Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hermione. January 1, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

"I’ve never seen so much snow in my life” thought Hermione as she sat on the small bench under her largest window in her living room. England got snow, but never this often, nor this much. Hermione had been living in her flat, or apartment, as the Americans say, since November. She ended things with Ron before graduation in May and left England in June. It felt odd to say that she was relieved, but that’s what this feeling was. Relief and a little bit of freedom. Ron was shocked when Hermione turned down offers with the Ministry and Hogwarts. He had always known that he was going to go through Auror training. When she continued to deny opportunity after opportunity, he thought that her actions meant she was hinting at getting married and popping out the next Weasley clan. It wasn’t until Ron started acting shifty that Hermione caught on. He had never been one to keep a secret, and this one was worth 3,000 galleons and burning a hole in his pocket.

When Hermione saw the ring, she felt trapped. The ring represented everything she wasn’t ready for. She wasn’t ready to be a wife or a mother. She wanted to work hard in her career and studies and travel. She wanted to be able to disappear for a week without worrying about nappies and childcare. She was 19 when the war ended and 20 when Ron proposed and felt she had more to offer the world. To top it off, the ring was…not quite what she pictured for herself. Ron, bless him, picked a heart-shaped chocolate diamond that looked to be about 3 carats. It sat on a thick platinum band that was encrusted with smaller diamonds, despite the fact that Hermione only wore gold jewelry. It was a beautiful piece for someone else, but was a clear reminder that Ron had not paid attention to her preferences and style. While there was love between them, they never burned for each other. Hermione grew up watching muggle romance movies and expected to feel love from someone in her soul. He took the breakup harder than she did but moved on quickly.

To no one’s surprise, that 3 carat, heart-shaped, chocolate diamond ended up on Lavender Brown’s finger a week ago on Christmas Day. Hermione didn’t return home for Christmas at the Burrow, but read it in letters from Ginny, Harry, Ron and Theo. Her friends were getting everything they ever wanted. What the hell was she doing?

Ginny married Theo as soon as they graduated, since 8th year allowed Ginny to graduate with the rest of the group. Ginny and Harry fizzled out quickly after the Battle of Hogwarts, but they remained close. Ginny and Theo have a love that deserves to be envied. They respect and care for each other in a way Hermione had never seen in people her age. When Theo came out as bisexual, Ginny loved and supported him and gave him every option he could ever want. Theo wouldn’t dream of leaving Ginny, but they’ve been known to open up their marriage when the opportunity arises. Theo exercised caution with his sexuality while his father was still around. Theodore Nott Sr. was presumed to be dead or to have fled the country. Nott Sr. was known to sit in Voldemort’s inner circle, along with the Malfoy’s. He had proven himself, time and time again, to be an abusive drunk who had tormented Theo his entire life. Theo had taken over the Nott Estate when his father hadn’t been caught by the Ministry’s several attempts to locate rogue Death Eaters. His first order of business was to ward his father out of everything and get the hell out of England. While Theo didn’t take the Dark Mark, the public was not kind to him. He and Ginny moved to NYC in August to pursue their private interior design business. Unsurprisingly, going through Nott Manor sparked a passion for design.

Harry ended up with Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was initially arrested for trying to offer Harry to Voldemort before the Final Battle, but it came out she had been under the imperio curse by one of the Carrow siblings to do their bidding, so ultimately, her charges were dropped. She immediately reached out to Harry to apologize and the rest was history. Hermione had never seen Harry so smitten and devoted to someone. He put Pansy at the center of his universe and revolved around her as if she was the sun. Hermione got along well with Pansy. Turns out, when your whole family is full of Death Eaters, you’re not the most pleasant person. Since coming into her own, she has loosened up and Hermione genuinely enjoyed spending time with her. They moved into 12 Grimmauld Place after graduation and Harry would be completing the Auror training while Pansy worked on getting her Charms mastery.

Blaise Zabini and Padma Patil seemed to be birds of a feather. Padma had always been headstrong and dedicated to her studies. Hermione often thought that she and Padma would have been closer friends had she been sorted into Ravenclaw. Padma was incredibly gifted with healing, which was a god sent during the war. When Hermione returned from the Department of Mysteries, cursed by Antonin Dolohov, Padma’s quick thinking saved her life before she was transferred to St. Mungo’s. Padma pursued further healing training and was currently at St. Mungo’s finishing up her rotation with Blaise. They both planned to travel around the world and complete temporary wizarding contracts. Before Hermione left England, Padma promised they would be doing some contracts in the States and would reach out if they were nearby. Blaise liked healing enough, but he liked Padma more and followed her like a dog being walked on a leash.

Neville and Luna stayed at Hogwarts and took their respective apprenticeships. Neville was training with Professor Sprout in herbology and Luna was training with Professor Trelawney in divination. Hermione couldn’t have imagined a better couple to teach new students at Hogwarts. They gave each other space to focus on their passions and were constantly talking about how important it was to make sure the channels of communication between them were clear, or, whatever.

That just left her. Well, her, and Draco Malfoy. Hermione found herself thinking about Malfoy in the months she was traveling after graduation. She was aware that Lucius was sentenced to life in Azkaban. She testified against him at his trial, as did Malfoy and Narcissa. Malfoy’s trial was highly publicized as the Death Eater turned Order Member. He had been instrumental in Voldemort’s downfall, providing horcrux locations and insider details to Death Eater raids. During the Battle, Malfoy had thrown Harry his wand; the wand that was used to cast the final spell. A full pardon was given to him, after the remaining members of The Order testified for him. Hermione was adamant that he was a child who was doing the best with the information he was given and had made his amends. Malfoy had written to Hermione after his trial to thank her for her testimony and to apologize for his treatment of her and for the things that happened in his home. They had seen each other throughout the next school year and were pleasant, but she wasn’t able to keep tabs on him like she did with the others. She knew he had assumed the responsibility for the Malfoy Estate since Lucius was indisposed and had properties all over the world. She last saw him at graduation, when he pierced her with those grey eyes and gave her a mock salute before taking off with Narcissa.

That led Hermione to where she was now. She traveled to Greece and Spain in between graduation and starting her new job. She had applied to the Commonwealth Cursebreakers in Boston, Massachusetts. She didn’t know a single person in the States (besides Ginny and Theo) and felt it was the perfect opportunity. There was too much pressure as the Golden Girl back home. Everyone had expectations for her and what she should or shouldn’t do to get to the top. While she was famous in Europe, the US wasn’t as in tune with international news. She could blend in and rise to greatness in her own way. Her friends were shocked when she told them her decision, but no one tried to convince her to stay. She found her flat on Beacon Street, near Boston Common, and bought it. She had enough money from her Order of Merlin and War Reparations that she didn’t need to bother with rent. She had a small library, spacious kitchen, small patio, 2 bedrooms and no parking. Crookshanks loved lounging on every window ledge and basking in the sun. It wasn’t much, and Merlin knows Boston was overpriced, but Hermione managed to furnish and decorate it in earthy, warm tones that were accentuated by the hardwood floor and the sunlight that poured in.

Hermione had bought a small, leather-bound journal to document her goals and intentions for the year. Luna, who was one of the only members of the friend group to have a muggle cell phone, sent her a text reminding her to do this. She claimed it helped set the tone for the year and focused her thoughts. Hermione wasn’t sure how much she believed it, as divination was as good as rubbish, but it couldn’t hurt. Hermione wrote down three things for her goals:

1) Complete the Cursebreaker training program

2) Master wandless magic

3) Make new friends

It seemed that Hermione had a much harder time writing down her intentions for the year, but was able to commit to at least one:

1) Be unexpected

Hermione closed the journal and wound the elastic around the small button to close it. She laid out her outfit to meet with Violet Gentry, Senior Cursebreaker, Monday morning to sign her onboarding paperwork.

As the snow fell quietly outside, Hermione felt hopeful for a fresh start.

___________________________________________________________________________

Draco. January 1, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

“Merlin, how does anyone in America get anything done in this much snow? I should have applied to the cursebreakers program in San Francisco,” thought Draco, as he trudged through muggle Boston, or No-Maj, as the Americans say. Draco decided to brave the cold and pick up some take-away instead of cooking. For all of America’s flaws, they could put together a proper take-away. Draco had been recently favoring the Mediterranean spot a few blocks from his flat. The Malfoy’s owned several properties in America, but his favorite was right here in Boston. It’s the main reason he didn’t apply to any other cursebreakers program. Plus, Commonwealth Cursebreakers was the best in the country, and he wanted to learn from the best. As Draco approached his building, he took a look at the Common. It was rare the Common was this quiet during the day, but the soft blanket of snow seemed to be deterring most of the crowd. Draco nodded at his doorman and took the elevator up to the 14th floor. His flat was 2 levels and far too big for just him, but he liked it. He replaced all the sleek, black furniture with light creams and golds, and added some mid-century modern accents to help lighten everything up. His second bedroom doubled as a brewing room and used his study as a home office. He felt prepared to take on this new training program.

Draco really only kept up with Theo, which also meant kept up with Weasley. She was his favorite Weasley, after all. During 8th year, they all reach a silent agreement where they weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies. With two of his best friends romantically involved with the lions, he knew that they needed to bury the hatchet.

He heard from Blaise from time to time, but he and Padma had plans to travel with no end in sight. He knew Longbottom and Lovegood stayed in Scotland to teach at Hogwarts. Potter and boy Weasley would be starting the English Auror training. Pansy was getting her Charms mastery, despite his attempts to steer her towards potions so he had someone to talk to about it. The only person he didn’t keep up with was Granger.

Ron had proposed to her and she turned him down. Draco secretly was proud of Granger for that. He knew that she was destined for more than Ron could give her. He could see him become complacent. Stop doing things for her. Stop paying attention. Malfoy’s don’t know everything, but they do know how to worship their wives. If Granger was swept into a marriage with someone like the weasel, she would be craving for someone to match her in every aspect of her life. She needed someone to go one for one with her, intellectually. Challenge her. Push her to achieve whatever she wants to do. Ron could never measure up. He knew that Ron never did well in the shadows of Granger and Potter, and a marriage to Granger would cover Ron in permanent shade.

He saw her at graduation and bid her farewell with a salute. It had become their thing. While Draco was spying for The Order, one of their signals to show the coast was clear was a quick two finger salute. He didn’t have plans to ever see or hear from her again, but would not be opposed to it. He left the day after graduation and started meeting with attorneys and financial advisors about the Malfoy Estate. Father had forfeited the right to continue managing it when he was sentenced to Azkaban and all of his appeals had been denied. Draco had refused to visit him. He could still feel the pull of the dementors and the bone-deep chill that had settled within the walls from his short stint before his trial.

Draco wanted Boston to become his home. No lingering prejudices, no staring, no baggage. He had known his father’s mindset about muggles had been wrong. He wanted to be accepted so badly that he went along with the slurs his father spewed and allowed himself to be branded by a bald, noseless maniac. The program knew about his history, but also knew about how he had changed.

As the snow fell quietly outside, Draco felt hopeful for a fresh start.

Chapter Text

Draco. January 3, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco woke to the muffled sounds of commuter traffic. Most of the city had gone back to work today, and Draco would be joining them on a daily commute the next day. This morning, however, he woke up with a sense of purpose. A quick tempus revealed that it was a quarter past 5, exactly as he planned. 

The curtains over the window were open just a sliver, allowing the city lights to fill in cracks. His bed was warm and beckoned him to stay, but Draco knew that he wanted to put an effort into his appearance and set himself up to meet with Violet. New Year and first impressions and all that. He rose slowly and shrugged on his robe. He walked down stairs, the lights under the steps softly illuminating his path. With a flick of his wand, he started the process of making his coffee. He had learned during his travels he preferred coffee over tea, prepared with a blend of magic and muggle methods. He’d use magic to boil the water, but pour it into the french press himself and let it steep as part of a routine. Draco quickly fried some eggs, toasted an english muffin and sat at his breakfast table that overlooked the Common.

A faint tapping noise alerted him to an owl. He fetched some treats and took his delivery of The Daily Prophet. He didn’t care much for how they reported and certainly didn’t care for Rita Skeeter, but it was comforting. No matter how terrible England treated him, it would always be home. Draco perused the gossip column, seeing the Weasly had proposed to Lavender Brown. What a safe back-up plan, Weasley,  Draco thought to himself. He flipped the page, learning about some of the socialite events his mother attended. Narcissa Black Malfoy had made it her sole purpose to rebuild the family name without the help of his father. She attended every charity event, every gala and threw galleons at anything related to the war. Hogwarts was in desperate need of repair following the battle, and the Malfoy’s knew that since they were responsible in part for its demise, they would also take on the financial responsibility, separate from the reparations they needed to pay per the ministry.

His mother would brag about how well he was handling the estate and how she would turn her attention to finding Draco a suitable bride. This didn’t interest Draco in the least. In fact, it made him feel trapped. He knew that continuing the Black and Malfoy lines was important to his magic and the estate, but he just felt that he could not enter a marriage that wasn’t a love match. While it was more common in pureblood marriages, the idea of shackling oneself to someone out of obligation sounded cruel and unfair. 

Most of Draco’s decisions, until he was tasked with killing Dumbledore, were made out of obligation. Obligation to his father to not embarrass him. Obligation to his mother to not subject her to torture, orchestrated by Bellatrix and Voldemort. The familiarity of his flat started to fade away as he thought back to that day.

It was dark and windy on the climb up to the astronomy tower. Was it usually this windy? Draco wondered as he wound up the tight staircase to complete his task. It seemed simple in theory, just kill one of the most powerful and respected wizards of all time. Got it. No problem.

But there were problems. In order to cast the Unforgivable, he had to mean it. He had not yet been able to successfully cast the cruciatus curse, let alone the killing curse. Draco’s occlumency walls were starting to buckle. He didn’t want to do this but didn’t know how to back down. 

He locked eyes with Dumbledore, who… didn’t look surprised to see him? What the hell? Dumbledore turned around and placed both of his hands on the railing.

“Draco, my boy, I’ve been waiting for you,” Dumblebore crooned, back still towards him.

“Waiting for me?”

“Yes. I was hoping we could talk about your task.”

Draco froze. No one outside of Voldemort’s inner circle was supposed to know about his task. 

Draco cooly responded, his walls hanging on by a thread, “I haven’t the foggiest what you’re on about, old man.”

Dumbledore turned to face him fully, wand in hand but not at the ready. Draco sent an expelliarmus towards him, successfully disarming the wizard.

“Well done, my boy.” Dumbledore stated, a hint of pride in his voice. He continued on. “I understand what you’re here to do tonight. I will not stand in your way if that is the path you wish to take. I’d like to offer you an alternative, though. All I ask is the opportunity to offer you something you’ve never had before. A choice.”

Draco faintly heard footsteps coming up the stairwell and panicked, but Dumbledore looked expectantly. Draco saw the raven colored hair and flowing cloak before he heard the infamous drawl of Severus Snape.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Severus stated, sounding uninterested.

“Ah, Severus, thank you for joining us. Right on schedule then!” Dumbledore was…happy? How could he be happy with two Death Eaters cornering him.

“Draco, your task will be accomplished tonight, no matter what happens. But I’d like to offer you the choice to walk away, should you want it,” Dumbledore stated.

Draco actually wondered if Dumbledore was an unregistered legilimens, but it was Snape who spoke up.

“No, Mr. Malfoy, the Headmaster is not a legilimens. But I am, and I taught you better than to let your walls drop like that,” Snape snapped.

Draco lowered his wand and faced both men. “What are you going on about?”

Dumbledore stepped forward, hands folded, “Mr. Malfoy, Severus and I would like to offer you the opportunity to walk away tonight without casting an Unforgivable. Severus has agreed to shoulder that responsibility, as it would fall under the terms of the Unbreakable Vow he made with your mother. Should you accept, you would provide information to Order members about the Dark Lord’s inner workings and other intimate details of his operation, since he’s made Malfoy Manor his headquarters. I cannot tell you more without compromising The Order. What do you-”

Draco stated “Yes. I accept. Get me out of this,” he looked at Severus, desperately. He continued, “I never wanted to do this. I am sorry, Headmaster. I am sorry for all of this,” He turned to look at Severus, “I am sorry to burden you with this, Severus. I don’t know how to repay you. Mother would be pleased to know you’re honoring the Vow.” Draco’s voice started to waver.

Severus tilted his head and softly said, “Draco, Narcissa is waiting for you. Go now.”

Draco shook his head, confused. “What?”

Dumbledore clasped his hand over Draco’s shoulder. “Your mother is waiting for you beyond the entrance gates. She will take you to The Order. Go now. I forgive you.”

Draco’s eyes were lined with tears that threatened to spill over. He turned when he started to hear curses and crumbling walls. Draco had to leave now, but knew that anti-apparition wards had been cast. The only way out was through. Draco turned to the stairs, and looked back at the two men offering him a second chance.

“I will not let you down.”

Draco started to run down the stairs, but stopped when he heard Severus’ voice, “Avada Kedavra.”

Draco snapped back to the present. He would not let them down. It was something he held himself to every day since.

He poured a second cup of coffee and checked the time. Half past 6. Draco cleared his dishes and called out, “Fern!”

A small house elf dressed in a simple, polka dot dress, appeared with a silent apparition, “Yes, Master Draco?”

Draco had freed his elves as soon as his father was in Azkaban. He made sure that they had a generous wage, but they’re at least his elves in an ethical sense.

“Fern, would you mind cleaning up for me? I’ve got to get ready to sign my onboarding paperwork. I have a few meetings after and then will be heading to the trainee mixer, so no need to prepare dinner. If my dry cleaning comes, could you bring it in? I’ll sort it when I’m home.” Draco said.

Fern looked up at Draco with sad, tear rimmed eyes, “Master Draco is not wanting Fern to put the dry cleaning away? Master Draco wants to? Did Fern upset Master Draco?”

Draco chuckled, “No, Fern, you didn’t upset me. If it would make you happy, you’re more than welcome to sort it.”

Fern bounced with excitement, “Thank you, Master Draco!” and disappeared with a silent apparition.

Draco went back upstairs and picked his outfit. Normally, he wouldn’t care how he was perceived by his peers, but this was different. He wanted to put his best foot forward and set himself apart from the rest. Being from England in a program full of Americans is a good start, but he wanted to do more. To be more.

After showering, Draco settled for a crisp navy blue suit and white dress shirt. Laid carefully over his shirt was his leather wand holster. Draco nimbly fingered the buckle to fasten it and slipped his hawthorn wand into its hiding place for the day. He paired it with a tan belt and tan loafers. His hair was tousled out of his eyes with some product and left to air dry. Long gone were the days he slicked it back. While not quite as long as his father’s, his hair fell right above his eyebrows and had the slightest wave to it. He slipped his Malfoy and Black signet rings onto their respective middle fingers. Traditionally, signet rings were worn on the pinky finger, but Draco liked the notion that by wearing them on a this finger he was, metaphorically, giving his ancestors the middle finger. The more Draco atoned for his transgressions and integrated into Muggle culture, the more he realized his ancestors and father had everything arse backwards.

Draco left his flat and locked his door with a wandless spell. He twisted the rings on his finger to check his wards and mindlessly took the elevator to the lobby. Was he nervous? Why was he nervous?

The flat, as great as the location was, wasn’t near any MACUSA approved apparition sites, so he opted for Muggle transportation. He had some familiarity with the Tube in London, but here in Boston, they called it the “T”. Draco chuckled when he heard about this, and shook his head at the American’s need to shorten things. The green line train approached and he entered the train car, a bushy head of curls was exiting the neighboring car. Draco did a double-take, swearing that he knew that hair. Had made fun of that hair. Wanted to run his fingers through that hair.

Wait. What?

Draco realized he was blocking the doors, preventing the train from leaving. He stepped in and grabbed a hand bar and questioned his sanity. He had never, not once, had that thought before. He didn’t have time for distractions. Also, there was no way in hell that Granger would be here. He shook his head and sat on the train for a few stops, before exiting at the Prudential Center.

