he was going to marry Hermione Granger.

Just then, Narcissa entered the kitchen. "Oh, hello, dears. I hadn't realized anyone would be in here."

Narcissa looked over at the two lovebirds, their recent activities clearly plastered on their disheveled faces.

"Hello, mother. We were just enjoying some tea and some of Mippy's delicious scones. Care to join?" Draco stood to greet his mother and pull out a chair for her.

"Oh, my Dragon, I would love to join. How have you both enjoyed your day? I sense there is some... news you wish to share with me." Narcissa Malfoy was always an astute witch; there was not much that could be put past her. Of course, she was aware that her only son was to propose soon to his witch.

In the past, she would not have approved of his choice, but through the last few years during the war and shortly thereafter, she had learned to accept any possibility. The way that Hermione made him happy also helped sell her to Narcissa. She was a very bright girl, and they were undeniably a perfect match. How could she disagree with his choice? Lucius was a bit more difficult to convince, but once he saw how happy his son was, and how Hermione was not one to back down, he came around.

Draco cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, mother, we do have some wonderful news. Hermione has accepted my proposal; we shall be married." He smiled over to Hermione and placed a tender kiss on her hand.

Narcissa abruptly stood and clapped her hands together with joy. "Oh, this does call for a celebration. We should arrange a party to share the wonderful news." She was getting ahead of herself, and they could both see it.

"Actually, Narcissa, we are to have our friends over for dinner tonight to break the news. We would love for you and Lucius to join, of course. Also, I would like to thank you for helping Draco pick out my ring." Hermione had cultivated a bit of a close bond with her future mother-in-law. She was a formidable woman, and Hermione could appreciate a person who would do and say anything to protect those they loved. And Narcissa loved fiercely.

Narcissa took Hermione's hand and squeezed it lightly. "Of course, darling. I couldn't have chosen a better partner for my Dragon. You deserve every prized possession for that alone."

The dinner began with an air of barely contained chaos. Harry Potter arrived first, looking slightly shell-shocked and carrying a bottle of elf-made wine. "I've already been threatened by Pansy to behave," he announced, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Ron, who followed moments later, couldn't contain his excitement. "You're actually marrying Malfoy?" he blurted to Hermione. "Merlin, I never thought I'd see the day!" Susan smacked his arm at this pronouncement.

Draco, with perfect aristocratic composure, raised an eyebrow. "Charming as always, Weasley."

The moment Lucius entered, the room went momentarily silent. He looked at Draco and Hermione, then dramatically declared, "Well, I suppose someone had to marry her to keep her from breaking any more Ministry regulations."

Hermione's laugh was sharp and immediate. "Are you complimenting me, Lucius?"

"Absolutely not," he deadpanned.

George Weasley, who had been suspiciously quiet, suddenly produced a magical confetti cannon. "Engagement prank!" he shouted, covering everyone in sparkling, singing engagement rings that kept harmonizing "She said YESSSSS!"

Narcissa, caught in the magical shower, looked simultaneously horrified and amused.

The dinner quickly transformed into a delightful blend of chaos and camaraderie.

Theo and Ginny were whispering conspiratorially in one corner, her fiery hair contrasting with his dark, precise demeanor. "I bet five galleons George sets something on fire," Theo muttered.

Ginny grinned. "Ten says he absolutely will."

Blaise and Padma arrived precisely on time, Blaise looking impeccable and Padma rolling her eyes at his meticulousness. "Did you iron your napkin again?" she teased.

Greg, entered with his wife Isabella, the beautiful Spanish witch who somehow managed to make Greg look sophisticated. "Felicidades y bendiciones!" she announced, her accent thick with enthusiasm.

The entire Weasley clan descended like a perfectly orchestrated tornado. Molly immediately started fussing over Hermione, while Arthur was fascinated by Draco's magical engagement ring, examining its enchantments with childlike wonder. “You did good my boy, I'm happy for both of you. I told you she'd say yes.” Arthur clapped Draco on the back.

Charlie Weasley, fresh from a dragon reservation, raised a toast. "To the couple least likely to have happened - but somehow perfect together!"

Ron groaned. "Merlin, this is still weird."

“Please Ronald, it's not as if we haven't been dating for a bit.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry just laughed, clinking glasses with Draco - a sight that would have been unimaginable years ago.