He clutched his offer letter tightly, for fear a Muggle would peek and the Statute of Secrecy would be violated. The Prudential center (shortened to “The Pru”) was a large, looming building with sleek lines of steel and windows. It would never fail to impress him how seamlessly America blended their magical and muggle communities without violating it. Europe could benefit from some of this, he thought to himself. It was 7:50AM. Draco’s letter requested he go to the 15th floor to meet with Violet Gentry.

Draco took the elevator up, checked in with the receptionist, who blushed as soon as he walked in, and sat down with 2 minutes to spare.

The waiting room looked like it was straight from a business supply catalog. A muggle coffee machine sat on a small table with cups and sugar and… was that powdered creamer? Gods, that quite possibly is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. And I lived with Voldemort, for Merlin’s sake , Draco thought to himself. 

Violet Gentry was a force to be reckoned with. She pushed open the door, two coffee mugs in hand, and dressed in what appeared to be muggle corporate wear. Black slacks, black pumps and a cream, long sleeved top with a cowl neck. She wore minimal jewelry, to include her wedding rings and small pearl earrings, and donned her salt and pepper hair in a low bun. 

“Mr. Malfoy, I presume?” Violet drawled.

A chill went through Draco. Her voice was eerily reminiscent of Snape’s, perhaps an octave higher.

“Head Cursebreaker Gentry, a pleasure. Can I carry those for you?” Draco smoothly asked, wanting to make a good impression.

The woman in front of him raised her eyebrow slightly and said, “Please, call me Violet. No need for formalities. I appreciate the gesture, but these are both for me,” she raised the mugs, “flattery will get you nowhere here, Mr. Malfoy,” she said seriously, but winked.

“Please, call me Draco then.”

“Fine. Draco. Follow me.”

Draco did as he was told and followed Violet through what appeared to be a never ending maze of cubicles, some filled and some empty, until they reached a large office tucked into the back corner. Violet’s office was minimalistic but personal. A number of what Draco could assume were personal photographs littered her mahogany desk. Her diplomas were tastefully displayed on the wall, and some abstract art was dispersed throughout the space. Draco noticed a pensieve in the corner of the room against the windows. Above it was a large shelf with dozens of vials containing wispy, silver air, assumed to be memories. Violet slipped out of her heels and into flats. The air smelled lightly of sandalwood.

“Draco, I’ll be brief. Your O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s were obviously impressive, but I won’t pretend to ignore your past”, Violet said curtly.

Draco gripped the chair. He had been expecting this. Was she rescinding the offer?

“However, I have no doubt you do not follow your father’s footsteps,” Violet offered.

Draco released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“I don’t and have no intention to. My father was a man who was horribly misguided and hateful and is currently serving a life sentence. I will spend the rest of my life righting those wrongs,” Draco said. He meant every word.

Violet smiled softly and slid the paperwork towards him and firmly said, “sign here.”

Draco pulled a pen out of his inner breast pocket. He assumed that carrying a quill and ink around likely wouldn’t be how the Americans did things, so he stocked up on pens, pencils, erasers, markers and something called a laptop. He was still figuring that one out.

As Draco was reviewing and getting ready to sign, Violet dropped a bomb. “Just so you’re aware, there is another trainee starting from England. It’s likely you don’t know them, but wanted to prepare you, just in case.”

Draco stiffened. “Who?”

Violet glanced at the large stack of paperwork situated at the corner of her desk and sighed, “Honestly, I can’t remember their name. Harold, maybe? They applied almost a year ago, so I haven’t reviewed their paperwork in a bit. They should be at the mixer tonight, though, so you’ll see them there.”

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. The only “Harold” Draco could even remotely think of was Harry Potter, and he was in London. Draco regained his composure and said, “I don’t know any Harold’s, but I’ll be sure to introduce myself.”

___________________________________________________

Hermione. January 3, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts. 

Hermione had gotten up early to grab coffee and a bagel, as well as hit her favorite florist to grab a new arrangement for her dining room table. The green line screeched as it wound through the underground web of tunnels.

She had used muggle transportation almost exclusively since being in America and thoroughly enjoyed figuring out which line went where. When she visited Theo and Ginny, New York’s subway system was easy to understand thanks to the grid pattern. But Boston didn’t have any clear pattern to follow. There were several colored lines, some of which had smaller branches off the main lines. Hermione took the time to travel each line in its entirety, going to places like Alewife, Boston College, and some strange place called Wonderland, which seemed surprisingly average, despite its name.

Hermione mindlessly exited the train and saw a flash of white blonde that was gone as quickly as it appeared. She climbed the stairs and walked towards her flat, flowers in hand. She was particularly grateful for her snow boots, as it seemed to snow every other week.

Once the flowers were in a vase and placed under a stasis charm, she lit her fireplace with a wordless, but not wandless, incendio and sipped her coffee, letting it thaw her from the inside out. Two days into the New Year and she was doing wordless magic. She chuckled, impressed with herself.

Her meeting with Violet wasn’t until noon, so she took this time to send some owls to Harry, Ginny and Luna. She had sent Ron and Lavender a congratulatory owl last week and saw the engagement spread in the Daily Prophet. The heart-shaped ring looked beautiful on Lavender's finger. Hermione wondered if Ron had designed it with Lavender in mind instead of her. She felt a pang of sadness in her chest. Her nose twitched and her eyes burned. She was not regretful, but in mourning. That chapter of her life permanently closed and she was starting anew. A phoenix from the ashes, or whatever.

Hermione took a shower and finished her breakfast. Crookshanks stared out the window and watched the snow dripping down from the roof. As she tidied up, she noticed the time was 10AM. She padded softly to her room to pick out her attire. She had time between meeting with Violet and the mixer, so this outfit was meant to be strictly professional. Hermione grabbed a cinnamon colored turtleneck and black slacks. She gingerly selected a belt that matched her sweater with gold accents and slid it through her belt loops. She pushed on her gold bracelets and secured thick, gold hoops in her lobes. She twirled her mother’s wedding band on her middle finger. Her mother had given it to her, just in case anything happened to them during the war. Her parents, though, were safe in England, thanks to the information from Malfoy. 

Malfoy had apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place in a panic, searching for her. He was rambling and Hermione couldn’t keep up. Eventually, she slapped him and stunned him into silence. He chuckled and said, “I should have known third year wouldn’t have been the last time you hit me.” Eventually, he managed to get out that Death Eaters were planning to raid her parents home and use them as leverage to give up Harry. Thanks to Dra– Malfoy’s quick thinking, they were able to hide their home under a fidelius charm. Minerva acted as the secret keeper. A few nights after they received the information, they were alerted to Death Eaters stalking the perimeter of where her parents home had been, but they never got in. Her parents had a hard time adjusting to the change, but understood when Hermione told them the other option would be to obliviate them and ship them off to another country.

That was the first time Hermione had ever felt grateful towards Malfoy, but it certainly wasn’t the last. He came through with information. Everytime. Narcissa did, too. In the final battle, Malfoy risked everything to give Harry a wand to duel with Voldemort. They had built a good rapport, having their salute signal, talking in shorthand. It was enough of a relationship that she felt she needed to testify for him. She convinced others to as well. When it came time for Lucius’ trial, she helped him through that, too.

In the cold underbelly of the Ministry, Hermione sat with Malfoy, waiting to speak before the Wizengamot. Dressed in her nicest robes that she had worn and washed three times already this week, Hermione was silent.

Malfoy had his head in his hands, his hair falling forward. He had stopped slicking it back and was growing it out. He looked exhausted, his eyes sunken in and his skin, somehow, paler than normal. She scuffed her heels on the floor and his eyes flicked to her.

“Nervous, Granger? Isn’t this the fourth trial you’ve testified at this week?” Malfoy spat.

Hermione steeled herself. He’s nervous, too.

“Yes, I am. How are you?” She asked meekly.

Malfoy’s stare was so intense it almost burned. His eyes appeared vacant, hollow. His grey looked closer to stone than metal. Hermione didn’t look away and witnessed something in his eyes stutter and soften. Was he occluding? Or failing to occlude?

“I’m ready for this to be over. I haven’t seen him since I tossed that wand to Potter. I have no idea what I’m walking into today,” he admitted.

Hermione had to stop her jaw from hitting the floor. That was the most vulnerable thing she had ever heard him say. She didn’t want him to shy away from it, so she tried to soften her features and spoke again.

“That’s fair."

She didn’t speak again after that, but joined him on the marble bench. She tentatively put a hand on Malfoy’s back in between his shoulder blades. She felt him flinch and stiffen under his touch, but she didn’t back down. She moved her hand up and down his back lightly, and she felt him relax. They stayed like that until the court usher said it was time. Malfoy straightened up and locked eyes with her. She watched the walls in his eyes rebuild, and they walked in silently.

The alarm on Hermione’s wand started to chime and she was snapped back to the present. She gave Crookshanks a scritch under the chin and moved to put her shoes on. Her trek to the office wasn’t a difficult one, but she was nervous nonetheless.

She exited the T and made her way to the largest corporate building she had ever seen. The waiting room reminded her of her parents' dental practice, with the exception of a coffee machine against the wall. Her parents detested the hot beverage, claiming it caused irreversible staining on her enamel. Hermione snorted as she poured herself a cup and waited for Violet to retrieve her. Hermione needed caffeine, and sometimes tea just didn’t cut it.

Violet collected Hermione from the waiting room and walked her back. There were several empty cubicles, indicating that her class would be large. She saw her own name plate on a cubicle towards the middle and recognized none of the other names around her. Perfect, she thought to herself.

Violet led her to her office and motioned for her to sit down.

“Hello, uh…” Violet flipped through several papers to get to Hermione’s paperwork, “Herman! Her-minnie? How do I say your name, dear?”

“Her-my-oh-knee.” Breaking her name down so people could pronounce it was not a new task for Hermione. She would rather people ask than guess and learn her name incorrectly.

“Ah, yes, okay. Thank you! Although, I may have called you Harold to someone this morning. You’re my 10th meeting today, I apologize if I seem scrambled.”

Hermione pondered Violet’s statement. Why was she talking about her? To whom? She redirected her thoughts to the present moment as Violet was waiting for her response.

“Oh! No problem at all. I’ll have to find whoever now knows me as Herman and introduce myself,” Hermione said, her voice dripping with humor.

“That won’t be an issue! He’s a new trainee, from England, actually, so he’ll be at the mixer tonight,” Violet said nonchalantly.

Hermione stiffened. She didn’t want to ruin this for herself, but what if she knew this person? What if it was a Death Eater who followed her here? She could hear her heartbeat in her ears and felt her stomach drop. The war had been over for almost two years but her fear and anxiety were present and accounted for. Thankfully, Violet hadn’t seemed to notice the change in her demeanor and simply handed her the papers to sign. With shaky hands, she took the fountain pen her parents gifted her for graduation and dragged it across the papers.

Hermione wasn’t sure how she got back to her flat, but collapsed as soon as she crossed the threshold and remained on the floor, back against the door, until her wand started to chime, reminding her that she may need to face a part of her past she was trying to forget.

Chapter Text

Hermione. Same day, 7:30PM. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione smoothed over her dress with nervous anticipation. She had chosen to wear a navy blue pinstripe suit-vest style dress with matching blazer. She was grateful for the long sleeved jacket, not only for warmth, but to cover her scar.

The cursed mark on her forearm had never stopped hurting, never stopped burning, never stopped reminding Hermione of its presence. While traveling through Greece, she came across a magical tattoo parlor that had accepted walk-ins. Hermione fondly thought of that decision as one of her most impulsive, and she had ridden a dragon out of Gringotts on a hunch.

The word, mudblood , was barely visible under her tattoo of a dittany plant. Hermione had charmed the ink with actual dittany in an attempt to heal, or at least take the pain away, on a deeper level than applying it topically. In a way, it did help. Her pain was dulled, but she could still feel it burn. As a cursed wound made by a cursed object, it likely would never be healed. Much of her emotional pain was alleviated by not needing to see it everyday, and it was a driving force in her decision to become a cursebreaker.

After that, Hermione became enamored with tattoos, and saw that muggles were tolerant, accepting , even, of people with tattoos. She thought that if she could keep her forearm covered it wouldn’t be an issue in the magical world, either. But one tattoo turned to three, and three turned to five. She had a replica of her vinewood wand tattooed on her inner right upper arm, running the length of her bicep. An American style tooth behind her left ear, to honor her parents. A blue, green, and brown circle (respectively) for her, Harry and Ron on the side of her right middle finger. Finally, a set of whiskers and a pink nose for Crookshanks on her left hip bone. Eventually, Hermione planned to get tattoos to cover all of her major scars, but she wanted to make sure she was done receiving them before starting that process.

Hermione slipped on her nude heels and tan overcoat. Her hair had been charmed to fall in bouncy, soft curls, and was pinned half up, half down with a pearl hair clip to match her gold pearl chandelier earrings.

One swipe of berry red gloss and a light dusting of mascara and blush later, she was ready to go. She headed downtown to the hotel the mixer was at, took a deep breath, and walked in. Once her coat was checked, she braved the event room.

The room was dimly lit and buzzing with excitement from the new trainees. Hermione made her way to the bar and ordered herself some water with lemon. She had been drinking alcohol legally in England since the age of 18, but Americans felt that three extra years was needed to ensure that she could drink responsibly. She almost craved the liquor she saw on the shelf to curb some of her nerves, but rationalized with herself that it was better to keep her wits about her.

She made eye contact with Violet, who smiled warmly at her and beckoned her over to speak with, who she assumed were, other trainees.

“Oh, hello, Hermione! So glad you could make it!” Violet said enthusiastically. She then held her arm out to her conversation mates. “This is Lilianna Gates and Billy Fitzgerald, trainees that will be in your class. Keep track of who you speak to, I’ll be taking partner requests first thing in the morning,” Violet stated. She was pulled away by another group of trainees and waved goodbye.

Hermione stood awkwardly with Lilianna and Billy, unsure how to proceed in the conversation. Thankfully, Billy started, “Hi ya!” he said, brightly. He was dressed in a simple grey suit with a deep green tie. For a split second, she wondered if he would have been sorted  into Slytherin. “I hear you’re from England, how does New England compare?” She quickly decided that he would have been a Hufflepuff.

She released a small giggle. “Well, thankfully I can recognize and pronounce some of the town names, but I’m not used to the weather yet. Are you from Massachusetts?”

Billy shook his head, “Nope, but I’m from just over the line in Rhode Island. Smallest state in the country,” he said with a wink. “But Lilianna is!”.

Hermione turned to face Lilianna, who was in an impossibly tight black wrap dress and gold, closed toe kitten heels. She had long, curly red hair and freckles all over. She seemed to radiate warmth and kindness. “Yes! Born and raised right here in Boston, but you’ll notice I don’t have that ridiculous Boston accent you hear in the movies,” she joked. Something about her made Hermione think she would have been in Ravenclaw.

That was something Hermione was still trying to get used to. She had been to suss out where someone was from based on their accent at home, but in the U.S., it was nearly impossible. You could have five people raised on the same street and they would all have different accents. Some were harder for her to process than others, but she got along well enough. Billy, she noticed, dropped his “r’s” when he spoke. She also noticed that he seemed to be genuinely interested in her schooling and her past experience. He and Lilianna had minimal knowledge of the war in England, which was something that Hermione found refreshing.

She talked about Hogwarts, her friends and family, her likes and dislikes. She was very focused on their answers as well, hoping to use this as an opportunity to cross ‘make new friends’ off her list of goals.

Lilianna asked, “Were you a part of the Tri-Wizard Tournament? We heard about all that across the pond here.”

Hermione stiffened and was cursing that her water was not gin. “Not directly, but my best friend, Harry Potter, was,” Hermione said, hoping they didn’t recognize his name. She had managed to speak in a general manner when talking about her friends, avoiding names.

Both Lilianna and Billy’s eyes widened. “Holy shit,” Billy exclaimed, “You’re friends with Harry Potter?”

Hermione sighed. “Yes.”

Lilianna spoke up, “That’s cool. We read about him. He defeated the Dark Lord over there for you guys, right? Interesting.” And it was over as soon as it started. Billy seemed like he wanted to keep talking about Harry, but the glare Lilianna leveled at him shut him up, quickly.

Hermione changed the subject, “Who else have you met so far?”

Billy turned to face the room and started pointing people out, “Well, over there is Rachel White. She attended Ilvermorny with us,” he motioned towards himself and Lilianna. “She’s a few years ahead of us, she took time between Ilvermorny and now to attend No-Maj medical school in New York, so she’s also a doctor. Not too common in the wizarding world.”

Hermione was fascinated by that. Rachel seemed to have a drive and passion for knowledge. A possible candidate for a training partner ? She wondered if they would get along or butt heads.

They turned to scan the room again, landing on a tall man with broad shoulders and shoulder length brown hair. Lilianna spoke this time, “That’s Rafael Carney, I’m pretty sure he went to Durmstrang. He’s pretty intense and much older than we are. I think he’s married with a couple of kids already and was looking for a career change. Really smart, has a Charms and Potions mastery and used to be a lawyer over there, I think?”

Hermione looked at the man, who was standing stoic in the conversation he was in. Nope, probably not great for a partner , she thought to herself.

Another sweep of the room revealed a number of other students from Ilvermorny, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons. No Hogwarts, she thought to herself. The student from England must have gone to another school. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Billy pointed to another trainee, “Casey Sullivan. He was our year at Ilvermorny. The nicest kid you’ll ever meet. Always volunteered to teach younger students, ran the dueling club, took on any extra credit you could imagine, and was a resident assistant for, like, four years. Not to mention he was our Valedictorian,” Billy added.

“Resident assistant,” Hermione asked “like a prefect?”

Billy looked at her, confused. “Um, if a prefect is someone that walks around the school and makes sure people follow the rules, then yes.”

Hermione shook her head in agreement and turned back to Casey. She tried not to stare at him, but couldn’t deny that he was attractive. He had sandy blonde hair that was short on the sides but a bit longer on the top. He was dressed casually in a black button down and grey slacks and black belt. He appeared to have a drink in his hand. So he’s older? Perfect , she thought to herself. She was older than most of her peers at Hogwarts, Ron included. He smiled at his conversation companion and appeared to have a small crowd around him, including Violet. Hermione added him to the mental list of possible partners. She thought, based on the description, he would be a Gryffindor. She motioned to Lilianna and Billy to make their way over to him. Hermione reviewed the list in her head so she’d be able to recite it to Violet tomorrow morning:

Lilianna Gates

Billy Fitzgerald

Rachel White

Casey Sullivan

Draco Malfoy

Wait. What?

Hermione stopped in her tracks so abruptly that Billy ran into her and jostled her drink. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes from whatever hallucination was in front of her. Did someone drug her? Did someone hex her with a very specific charm to make her picture Draco Malfoy? In America? In Boston? At her trainee mixer? No. That would be too pointed of a spell.

When hallucination Draco didn’t go away, she tried to think of the reasons he would be here. Was he a donor? Did his family sit on the board? Was he observing? Was he a guest?

Hermione saw him talking to Violet, in a way that was too familiar to just be a guest. Then it hit her. The student from England, was in fact, Draco Malfoy. Of all the bloody people in the gods damned world, why the fuck did it need to be Malfoy? While they were on better terms, Hermione wouldn’t necessarily call them friends. They weren’t even on a first name basis. And let’s not forget the years of bullying. Hermione paused her internal monologue for just a moment.

As flustered as she was, she knew he had changed. She knew that he stopped believing the blood supremacist beliefs of his father long before his task with Dumbledore. He apologized to her and meant it. She was sure of that. Was he doing the same thing? Starting over? Why hadn’t she heard of him coming to Boston? She’d need to write to Theo to confirm her theory. She could talk to Malfoy directly, but owling Theo was less confrontational. 

She must have been staring, since Lilianna grabbed her elbow and broke the trance. Hermione turned to her, looking shocked, “Are you okay? Do you know that guy? Do you need to leave?” Lilianna asked sincerely. Hermione appreciated her concern, but shook her head.

“I am okay, yes I know that guy, no I don’t need to leave. I just didn’t know he was coming here. We went to Hogwarts together. We’re… kind of friends? Acquaintances? We run in the same circles, I guess…” Hermione trailed off, but shook her head quickly when she noticed she had gone back to staring.

“What’s his name? He’s ten different kinds of attractive,” Lilianna giggled.

“Draco Malfoy,” Hermione said dryly. 

Just as she spoke his name, she noticed that her feet had brought her right to him. Standing beside him, she could smell the faint aroma of green apples, fresh parchment and spearmint. Oh no. Oh NO. It was so reminiscent of her amortentia, but not quite right.

Malfoy stared down at her, measuring in at almost a foot taller than her, and uttered a single word.

“Granger?”

_____________________________________________________________

Draco. Same day, 8:30PM. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco managed to get to the mixer about 30 minutes after it started. Since it wasn’t a sit down kind of event, he made the decision to be fashionably late. He had ditched the suit jacket, but retained the trousers, belt and wand holster. Something about the wand holster could be seen as pretentious, but Draco felt it was a power move and showed a little bit of dominance.

As much as he wanted to have a drink, his American ID would not allow him one. He ordered a club soda and lime to give the appearance of drinking. When he entered the room, he noticed Violet. She motioned for him to come join their group, which he happily obliged. Violet made a standard round of introductions and left to join another group.

That is how Draco found himself standing in a circle with Ray Jacobson (Ilvermorny), Keenan Boone (Durmstrang), Lana Foley (Beauxbatons) and Casey Sullivan (Ilvermorny). Draco decided Casey was, without a doubt in his mind, a Gryffindor. He listened to Casey go on about being an RA (Draco deduced this was the equivalent of being a prefect) and teaching the younger kids. He listened when he talked about being the training dummy for the dueling club since “kids learn better on a live target,” Casey had said. Something about the humble brag turned Draco off from Casey’s personality, but there was something to say about his education and experience.

Draco learned that Casey was from California and technically was a pureblood, part of whatever America considered to be their version of a Sacred Twenty-Eight. Draco momentarily went back to his first day at Hogwarts, when he offered his hand to Harry Potter under the guise of making an alliance, while simultaneously berating his red-headed choice of companion.

If his father knew of Casey, he would implore Draco to make nice with him, solely based on his blood status. The more he thought about it, the more Draco realized how many decisions his father made with only that criteria and how poorly it had gone for him. He felt a small surge of pride knowing that he didn’t care for Casey. It wasn’t personal, he just felt they likely wouldn’t get along and he could care less about how “pure” his blood was. The group exchanged some information about their family and school life when Lana spoke up. She spoke excellent English, with the slightest french accent. She donned long blonde waves and wore an absurd amount of makeup.

He came to the conclusion that he could be interested in her, depending on how this conversation went.

“Draco, you went to Hogwarts, correct?” she asked innocently.

“I did, I graduated in May."

Lana looked at Draco, expectantly, “I was in France when England was undergoing its war and I have heard of your family. You don’t…” she took the opportunity to size him up, “fit in with them, it seems.”

Ah, there it was. Time to make his position known. 

“I don’t. It’s simple, really. I was raised to believe the things my father taught me and was on the wrong side for far too long. I very quickly realized I never truly believed the hateful things I was taught, switched sides, and did everything I could to undo what I had already done,” Draco said honestly.

He expected the group to look at him with disgust, or horror, or disdain. But they didn’t. They smiled and nodded along.

“That’s encouraging to hear!” Lana declared.

“I know that you’re not the only one who had those feelings, but you’re one of the only people to act on it. Makes you tough as nails. Respect,” said Casey, inclining his head slightly.

Keenan and Ray shook their heads in agreement. Keenan provided some insight to Durmstrang during the war. “It was ugly, people were the worst versions of themselves. I’m glad you got out,” he said genuinely.

Draco was shocked at their response. He was still getting death threats from back home, but here, they were kind and understanding. He was impressed, honestly. He smiled into his drink when he noticed he was running low. He excused himself, grabbed another one and headed back to his group.

Violet walked with him back towards his group and asked if he had any ideas for partners yet. When Draco went to respond, the same head of curls he saw this morning was staring back at him. Draco choked on his tonic and exclaimed, “bloody hell!” His group looked at him, dumbfounded. He turned to Violet in a panic.

“Is that Hermione Granger?”

Violet smiled warmly, “Yes! She’s the other English trainee I mentioned to you this morning. Did you two know each other?”

“Is this who you called Harold?!” Draco was doing his best to remain calm.

Violet threw her head back and laughed, “Yes, Draco. I could not remember her name for the life of me! I called her Herman when I met with her this afternoon. You know her, then?” she asked.

Draco’s heart pounded in his chest so loud he swore his colleagues could hear it and answered in a shaky voice, “Yes, Violet, we know each other. She’s very well known in England. We call her the brightest witch of her age. I worked with her towards the end of the war. Does she know I’m here?” He asked nervously, never taking his eyes off Granger, and the rest of the group never took their eyes off of him.

“Unless you’ve introduced yourself, no, but she appears to be on her way over here. If you two know each other and can work together then I’ll make you training partners. It’s easier if you can trust the other person already!” Violet said, and Draco managed to understand that she thought this was a good thing. The familiar feeling of dread started to bloom in his abdomen as Granger reached her destination. He smelled something along the lines of spearmint. Familiar, but not something he could place right away. He opened his mouth, but only one thing would come out.

“Granger?” 

“Malfoy. Didn’t know you were coming tonight. Do you know someone here?” Granger asked, sounding almost bored.

Draco was confused. Did she not understand he was in training? “No, Granger, I don’t know anyone here besides you, apparently. I understand this is a mixer for trainees, which is why I’m here. Is that why you’re here?” he asked. He figured if she could play stupid, maybe he could as well. 

She had the audacity to look annoyed, her face pinched in the way he’d seen a thousand times when Ron and Harry didn’t understand something she was trying to explain.

Wait. When had he memorized her faces, her reactions, her feelings? He’d never paid attention to those things before, about anyone, he thought to himself.

“I am. How peculiar we applied to the same program,” she said, looking at Violet, suddenly remembering that her boss was watching this conversation. Violet beamed at them.

“Ah, yes! How convenient this is, honestly. Once people are paired up, we spend the first week doing team building and trust exercises, but since you two already know each other, you’ll be excused for the first week and can meet on your own time to make sure you’re on the same page with each other. You’ll start back up again on Monday the 8th, if that works for you both,” Violet said, looking at them for responses.

Draco nodded his head in the affirmative, blankly, because how the hell else was he supposed to respond when she was right there, but Granger looked bewildered.

“Violet, if you please, I have my list of potential partners, and while Mr. Malfoy is…” she paused, giving him the side-eye, “obviously capable, I thought it would be best to work with a new partner.” Draco couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Violet pulled them both to the side. “Can I be candid, dears?”

Draco and Granger both shook their heads.

Violet looked despondent, “Look, I didn’t realize you two knew each other, but I need both of your skill sets, together, preferably. I likely was going to pair you regardless of your partner requests. Hermione, Draco mentioned that you two worked together in the war?”

Hermione shot a glance to Draco, who visibly flinched, and she responded through clenched teeth, “Yes, that’s right. Mr. Malfoy switched sides to secretly work with The Order of the Phoenix and was instrumental in providing information that helped Harry Potter defeat Lord Voldemort.”

Despite Granger giving him what sounded like a compliment, Draco couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “Granger, I have a name, you know, Mr. Malfoy is my father.” It came out with more venom than anticipated, but felt his point was received.

“Call me Hermione and I’ll call you Draco. Otherwise, you’re Mr. Malfoy,” she spat back.

Draco chuckled. She had no fear. “Yes, Hemione. Anything you say, love.” Her name felt unnatural rolling off his tongue, but he didn’t want to look like an arse in front of his boss.

Love? Where the hell did that come from? Merlin, I’m going to need a stiff drink when I get home, he thought to himself. 

Granger looked like someone had just broken the Statute of Secrecy, mouth agape and eyes wild. She settled herself before turning back to Violet, “sorry, please continue, Violet.”

Violet had a smirk painted on her face that could rival his own. “Okay, look, keep this quiet, but there have been a significant number of cursed objects found in Boston that MACUSA has confirmed with the English Ministry were owned by Death Eaters. The number of Death Eaters in Boston has increased and we’re finding muggles and magical folk alike with some variation of the Dark Mark turning up dead all over the city. I’m not sure what’s going on, but we need you two to work together on some of these objects to help identify who they belong to and how to stop these folks from causing any more damage. You two are the most qualified. If you can’t work with each other, then consider turning in a resignation letter,” she said with a deathly calm tone.

Draco tried to process what he had heard. Death Eaters? Here? Just when I thought I was out of this , he thought.

Should he turn his resignation in? Walk away and quit? He pondered what to do and looked at Granger in the process. She appeared to be in thought, maybe a little solemn. She had carried the burdens of war for years. This was supposed to be her time, too.

Draco confidently looked at Violet and said, “If Hermione is in, then I’m in too.”

Granger snapped her eyes to him. They initially looked confused, but they softened, and she turned to Violet and surprised them both, “I’m in. Draco and I work well together, but we will bicker, so don’t expect that to change.”

Violet looked at them both, a flash of pride in her eyes.

“Great. Meet each day this week to start your team building and send me detailed reports, each of you, and then you’ll rejoin the group on Monday. Okay?”

She did not wait for an answer before darting off to another group. Draco turned to Granger, who was wearing a mask of an emotion he did not recognize.

“I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be here or that she’d make you my partner. She told me your name was Harold when I met with her this morning,” Draco said apologetically, but hoped she could hear the undertones of humor in his voice.

Granger snorted, “I figured as much. Did she tell you she called me Herman?”

Draco chuckled and shook his head in the affirmative.

Granger straightened herself and twirled the ring on her finger. A wedding band? How curious, he thought. “Alright then, partner, can you meet at the Common? It’s walking distance from my flat.”

She looked at him, likely expecting him to challenge her, but he couldn’t get past the fact they lived near each other. “I live across the street, Granger, so yes, I’ll be there.”

Granger seemed surprised at the admission. “You do? I live about 5 minutes away. How curious. And wait, hey, what happened to Hermione, Mr. Malfoy ?”

Draco groaned and tilted his head back. “Fine, Hermione, fine. You win. Does 9 work for you?”

She nodded and walked towards the doors, only saying “Goodnight, Draco” on her way out. Draco shivered.

Chapter Text

Draco. January 4, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco woke around half past six on Wednesday. He had returned home from the mixer with more questions than answers. Did he really just sign on to work professionally with Granger? Did he really call her love? In front of their boss?

Yes. Yes you did , Draco’s mind responded.

But why? He’d never had the thought to call her anything other than Granger, and in the span of 30 seconds, had called her Hermione AND love in the same breath.

Draco rubbed both of his eyes and walked downstairs. He knew that this was a good idea, but he didn’t love that his only options were to work with her or turn in his resignation letter. She was smart, determined and incredibly capable. Draco wondered if he could convince Violet to let him see her resume, just to laugh at how overqualified she would be for any job, minus the Minister of Magic.

But working with her would present its own set of challenges, too. For example, she bore a scar that reminded both of them of one of the worst days of their lives.

Draco had been in his room at the Manor when he heard the telltale sounds of multiple people apparating onto the property. He peered out his window to see a number of snatchers and Fenrir Greyback carrying in three figures. Draco wasn’t able to make out any details or faces due to the distance, but could tell that they were important. If they were being brought back to the Manor, they likely were Order members or someone who Bellatrix, his father, or the Dark Lord himself could torture for information.

He shivered when he heard his aunt cackle downstairs. He threw up a wandless muffliato and proceeded to get his charmed galleon out of its secure hiding place. Draco lodged the small coin in an unsuspecting book on his shelf. He figured he should let the Order know that some of their people may be at the Manor.

Just as he reached the bookshelf, there was a frantic, but rhythmic, knock at the door. Draco recognized it as the code he had established with his mother when they needed to talk about Order business in secret. He flung open the door to meet her and she barreled inside.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was, on paper, the perfect example of a pureblood wife. Loyal to her family and her husband, dedicated to protecting the family name and responsible for instilling the same core beliefs and traditions in her child as those who came before her. The thing about his mother, though, is that the moment those core beliefs and traditions started to hurt her child, the gloves were off. The second her husband turned their home into the Dark Lord’s lair and willingly offered her son to him as a soldier, she knew she had to change. His mother had never truly believed the pureblood way of thinking and had a soft spot for her sister, Andromeda, who married a muggle born and was burned off the family tree. She had been meeting with Andromeda in secret for years before the Dark Lord started to rise again. If Lucius or Bellatrix had discovered that she was meeting with Andromeda, it would have compromised their safety. The day Draco was forced to take the Mark, she had begged and pleaded with Lucius to get Draco out of this. Lucius had brushed her off, saying that it was an honor to receive the Mark and would re-establish the Malfoy name with the Dark Lord. His mother had stayed up all night with Draco while he wretched and writhed in pain.

As Draco stared at her, he could feel the dread spreading in his chest.

“Draco,” she said in a hushed whisper, “Fenrir and some of the other snatchers have captured who they believe to be Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Apparently they were discovered by the taboo.”

Draco’s pupils blew wide and his chest began to heave. As soon as he knew about the taboo on Voldemort’s name, he made sure the Order knew about it. He could not believe they would be so reckless.

His mother caught on. “Draco, dear, we need to focus. Bellatrix is asking for you to come down and identify them before they call the Dark Lord. Do you understand? We cannot call him unless we are completely certain that the people they brought in are, in fact, the trio.”

His mother was looking at him, pleading for him to understand. And then it clicked. If he could not identify them, Voldemort wouldn’t be called and they would be placed in the dungeon while he and his mother worked to get them out. 

“Yes, mother, I understand completely,” He responded, his occlumency walls formed but felt as though they were held together with tape and glue.

“Very good, son, let us go.”

Draco forced himself to come back to the present. He knew if he thought about that for too long, he’d trigger a nightmare. His nightmares came often, but mainly about the things he had overheard and seen during Voldemort’s reign or Snape’s voice on the astronomy tower. But on particularly bad nights, he’d dream of Granger on his drawing room floor. Bleeding. Screaming. Begging for her life.

He had done what he could for her. At the time, he was a novice legilimens, but used every skill he had to go into her mind to keep her from breaking. He knew that Bellatrix was likely trying to access her mind as well and the only thing he could think of was to try and build her walls up before Bellatrix gained access. Being in Granger’s mind was an absolute dream and a nightmare in one. He saw memories of her parents, some with Ron and Harry from their first year, some from her local library as a kid as she discovered her passion for reading.

He tried not to pry into her memories, tried to lock them away as quickly as he could, but they would flash at him with a hazy, golden light that made it almost impossible to look away. He hadn’t been in many people’s minds, but he hadn’t seen that before and hadn’t seen it since. He felt Bellatrix in Granger’s mind as he had completed locking away the most essential memories. Bellatrix had searched and searched and found nothing. Draco had planted canned responses in her mind, so while being interrogated she would maintain their cover.

What Draco continued to have nightmares about, though, is when he withdrew from her mind thinking that she would be alright. Bellatrix had pointed her hand at Granger, and as soon as he saw the red sparks jump from her wand, he knew that she was about to experience the cruciatus curse. This, unfortunately, was followed up by Bellatrix’s knife. If he had just remained in her head for a few minutes longer he could have helped numb the pain. There was no safe way to re-enter at that point and it took all his strength to stand there. To not save her. Ultimately, the trio escaped, with the help of Dobby and his mother (in secret), but his family was tortured for days after that. Draco learned he never knew pain until the cruciatus curse, and Bellatrix’s cast was one of the strongest.

Turning back to the task at hand, Draco moved from the bedroom towards his bathroom. He stood under the stream of scalding water in an attempt to warm up the ice that had started spreading in his chest. As the steam invaded his senses and started to thaw him, he thought about how these meetings with Granger would go. 

Would we stay in the park? Would we grab coffee? How long are these things supposed to be? Merlin, it sounds like I’m planning a date.

Draco chose some casual muggle wear– a camel colored cashmere sweater with a crew neck, deep blue denims and a deep green scarf to go over his pea coat. He chuckled quietly to himself, seeing if Granger would pick up on the Slytherin undertones.

He thought for a minute, then changed his scarf. He was supposed to be making nice with her, not pissing her off. He swapped it for a maroon one instead, hoping it came across as a peace offering. He wasn’t sure what to expect from Granger today. He tried to think of topics they could talk about without getting too personal, but trust building was personal. So, what was personal enough that they could build trust but not so personal that it scares her off?

Books were always a safe bet. Draco spent years watching Granger curl into herself in a chair or spread out her belongings on Hogwarts library table and read for hours. In his earlier years, he watched her, annoyed and seething that they were sharing the same space. Around fourth year, about the time of the Yule Ball, Draco started to look at her. 

He noticed that she sometimes wound her hair into a loose bun and secured it with her wand, or pulled it into a low ponytail with a red ribbon so it wouldn’t disrupt her reading. He noticed that she had the faintest whisper of freckles across her nose that spilled onto her cheeks. That her eyes were brown, but the color of honey, not dirt. He noticed that she preferred hardcover books to paperback, non-fiction to fiction genres, but fancied a romance every once in a while.

Draco surprised himself at how much he remembered. He left that train of thought and tried to think of other topics. Quidditch? He shut down that idea, he knew Granger hated flying. She preferred coffee over tea. They both took advanced classes in potions and arithmancy in eighth year. Her favorite color was lilac. Her favorite flower was a hydrangea. Her parents were dentists. Draco furrowed his brows. How the hell did he know this?

That was a question for another day. He peered out the window at the melting snow. It was a rare day in Boston when it was over 40 degrees in January, but Draco was grateful for it. He had about 15 minutes before he met Granger but– this witch , he thought. There she was. Sitting on a bench across the street, wrapped in the thickest scarf he’d ever seen. A perfect shade of lilac, her hair loosely piled on top of her head with tendrils of curls poking out. Jeans and boots on her lower half. 

He considered waiting until 9 to walk down, but decided against it in the spirit of playing nice. Heading towards his door and completing his usual locking spell and ward check, Draco stepped into the elevator and headed into the unknown.

______________________________________

Hermione. January 4, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts. 

Hermione waited anxiously on a bench outside the main entrance of the Common. She wasn’t sure which direction Malfoy was coming from, but thought this was a safe bet. She wore warm clothing, despite it being downright balmy, mainly because she wasn’t sure if they were going to be outside for long. She really wasn’t sure what to expect today. She wanted to be open minded and go into this with fresh eyes, but she knew she had baggage and struggled to trust people. She knew that she and Malfoy, together, had baggage, and she wasn’t sure how this was going to work out. But he said he was willing to try if she was, and she’d be damned if he showed her up. She would need to get used to calling him Draco, though. Even in eighth year, she rarely referred to him by his surname, let alone his first name.

She scanned the busy street, peppered with people on their morning commute. She crossed her right knee over her left, while it bounced up and down anxiously. She chewed, almost unconsciously, on her bottom lip, to the point where she felt something warm in her mouth. She had drawn blood accidentally and darkly chuckled at the thought that she needed to stop seeing Malfoy when one of them was bleeding.

Hermione stood in the dueling hall, alone. She had been practicing every defensive and offensive spell she knew. She refused to be unprepared. The war had hardened her, to a point where she was constantly on edge. “Constant vigilance,” Mad-Eye had always said.