Molly Weasley suddenly stood up, her famous matchmaking instincts in full swing. "Now, everyone, let's hear how this engagement actually happened!"

All eyes turned to Draco and Hermione. Draco looked momentarily panicked, while Hermione's cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink.

"Well," Draco began, "I may have planned an entire elaborate proposal involving magical coordinates and a complex decryption—"

"He got nervous and basically blurted it out while we were working," Hermione interrupted, laughing.

George Weasley howled with laughter. "Typical Malfoy! Planned something complicated and then bottled it!"

Harry, trying to maintain composure, asked, "Wait, were you actually decrypting a magical message when he proposed?"

"Absolutely," Hermione confirmed. "Ministry work never stops, even during personal moments."

Theo leaned over to Ginny. "Your best friend is definitely something else."

Ginny grinned. "Wouldn't have her any other way."

Lucius, who had been quietly observing, suddenly cleared his throat. "I propose a wedding prediction pool."

Everyone stared at him.

"What?" he said defensively. "It's a Malfoy tradition."

Isabella, Greg's wife, burst out laughing. "I'll start. I bet Hermione plans a perfectly organized wedding with color-coded spreadsheets."

"Twenty galleons she has magical timeline charts," Blaise added.

Draco looked mortified. Hermione looked... intrigued.

"Challenge accepted," she muttered.

Fred Weasley's eyes lit up with mischievous potential. "Magical wedding planning? This is going to be brilliant."

Harry leaned toward Ron. "Should we be worried?"

Ron just groaned. "Absolutely."

Narcissa watched her son, a knowing smile playing on her lips. Her Dragon had finally found his match - someone who could match his intensity, challenge his perspectives, and love him completely.

With wedding predictions flying, Molly Weasley suddenly stood up. "I'll organize the catering!"

"Mum, no," Ron groaned. "Remember what happened at Bill's wedding?"

Ginny snickered. "The cake that kept singing 'I Do' in three-part harmony?"

Harry choked on his butterbeer.

Draco looked horrified. "Absolutely not. My mother will handle catering."

Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow. "Indeed. Malfoy standards must be maintained."

Hermione, caught between amusement and planning mode, was already mentally categorizing wedding logistics. "We'll need international magical permits, cross-cultural ceremony considerations, and—"

"And romance?" Theo interrupted, earning a playful swat from Ginny.

Greg, uncharacteristically philosophical, mumbled, "Love is complicated."

Isabella squeezed his hand. "And beautiful."

The room erupted in laughter, warmth, and the promise of a most unusual wedding.

Shortly after everyone finished their meal, Harry turned to Hermione. “I know this is a celebration and all, but we all know you don’t mind a bit of shop talk. What did you end up deciphering?”

Hermione began to explain the information they had decoded earlier. “Honestly, the network Dolohov set up was impeccable. It's really sad and a waste of talent, considering what an absolute cunt he is.”

At this proclamation, Lucius let out a loud, boisterous laugh. Everyone turned to look at him. “Forgive me for that, but that is the best description I have heard of Dolohov. Leave it to my future daughter to voice it.”

Hermione turned a brilliant shade of pink at his statement. Having Lucius Malfoy's approval was something she never thought she needed, but it thrilled her nonetheless. Draco reached out to hold her hand and squeezed it lightly in support, wearing the most brilliant smile on his face.

Hermione's blush deepened as she caught Draco's eye. He gave her that signature smirk that once infuriated her but now made her heart skip.

"Speaking of Draco and Hermione," Theo piped up with a mischievous grin, "remember when they were partnered in Advanced Potions in eighth year?"

Blaise nearly choked on his drink. "Oh Merlin, the Euphoria Elixir incident!"

"Must we revisit that particular disaster?" Draco groaned, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "It wasn't entirely our fault. Someone—" she shot a pointed look at Theo Nott, "—thought it would be hilarious to switch our valerian roots with sopophorous beans."

"The entire classroom was giggling uncontrollably for hours," Blaise explained to Lucius, who raised an elegant eyebrow. "But the best part was when Professor Slughorn started dancing."

"And Draco here," Theo continued gleefully, "proclaimed his undying love for Hermione's bushy hair in front of the entire class. Recited a poem and everything!"

"I still maintain I was under the influence of a poorly brewed potion," Draco insisted, though he squeezed Hermione's hand tighter.

"That's not what you said last week when you compared my hair to, what was it?" Hermione teased. "'A magnificent lion's mane that you want to run your fingers through forever?'"

Narcissa Malfoy's delicate laugh joined the chorus around the table. "Draco always did have his father's flair for the dramatic. When Lucius was courting me, he once enchanted an entire garden to bloom whenever I walked past."

"Mother," Draco warned, but Lucius merely raised his glass.

"To dramatic gestures," he toasted. "They seem to work remarkably well for Malfoy men."

As dinner continued, the stories flowed freely – tales of Hermione teaching Draco about Muggle cinema (resulting in him developing an unexpected obsession with science fiction), Draco attempting to cook for her without magic (setting fire to his expensive robes in the process), and their legendary academic competitions that still occasionally ended with both of them in the library until Madam Pince kicked them out.

What had once been animosity had transformed into something neither could have imagined during their early Hogwarts years – a partnership built on mutual respect, shared intellect, and a love that had surprised everyone, themselves included.

As the evening drew to a close, Mrs. Weasley rose from her seat, prompting others to follow suit.

"Well, this has been absolutely lovely," Molly said, her warm eyes surveying the table with genuine appreciation. She hesitated a moment before adding, "Narcissa, Lucius, thank you for your hospitality."

The words clearly cost her something to say, but the sincerity in her voice was unmistakable. Years of animosity couldn't be erased in a single evening, but bridges were being built.

As everyone began gathering their things, Hermione found herself enveloped in one of Molly's signature hugs. The familiar scent of cinnamon and yarn wrapped around her like a physical manifestation of home.

"You know," Molly whispered, holding Hermione a little tighter than usual, "when you first came into our lives, I never imagined this particular turn of events." She pulled back slightly, her eyes misty as she glanced toward Draco, who was speaking with his father. "But I've never seen you quite so... radiant."

Hermione's throat tightened. "You're not disappointed?"

"Oh, my dear girl," Molly cupped Hermione's face in her weathered hands. "You could never disappoint me. The world has changed, and perhaps it's time our hearts did too."

Arthur appeared beside them, placing a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You've always had the brightest mind of anyone I've known," he said quietly. "We trust your judgment. Even when it comes to Malfoys." The last part was accompanied by the smallest of winks.

George sauntered over, breaking the emotional tension as only he could. "Besides," he stage-whispered, "if he steps one toe out of line, we've got about seventeen new products from the shop that need test subjects."

Ron approached next, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Their brief romance felt like a lifetime ago now.

"You know," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "when you two first told us, I reckoned I'd never get used to it." He glanced at Draco, who was now watching their exchange with undisguised interest. "Still working on it, if I'm honest. But you're family, Hermione. That doesn't change."

Ginny slipped her arm through Hermione's. "And family sticks together, even when they make utterly baffling romantic choices," she teased, though her smile was genuine.

As the Weasleys prepared to leave through the ornate fireplace, Bill turned to Hermione. "You know you're still expected at Sunday dinners," he said firmly. "And yes, that includes him now." He nodded toward Draco.

Fleur, elegant as always, kissed Hermione's cheeks. "Love finds ze most unexpected paths, non? C'est magnifique."

When they had all said their goodbyes, with promises of future gatherings, Hermione found herself standing between two worlds – the Weasleys, her chosen family who had taken in a lonely, bookish girl and given her belonging, and the Malfoys, representing a future she never could have imagined.

As the last green flames flickered in the fireplace, Draco approached, slipping his arm around her waist.

"Alright?" he asked softly.

Hermione leaned into him, watching the space where her adoptive family had just stood. "They're not perfect, but they love fiercely," she whispered. "It's taken them so much to accept this – to accept us."

"I know," Draco murmured against her hair. "Believe me, I know what it costs to bridge these divides."

She turned to face him fully, eyes shining with unshed tears and determination. "Worth it, though?"

His answer was immediate and certain. "Every single moment."

As the last echoes of conversation faded away and the remaining guests departed, Draco took Hermione's hand, his thumb tracing small circles against her palm.

"I think we've fulfilled our social obligations admirably," he murmured, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "What do you say we retire to our quarters?"

Hermione glanced around the now-empty dining room, where house elves (paid ones, at her insistence) were quietly clearing away the remnants of dinner. She caught Draco's eye and nodded, feeling the pleasant warmth of anticipation spread through her.