She had been abusing a training dummy for about an hour with a slicing hex when she heard the soft click of the door behind her. She whipped around and cast a stupefy in the general direction of the door, but didn’t see anyone. She whispered a revelio and found her culprit in the storage closet of the training room. She approached the door cautiously, but before she could come up with a game plan, the door swung open, and Hermione reacted.

Not with her wand, as she had been practicing for the last few hours, but with her fist. Her knuckles felt the shock of contact and heard the soft crunching sounds of someone's nose being broken. It was only then that Hermione saw the platinum hair and pale skin.

“Malfoy!” she exclaimed, dropping to the floor with him as he crumpled under her punch. “Merlin, I am so sorry. I had no idea it was you. Oh, gods, I think your nose is broken,” she said in a panicked tone. She removed her outer school robes, leaving her in her button up and skirt, and propped it under Malfoy’s head.

“Hang on, let me get a pain potion out of my bag,” she said as she reached for her infamous beaded bag. It was charmed with a questionable (okay, definitely illegal) extension charm. A charm that helped her and Harry survive on the run, so if the Ministry wanted to arrest her for that, she’d just play the war heroine card.

She rushed back over to Malfoy, who was bleeding profusely from his nose. He had his eyes screwed shut and his fingers pinched over his very crooked nose bridge.

“Malfoy, do you want me to heal this or bring you to Madame Pomfrey?” Hermione asked tentatively. She would prefer to heal it herself, but wouldn’t touch him further unless he was okay with it. This was the second time she had broken his nose and the third time she’d hit him.

He looked at her with the brightest grey-blue eyes she had ever seen, and tipped his head back and laughed. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard such a genuine sound from him. “Go ahead, Granger, you can heal it yourself. It’s not like you haven’t done this before,” he said, a ghost of a smile gracing his mouth.

Hermione uttered a quick episkey and scourgify and he was as good as new. He took the pain potion from her, and she could have swore his fingers lingered for a second too long. He vanished the bottle and returned her robes to her. 

“Do you want some help with that?” he asked, looking at her expectantly.

“With what?” Hermione asked genuinely. 

Malfoy’s mouth morphed into a smug smirk and his eyes drifted down to her hands, where they remained clenched with tension.

Hermione looked and saw that her knuckles were bloody and her hand was swelling at an alarming pace. Her thumb was throbbing but she only just noticed.

“Oh,” was all Hermione could utter.

Malfoy held his hand out. She eyed it, cautiously, but decided to extend her arm. He gingerly held her hand and examined it. He muttered some minor healing spells and she felt a cool tingle wash over her. 

“Cooling charm?” She asked.

“Yes. More convenient than holding an ice bag over your hand. Your swelling will go down in a bit and your scrapes are taken care of,” Malfoy informed her, but hadn’t dropped your hand yet.

“Not much you can do to prevent the scraping, but if you want to prevent the swelling, keep your thumb on the outside of your fist when you punch someone or something. You’re more likely to break your thumb if you keep it inside your fist,” he said.

“Do I want to know how you know that?” She asked, playfully.

Malfoy smiled at her, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll tell you if you tell me why you’re attempting to murder the training dummy and assaulting innocent victims in storage closets.”

Hermione shrugged, “Being at the forefront of a war showed me how unprepared I was to defend myself and others, but that was what I was asked to do. I was asked to fight, by those more experienced than I, despite not having the knowledge to do so. I refuse to ever be put in that position again. If I die while being attacked, I’ll know that I did everything I could and was bested. I would die, but not because I was unprepared.”

Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, but then snapped it shut. He looked terribly uncomfortable, searching the ground for something unknown. When he finally looked up, his response, while short, was honest.

“Same, Granger. Same.”

Hermione caught a group of commuters crossing the street and heading towards her, and she caught a glimpse of Malfoy’s hair. It was longer than she remembered. And… wavy? That was a new development. It was a good length for him and suited his bone structure well. She thought it was the perfect length for running her fingers through and tugging lightly.

Woah. Where did that come from? Hermione thought with horror.

Malfoy made his way over to her bench and motioned to sit, asking permission. She shook her head in the affirmative.

“So, Hermione , how do we want to do this?” He asked, annunciating every letter in her name with a smirk plastered on his face.

She couldn’t stop the little giggle that bubbled out of her mouth. He looked at her with surprise, but said nothing.

“Well, I was thinking we should grab some breakfast if you hadn’t done so already, and we could talk about how we both got here. Does that work for you? Is that too personal? Merlin, sorry, I’m a little nervous,” Hermione admitted.

“I don’t bite, Hermione. Breakfast sounds good. Do you want to go to Oliver’s? Not sure if you’ve been but–”

“Yes!” Hermione felt herself light up. That was her favorite sit down eatery.

Malfoy smirked at her and held his arm out for her as he stood up. Hesitantly, she took it and looked up at him. “You’re no good to anyone if you slip and fall on the way,” he had said to her. He wasn’t wrong.

Once at the restaurant, with coffees in hand and their food on the way, they sat in comfortable silence. It was short-lived, since Malfoy jumped right into it.

“So, last I knew of you, you had just turned Weasley down. I assumed you’d taken a job at the Ministry or Hogwarts. I talk to Theo and Ginny somewhat often but they didn’t mention you were in Boston.”

Hermione’s face must have betrayed her at the mention of her and Ron’s failed relationship and Malfoy was quick to course correct.

“Bollocks, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have thrown that out so brazenly. We don’t need to talk about Ron or anything,” he said, shifting in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.

Hermione steeled herself. She could do this. “No, Draco, it’s fine. Trust, right?” She said, giving him a small smile. She could see his face relax just the slightest bit.

“Yes, I turned Ron down. I had received a number of job opportunities from the Ministry, Hogwarts and other private institutions before I had even graduated, but they all felt too… heavy. Like the expectation of being the Golden Girl was looming over me at all times. I had to get out. Ron thought I was turning down jobs so we could get married and have kids while he went through the Auror Academy. When he proposed, I felt like the walls were closing in around me. I couldn’t say yes. It wasn’t fair to him, but it also wasn’t fair to me,” She looked up at Malfoy, who was looking at her with such an intensity, she felt she had to keep talking. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I want to be a wife and mother someday, but that day is not today or anytime soon. Ron proposed to Lavender 7 months after we broke up with the same ring he proposed to me with. Things with him are…tense, but I am happy for him. I applied for Commonwealth Cursebreakers because it was the farthest away I could go without causing too much of a ripple in our friend group, and Ginny and Theo are only a few hours by train. It felt right.” She looked up at him, waiting for his response.

Malfoy took a sip of his coffee and then said, “The same ring? Merlin, Weasley continues to prove me wrong every time he stoops a little bit lower. I’m sorry you went through that, but I am very impressed you chose to act for yourself. That Gryffindor, self sacrificing bullshit has a tendency to overrun you sometimes. And, believe it or not, I understand where you’re coming from.”

Hermione met his gaze with a soft smile, waiting for him to continue.

“Since taking control of the Malfoy estate, my mother has been on my heels trying to get me to settle down. She wants me to enter a betrothal agreement, preferably with someone she picks, but honestly, I think she’ll take anyone at this point. She is desperate to plan a wedding and get things in motion, but I couldn’t imagine entering a marriage out of obligation.  I know it’s how it has always been, but everything I have ever done has been out of obligation. Taking the Mark, following in my father’s footsteps, hating you,” He looked up at her with his eyes swimming in remorse, “it’s all been done out of obligation. I really never wanted to do any of those things.”

He took a moment to take a bite of his omelet that had arrived, and then continued. “I applied to the program when I learned that the Malfoy’s had property here. It’s my favorite one. It was one of the first decisions that I made for myself, not out of obligation.”

Hermione smiled at him. “Somehow, we have managed to find ourselves in an entirely new country but with similar circumstances. If Luna were here, she’d give us some shite about how it’s fate and divine timing.”

Draco snorted, almost making coffee come out his nose. “You’re right. What utter hogswash that is.”

They finished up breakfast and headed back towards the Common.

Hermione asked the question she had been holding in all day, “What do you make of what Violet told us? About the Dark Mark variation, the increased Death Eaters and the cursed objects?” He had again offered her his arm and she felt him tense before responding.

“I don’t know, but it scares the hell out of me. I hadn't even heard of Death Eaters in America before last night, but it’s a much bigger playing field than England and Hogwarts.”

Hermione exhaled loudly. He had been thinking the exact same thing that she had.

"Violet has a point, though, who better to fix this problem than a reformed Death Eater and the brightest witch of our age?” He said, clearly teasing her.

“Oh, gods, did you let her know about that moniker of mine?” Hermione asked, already knowing the answer.

“Obviously,” Malfoy said, putting on his best Snape impression.

“Draco Malfoy, you will be the death of me, I swear it.”

Chapter Text

Hermione. January 5, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts

Hermione stood in her bedroom in front of the full length mirror, wearing only her undergarments. She did this from time to time, cataloging all of her scars, making notes of any new ones she found, and plotting her next tattoo. She had made a bargain with herself on her birthday that if she had not found any new scars in three months that she would make herself an appointment to get her next piece. By the time December rolled around, it had become clear she’d need to make her appointment. She found a wonderful shop in muggle Boston that drew her sketch perfectly. She’d go today after her meeting with Malfoy. Draco, her brain corrected automatically. 

She glamoured the tattoos that were visible while meeting with him. Her friends hadn’t seen them and she wasn’t sure how they’d react. This next piece, poised to be on her right thigh, would maybe be her favorite yet. A portrait of the Greek Goddess, Athena. A woman who represents strength and wisdom. Who fights with morality and strategy. The Goddess of War. To be completed with delicate black lines, adorned with bittersweet for truth, edelweiss for courage, and gladiolus, the flower of the gladiators. Hermione was practically vibrating with excitement. Her appointment was supposed to take about 5 hours, so if she finished with Draco by 1, she could hit her appointment by 1:30 and be home by 7. A perfect plan , she thought to herself.

That meant, though, she’d need to dress appropriately since she wouldn’t be returning home in between. She chose to wear a green, knee-length tea skirt with buttons down the front and heeled boots. Normally, she’d wear stockings with this outfit, but stockings and a fresh tattoo didn’t really sit well together. She paired it with a white button-down cardigan that was tucked in. She threw her overcoat on and started to head towards the Common. She hadn’t anticipated it being so cold, and there were too many people around to cast a warming charm, so she’d just need to grin and bear it. Maybe she could convince Draco to move this shindig inside somewhere.

She was surprised to see Draco waiting for her this time. He stood as soon as he made eye contact and flashed a lazy grin at her. She couldn’t help but admit to herself, and herself alone, that he was attractive. He had yet another growth spurt and was a little over six feet tall. His features somehow filled out and became more defined. And the hair. The hair . She conceded to the fact that this was the best change he could have made. He was dressed in muggle wear again today, noting that they matched in their green attire. He was holding two to-go cups and handed one to her wordlessly. She took a sip and closed her eyes, savoring the warmth. He must have noticed.

“Hermione, are you insane? Aren’t you freezing?” He asked, genuine concern laced his tone.

Hermione smirked, “Nothing gets past you, huh, Draco? Yes, I’m cold, but there’s not a whole ton to do about it. I needed to wear the skirt and forego the stockings for an appointment later and there were too many people around to cast a warming charm. I was about ready to beg and plead we move inside somewhere,” she admitted, casting a glance towards him.

He looked smug. Shocker. “Ah, well, I can help you there,” he said, and with a quick turn of his wrist, Hermione felt a blanket of warmth cover her from head to toe. She audibly gasped, and almost moaned, at how good it felt. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, before snapping it up and staring at Draco.

“No way. No way . You can do wordless and wandless magic?!”

“Yep,” was his only response, punctuating the end of the word with a soft “pop”. 

Hermione was impressed. Very impressed, actually. She knew Draco was skilled, but it takes years of practice to achieve that. She only knew a handful of people who were actually able to perform that type of magic, even less who were able to control it and use it in the field for things like fighting and cursebreaking.

“Would you…” She trained off, suddenly embarrassed about the ask. 

“Would I, what?” He asked, but it seemed he already know and enjoyed the slow torture of making her actually say the words.

“Would you teach me? It’s actually something I’ve made as a goal for myself this year. I’m able to do a few spells wordlessly, but nothing wandless and nothing that is particularly impressive. I’d be grateful if you’d teach me. I mean, if that’s okay. If you have the time,” Hermione said, anxiously chewing on her bottom lip.

Draco perked up at her ask, and surprised her. “Yes, Hermione, I’ll teach you. But only if I get something in return.”

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes, “Ever the Slytherin, Draco. What is it you need?” She might regret asking that later, but she didn’t stand down.

It was Draco’s turn to be shy, a slight blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. “I bought a laptop and have absolutely no bloody idea how it works. Do you think…” He trailed off, and Hermione seized the opportunity to have a little payback.

“Do I think, what, Draco?” She smiled smugly.

Draco did roll his eyes at this, but eventually pushed through. “Do you think that you’d be able to teach me? Merlin knows that no one in America uses quills and parchment and I have no idea how to send an email or… an IM? I don’t even know what that is. Someone in my building just handed me a scrap of paper with some code I don’t understand and said ‘IM me’. What does that even mean?!”

Draco finally looked at her, to find her biting her tongue to keep her from laughing. Eventually, she couldn’t hold the dam back from breaking and bent over at the waist, laughing until tears were springing from the corners of her eyes. When she regained her composure, she looked up to see that Draco was utterly impressed.

“Yes, Draco, I will teach you. ‘IM’ stands for instant message. The code you saw was likely a screen name. I have one and can help you set it up. In the meantime, I’m on the clock and need to be done by 1PM. What’s our plan today?”

Draco looked up at her and said the magic words, “I was thinking that we should go to the Boston Public Library today, if that would interest you. I assume that you still love books?”

Hermione grinned, broadly, “That sounds like an excellent idea!”

______________________________

Draco. January 5, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco knew that nothing would compare to the Malfoy family library, but the Boston Public Library (BPL, because why not abbreviate everything) came pretty damn close. Plus, it was warm. Yesterday seemed to be an isolated event in terms of the weather and today seemed to be the norm. He spent a decent amount of time trying to figure out what appointment Hermione had that she needed to wear a skirt and forego stockings.

Medical appointment? Is she alright? She sounded like she had done this before , he thought to himself. He glanced over at her and chuckled quietly to himself. She, somehow, had the same red ribbon he had seen throughout her Hogwarts years and saw its current home at the nape of her neck, holding her curls at bay. She was sitting at a table this time, several books spread out in front of her. Normally, he’d be looking from another workstation, but today, he was across from her. 

She was not someone who could hide her emotions. When she was excited, she would smile and raise her eyebrows. When she was deep in thought, she would crease her forehead and bite her lower lip. Draco had caught her doing that several times today and it made him feel…something. He filed it away and would deal with it another time.

“So, what are we discussing today?” Hermione asked, not looking up from her book. They were able to grab a semi-private room, so talking at a low volume was alright.

Draco pondered for a moment, not wanting to be too personal, “How are your parents?”

Hermione stopped reading and looked up, her eyes wary. “They’re… okay. The war wasn’t easy on them, but they’re happy to not be on lockdown any longer.”

“What do they think about your move?” Draco asked cautiously.

He watched Hermione bite her lower lip before responding, “They’re not thrilled. They tried to talk me out of it, tried to get me to stay in London. They are so concerned that another war is going to break out and they won’t be so lucky this time. That I won’t be so lucky. I’ve been avoiding telling them about the specifics of my role here, especially with what Violet had told us. I did tell them that you also happened to be here, and they did feel some relief with that.”

Draco laughed quietly. He liked her parents, and got close to them during the war. He had felt such panic when he learned her parents were Death Eater targets that he felt responsible for their safety. When he became aware their home was under a fidelius charm, he almost begged to be allowed in so he could set the wards. He finally was able to after submitting to a legilimens search and an Unbreakable Vow. He added every ward he knew, including a Death Eater deterrent ward that he had created. In setting and maintaining these wards, he became close with the Granger’s. They had initially been wary of him, as their daughter had told them of his behavior in their early years. He apologized to Hermione and them, and things had been good since. He talked to her mother, Lila, about her gardens and baking. Draco often brought her bouquets and arrangements from the Manor’s gardens, as there were rare and magical varieties he thought she would enjoy. His mother would help arrange them so they looked perfect. He spoke to her father, Walter, about whiskey and muggle music. Draco introduced him to firewhiskey and Walter introduced him to The Rolling Stones, Nirvana and Jim Croce. Draco would never admit it in the light of day, but Walter was more of a father figure to him than his own father.

“I miss them,” Draco admitted quietly. “Would it be terribly inappropriate if I wrote to them?”

Hermione broke away from her books, and her face was laced with an emotion he couldn’t recognize. “I think they would really like that. They miss you too, I think. They seemed much more likely to visit knowing that you’re here,” a slight blush creeping up on her cheeks. “They never got close with Harry and Ron the way they did with you,” she added.

Draco felt his own blush form. “I’ll write to them this week, then. How did they take your split from Ron?” he asked, cautiously.

“Better than I thought. They never warmed up to Ron. They never said it, but I always got the impression they thought I could do better,” Hermione said with a shrug.

Draco couldn’t stop himself. “I agree with them there. Ron was a nice enough bloke, but what you saw was what you got.” He looked up to see her studying him and he quickly became uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, that’s not my place to say that.”

Hermione took her sweet time before responding, “We’re friends, I think, so that would be your place. No need to tiptoe on my account. I happen to agree with you,” she said with a smile.

Draco raised his eyebrows, not really believing what he just heard. “Did I hear you say we’re friends?”

“Aren’t we?” She shot back.

Draco smirked. “I suppose we are. But friends don’t keep secrets.” He knew he could be risking her taking back her statement, but wanted to see how far he could push her.

Hermione looked confused, “What secret am I keeping?”

“What appointment are you going to? It’s quarter to one and I’m curious.”

Hermione blushed intensely, looking at the clock on the wall. “Oh, bollocks, I don’t have time to put these away and explain it to you before I leave. It’s a…private matter.” She almost looked embarrassed.

“Is it medical? Are you alright?” Draco asked, legitimately concerned.

“No, nothing like that. I’m fine,” She said, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

“Hey, Hermione, I’m not trying to pry, just trying to build some trust, but I’ll back off if it makes you uncomfortable,” Draco said, putting his hand over hers.

She looked up at him, her mouth in an “o” shape. She snapped it shut, and surprised him, “Fine. I’m going into the city to get a tattoo.”

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise but didn’t react further. “Is this your first one?”

“Sixth.”

“Damn, that’s… wow. I’ve never seen one on someone in person before,” Draco admitted.

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “You’re not judging me for them?”

Draco was taken aback by this. “No, not at all. Why would I? I’ve been interested in them to cover up my Mark, but could never pull the trigger. What do you have already?”

Hermione cautiously looked around and took out her wand. With a wave, the glamour was removed and Draco saw the tattoo on her finger. “What does that mean?”

Hermione lifted her middle finger to him, and at first he was offended, but she was smiling. “It represents Harry, Ron and I. I thought it was symbolic, you know, giving whoever the middle finger.”

Draco laughed heartily at this, and found himself on the receiving end of several dirty looks from other library patrons. “I understand that, actually, it’s why I wear my family signet rings on my middle fingers. Great minds think alike.”

Hermione smiled and turned and showed him the tooth for her parents, which he deemed fitting. Hermione told him the other tattoos were covered by clothing, so she couldn’t show him here. He wondered if he would ever see them, touch them.

Woah. Where do these thoughts keep coming from?

Hermione broke his train of thought, “Alright, well, I’d say this was successful, but I’ve got to get going. Same time, same same bench tomorrow?” She said, almost hopeful looking.

Draco took a shot. “I’m happy to do that, but I’d actually like to know if I could come to this appointment with you? For educational purposes, obviously.” He avoided eye contact with her, worried that he was crossing a line.

“Draco, I don’t mind, but the tattoo is on my thigh and will take about five hours. Would that make you uncomfortable?” She asked, sounding genuine in her concern. 

Draco thought this through and made a quick list in his mind.

Pros

See the tattoo process

Build trust

See her legs- Wait! Come on, brain, get it together.

Cons

Waiting five hours

Draco decided the pros outweigh the cons. “If you’re willing to have me, then I’d like to.”

Hermione smirked, “Then we better get a move on!”

They returned their books to the desk and walked to the nearest apparition point and landed somewhere that Draco didn’t recognize. There were several small shops and cafes, and there seemed to be several university aged students. Draco saw grand brick buildings and retro trinket shops.

“Where are we?” Draco asked.

“We’re in Cambridge, near Harvard. I know, I know, it’s not Boston technically but everyone here pretends it is, so, I’m just going with it,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. 

Draco had heard of Harvard and knew it to be the equivalent to Oxford or Cambridge back home. Some of the other trainees had mentioned pursuing muggle education and had attended Harvard in various areas of study. Hermione led them down the street, Massachusetts Avenue (later learned to be Mass Ave, another shortening that Draco rolled his eyes at) until they reached a shop with bright neon signs and several plants and crystals in the windows. He looked over at Hermione, who may have been glowing in the neon light, but he suspected she would have been anyway. She led them both inside and checked in with the receptionist, who said she’d make space for Draco in the booth.

He looked around the shop and heard the dull buzz of…honestly he wasn’t sure what he was hearing. The shop looked clean and smelled a bit of antiseptic, which Draco deemed as a good sign. He looked at pictures on the wall of completed pieces. Hermione had handed him her artist’s portfolio so he could see the style of what she was getting. He noticed lots of clean, single black lines. This artist particularly favored minimal color and lots of florals. He hadn’t asked her what she was getting but would find out soon enough. His thoughts were interrupted by her artist, Lola, calling them back.

Hermione was practically bouncing into the booth, starting to unbutton her skirt from the bottom up so her thigh could be exposed. Draco watched this motion, seemingly unable to look away. He looked at the creamy skin, dotted with some freckles and some purple looking scars. He felt a pang of guilt. He could almost definitely assume that the scars came from the war, but he’d never ask. Her skin was perfect otherwise, no other blemishes or imperfections to be seen. He had no idea how he had let his father convince him that muggle-borns were anything less than him, because she looked perfect.

Perfect? That’s a strong word. She obviously looks… nice, Draco thought, correcting his inner monologue. He brought himself back to the present and watched the artist apply what she called a “stencil”. He immediately recognized some of the flowers in the tattoo: bittersweet, edelweiss and gladiolus. Being a pureblood sometimes had its benefits, and in this moment, it was the ability to identify the meaning of these flowers. Athena was in the center of the flowers and the meaning couldn’t have been more clear. Hermione was not one to get frivolous tattoos it seemed.

He watched the artist settle at her station and whip out some kind of…mechanical quill? She dipped it in ink, and heard the buzzing noise he had heard while waiting. He noticed that the quill had small, sharp points on it. It wasn’t until Lola started in on Hermione’s thigh and he saw her grip the arms of the chair hard that he realized that they were needles. She was being stabbed with needles. Draco looked to her with serious concern, to which Hermione shook her head.

“I’m fine. The tattoo gun deposits the ink under my skin so it lasts. I’m always in more pain for the first thirty minutes or so and then I go numb,” she said casually.

He noticed that she was gripping the arms of the chair so hard her knuckles were white and her nails were digging into the leather. He decided to take another bold step and extend his hand to her, gesturing for her to take it. She looked up at him, surprised, tears lining the edges of her eyes. He assumed this was from the pain of the tattoo, or at least he hoped it was. She stared at it for a second too long, and he went to retreat, but she grabbed it abruptly and squeezed. Draco squeezed her back.

Touching her hand felt far more intimate than it should have. Her hand was mostly smooth and warm, but he could feel some rough patches and calluses, and observed some small, white scars over her knuckles. She held onto his hand like her life depended on it.

“Did the other ⅔ of the golden trio have the honor of getting the life squeezed out of them for your other tattoos or am I the only one who gets that?” Draco asked, teasing her in hopes that it would distract her. Something about her being in pain in front of him made him want to take it away for her. But then, he saw it, a single tear slipped down her cheek.

“No, only you. No one else knows I have these.  I knew there was so much judgement in…” She stopped herself, not wanting to expose Lola to the wizarding world. “Back home, so I never told anyone. But I love them and I love getting them. You’re the first person who’s seen any of them,” she offered with a watery smile.

Her appointment finished and she never once let go of his hand, not that he would have let her. Today was a huge step forward for them in terms of trust. She took the pain like a champ, and while her grip loosened on his hand, she held it gingerly. She didn’t shy away or flinch back like she had been burned. It was refreshing and something he never thought would happen. As Hermione finished payment, she asked Draco to come over to the scheduling desk.

“Lola, when are you available next? My friend, Draco, would like to have a cover up completed,” Hermione said with a smirk towards him.

Draco moved to speak, to stop her, but nothing came out.

Lola looked at her books and responded, “I’ve got some time on Valentine’s Day, actually. Apparently no one wants to be tattooed that day. What are we covering up?”

Draco paled. Hermione hadn’t seen his Dark Mark in years and he felt uncomfortable lifting up his sleeve at all. As he went to protest, he remembered that this was a muggle shop, meaning that this looked like a regular tattoo to them. The tattoo didn’t move anymore, not since the Dark Lord was defeated. There was a minimal risk to showing Lola and he really did want it covered. So, he lifted his sleeve.

Lola looked at it, no judgement in her eyes. “This is a cool tattoo, why are we covering it?”

“I got it at a bad time in my life and I’d like to move on, I guess,” he replied, looking at Hermione, who beamed at him, her support evident.

Draco sat with Lola to develop a quick sketch, but she’d have him approve the final version the day of his appointment. Draco landed on a design of a dragon with some rosemary for remembrance, bluebells for humility, and thyme for strength. He paid a quick deposit and exited the shop with Hermione.

She stopped him as soon as they exited the shop, “I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just thought you might have needed the extra push,” she looked down at the ground, timidly, like she was afraid of his response.

“Hermione,” he said, firmly, “look at me.”

She did, and her big, brown eyes sparkled in the streetlights of Cambridge.

“Thank you for the push, but I expect you to come with me to this appointment for moral support. Honestly, that looked like torture and I’ll likely need a hand to hold,” he said, smirking at her.

“Yes, absolutely, I’ll be there!” She said excitedly, but as they walked towards the apparition point, Draco grabbed her hand.

“Do you want to get dinner?”

Chapter Text

Draco. January 6, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Today was the third day he and Hermione were supposed to spend building trust. He had been sending Violet daily reports, as she asked, and she seemed to be pleased with them. It seemed odd to be getting paid to hang out with Hermione, but he wasn’t going to question that now. Today, he was to head to her flat to start teaching her wandless and wordless magic.

It was one of the few things Draco was really proud of. The Malfoy’s had always had an affinity for wandless and wordless magic and it was something that he had been working on since third year. As much as he hated Bellatrix and his father, they did teach him the most about the principles and techniques of it. He’d be sure to tell Hermione that, just in case it made her uncomfortable.

He was strangely nervous about going over to her flat. He had been to girls flat’s before, but something about this seemed very personal. After they had dinner last night, there seemed to be an air of casualness that hadn’t been there the previous days. He dressed in muggle jeans and a soft cashmere sweater. He stopped at a cafe and picked up some coffee for the two of them and headed to her building.

As he approached her building, he could tell exactly why she picked it. The building, made of a soft grey stone, almost gave the appearance of a large cottage. There was a small patio to the side, and large windows with soft cream curtains drawn. There was an iron-wrought gate and a brick pathway up to her door. There were several similar looking buildings that shared a wall with Hermione’s. Large trees stood on either side of the pathway. Draco noticed that these likely flowered and would be beautiful in the spring.

He approached her door, which was painted a very soft, pale butter color. He knocked softly, not wanting to spook her. He noticed the curtain in the window to his right ripple, and an orange cat-like creature made its way to the window ledge. It stared at him with the brightest yellow eyes he had ever seen. He thought they looked quite like moons.

Hermione answered the door quickly, smiling. She must have been baking something because the heavenly aroma of pastry and sugar wafted out the front door, hitting him square in the face.

“Draco, I had coffee here, there was no need to stop!” Hermione said. While her words said one thing, she was reaching for the cup either way.

“Well, you know what they say when you assume, don’t you?” Draco responded, a devilish grin across his face. “What are you making? Because if I don’t eat some I think I’m going to faint.”

Hermione chuckled, “I made apple turnovers. I remember you have a thing for apples and sweets, so consider them a ‘thank you’ for helping me. I hope you’re not allergic to cats, Crookshanks won’t bother you but he sheds like no other,” she said, very apologetically.

Draco entered her flat and as he shut the door, her words sunk in, “Wait, how did you know that I like apples and sweets? Stalking me now, Hermione?”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “No, you prat. You forget we went to school together for seven years. I could see you every time you sat at the Slytherin table and your plate was always packed with pastries. The only fruit I ever saw you eat was an apple. Plus, you were always at the Order safehouses munching on some kind of candy. I know my father lectured you about the dangers of eating that much candy and was appalled to learn your oral hygiene was pristine. He seems to forget that magic can do almost anything.”

Draco looked at her, his mouth open, fighting a smile, “I think you proved my point that you’re a stalker, Granger.”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but instead, walked into the kitchen silently. Draco followed her and saw that she had dipped both of her hands into the bag of flour. When she turned around, she had a mischievous glint in her eye. She walked up to him and lightly clapped her hands on his chest, leaving two white handprints over his pectorals.

She raised her left hand and said, “This is for saying I stalked you,” she lowered her left and raised her right hand and said, “And this is for calling me Granger. We agreed, no more, Mr. Malfoy .”

Draco almost winced at his surname rolling off her tongue. He had gotten used to her using his first name and would even go so far to say that he liked it.

He held his hands up in surrender, “You’re right, per usual. Thank you for baking.” He took this opportunity to levitate the turnovers to him, wordlessly and wandlessly. Hermione stood with her jaw almost on the floor. Her eyes glittered with wonder and possibility. It was during this time that Draco took her in. She was in what appeared to be loose cotton pants, warm socks and a lightweight cotton t-shirt. He noticed that there was another tattoo where her scar was. She hadn’t glamoured them. Warmth started to bloom in Draco’s chest. She trusted him with that. Sure, people had trusted him, either with tasks he didn’t want or other gossip, but this was personal. Intimate. Overall, a good thing. He was glad to know and glad that she had shown him.

He had the plate land on the small coffee table in the living room and approached Hermione. He held his hand out, just as he had done the previous day and said, “Can I see the one on your forearm?”

Hermione hesitated for a moment, “Yes, but you should know I didn’t cover it because I was ashamed or embarrassed. I was constantly triggered by it,” she glanced away in an attempt to stifle some of the awkwardness. “I get nightmares. Night terrors is a more accurate description. One of the last things I would see before I went to sleep was my arm, and I’d fall asleep and dream of Bellatrix torturing me. I saw a mind healer for a bit after the war, but they didn’t really help. Plus, the knife your aunt used seemed to be a cursed object, so my scar won’t heal properly. It burned more often before I got it covered. I went to a magical tattoo artist in Greece for this and had them use ink infused with Dittany to see if the deeper application would relieve some of the pain. It did, but didn’t take it all away,” she said as she held out her arm for him to inspect.

He held it lightly, worried he’d make her uncomfortable. Too many of his family members had already done that and he refused to be added to that list. He saw the delicate lines of the dittany leaves inked over the raised skin. He ran the pad of his forefinger across the letters underneath, seeing her skin break out in gooseflesh under his. “Does it hurt when I touch it?”

Hermione shook her head, “No, it’s mainly when I’m tired or stressed.”

Draco shook his head, “I know I’ve apologized to you for this, but I am sorry. I should have done more to help you, I thought you’d be safe with walls I built, I never thought she’d torture you,” he said, never taking his eyes off her arm.

Hermione clasped her hand over his, “Draco, you did everything you possibly could. You did more than I even knew you were able to do. My memories, my friends, my parents, your mother, they were all safe because of you. I owe you… everything,” She said, her eyes lined with tears but they never spilled over. 

“Hermione, you should know that everything I am going to try and teach you comes from Bellatrix and my father. Their style, methods, techniques, everything. It’s how I learned, unfortunately, but they were damn good at it. I just wanted you to be aware before deciding to learn from me,” Draco said, making sure she knew she had a choice.

Hermione grinned triumphantly, “That brings me immense joy, knowing that I will be trying to master a technique both of them likely think is far superior to my abilities. Now I’m definitely not giving up and you have to be the one to teach me.”

Draco gave her a wobbly smile. “Well, then, now that we’ve both spent our emotional capacity for the day, why don’t we start?”

_________________________

Hermione. January 6, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts. 

It took Hermione almost no time at all to learn that she was rubbish at this kind of magic. Draco had been at her flat for about three hours and she hadn’t been able to do anything new. She showed him her wordless incendio and lumos , which did not seem as impressive in the light of day. He tried to keep her confidence up, starting with easy spells.

“Come on, Hermione, I watched you destroy our entire first year charms class when you mastered this spell. Wingardium leviosa should be a breeze for you,” Draco had said, looking at the turnover on the table in front of them. “Start by closing your eyes and picturing the turnover in front of you.”

She did as she was told. She heard Draco’s voice float around her, gently giving instructions, “Picture the wand movement for the spell and trace it in your mind, along with the incantation, and put all your intention towards it.”

She willed every ounce of her being to lift the damn turnover off the table. She heard a small gasp from Draco and opened her eyes, to see the turnover floating at her eye level. He spoke to her like an animal in the wild, almost whispering, “Don’t break your focus. Maintain concentration and move it to the kitchen with your eyes.”

Hermione swiveled in the chair she was seated in and watched the turnover float slowly across the room towards the counter. She would have made it, had Crookshanks not jumped from the window ledge to the floor, breaking her concentration. 

Draco jumped up in excitement, a broad grin spread across his face. He raised his hand in the air, his fingers splayed wide. Hermione looked at him, her own smile starting to form. She raised her hand to match his, making a small clap. She laced her fingers in between his and brought their hand down.

Hermione looked at the hand intertwined with hers, and then realized what she was doing. Why did I do that?! She asked herself, truly not understanding why. She released his hand and blushed, looking away embarrassed. She heard Draco shuffle his feet a bit closer to her. When she looked up, she was an arms length away from him. He smirked at her before saying, “Woah, Hermione, not sure I’m ready for that step. At least take me out to dinner first.”

At least he thought this was funny. “Ha ha, I was being friendly. In any event, it’s your turn to learn something new today. Did you bring the laptop with you or do we need to go to your flat?”

Draco leaned over into the office bag he brought with him and pulled out the computer and charger. He held them both out to Hermione, expectantly.

“Go ahead and plug it in, I’m going to put a kettle on,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. As she was filling up the kettle, her mind drifted back to holding Draco’s hand. Could I even call it holding his hand? He held mine back, sort of, but it was a high five-turned-hand holding? Merlin, his hand was much bigger than mine. And warm. And soft. But experienced. Wait, how would I know that? Why am I thinking this? What does–

Hermione’s inner monologue was interrupted in the kettle overflowing with water and onto her hands. She drained some of the excess water and dried off the outside of the kettle with a towel before placing it onto the burner and turning the gas on.

She moved back into the living room to find Draco exactly where she left him. “Did you–,” Hermione stopped herself, realizing he likely didn’t know where or how to plug the charger in and then connect it to the laptop. “Do we need to start at the very beginning?”

Draco shrugged, “I guess? I’ll be honest, I had no idea what ‘plug it in’ means. I assume the pointy end of this cord goes somewhere but I’m not sure where.”

Hermione shook her head in agreement. “Okay, well, let’s set up on the couch, it has the closest outlet,” she said as she motioned into the living room. Her couch, which was called that generously, was more of a loveseat. It was one of the first pieces of furniture she bought on her own and she refused to get rid of it, despite it no longer fitting her tastes. She returned with two cups of tea and settled in, maybe a little cozier than she expected. She grabbed the cord, showed Draco the outlet, and demonstrated how to plug it in.

He seemed to understand, “I’ve got a few of these outlets in my flat too, but Fern does everything so I was never sure what they did.”

Hermione looked at him, dumbfounded, “Fern?”

Draco got red in the face. “Before you chastise me, please know that Fern has cared for me since I was born and begged me to come to Boston. As soon as I was in charge of the estate, I freed her and then hired her. Elves feel… untethered… without a household, and she wanted to be here willingly. She has her own space in the flat and can tell me ‘no’, but she never does. She has paid time off and a generous wage. She owns more handbags then I can count…” he stopped himself to look up at her.

She was smiling and biting the tip of her tongue, “I wasn’t going to chastise you! I know the laws regarding elves and assumed you were following them. I just didn’t know who Fern was.”

Draco audibly released the breath he had been holding. “Oh, thank Merlin. I thought our new friendship may be over,” he said, teasing.

“How could I not be friends with you but continue to be friends with Harry and Pansy and Theo and Ginny? They all have elves, too!”

Draco tilted his head, “Good point, you’ve got me there. Now that this is settled, how do I turn this thing on?”

Hermione showed him how to plug the charger in and showed him the power button. She explained that it would be best to keep the laptop on the charger, so as to avoid any battery-drained related incidents. Once the laptop was on, Hermione connected it to her wireless internet. Explaining that to Draco proved to be difficult as he kept looking around her flat, expecting to see the wifi signal. Draco made a note to get internet in his flat so he could continue to use the laptop.

He was very interested in the internet application, too. He seemed to quickly take to the trackpad, understanding its movements and what buttons did what. Hermione explained he could attach a mouse to the computer as well for ease, but this confused Draco.

“How do I attach it? By its tail?” He asked, and Hermione could not tell if he was serious or joking. When Hermione dug a corded mouse out of her junk drawer, it became clear that Draco was being serious. He preferred the mouse to the trackpad. Typing, however, was a slow process. He didn’t understand the layout of the basic keyboard and utilized the “hunt and peck” method. Hermione directed him to look into some typing lessons, since he’d likely need to type out his reports for work.

Once the basics were learned, Hermione brought up the instant messaging homepage and added it to his bookmarks tab.

“So, all you’ll need to do now is to open the internet application, click right here, and then you’ll be brought to the instant messaging page so you don’t need to search it everytime. What are you thinking of for a screen name and password?” Hermione asked, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Draco shrugged, “I’m not sure. What is it and what do people typically do?”

Hermione started, “Well, it’s meant to be sort of an online alias. It can be as identifying or as secretive as you want; For example, mine is hgrangergg79. I’ll make sure to add it to your friends list once we get yours set up.”

She looked over at Draco, who appeared to be about .2 seconds away from dissolving into laughter. “Oh my gods, please tell me that the ‘gg’ stands for what I think it does.”

He had caught her. “Hgranger79 was already taken, I had to be creative,” she mumbled.

Draco laughed, deep and loud, until little tears pricked from his eyes. When he settled, he turned back to her, still smiling. “Okay, fine, how about…” Draco took the laptop and started to slowly type his username of choice: sprince1980. Hermione rolled her eyes, “Slytherin Prince, really?” He just smirked back at her before responding, “It worked, didn’t it?”

When the page cleared his username, the next step was to set a password, which Draco typed privately and at an excruciatingly slow pace. Hermione’s next step was to add her username to his friends list. She booted up her desktop computer and logged in. Draco tried to peer over her shoulder at her password, to which she promptly swatted him away and sent him back to the couch. Once his screen name was added, she started up a conversation with him.

hgrangergg79: What’s up, Mr. Malfoy?

Draco gasped from the other side of the room, clearly seeing the message pop up onto his screen. Hermione saw the message sprince1980 is typing… and patiently waited for a response.

sprince1980: Granger, Granger, Granger, when will you learn that you need to follow the rules you help set?