They bid goodnight to Narcissa and Lucius, who were retiring to the east wing. As they climbed the grand staircase together, Hermione felt the weight of the evening begin to lift from her shoulders. Conversations with both families, political discussions about the reconstruction efforts, and the constant awareness of historical tensions between the Weasleys and Malfoys had left her mentally exhausted.

When they finally reached their private suite—a compromise between Draco's preference for the Manor and Hermione's reluctance to live there full-time—Draco closed the door behind them with a soft click. The room was exactly as they'd left it: bookshelves lining the walls, a pleasant mix of magical and Muggle items, and the lingering scent of the lavender Hermione kept on her nightstand.

"You handled that remarkably well," Draco said, loosening his tie. "I saw your face when Father called you his future daughter."

Hermione kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. "It was... unexpected. Nice, but unexpected."

"Unexpected appears to be our specialty," Draco replied, moving behind her to help with the clasp of her necklace. His fingers brushed against the nape of her neck, lingering longer than necessary. "Do you remember the first time we were alone in these rooms?"

Hermione laughed softly. "How could I forget? You were so nervous you accidentally set fire to that hideous portrait of your great-uncle."

"It wasn't an accident," Draco murmured against her neck. "I knew how much you hated his disapproving glare. Though I'd planned something a bit less dramatic than full-scale combustion."

She turned to face him, reaching up to run her fingers through his platinum hair. "I've always appreciated your flair for the dramatic. It's part of your charm."

The tension that had surrounded them all evening—the careful words, measured responses, and diplomatic smiles—melted away as they stood together in their sanctuary. Here, they weren't representatives of opposing sides in a war that had ended but left scars on everyone involved. They were simply Draco and Hermione.

"I have something for you," Draco said suddenly, pulling away to retrieve something from his desk drawer. He returned with a small, leather-bound book. "I found it in a collection of magical artifacts recently recovered from one of Dolohov's hideouts. Thought you might be interested."

Hermione's eyes widened as she took the book, carefully opening its ancient pages. "This is... Draco, this is Rowena Ravenclaw's personal research journal. How did you—"

"Let's just say I made sure it was diverted from Ministry cataloging," he said with that familiar smirk. "Consider it an early anniversary gift."

Hermione clutched the book to her chest, momentarily torn between academic excitement and the growing desire to be closer to him. "You know exactly how to seduce me, don't you?" she whispered.

"I've had years of practice," he replied, gently taking the book and placing it on their nightstand. "And we have all night to explore its contents. But first..." He pulled her closer, his silver eyes darkening with intent.

As they moved toward their bed, the world outside their rooms—with all its complications and lingering prejudices—seemed very far away indeed.

The look on his face spoke of hunger and lust, the undeniable desire he couldn't quit control around her. She was his weakness, his undoing and he wouldn't deny himself ever again. Hermione Granger was his and he would give her everything to keep her.

Draco started to trail kisses down her neck, down to her exposed clavicle. Slowly he unbuttoned her blouse and kissed the tops of her rounded breasts. Eliciting small moans for his witch, he continued to trail kisses down her perfect body. “You are perfection my love, the curves of your body drive me mad.” Draco slowly unbuttoned her trousers and began to tug them down her legs.

In nothing more then a very lacy very edible looking lingerie set of a deep emerald green. “Why Miss Granger, did you wear these just for me?”

The flush running up her body made her glow, he was the luckiest bastard in all of England and he knew it. Dipping his head down he kissed her belly right under her navel, then her left thigh followed by her right. Each time a small moan of approval came out of his witches very plump and soft lips. “Draco... please...more.”

“More what my love.” He loved it when he could render her completely speechless. He pressed another kiss closer to her core. This made her jerk her pelvis up a bit.

Draco hooked his fingers through her lacy panties and pulled them off, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder to find later. Then he attached his lips to her core, He devoured her, he feasted as if she were his five-course meal leaving no room for her to move. She was sweet like honey, every inch of her the perfect enticing treat he didn't know he needed.

“Oh gods Draco please... please stop teasing me. Please fuck me.” Hermione was losing herself she need him inside her she needed to feel his every inch within her soul.

Draco was not a man who needed to be told twice when it came to making his witch feel every indulgent lustful want he could provide. He crawled up her body and lined himself up to her glistening cunt. “Are you ready for me love, I will not be gentle this time.” With that, he thrust himself fully in. Momentarily pausing to enjoy every thrilling sensation that ran up his body, she was made for him.

“Gods Hermione you feel amazing, how..thrust.. did I..thrust..get so ….thrust...lucky....FUCK!” He lost his composure at that point and started driving into her with all the force and want he could, he wanted to make her feel so good and he couldn't deny himself any longer either.

“Yes, Draco..don't stop...please I'm almost...ohhhhh gooooods” and she broke free, Hermione started to convulse around him, it was like an out-of-body experience. This was the most intense orgasm she had ever felt.

Just three more thrusts and Draco followed her down. “Perfect, my perfect witch. I love you Hermione.”

Hermione leaned in to kiss him tenderly “ I love you Draco.”

The morning light filtered through the enchanted windows of their suite, carrying the soft golden hue of early autumn. Hermione stirred first, her eyes opening to find Draco still asleep beside her, one arm draped possessively across her waist. She allowed herself a moment to study him—features relaxed in sleep, looking younger and unburdened by the weight of his family name.

With practiced care, she slipped from beneath his arm and padded to the bathroom. By the time she emerged, dressed in her Ministry robes, Draco was sitting up in bed, hair tousled and a sleepy smirk on his face.

"Running off to save the wizarding world again?" he asked, voice still rough with sleep.

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement waits for no one," she replied, fastening her hair into a practical bun. "Even future Malfoy brides."

Draco's expression softened at her words. "Have I mentioned how much I enjoy hearing you say that?"

"Only about a hundred times." She leaned down to kiss him quickly. "I've got that meeting with Kingsley and Tonks about the Dolohov network at nine. What's on your schedule today?"

Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his robe. "Meeting with the family solicitors about transferring some assets into your name, then lunch with Blaise and Greg to discuss security arrangements for the wedding." He paused, watching her gather her papers. "Speaking of which..."

"I know, I know," Hermione said, turning to face him. "We need to finalize the date. And the venue. And approximately a thousand other details your mother keeps asking me about."

"Mother can be... enthusiastic," Draco conceded. "But she means well."

Hermione smiled despite herself. "I was thinking—what about the solstice? December 21st. Symbolically, it represents the return of light after darkness, which seems..."

"Appropriate," Draco finished for her, standing to wrap his arms around her from behind. "I like it. Mother will approve of the traditional significance, and it gives us just over three months to prepare."

"Three months seems impossibly short when your mother is talking about guest lists that include half of wizarding Europe," Hermione sighed, leaning back against him.

"We could always elope," Draco suggested, his lips brushing her ear.

"And miss watching Ron's face when he sees me walk down the aisle toward a Malfoy? Never." She turned in his arms to face him. "Besides, I think we've earned this celebration. After everything."

"Indeed we have," he murmured, his fingers tracing the faint scar on her forearm—a permanent reminder of darker days. "December 21st it is, then."

With reluctance, Hermione checked her watch and pulled away. "I've got to go. Dinner at seven? We can start on the guest list then."

"I'll have the elves prepare something," Draco replied. "And I'll tell Mother about the date. Perhaps that will satisfy her until dinner."

As Hermione gathered the last of her things, she paused at the doorway. "Do you think we should include some muggle traditions as well?"

Draco's expression was thoughtful. "If it's important to you, then yes. I'm not opposed to starting new traditions."

The simple acceptance in his voice—so different from the prejudiced boy she'd first met—made her heart swell. "I love you, you know."

"I'm well aware," he replied with trademark Malfoy confidence, though his eyes held genuine warmth. "Now go reform the Ministry. I'll handle the wedding dragons today."

With a final smile, Hermione stepped out into the corridor, mentally shifting from bride-to-be to DMLE's ruthless golden girl. She had a network of dark wizards to dismantle, a wedding to plan, and somehow, impossibly, both seemed equally exciting challenges.

As she reached the Manor's apparition point, she couldn't help but reflect on how wonderfully complicated life had become—balancing career ambitions with wedding preparations, reconciling two families with centuries of animosity, and building a future that neither she nor Draco could have imagined during their school days.

The work would be challenging, the planning exhausting, but as she turned on the spot and disapparated to the Ministry, Hermione knew with absolute certainty that it would all be worth it.