Hermione thought her response through, but landed on a singular word.

hgrangergg79: prat

She heard Draco snicker before saying, “At least use proper punctuation and grammar when you’re sending these things!”

Hermione tipped her head back and laughed, “No, Draco, that’s part of the fun. It’s supposed to be quick, short-handed messaging.”

She turned around to face him and asked, “Did you bring the screen name of the girl in your building?”

Draco was quiet at this question and blushed, “No, I didn’t. I’m not particularly interested in her at the moment.”

Hermione looked at him, and if she didn’t know better, she would say he was… nervous? Shy? “Oh, okay. That’s fine. I know Ginny and Theo have usernames and can add them for you, if you’d like,” she said, feeling somewhat awkward at the shift of conversation. “Can I ask you something? It might be, erm, personal.”

Draco looked at her, eyes clear and shining, “Shoot, Hermione, I was getting concerned I was the only one asking personal questions.”

Hermione smiled and blushed, “You are a prat, you know. You mentioned you’re not interested in that girl at the moment , does that mean you are interested in someone? Will your mother get to plan a wedding after all?”

Draco looked at the floor for a few moments before answering, “Well, I’m not entirely sure to be honest. I might be interested in someone, but I’m not sure of how a relationship with this person might work as it's… complicated. Plus, I have no idea if this person is interested in a relationship with me. For all I know, she could be interested in someone else.” 

When Hermione looked at Draco, his eyes were fixed on her intensely. “What about you?” He asked, “Seeing anyone? Interested in anyone?”

Hermione bit her lower lip, unsure how to answer. She thought for only a moment, before she chickened out, “Yeah, I think I am interested in someone. But I think they’re a bit out of my league in more ways than one and are interested in someone else it seems. But I’m hopeful, the world works in mysterious ways.”

Draco chuckled quietly, “I agree with you there. Should we add their screen name to your list?”

Hermione froze. Shit. How do I play this off? Think, brain, THINK!

“Nah, no need, they’re already on there.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow but said nothing further. Hermione’s stomach gurgled, and she closed her eyes, embarrassed at the sound. She took a shot, “Want to stay for a late lunch? I was going to order some take-away from the Indian shop down the street.”

Draco smiled at her, “I love Indian food.”

Chapter Text

Hermione. January 7, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione woke early on Friday, her last day with Draco before the weekend and they were to return to their office to formally start their training. The sun streamed through her sheer curtains into her bedroom. Crookshanks was laying in a ray of sun, belly up and tail whipping around.

Violet seemed to be satisfied with the progress reports they were sending. She was excited to actually get to cursebreaking. She noticed that she was able to work well with Draco. During their lesson yesterday, she was able to keep up with him and his techniques and he didn’t get irritated or annoyed when she would interrupt to ask questions. He only called her a swot once, which she thought should have been reported to the papers.

She chuckled to herself as she rose from bed. She and Ginny primarily chatted over IM since their schedules were so crazy. Hermione’s tempus revealed it was half past five, so she trudged over to her desktop and booted it up. While that was happening, Hermione magically made coffee and settled into her chair. Hermione quite liked having coffee early in the morning. She always added a pinch of cinnamon, which gave it an extra warming quality. 

As she logged in, her chat with Draco popped up:

sprince1980 : Hi. I think I did this right, I had some tech people over here last night and I’m almost positive that there is internet in the flat. I still can’t see the signals, though.

sprince1980 : How do I know if you’ve read these? The little bubble next to your name says you’re inactive. Curious.

sprince1980 : Thank you for teaching me about this. See you tomorrow. 

Hermione smiled. She realized she forgot to explain how people are active/inactive and what that status meant. Hermione noticed that his bubble was green.

hgrangergg79 : morning, i realized i forgot to explain to u what someone’s status meant. my b. we can go over it today. still on for 10?

sprince1980 : Obviously, I’m not about to miss out on Muggle science. Meet outside my flat?

sprince1980 : Also, what does “my b” mean?

hgrangergg79 : it’s shorthand for “my bad.” see u at 10.

Hermione closed her chat with Draco and opened one with Ginny.

hgrangergg79 : rise and shine, witch

redheadedwitch : ugh, ur typing is too loud

readheadedwitch : pls quiet it down, i can hear u all the way in nyc

hgrangergg79 : my apologies, ur highness, ur wish is my command

redheadedwitch : thank u. so, how was ur first week of work? how many curses did u break so far?

hgrangergg79 : well, none yet. first week u spend building trust with ur training partner…

redheadedwitch : oooo, do we hate them? or do they seem decent?

hgrangergg79 : um…

hgrangergg79 : we actually know them

redheadedwitch : ahhhhh, so u paired with malfoy then?

hgrangergg79 : u knew?! u didn’t say anything? what kind of friend r u?!

redheadedwitch : what fun is that for me? i didn’t know for sure, but he’s been writing to theo and it seemed like too much of a coincidence that u both would be in boston for work. i made an educated guess.

hgrangergg79 : next time u have a hunch, maybe let me know?!

redheadedwitch : nope. don’t wanna agree to that.

redheadedwitch : how is he? getting along ok?

hgrangergg79 : actually, yes. we’re friends. since we knew each other already, we were excused from the first week to basically hang out and send reports to our boss. he seems nice. smart. i think we’ll be good together.

redheadedwitch : hermione granger, do u fancy draco malfoy?!??!?!?!

hgrangergg79 : dont be daft, of course not. it’s just nice to have a familiar face. 

redheadedwitch : yeah, okay, i * definitely * believe u. let me know if u need advice on how to woo a pureblood. as u know, the weasleys are the most respected wizarding family in all of europe.

hgrangergg79 : get over urself, gin. i don’t need advice, i have no plans to be anything to draco malfoy.

redheadedwitch : u say that now. gtg, ttyl! :)

Hermione powered down her computer and sat back in her chair in disbelief. Ginny had known. She didn’t say anything. Hermione didn’t know if she should feel betrayed or impressed. She thought about what she had said, I have no plans to be anything to Draco Malfoy. 

Was that true? Not necessarily. She planned to be his friend. She planned to be his cursebreaking partner. But that was all. Just because there was a physical attraction towards him didn’t mean that there was any further planning. Hermione rationalized with herself, besides, he already mentioned that he was interested in someone. In and of itself, that negated anything I planned or didn’t plan to be.

Hermione couldn’t picture a relationship with Draco. She had accepted being friends, but a boyfriend? Partner? Husband? Father? No, none of those made sense. She couldn’t really picture any of her male friends being parents or married right now. She shook her head. She was young and didn’t need to think about any of that now. 

She softly padded over to her wardrobe. Today, they would be visiting the Museum of Science and grabbing lunch. She opted for wide-legged pinstripe trousers and a black fitted turtleneck. She slipped on a black belt with gold hardware, her usual suspects for jewelry, and pearl earrings. She slipped on soft ballet flats and moved to the bathroom to tackle her hair.

Her hair had been her longest known enemy, more or less. In the wintertime, while there was minimal humidity to frizz it up, her hair turned knotted and dry. In the summer, it was double in size. She had gotten into a routine of sorts, spraying down her hair with a spray bottle and then using her wand to curl soft and bouncy ringlets. She had created a modified version of a stasis spell to apply to her hair when it was finished in an attempt to set it, but it wasn’t always the most reliable. 

She glanced over at her makeup bag. Hermione knew she’d be lying to herself if she said that she wasn’t trying to put the effort in. She wanted to impress her colleagues, which now included Draco Malfoy, and she felt the most put together and sleek when she had some makeup on. Hermione dutifully swiped on some blush, concealer, powder and mascara before adding a wine colored lipstick. She’d be able to slip it into her bag for reapplications through the day.

By the time she had gotten ready, tidied up, and fed Crookshanks, it was 9:30, meaning she would walk to the bench outside Draco’s flat. She grabbed her jacket and scarf and headed out. The bench was occupied today by an older couple and she was not about to ask them to move. She knew which building was Draco’s and decided to wait in the lobby. Friends did that, right?

She approached the doorman, who eyed her curiously.

“Ma’am, which apartment are you here for?” He said, his tone flat and nasally.

Hermione froze. She had no clue what number his flat was.

“Um, well, I’m not sure to be honest…” Hermione squinted at his name tag, “John. I am waiting for Draco Malfoy, whatever number that is.”

John’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he didn’t show any other emotion. “Mr. Malfoy? Okay, yah, I can let him know you’re here. What’s your name?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“You got it. Be right back.”

John stepped inside, holding the door open for Hermione and gesturing with his arm for her to walk into the lobby. She looked at the lush carpeting, marble flooring, pillars and crown moulding. Hermione immediately deemed this to be out of her budget, but then remembered who she was dealing with. Did Draco Malfoy even have a budget? Did he know what a budget was? Hermione started to feel self-conscious about inviting him over to her flat now. While not necessarily inexpensive, hers was a shack compared to his. John waved her over to the desk and she overheard the tail end of the conversation.

“Okay, okay, yeah, will do, boss.”

Hermione looked expectantly towards John. “Mr. Malfoy would like you to meet him upstairs. He said, and I quote, ‘does she know she’s 20 minutes early? Bloody hell’ and then asked me to send you up to him.

Hermione giggled, and shook her head.

“Head up to the 14th floor.”

Hermione looked confused, “Okay, what number is he?”

John smirked, “Oh, no, dear, Mr. Malfoy’s apartment is the 14th floor.”

Hermione stopped herself from gaping at John, entered the elevator, and thought to herself, Yep. Draco Malfoy does not know what a budget is.

______________________

Draco. January 7, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Of course, Draco thought to himself. Of course she’s bloody early. Damn witch could never be actually on time for something. Always needs to overachieve, this one.

Draco hopped out of the shower and toweled himself quickly. He threw on some tan trousers and a fitted maroon henley. He called out, “Fern!”

Fern materialised at the foot of his bed, “Yes, Master Draco? What is you needing?”

Draco was nervous. None of his friends had been to his flat yet, and he knew how Hermione was about elves, but it was too late now. “Fern, Hermione Granger is coming up to the flat right now. Can you make sure you retrieve her and prepare some tea until I can meet her downstairs?”

Draco watched Fern’s eyes grow wide, “Miss Hermione Granger? In the flat? Oh, Master Draco, this is the most wondrous news! Miss Hermione Granger is famous among the elves. Miss Hermione Granger cares the most about elves. Miss Hermione Granger was a good friend to Dobby. Fern is very grateful for the opportunity to bring Miss Hermione Granger anything she is needing!”

Fern disappeared without even a second glance towards Draco. He chuckled and turned back to his hair. As he tousled it, he could hear Hermione being let in by Fern. He grabbed his cologne and sprayed it. He had finally found a scent that fit him. He enjoyed the notes of juniper and cognac and had yet to smell anything quite like it. He slipped his loafers on and made his way downstairs.

He saw Hermione before she saw him. She looked beautiful. The sun was hitting the right side of her face as she looked out the window onto the Common. Her lips were stained the color of wine and appeared to be– Wait a damn minute, his brain interrupted, since when do you call Hermione Granger beautiful? Draco pondered this for a moment. Because she is , he answered. He could admit that he was attracted to her. She was beautiful, but almost more importantly, she was brilliant. She was a catch. She would never go for him, but she was a catch.

He thought back to their conversation yesterday, that she was interested in someone already. She already had their screen name thingy on her messenger thingy, so they had already talked. Or were actively talking? Merlin, the intricacies of this make me feel like a teenager finding out if someone “like liked” her. 

Draco was content to be her friend and her cursebreaking partner. She could do much better than him and not be subjected to the high society of purebloods. He couldn’t give a damn about pureblood ideals, but he knew that others had not moved on from the beliefs of the war.

While Voldemort didn’t create the idea of a pureblood world, he did amplify the voices of those who supported it. Many of those people would have remained ignorant but in the shadows of society. By giving them a platform, someone to rally behind, he allowed that population to fester and grow loud. Now, people could be ignorant and bigoted out in the open. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He supposed that, as long she didn’t go back to Ron, then he likely would approve of her choice.

Draco smiled softly and that was when Hermione turned to look at him. He’d been caught thinking about her. Draco descended the stairs quickly and met her at the window.

“See anything good?”

Hermione hummed, “Yes, I’ve been watching this elderly couple for the past 10 minutes or so. They’re on our bench, that’s why I’m in your flat. Sorry about that, by the way, I intended to wait in the lobby.” She was biting her bottom lip.

“What’re you thinking about?” Draco asked her softly.

Hermione turned to look up at him, “Do you ever wonder if you’ll get a love like that?” She nodded towards the couple on the bench. “Do you ever think that you’ve… missed your shot at the one great love story you get in your life? How many chances does someone get for something like that? What if it’s already come around and you’ve missed it?” She turned back to the window, looking longingly out at the couple. 

Draco lightly touched her shoulder and was pleased to find that she didn’t tense or flinch away at his touch. “Hermione, look at me.” She did, so he continued.

“There is no one ‘great love’ in someone’s lifetime. People come into your life at different times, for different reasons, and you love them all differently. They each serve a purpose in your life, even if they don’t stay the whole time. If you’re worried that your ‘great love’ was Weasley, I assure you, there are bigger and better things out there for you,” he said, hoping he had conveyed every ounce of sincerity into his words and she had believed him.

“What about you? What about your ‘great love’?”

Draco thought about this and decided to answer honestly.

“Honestly? I’m not sure if I have ever loved someone like that. Never really been given the opportunity, you know, serving a murderous snake man and all,” He looked over to see if she laughed and saw her shoulders move silently, “Closest I ever came to loving someone was Pansy. But not in the romantic sense. We never would have worked romantically. Potter, to my surprise, is perfect for her. I love her like a sister. As an only child, my chosen family means alot to me.”

He looked at her as she looked out the window. “Did you love Weasley?” Why was he nervous about this answer? Why was he secretly hoping she said no?

“I thought I did. It was easy to be with him. Expected, almost. But no, in the end, I don’t think I did. If and when I decide to love and be loved, I want it to be something that smolders. Something that is worth fighting for. I want to be with someone who gives a damn about me and my interests and doesn’t try to change me. That supports me. And I want to be that person for someone. I want to be encouraging and encouraged. I want to be with someone who thinks the way I do but challenges me. I’m not sure that person exists, but I refuse to settle.” Hermione looked determined in her answer. “Ready to go?”

Draco nodded his head blankly, but to be honest, he couldn’t give a damn about the Museum of Science. He had never been drawn to someone like her before, but he couldn’t deny this. Not this time. He didn't give a damn about cursebreaking, the expectations from his family, or what anyone thought. But her. He gave a damn about her. He realized he wanted the exact same thing in a partner as she did. Do I… want her ? Draco asked himself. He answered himself as quickly as he asked the question.

Yes .

Chapter Text

January 8, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

hgrangergg79: any plans today?

sprince1980: No, nothing formally on the docket today. I was thinking about writing some letters back home. You?

hgrangergg79: nope, gonna soak up the last days b4 work. Maybe order a take-away and watch a movie.

sprince1980: Which movie? And where are you ordering from?

hgrangergg79: not sure yet, mayb Hercules? havent picked a place yet. have any recs?

sprince1980: “recs?”

hgrangergg79: recommendations u prat

sprince1980: Oh, yes, I do. Hercules sounds interesting. Want some company?

hgrangergg79: I don’t think it’s the movie u think it is, but sure :)

sprince1980: I’ll be there in 30 minutes with food in tow. 

____________

“Hermione, please be serious. Hercules was basically kidnapped, almost poisoned and then raised by the Disney equivalent of Muggles?!” Draco exclaimed.

“Sound like anyone you may know? Maybe a certain Boy Who Lived? Except, instead of being poisoned, he survived a killing curse?” Hermione quipped back.

“Also, how is Meg in love with him after one day? Love doesn’t work like that, does it?” Draco looked at her for an answer.

“Hmm, not sure, Draco. Love works in strange ways.”

___________________________

January 9, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts

sprince1980: So, I went down a Disney rabbit hole when I returned home last night. I have now seen The Lion King, Aladdin and Bambi. I do not recommend Bambi.

hgrangergg79: are those the only ones u have watched?

sprince1980: Well, it’s been maybe 12 hours since I left your flat, so yes, but I think that’s rather impressive.

hgrangergg79: u will have 2 add my favs! Beauty and the Beast and Sleeping Beauty!!

sprince1980: Lucky for you, Granger, Sleeping Beauty was next on my list.

hgrangergg79: im on my way over with cookies in hand, if thats ok w u, but call me granger 1 more time and i will disconnect ur internet

sprince1980: Always a pleasure, Hermione :) 

______________________

“Pink!” Exclaimed Draco.

“Blue!” Argued Hermione.

“As stimulating as this argument is, I want to get back to the spindle. Why does everyone in the Disney franchise get poisoned?! Honestly, between that and the curse that Maleficent put on her, she sounds like one of the Greengrass sisters,” Draco commented.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, well, remember how I told you my mother wanted me to enter a betrothal agreement? Her first choice was Astoria Greengrass. She was a few years behind us at school and Daphne is already betrothed, so my family discussed Astoria and I marrying. When we got to the contracts, the Greengrass family tried to sneak in that Astoria carried a blood curse. If we were to have a child, the curse could be passed to them. There was no way to know if it would skip generations. Astoria would start to lose her mind and body soon after giving birth,” Draco explained.

Hermione hummed, unsure how to respond.

“The blood curse wouldn’t have prevented me from marrying her,” Draco went on, “if it was a love match, I would have. But it wasn’t. I didn’t feel comfortable bringing a child into the world, having them lose their mother, becoming a single parent and sitting and waiting to see if they carried the same blood curse. It would be too much.”

Hermione rested her hand over Draco’s.

“You’re a good man, Draco.”

___________________

Draco. January 10, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco arrived at the office ten minutes before 8. He wanted an opportunity to settle in and personalize his desk a bit. Per Hermione’s recommendation, he gathered some photos and some decor to bring to his desk. She told him, very matter-of-factly, that it would help his other trainees see him in a positive light, that it would humanize him, or something. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to piss his partner off on day one.

When he checked in with Violet, she led him to his cubicle, which was now directly across from Hermione. Violet had told him that once partner selections were made they arranged the desks so they’d be able to work together more efficiently. He shouldn’t have been, but he was surprised to see Hermione already at her desk. She was setting up some photos and had a steaming cup of coffee on a coaster. She smiled brightly at him as he set down.

“Good morning, Draco,” Hermione announced.

Draco chuckled a bit, “Morning, Hermione. You’re acting very professionally with someone who saw you cry watching an animated movie just yesterday, you know.”

Hermione smirked, “I haven’t a clue what you’re on about, Draco. You know, I was going to help you set your email up, but on second thought, it could be a great independent learning opportunity for you,” she said as she spun around in her desk chair.

Draco felt the pit in his stomach start to grow. He had forgotten about the tech side of things. 

“Hermione, darling , please help me. We have been working together for five minutes, we can’t already be having our first fight,” Draco purred, pouting slightly.

Hermione blushed at this and avoided his gaze. “Fine. Only because it affects me too if you can’t do this stuff.”

She spent the next hour or so setting up his computer while he took diligent notes. They had their first meeting in the conference room and walked there together, chatting lightly about the commute. They had agreed that they would commute separately, but take turns on buying coffee in the mornings.

The conference room was large and well lit with tall windows. A long, oak table took up the majority of the space, along with several rolling chairs. A chalkboard and large notepad on an easel was in the front of the room. This meeting was for first year trainees only.

Draco was able to see some of the people he had met last week partnered up. Lana and Casey were partnered, and Keenan and Rafael were partnered. What an odd combination those two are, I wonder if they picked each other or got paired by default, Draco thought to himself.

Hermione snagged seats towards the front of the table and looked at him excitedly. While waiting for Violet, Draco set himself up with a small notepad and pen. He glanced over at Hermione already doing the same and dating the page.