***Three months later***

The winter solstice arrived with perfect timing. Snow had fallen the previous night, blanketing the grounds of Malfoy Manor in pristine white that sparkled under magical lights suspended in the air. Inside the enchanted greenhouse—transformed for the occasion into a winter wonderland—guests were gathering for what The Daily Prophet had already dubbed "the wedding of the decade."

Hermione stood in a preparation room adjacent to the greenhouse, Molly fussing with the intricate beadwork on her dress while Ginny made final adjustments to her hair.

"I can't believe we actually pulled this off," Ginny said, securing another pearl pin. "Three months ago, half these people wouldn't have been caught dead in the same room together."

"And now they're all here to witness a Granger marry a Malfoy," Hermione replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "Sometimes I still can't believe it myself."

Molly stepped back to admire her adoptive daughter. "You look beautiful, sweetheart. And more importantly, you look happy."

A soft knock at the door revealed Harry, looking uncharacteristically formal in dress robes.

"It's time," he said with a gentle smile. "Everyone's seated. Kingsley's ready to officiate." He paused, taking in the sight of his best friend. "Hermione... you look incredible."

She took a deep breath and nodded. As Arthur entered to take her arm, the others slipped out to take their places.

"Ready to make history, love?" Arthur asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"More than ready," she answered, squeezing his arm.

The music began—a beautiful melody that blended classical wizarding composition with subtle elements of Muggle wedding traditions. As the doors to the greenhouse opened, Hermione caught her first glimpse of the transformed space.

Crystal sculptures captured and refracted light, sending rainbow prisms dancing across the room. White roses and winter lilies created an enchanted forest effect, with paths of silver leading to the central altar. But Hermione's eyes found only Draco, standing tall at the end of the aisle, his platinum hair nearly blending with the winter theme.

As she walked forward on Arthur's arm, Hermione took in the gathered faces. The Weasleys occupied the front row on one side, Molly already dabbing at her eyes. Ron sat beside Susan, who was sporting a lovely bump. George winked at Hermione as she passed.

On the opposite side, Narcissa Malfoy sat with perfect posture, her aristocratic features softened with genuine emotion. Beside her, Lucius watched with an expression Hermione had never seen before—something akin to respect, perhaps even pride. Behind them sat various pure-blood families, many of whom had initially rejected their invitations before reconsidering what it might mean to miss such a symbolic union.

Most remarkably, scattered throughout were members of the Order of the Phoenix sitting alongside reformed Slytherins, Ministry officials beside international wizarding dignitaries, and Muggle relatives looking around in wonder at their first major wizarding event.

When she reached Draco, Arthur placed her hand in his with a poignant symbolism that wasn't lost on anyone present. Draco's fingers tightened around hers.
"You're breathtaking," he whispered.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, resplendent in ceremonial robes of office, addressed the gathered assembly.

"We stand here today not just to unite two people, but to mark a new chapter in our world's history," he began, his deep voice carrying effortlessly. "When Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy approached me about officiating their wedding, I saw it as more than a personal honor—I saw it as a powerful statement about healing and moving forward."

As Kingsley spoke about their journey, Hermione's mind drifted briefly to the successful dismantling of Dolohov's network. The final raid had occurred just two weeks prior, with both she and Draco playing crucial roles in the operation. The headline in the Prophet had read: "Unlikely Alliance Brings Down Last Major Death Eater Network."

Kingsley's voice brought her attention back to the present. "These two have shown us that the deepest divides can be bridged, that old prejudices can be overcome, and that love can indeed conquer all—even the legacy of a wizarding war."

When it came time for their vows, Draco spoke first, his voice clear and unwavering.

"Hermione, I spent years believing in the wrong things, valuing the wrong principles, and fighting on the wrong side. You were the first person brave enough to challenge everything I thought I knew." He paused, his grey eyes intense. "I promise to spend every day proving worthy of the second chance you've given me—not just as your husband, but as a better man."

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she began her own vows.

"Draco, if someone had told me during our first year at Hogwarts that I would one day be standing here, I would have hexed them on the spot." A ripple of knowing laughter spread through the audience. "But that's the beautiful thing about growth—it takes us to places we never imagined possible. I promise to face whatever comes next with the same courage that brought us here, to stand by your side as we build something new from the ashes of the old."