“So, I had an interesting conversation with Ginny the other day,” Hermione said casually.

Draco quirked his brow at her, “Yeah? How is she?”

“She knew. She knew that we worked together and she didn’t say anything. Apparently, you writing to Theo saying that you were in Boston was enough for them to figure it out. That means the rest of the group will know and we’ll never hear the end of it,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Draco chuckled, “I literally just sent him that letter. They are too perceptive for their own good.”

Hermione sighed, “It was just so nice, being in our own little bubble here without the rest of the group knowing. Ginny asked if I fancied you just because I said we were friends. She’s ridiculous.”

Before Draco could tease her and ask if she did fancy him, Violet entered the room and commanded it with her presence.

“Good morning, trainees! Welcome to week two of your training. Today, we will be working on some basic defensive skills. Sometimes, cursed objects will project spells outward in an attempt to deter you from accessing the object. Please, find your partner and make your way to the training arena.”

____________

Hermione. January 10, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts. 

Hermione was excited. She noticed that Lilianna and Billy were paired together and waved her down. She grabbed Draco’s forearm and pulled him towards them.

“Damn, Hermione, where the hell have you been! I thought you quit!” Billy joked. Lilianna shoved him.

“No, you idiot, she told us that she and Draco would be out the first week since they already knew each other,” she said, “Honestly, you didn’t miss much. The trust exercises were kind of stupid and we learned more out of work than we did at work.”

Hermione grinned and shook her head, “Yes, we discovered the same. Draco and I share friend groups and have history from back home so it made more sense to work independently for the first week. We had to send Violet daily progress reports so she could keep track of us.”

Draco chuckled, “Honestly, I still can’t comprehend that we just got paid to hang out last week.”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, “I didn’t think of it that way, but I guess you’re right. 10 points to Slytherin.”

Hermione thought that would get a reaction out of him, but when she turned to look at him, she noticed that his gaze was intense and there was a blush on his cheeks. She involuntarily returned the blush back and averted her eyes to the floor.

While looking at the floor, however, she caught sight of Draco’s hands. They were large with long, slender fingers, adorned only with his family signet rings. His skin was light and creamy, with some small white scars around his knuckles. Hermione wondered if they were from quidditch. She noticed the pale blue veins that wound wildly around the top of his hand. Hermione allowed herself to picture them running up his arm. When she bumped into Lilianna, her attention snapped back up to see Draco looking at her curiously.

The training arena was a large, ovular room with several training dummies alongside tables and chairs. Hermione was able to locate their table, bid goodbye to Lilianna and Billy with promises to eat together for lunch, and sat down. At each table there appeared to be a different object. Their own table had a beautiful silver diadem, encrusted with the largest emeralds she had ever seen. Each emerald was fashioned into a teardrop shape and surrounded by small diamonds and red rubies. Hermione imagined that something of this magnitude must have come from a family of royalty. These types of accessories were not found in every family. There was a small note card next to the diadem:

The Diadem of Wiltshire

Seized by: The Ministry of Magic, London, England

Retrieved from: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England

Hermione’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She turned to face Draco, who, somehow, had gone paler than she had ever seen. She could see his hand tightly clenched under the table. She slipped her fingers into the middle of his fist, working to pry open his hand. He stiffened at her touch, but she refused to relent. Once she wiggled her way into the center of his palm, she squeezed lightly and traced small circles on the outside of his hand. She could have sworn she heard him sigh, and when she looked at him again, he was looking at her, eyes bright and shining.

“Are you okay?” Hermione whispered, so as not to draw attention to them.

“I am. I’ve seen this diadem a hundred times in the Malfoy & Black jewelry archives, but I had no idea it was cursed. It makes sense that it was seized when the Ministry raided the Manor for my father. I’m just surprised it’s here,” Draco said, his whisper sounding shaky, “But maybe it makes sense. Violet said she’d be tasking us with cursed objects owned by Death Eaters, and this is a cursed object that was owned by Death Eaters.”

“You’re not a Death Eater. You never really were,” Hermione said quietly.

Draco exhaled heavily, “My arrest and the Dark Mark on my arm tell a different story, but even if I followed your logic, my father was still the head of the House of Malfoy when the Manor was raided, and he definitely was a Death Eater.”

Hermione couldn’t argue about his father, but she knew that Draco never wanted to be a Death Eater and defected as soon as he could. He was worried about his mother. When Hermione spoke to the Wizengamot on his behalf, she mentioned that she would have made similar choices had her parents been threatened in the same manner. She knew that Harry, Ron, Kingsley, Tonks, Remus and Minerva had made similar statements on Draco’s behalf.

She turned back to Violet in the front of the room, who was going over basic protective spells, many of which she had learned before her third year at Hogwarts in an attempt to help Harry. With the help of her time turner, she had re-lived…certain parts of her third year. Particularly when she had punched Draco in third year. She felt bad as soon as she had done it, but she’d never let him know. Thinking back on it now, she remembered her thumb swelling and hurting then, too. Hermione thought it was strange that merely 5 years after that, they’d be in the same situation, but she’d be apologizing and they’d be healing each other. Even stranger was the thought that another year or so after that they’d be willing partners together in an entirely new country.

Draco stood up with the rest of the class and it broke Hermione out of whatever trance she had been in.

“What are we doing? I got lost in my head,” Hermione asked him.

“Working on shielding charms in case the object at the desk spits a curse out at you,” he responded with a smirk.

“So, protego ?” She asked, somewhat amused.

“I think so,” Draco responded.

“Does that seem… a bit amateur to you?” Hermione asked.

“You and I are on the same page there, Hermione. But most of these people didn’t fight in a war, this is new to them. Let’s show them how it’s done?” He asked, almost challenging her to show off.

“You’re on,” was her only response.

Hermione faced Draco in her assigned dueling lane. She held her wand up, bowed, then walked a few paces back to her spot. They stared at each other, briefly, before firing spells at each other. Nothing that would cause harm, some stinging jinxes mainly. If the spell was deflected, she didn’t want it to hurt someone. Draco deflected with ease, as did she. They went on for what felt like hours, and by the time they stopped to take a breather, she noticed the other trainees were watching in awe. When they ended their duel by shaking hands, they erupted in applause.

Violet was smirking at them, clapping her hands knowingly. Hermione thought she must have some amount of satisfaction by pairing them together. They rejoined the group to break for lunch with Lilianna and Billy.

“So, Hermione says you guys are friends from back home?” Billy asked.

Draco looked at her, unknowing what to say. Hermione shrugged her shoulders, but felt the smallest wiggle against her skull. It was then Hermione realized that Draco was trying to communicate with her through being a legilimens.

What do they know?

They know that we’re in the same circles, that we fought in a war together and that I’m friends with Harry. Oh, they also heard about the Tri-Wizard Tournament but we steered away from that conversation quickly.

Got it. Thank you.

Hermione felt him exit her mind gently and saw him start to speak to Billy and Lilianna. As she looked at him, she saw a golden haze around his head. She shook her head and tried to blink it away, but it remained for the rest of lunch.

When they returned to their table, the diadem was still there, glittering and looking unsuspecting. There was a list of detection spells, unlocking spells and disarming spells. Hermione and Draco reviewed the list, agreed on the order of spells they wanted to use, and got to work. They decided that Draco would do the initial detection spell, as many Malfoy artifacts have anti-muggle warding on them. Draco was insistent that they draw the protection rune on her arm, just in case. He noted that since the artifact could call to Malfoy blood, the object likely wouldn’t hurt him. He’d take down the first spells of the object and Hermione would finish it.

Draco cast the first spell and a wisp of green mist fell over the diadem. A series of complicated spell equations appeared to glow over the diadem, and Draco furrowed his brow. Hermione grabbed her pencil and notepad and started to break down the equations. Draco joined her, adding in his commentary. He had managed to shortcut some of the equations and come to the answer more directly than her roundabout way. She knew that they had both taken advanced arithmancy but this was beyond what was taught in the class.

Based on the results, they decided to take down the anti-muggle charm. Draco moved his wand with precision and elegance, not even breaking a sweat despite the challenging technique. Hermione then disarmed one of the nastier curses on the diadem. They had deduced that if the diadem were to be touched by someone who was not of Malfoy blood or who was not the intended recipient of the diadem, then a burning curse would be activated, causing the person to drop the diadem. Draco took down a strong confundus curse, should the diadem make it onto the head of someone it did not belong to. Finally, Hermione removed the last one, a melting curse, designed to melt the diadem in its entirety if it were to be stolen.

After they had finished this, the diadem looked the same, but they were confident they had disarmed everything. They raised their hands to alert Violet that their work needed to be checked. It appeared that they were the first to do so and were on the receiving end of quite a few dirty looks from other partners. Hermione was able to observe some of the other objects to include a harp, a chair, and a moving portrait that would not stop screaming.

Violet approached, a clipboard in hand and glasses balancing on her nose.

“Alright, Team Granger/Malfoy, show me what you discovered.”

Hermione and Draco effortlessly gave their report, explained their findings and showed her their work. Violet, while trying to remain neutral, had the slightest smile on her lips.

“Well done, you two. Draco, I wanted to see how you reacted to seeing an object of your own family. I know it must have been uncomfortable, but you handled it well and with no bias. Hermione, I am impressed at your arithmancy work and the fact that you both recognized the anti-no maj ward,” Violet stated, turning around to address the rest of the class, “That goes for all of you. One of the first detection spells you need to cast will be to check for anti-no maj wards. Some of you are born to No-Maj’s, therefore, this spell will knock you down before you even start.” Violet turned back to them with a wink.

“Mr. Malfoy, feel free to take the diadem home with you. It’s your rightful property since taking over your family estate, and now that it’s been decommissioned, the Ministry has approved you to reclaim possession, should you choose to,” Violet said as she walked away.

Draco looked dumbfounded. He turned to her, “Should I take it or should I throw it into the Charles River?”

Hermione gaped, “Obviously take it! It’s an incredible piece and probably has a rich history. Oh, please take it, if for nothing more than so I can study it!”

Draco tipped his head back and laughed, “Sure, Hermione, that’s fine. You can study it, but only if we watch a few more movies. I’m interested in your other favorite Disney movie.”

Hermione beamed at him. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

January 15, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

hgrangergg79 : mooooooooooooorning

sprince1980 : Hermione, it’s 11. That’s hardly considered morning.

hgrangergg79 : oh, im sorry, didnt realize we were getting stuck on semantics

sprince1980 : If you know anything about me, it should be that I definitely get stuck on semantics.

hgrangergg79 : keep this up and ill take back the invite

sprince1980 : You’d need to invite me somewhere first in order to take it back…

hgrangergg79 : semantics

hgrangergg79 : ok but anyway wanna be invited somewhere

sprince1980 : Obviously.

hgrangergg79 : meet outside ur flat in an hr?

sprince1980 : I have no idea what that means.

hgrangergg79 : 1 hour. B there or b square.

sprince1980 : Hermione, did you have a stroke?

________________________

“People actually pay for this? Just to stand around and, what, look at things?” Draco asked, sounding almost offended.

Hermione grinned, “Yes! These are animals that people wouldn’t usually be able to see without aquariums! The penguins are a big attraction, but there are so many cool things. I think they have a touch tank, too. I’d really love to see it!”

Draco turned a strange shade of green at that, “What, pray tell, would we be touching? Or are things touching us? Merlin, muggles have a strange sense of a good time.”

Hermione leveled a glare at Draco, who immediately took the hint, “Right, you’ll rescind the invitation. But I do not promise not to react if something touches me.”

________________________

January 16, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

sprince1980 : What should I watch next? Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs or The Aristocrats?

hgrangergg79 : its aristoCATS

sprince1980 : No it’s not, that makes no sense.

sprince1980 : Wait.

sprince1980 : Bollocks, it IS The AristoCATS.

sprince1980 : What in Merlin’s name is this about?

hgrangergg79 : shall i come over?

sprince1980 : I’m not watching a movie about cats by myself, so yes.

sprince1980 : Bring snacks.

sprince1980 : And Crookshanks.

_________________________

“There is no way people like this movie,” Draco stated. Crookshanks had curled up on the couch between them and was purring loudly. Draco was scratching the top of his head, right in between his ears.

Hermione looked at the scene next to her in awe. Being part Kneazle, Crookshanks was incredibly perceptive and had good judgement. He didn’t like many people.

He tolerated Harry and Pansy, as well as Theo and Ginny. Neville and Luna would get some head bumps when they would see him. He never took to Ron, hissing and scratching at him the second he walked into the room. He hated Lavender and took every opportunity to throw up a hairball on her pillow when they were living in Gryffindor Tower. But this? She had never seen this before. Crookshanks was acting the same way he would with her, with Draco. What an interesting development. I’ll need to deal with that at another time, she thought to herself.

__________________________

Hermione. Week of January 17, 2000. Boston Massachusetts.

Hermione felt she had settled into a good routine in her new city. Every morning she woke up early, practiced her yoga and checked her IM before getting ready for the day. She and Draco switched off buying coffee a few times a week. They would cursebreak and duel together. Sometimes they got dinner or drinks after work. They often would spend their weekends together.

While initially concerned they wouldn’t get along or would be sick of each other, Hermione learned that this wouldn’t be the case. She could talk to him for hours, it seemed. He slowly opened up to her and conveyed he had an interest in the Muggle world. He listened intently when she would explain the plot of a Disney movie they had just watched or other Muggle hobbies. They could match each other when it came to cursebreaking and dueling. She felt constantly challenged but never overpowered.

He was smart. Intuitive. Driven. He was everything she could want in a partner.

Cursebreaking partner, she reminded herself.

The second week of training went better than the first. She and Draco were excelling at a rate far faster than their peers. It was clear that they had experience that was not taught in classes. Most people glared at them from a distance. Some people asked about their techniques and education. Some people asked about the war. She would always defer to Draco when that happened. She didn’t want to say something he wasn’t comfortable with. He always nudged against her mind in those instances, asking permission before speaking. She appreciated the way he cared for her in that respect.

When Friday rolled around, Billy and Lilianna had asked if they wanted to grab dinner. “You know, like, some time out of work! Invite Draco too!” Lilianna had said.

When she approached Draco about it, he was excited. Ron would have never wanted to go out on a Friday. He often gave the excuse that he was “too tired” or would ask “why do we need to go out?” Hermione herself was never very social, but she liked to feel included. After too many times of turning down people, people stopped inviting her.

They had agreed to meet at a wizarding restaurant in the North End, known for serving pasta out of their skillets and the dirtiest martinis (that she wasn’t allowed to have) in Boston, or so some magazine said.

Hermione went home to change after work and Draco would meet her at her flat at 7:00. She was nervous. This isn’t a date, you daft woman, she reminded herself. Nevertheless, she got ready with Draco in mind.

The weather had not been kind this week, dropping several inches of snow and freezing temperatures, meaning that Hermione’s options were limited. She ultimately landed on a pair of skin-tight, deep blue denims that accentuated every part of her. While not the slimmest, Hermione was proud of her curves and muscles. Training for a war did that. She added a light green halter top that had a deep neckline and a matching shortened cardigan over that. She slipped on some chunky boots that were fashionable but practical given the weather. She wound her hair tightly into a bun and added some clips to keep any stray hairs in place. She added chandelier earrings, her gold bracelets, and of course, her mother’s ring.

She added a touch of clear gloss with sparkle to her lips, spreading it around with a “pop”. She sprayed her perfume onto her pulse points and her hair. She typically saved it for special occasions, but deemed dinner with new friends fit the bill. She smiled warmly as the notes of cinnamon, vanilla and bergamot filled her senses. She heard the doorbell a second after she felt the ripple of her wards. She had already altered them to allow Draco in, since they seemed to spend time together enough that it just made sense to. As she gathered her bag and started to walk downstairs, she heard the door open.

“Hey, Hermione, sorry to just barge in, but it’s bloody freezing out–” she heard Draco say as she softly landed on the last step. He stopped mid sentence, jaw slacked and eyes slightly bugging out of his head. He had a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. Hermione couldn’t help but look at them. They weren’t extravagant, but they were perfectly her. Hydrangeas ( where did he even find hydrangeas in January ) and calla lilies ( for beauty? No, it’s not that deep. Unless it is? Is it? Oh, gods, I’m overthinking it ).

“What are those for?” She asked, feeling almost shy.

Draco took an eternity to respond. She wasn’t sure if she had ever seen him so off guard before

“Huh? Oh, they, erm, are for you, because, well, I– um, oh bollocks– you know, here,” he managed to sputter out before unceremoniously throwing the bouquet at her. Hermione giggled as she held them out for observation.

“What. Are. They. For?” She tried again, a teasing tone to her voice.

Draco seemed as though he couldn’t focus. After what seemed like a century, he responded, almost sheepishly, “Oh, um, you know, you’re not supposed to pick up a beautiful witch for dinner without bringing something. As much as I want to do away with my pureblood training, there are some things I can’t shake,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hermione froze. Draco. Called her beautiful. Her. Hermione Granger. Muggle-born extraordinaire. Beautiful. By England’s most eligible bachelor. The purest of blood pureblood. Heir to the House of Malfoy and House of Black. Probably the wealthiest person she had ever met. Thought she was beautiful.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Is this a date?” The volume of the question reached an almost alarming decibel. 

Draco opened his mouth as if to respond, snapped it shut, tried again, and once again, snapped it shut. 

Hermione felt the pit of anxiety spread from her stomach up to her chest, through her throat, onto her cheeks, and settle right behind her eyes. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears. Gods, why the fuck did I say that? What answer was I even hoping for?

“You know what? Forget I even said anything. I’m sorry. I’ll throw these in some water and add a stasis charm and then we can go. Okay?” Hermione said in a panic. She turned on her heel and fled into the kitchen without waiting for a response.

She took the opportunity to collect herself and practice some deep breathing. Yoga taught her how to utilize deep breaths to meditate. When the ringing in her ears finally stopped, she dried her hands and returned back to the living room. She noticed Draco’s eyes had dulled, which meant he was occluding.

Okay, well, I guess I have my answer. Let’s get through this night with the rest of my dignity, she thought to herself, her eyes burning.

“Let’s go, yeah?”

“Yes.”

_____________________________

Draco. Week of January 17, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts. 

Draco hadn’t planned on occluding for this outing, but it seemed he was going to have to if he wanted any shot of getting through the night.

She had surprised him with her comment. “ Is this a date? ”

He had no idea that she wanted it to be. Did she? Or was she asking because she has someone else she’s interested in and didn’t want it to be awkward? Bloody hell, how do I recover from this?  

He brought flowers because he knew she would like them, and it didn’t hurt that it was the proper thing to do. He may have been able to answer better if he didn’t find himself gawking at her in those gods damned denims. How does she even move in those?! He had ruined the whole thing, and if he ever wanted another shot with her, he’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

A date. With Hermione. Draco wasn’t sure if had ever wanted anything more.

But, for now, he’d need to occlude. He had never been so wound up by a witch before. How was he supposed to get through this dinner?

He vaguely heard her say “let’s go, yeah?” before he responded, “yes,” in a very cold manner. He knew he should try and let her in, knew that his walls didn’t need to be so tough, but he was worried that if he let her in, even a miniscule amount, that everything would come tumbling out.

Next thing he knew, she was letting go of his arm and walking several paces ahead of him. He was glad at that moment for occluding, because even a saint couldn’t ignore her arse in those denims.

She entered the restaurant, not waiting to see if he was behind her when the door closed. He opened it and followed her in. She had located Billy and Lilianna and sat down, her personality seeming to flip like a switch to personable and friendly. He felt that he could lift his occlusion, it was a safe bet the incident that just happened wouldn’t come up.

Hermione was talking to Lilianna about something that had happened earlier that week, and Billy was trying to get his attention with American sports. Draco thought Billy was speaking another language. The only thing that they could land on was quidditch.