When Kingsley finally declared them bonded for life, the magic that sealed their union was visible to everyone—a warm golden light that encircled them before expanding outward, briefly touching each guest in a symbolic extension of their unity. As they sealed their love with a kiss.

As they turned to face their friends and family for the first time as husband and wife, Hermione caught sight of Harry raising his glass in silent toast, Ron's genuinely supportive smile, and remarkably, Lucius Malfoy discretely wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

Draco leaned close to her ear as they began their walk back down the aisle.

"Mrs. Granger- Malfoy," he whispered, testing the hyphenated name they'd decided on, "I believe we've just made wizarding history."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "Just the first chapter, I think."

As they stepped out into the winter evening, enchanted lanterns lighting their path, both knew that the celebration ahead—and the life they would build together—represented something far greater than either of them alone: it was proof that even the deepest wounds could heal, that forgiveness was possible, and that love could indeed transcend the darkest of histories.

Chapter Text

***Epilogue***

Five Years Later
The garden of Malfoy-Granger Cottage bustled with activity as children darted between tables set up for the annual summer gathering. What had begun as a small reunion had evolved into a tradition that brought together families once divided by house loyalties and war.
Hermione watched from the porch as four-year-old Scorpius, the spitting image of his father save for his mother's warm brown eyes, carefully showed three-year-old twins Lyra and Leo how to feed the peacocks that strutted around the property. Draco had insisted on keeping the birds, though these were enchanted to display changing rainbow colors rather than the traditional white of the Manor's peacocks.
"They're plotting something," Draco murmured, coming to stand beside her with two glasses of elderflower wine. "Scorpius has that look you get when you're formulating policy reforms."
Hermione accepted the glass with a smile. "He comes by it honestly. Though that mischievous glint is all you."
From across the garden, Harry approached with his youngest, Lily, perched on his shoulders. His marriage to Pansy Parkinson had shocked the wizarding world almost as much as Hermione and Draco's had, but five years and three children later, they'd settled into an unexpectedly harmonious life.
"James and Sirius are teaching Scorpius how to charm the garden gnomes to dance," Harry reported, lifting Lily down as she squirmed to join the other children. "Pansy's trying to pretend she's not impressed."
"Better than last year when they convinced all the children that Wrackspurts were actually tiny invisible dragons," Hermione laughed. "Luna encouraged it, of course."
Across the lawn, Ron sprawled in a lawn chair, attempting to wrangle his youngest son while his wife Susan passed plates of food around. Their brood of four redheaded children had the energy of a small hurricane, a fact Ron blamed entirely on "the Bones family magic."
"Never thought I'd see the day," Draco commented, nodding toward where Theo Nott was deep in conversation with Arthur Weasley, their heads bent over what appeared to be a Muggle bicycle. Beside them, Ginny watched with amusement while keeping an eye on their two children.
"Life has a way of surprising us," Hermione replied softly.
The party grew livelier as afternoon wore on. Blaise and Padma arrived fashionably late, their impeccably dressed children immediately running to join the others in what appeared to be an elaborate game involving toy broomsticks and bubbles that changed color when touched.
Most surprising to many was the arrival of Greg Goyle and his wife Isabella, a bright Ravenclaw who had somehow seen beyond his past. Their twins, sturdy and sweet-natured, brought out a gentleness in Greg that few had believed possible during their school days.
As evening approached, the adults gathered around an enlarged table while the children played under supervision from Teddy Lupin, now a responsible teenager who took his role as eldest cousin very seriously.
"To friendship," Harry proposed, raising his glass. "And to second chances."
"And third and fourth chances," added George Weasley with a wink.
As glasses clinked around the table, Hermione felt Draco's arm slip around her waist. She leaned into him, taking in the scene before them—former enemies breaking bread together, children who would grow up knowing nothing of blood status prejudice, families blended across once-impenetrable house divisions.
Later, as stars appeared in the twilight sky, Draco found Hermione in their library, where she'd slipped away for a moment of quiet.
"Scorpius asked me something interesting today," he said, settling beside her on the window seat. "He wanted to know if I always knew I would marry you."
Hermione laughed softly. "What did you tell him?"
"The truth. That I spent years being absolutely terrible to the most brilliant witch of our age, and that I'm thankful every day that you saw something worth salvaging in me."
She reached for his hand, running her thumb over the wedding band that matched her own. "I think we salvaged each other."
From the garden came the sound of children's laughter and the soft glow of fairy lights. Voices of friends—once bitter enemies—rose and fell in comfortable conversation.
"Did you ever imagine this?" Draco asked, gesturing toward the window. "Back when we were fighting on opposite sides?"
"Never," Hermione admitted. "But that's what makes it so precious." She glanced at the family portrait on the wall—herself, Draco, and their three children, all bearing traces of both their heritage and their future.
As they rejoined their guests, Hermione caught Lucius's eye across the garden. The elder Malfoy had mellowed considerably, especially since becoming a grandfather. He offered her a respectful nod—a small gesture that spoke volumes about how far they had all come.
Under the summer stars, surrounded by the unlikely tapestry of families they had woven together, Hermione and Draco shared a silent moment of gratitude for the path that had brought them here—a path neither could have imagined, yet one they now couldn't imagine living without.
As twilight deepened into evening and guests began preparing to depart, Hermione tugged Draco away from a spirited debate between Harry and Blaise about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.
"Walk with me a moment?" she asked, leading him toward the small rose garden they'd planted during their first year of marriage.
The summer air was heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine as they strolled between carefully tended flower beds. Magical lanterns floated gently overhead, casting a warm glow on the path.
"Scorpius was asking about when we'd visit the dragon sanctuary in Romania," Draco said. "I told him perhaps next summer would be better. The twins are still a bit young for—"
He stopped when he noticed Hermione had fallen silent, a familiar pensive expression on her face.
"What is it?" he asked, turning to face her fully. "You've had that look all evening. The one that says you're keeping a secret and calculating precisely when to reveal it."
Hermione smiled, taking both his hands in hers. "You know me too well."
"A consequence of loving you for so long," he replied softly. "So? What brilliant scheme are you hatching now? Another proposal for the Wizengamot? A new project with the Department of Mysteries?"
She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his in the lantern light. "I was thinking that perhaps Romania isn't the best idea for next summer either."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"
"Because," Hermione said, her voice suddenly tender, "by then, we'll have a newborn to consider."
For a moment, Draco simply stared at her, his grey eyes widening as her words registered. "You're... we're..."
"Yes," she confirmed, unable to contain her smile any longer. "I confirmed it yesterday. Due in late January."
Draco's response was immediate and heartfelt. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm before setting her down gently with sudden concern.
"Should I not have done that? Are you feeling alright? Have you been ill? I haven't noticed—"
Hermione laughed, placing her finger against his lips. "I'm perfectly fine. And yes, I've been using a mild anti-nausea charm in the mornings. I wanted to be certain before I told you."
Draco shook his head in wonder. "Four children. My father will be absolutely insufferable about continuing the Malfoy line."
"Technically, the Malfoy-Granger line," she corrected with a smile. "I was thinking... if it's a girl, perhaps Narcissa as a middle name?"
Emotion flickered across Draco's face. "Mother would love that." He placed a gentle hand on her still-flat stomach. "Boy or girl, they'll be extraordinary. How could they not be, with you as their mother?"
From the main garden, they heard Scorpius calling for them. "Daddy! Mummy! Uncle George is making the garden gnomes sing opera!"
Draco laughed, keeping his arm around Hermione as they turned back toward their guests. "Should we tell them tonight?"
Hermione considered for a moment. "Let's keep it between us, just for tonight. I rather like having this secret with you."
As they rejoined the gathering, watching their children dart between groups of adults, Hermione felt a profound sense of contentment. Their family—both the one they'd created together and the larger, patchwork family of friends they'd gathered around them—was a living testament to how completely the world had changed.
Later that night, after the last guest had departed and the children were tucked into bed, Draco found Hermione standing by Lyra and Leo's bedroom door, watching their twins sleep.
"Four children," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her from behind, his hands resting protectively over her stomach. "If you'd told me this would be my future when we were at Hogwarts..."
"You'd have hexed me for suggesting it," she finished with a soft laugh.
"Precisely." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "And yet, I couldn't imagine wanting anything else."
As they made their way to their own bedroom, passing Scorpius's room where their eldest slept surrounded by books (his mother's influence) and miniature Quidditch players (his father's), Hermione felt the future unfurling before them—bright, unexpected, and infinitely precious.