“I was never one to play the game, I’m not all that athletic, but I love watching! I’m not sure how it was at Hogwarts, but at Ilvermorny, the games go wicked hard,” Billy said. Draco was able to detect the sense of school pride that he carried.

“I played at Hogwarts, I was a seeker from second to sixth year for Slytherin House. I enjoyed it, but, uh, got distracted with some of the stuff that was going on and had to withdraw from the team,” Draco admitted.

This seemed to snap the girls out of their conversation. Lilianna looked over at Billy, before turning to Draco and Hermione. “So, you guys actually fought in the war?”

Draco turned to Hermione, whose eyes seemed to be locked on him. He knew he shouldn’t, but he needed to know how to play this. He cast a wordless and wandless legilimency and nudged her mind. He immediately regretted it.

Her mind was a cyclone of thoughts and feelings. That golden haze he only ever saw with her was everywhere. In every word, thought, feeling and memory, it was present. It looked and felt almost effervescent. She felt embarrassed and ashamed about what had happened earlier. She had felt anxious and eager before that. He could see himself looking at her through her eyes, and he looked like an absolute lunatic. But she had wanted it to be a date. She picked up on the flower meanings. Maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was. She seemed hyper focused on the fact he called her beautiful.

She was. Draco had stopped in his tracks when he saw her. She wasn’t beautiful in the way that he was used to; Blonde, pureblood, usually dressed in the newest fashion and attending galas for sick children or animals or whatever the fuck. But she was beautiful in how she looked when she was solving an arithmancy equation. Beautiful in the way her hair turned golden in the sun. Beautiful in the way she bit her lip when she was focused. Beautiful in the way she had accepted him, despite their past. Despite his behavior towards her when they were younger. Despite–

With what felt like a harsh slap, he was ejected from her mind. He realized she had occluded herself, shunning him entirely. She picked up the conversation as if nothing happened. He didn’t even know what he was saying. All he could see was that damned golden haze around everything. All he could smell was cinnamon. And vanilla. And bergamot. Was that her? Fuck. Back to occluding.

He didn’t even notice when the waitress took their order, but he must have said something acceptable. He heard Hermione speak.

“Yes, Malfoy and I fought in our war. He and his mother turned to our side and helped us take Lord Voldemort down…”

He was sure she was still talking, but hearing “Malfoy” instead of “Draco” shattered any remaining walls he had left. It hurt… far more than he was expecting. He had taken for granted the fact that she was calling him Draco. He could make a choice here. He could strain their friendship further and go back to calling her Granger, or he could make a point. It seemed like an easy choice.

“Yes, Hermione and I worked well together. We were often tasked with missions and came up with a sort of shorthand,” he said, making eye contact with her and using his two-finger salute, “She’s brilliant. We call her the brightest witch of our age back home. Or the Golden Girl , depending on who you’re talking to. I’ve never met anyone like her. I’ve never seen an obstacle she couldn’t tackle,” he said, trying to convey every ounce of admiration into his statement.

He saw her eyes glass over and a small smile graced her lips.

“ Golden Girl, huh? So you must be in demand! Seeing anyone?” Lilianna said excitedly.

He nervously looked at her, and he could swear his heartbeat was loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear. Unfortunately, Lilianna’s line of questioning was interrupted by the hostess approaching their table.

“Hi! I’m looking for a Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy?” The hostess stated, smiling brightly, holding an envelope in her hand.

Fuck. There are two senders who would address letters to him like that: His mother and Azkaban Prison. By the look of the thick, grey envelope, it was the latter. Draco raised his trembling hand slightly, indicating the letter was for him. Hermione seemed to understand what was going on and raised her hand to her mouth. 

He opened it, the letterhead confirming his suspicion:

Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy,

It is the policy of Azkaban Prison, as set forth by Wizengamot Bill 0371-84626-WIZ, that all next of kin be notified in the event of a prisoner death. A letter has also been sent to Lady Narcissa Rose Malfoy.

On Friday 21 January 2000, at approximately 11:56 in the morning, Inmate #572936 Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, was declared deceased by an Azkaban Prison pathologist.

A post-mortem examination was performed, indicating that Mr. Malfoy died of natural causes. Please see the enclosed report for further details.

Arrangements for Mr. Malfoy should be provided to Azkaban Prison within 72 hours of receiving this death notification.

The Ministry of Magic and Azkaban Prison extend their deepest condolences for the loss of your family member. Please do not hesitate to reach out.

Sincerely,

Oleander Hornbeam

Warden, Azkaban Prison

Draco stared blankly at the letter. He could not occlude. He could not focus. He could not feel it. If he felt it, it made it real. He hadn’t seen his father since his trial. His father had died. Died. Died.

He heard Hermione shift in her chair. He tilted the letter towards her so she could read.

“Oh my gods, Draco. We need to go. Now. Guys, I am so sorry. Can you tell Violet that Draco and I will be out for the next week? Please? Family emergency. Thank you.”

She called him Draco. He let himself feel that.

Chapter Text

Draco. January 21, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco barely remembered leaving the restaurant. He barely registered that Hermione had apparated them into his apartment. He barely remembered her shrugging off his jacket and calling for Fern. It wasn’t until Fern arrived that Draco felt present.

He saw the tiny elf, red rimmed and sniffling, standing in front of him. He realized she was awaiting instruction. He went to speak, but felt as though his voice was gone. He looked to Hermione for help. She didn’t seem upset with him, so that was a positive.

Hermione understood his look. “Fern, I’m not sure if you’ll respond to me but–”

Fern cut her off, still sniffling, “Oh yes, Master Draco says Fern is to help Miss Hermione Granger with whatever she is needing. Fern is very happy to help Miss Hermione Granger. Fern is just very sad at the minute,” she said, blowing her nose into a monogrammed handkerchief.

He observed Hermione crouch down to Fern’s level and take her hands. Fern melted into a puddle of tears, and Hermione held her while looking up at Draco apologetically, mouthing “I’m sorry” to him. What could she possibly be sorry for? If anything, he needed to be sorry. 

“Fern, could you please do a couple of things for me? We need to go back to England tonight to help Lady Narcissa and Master Draco. Could you please pack a bag for him and go to my flat and pack a bag for me as well? The wards will let you in. Crookshanks will need to be taken care of while I’m gone. Would that be okay? Is that too much?”

Fern looked up at Hermione with impossibly big eyes, “Oh, yes, Miss Hermione Granger. It would be Fern’s honor to look after Mister Crookshanks Granger. Thank you!”

Fern disapperated with a “pop” and Hermione turned to him. “Are you okay? What do you need?”

Draco again opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He could feel tears welling in his eyes and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop them from falling. He looked at Hermione, tears streaming down his face, and shrugged his shoulders.

Next thing he knew, she was hugging him. A very real, very big hug. His chin was resting on top of her head, and the scent of cinnamon and vanilla invaded his senses. The tears did not stop coming, but he did find his voice as he wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her like a lifeline.

“I hadn’t seen him since his trial. I never visited Azkaban. I never sent him a letter that wasn't related to the estate. He was not the father any child should have had. He sold me off to a dictator for the sake of legacy. He abused my mother and I. He killed and tortured people. I should be happy he’s dead. Relieved. But–”

A loud sob tore through his chest and into his throat, cutting off his sentence. He felt Hermione squeeze harder around his midsection.

“But he was still your father,” she said, as if it was a simple answer.

Draco couldn’t respond again, his voice somewhere in the void. He nodded his head.

“Draco, let me help you. I’m going to call the gang and have them meet us at the Manor, okay?” She smiled at him. He had always been grateful for her, but she didn’t need to do any of this. Talk to his friends, his mother. Go back to the Manor. But she was. All he could do was nod his head.

He could hear her calling their friends and explaining the situation. They had all agreed to meet at the Manor tonight, despite it being very early in the morning due to the time difference. Her last call was to his mother, who he could tell had been crying. Hermione and his mother had seemed to be civil with each other since the war. She briefly explained why she was calling from his Floo and that they would be there within the hour.

When she returned, Fern had bags waiting for them. Draco had gone upstairs to shower and change. He stood under the stream, and it took approximately five minutes before he realized he was standing under cold water.

His father was dead. Unalive. Not breathing. The more he thought about it, the more that he felt his chest start to crack open. Why was he even upset? He wasn’t sure that he had ever loved his father, even before the war. His father was a cold shell of a human. Never outwardly expressed love or pride. Draco had always felt that his father expected those things to be earned. They most certainly were conditional in his father’s eyes as well.

Draco had also witnessed his father’s coldness and conditional love affect his mother. There were never any displays of love or affections. He missed every birthday and anniversary. To his father, his mother was a pretty piece attached to his arm for events and to birth an heir. His father was the roadmap for the type of man, husband and father Draco never wanted to be.

But that didn’t mean he wanted him dead. Draco thought that his father would come around when it was clear Potter was going to win the war. His father just sunk further and further into insanity and the realization that he had lost his father long before he stopped breathing caused Draco to stagger under the spray of water, gripping onto the tiles for support.

He was dragged from his thoughts by a small knock on the door.

“Draco? I’m so sorry to bother you, but we need to leave,” He heard Hermione say.

“Okay,” Draco managed to croak out.

Draco heard the door click close again and turned off the water. He dressed quickly in denims and a soft, green jumper. His hair would be left wet and unstyled, something his father would have definitely made a comment about, but Draco could not be bothered.

He met Hermione in front of the fireplace, looking into her big, brown eyes.

“We’re going to get you through this, Draco,” She said, sounding determined.

Draco nodded. They entered the fireplace and she laced her fingers through his. He relished the warm contact of her hand and the slightest pulse he could feel from her. He looked over at her appreciatively. He called out, “Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.”

_________________________

Draco. January 22, 2000. Wiltshire, England

They tumbled into the receiving room, his mother there waiting patiently. Despite it being close to three in the morning, his mother had dressed like she was ready to host. She was in a white silk blouse and a black pleated chiffon skirt that went to her knees. She was wearing a string of pearls and modest black pumps. Her wedding rings were still on her finger.

“Miss Granger, it’s lovely to see you, although I wish it were under better circumstances. I appreciate you organizing everyone to come. I'd hoped to not be alone once I received my letter…” His mother trailed off, looking at the floor as tears started to spill out.

Hermione stepped forward and grabbed his mother’s hands. “Narcissa, I am so very sorry for your loss. I arranged for Draco and I to be out of work on a family emergency this week, so there’s no need to stress or rush things,” she said, a small smile on her face while tears rimmed her eyes.

His mother shuddered, “Oh, Hermione, dear, you are an angel. You have no reason to be good to us, after what happened to you here. Lucius certainly did not deserve the kindness you are showing his family, but I am so appreciative for you.”

Hermione hugged his mother, and then stepped back so they could speak.

Draco closed the gap in a few strides and hugged his mother, whose knees seemed to buckle the second they made contact. He followed her to the floor and held her while she sobbed into his shoulder. Draco knew he had to be strong for her, but felt as though he was a small child falling apart while hugging her. He saw Hermione step into the next room and talk with the group who was already here, biding his time so he could be with his mother.

“I’m so sorry, Mother. I don’t–” a strained sob came to cut him off, “I don’t know what to do now. What do we do now?” Draco asked. He now sounded like the small child he felt.

His mothers shoulders stopped shaking, and she came to look at him. She cupped his face, a strained smile on her face. “Draco, my son, we are free. We live now.”

Draco’s lips wobbled as he smiled and hugged her again. He started to chuckle and could hear his mother chuckle, too. He couldn’t help it as he started laughing in earnest. His mother followed suit. He saw several pairs of eyes peek out from the doorway, likely confused at the sound. Hermione re-entered and started to giggle. He heard Theo, then Pansy and Potter, and Ginny and Blaise start to laugh. Padma came after that, and Neville and Luna caught on, too.

The scene must have been something out of a movie, people crying and laughing and not really knowing why. Draco pulled back to look at his mother, who nodded her head. He released her and moved to his friends, who immediately enveloped him in a large group hug. His mother stood off to the side and moved to leave the room, but Hermione grabbed her forearm and dragged her into the hug as well. He had never felt more loved than he did right now. He wasn’t sure that the Manor had ever experienced more love than the people who he cared about, coming together, over his father’s death.

_______________________

Draco. January 23, 2000. Wiltshire, England. 

Hermione didn’t leave his side. Not even for a second.

She was the first person he saw when he woke up. She made sure he ate. She helped draft funeral arrangements and send them off to Azkaban. She dealt with the media, acting on the Malfoy family’s behalf. She managed inquiries from their friends about their working arrangements. She made sure he slept and was the last person he saw before he went to sleep.

He wouldn’t have been able to get through any of this without her. That much he knew to be true.

He received a letter from Violet, who advised him that he and Hermione needn’t worry about returning until the 31st, however, if they needed more time, they were able to have it. Violet noted that they were weeks ahead of their fellow trainees and wouldn’t fall behind. A beautiful bouquet of poppies was sent along from the entire trainee class.

His friends were alongside Hermione in being there.

Ginny and Theo brought over food from Molly Weasley, who was quite possibly the best cook in all of England. Despite Ron’s clear contention for Draco and the rest of the snakes, Molly had been nothing but accepting of them. She took the Slytherin’s place in her life with grace. She adored Theo, whose primary goal was to spoil Ginny. She loved to talk with Pansy, who was essentially a third daughter to her behind Hermione. She was constantly picking Blaise’s brain about healing, as she had a horde of grandchildren to tend to. She mothered Draco. Not to replace his own mother, but to foster some kind of warmth. She taught him how to cook and clean. How to rebuild himself.

Pansy and Harry took turns running errands. Anything that was required of him that needed to be done in Wizarding London was completed by them. They ran files to and from the Manor, went to Gringotts to retrieve paperwork and keys, and went to Madam Malkin’s to pick out formal dress robes for the family for the funeral. Harry even started barking around the Ministry to make sure that a proper investigation was completed for his father’s death, following the concerns raised by Blaise and Padma.

The healer couple noticed several things on the post-mortem report that Azkaban provided that contradicted the “natural causes” manner of his father’s death. Draco and his mother listened, but to be honest, couldn't understand a bloody thing they were saying. Blaise and Padma noted that in his father’s medical file, he had been complaining of chills, dry mouth, blurred vision, and even had a seizure the week before he died. Neither he nor his mother had been notified of the seizure or his poor health. They also noted traces of what appeared to be Draught of Living Death and Emerald Green Potion, neither of which should have been administered at Azkaban, and certainly without the next of kin being notified.

Neville and Luna took to tending to the family ceremonial grounds and the crypts, taking care of any greenery and flowers needed for the funeral. Neville, being a pureblood and member of The Sacred Twenty-Eight himself, knew what was customary when a member passes on. Luna helped with the rest of the decor, because if nothing else, the funeral was just for show. 

Draco was resenting the fact he’d need to placate the company his father kept before his imprisonment. He was not looking forward to hearing about how his father was “one of the good ones” and “did so much for the family.”

___________________

Hermione. January 24, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Hi Mum and Dad,

I hope you both are doing well. I wish I was writing under this under better circumstances, but unfortunately, that is not the case.

I am back in England for the next week or so and am currently staying at Malfoy Manor. Do not panic, please. I came back with Draco a few days ago after we received a letter from the Wizarding prison here that Draco’s father passed away. We were at dinner with some colleagues when he was informed of the news.

I know Wiltshire is a bit of a trek for you both, but I think it would mean a lot to Draco if you attended the funeral. He could use all the support he could get, and he admitted to me a few weeks ago that he missed you both. I’m not sure if he has done so yet, but he asked me if he could write to you both.

Most of our friends are here, but I think he’d like to see you both. Plus, you’d get to see Harry and Ginny and some of the other Weasley’s as an added bonus. The funeral is on Wednesday at Malfoy Manor. Just think about it, okay? If I can slip away this week, I will try and visit. The owl will wait for a response.

All my love,

Mione Jean

__________

Mione Jean,

We are so sorry to hear about Draco’s father. We’d be happy to attend the funeral and help in any way we can. Please send directions to Malfoy Manor. Are there any specific customs or things we need to know about pureblood funerals? Can we send flowers? Just let us know as soon as possible.

Draco did write to us. We are so glad you both have each other in Boston. It was such a delight to hear from him. We missed him, too. See you Wednesday.

All our love,

Mum and Dad

__________

Hermione. January 26, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Hermione awaited outside the gates of Malfoy Manor with anxious anticipation. Her parents would be the only ones arriving by car, and she didn’t want to make them uncomfortable, so they had arranged to park outside the gates and walk in together. She had sent her parents some formal wizarding robes, made of wool to withstand the January chill that Wiltshire had in the winter.

She had Neville ensure that there were white lilies from her family among the other flowers in the Malfoy Crypt. Her parents were adamant about sending flowers, despite it not being a wizarding tradition. It was either the flowers or her parents were going to show up with a fruit basket, which she could not allow.

“Hi, Mum and Dad. I’m sorry to be seeing you like this, but I am excited to see you. Draco doesn’t know you’re here, but everyone else does,” Hermione said, embracing both her parents.

Her mother, Lila, was a beautiful woman. Her chestnut brown curls were more relaxed than Hermione’s were, and today they were pinned into an elegant chignon with pearl pins. She had a simple string of pearls and pearl studs to compliment her grey robes. It was strange to see both of her parents in wizarding attire. She noticed her father, Walter, had some white hairs mixed in with his normal brown, and it was at that moment that Hermione became overwhelmed with the idea that her parents weren’t going to live as long as witches and wizards. Hermione felt tears pricking her eyes, but today was not about her. She held both of their arms as they entered the Manor together.

Narcissa met them at the Manor doors, poised as always. Her hair was half up, half down, with an ornate emerald pin at the back of her head. Her black robes, while being simple, displayed the wealth and grace that she had come to expect of the Malfoy’s. Narcissa held her hands out to her parents, greeting them.

Lila, Walter and Narcissa had met a few times, and got along surprisingly well. Despite coming from two different worlds, they shared a love of music and food and wine, and love for their children. They huddled together quietly while Hermione stood on the steps, catching Draco’s eye at the end of the hall. He froze mid-step, almost paling at the sight of her parents.

Hermione started walking to him, an explanation on the tip of her tongue.

“Draco, I thought you might–”

Draco’s hands cupped her face, and then his lips met hers. His kiss was soft, his lips warm and searching. She could taste salty tears coming from his eyes, landing between their mouths. She couldn’t process what was happening. Her body reacted involuntarily, deepening the kiss and running her tongue along his. She pulled away and his hands dropped from her face, and she noticed that tears were falling from her eyes, too.

“You called them?” Draco asked, looking at her parents, who luckily hadn’t noticed their kiss.

“I sent an owl a few days ago. I thought you might want them here, they wanted to support you and I didn’t think you’d say no,” Hermione said, placing her fingers on her lower lip, missing Draco’s lips on hers.

“I– thank you. You have no idea. Your father was more of a father figure to me than my own,” He said, stepping closer to her and cupping her face again.

She looked at him, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. His gaze was so intense she almost looked away, but she refused to hide. No kitchen to run into this time.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” She asked.

“Do you want me to?” He responded.

“Do you want to?” She countered.

“If you’ll let me, yes. I made a mess the other day when you asked me if dinner was a date. I’d like to talk to you about it when we get back home, but yes, I’d like to kiss you and take you on a date. I’d kiss you again right now, but I think our parents are looking at us and I need to make holding your face look as platonic as possible,” He said, the ghost of a smirk on his face, the first she had seen in days.

“I would very much like that,” Hermione said, a genuine smile on her face. “Please, go see Mum and Dad before they come over here.”

Draco released her and sprinted to her parents, who welcomed him with open arms. She wasn’t close enough to hear their conversation, but both parents were holding him and whispering to him. She didn’t notice when Narcissa snuck up to stand next to her.

“That was a very sweet thing you did, Hermione. He loves your parents,” Narcissa said.

“They love him like their own, I hope that’s okay,” Hermione admitted.

“There will never be anything wrong with too many people loving your child, Hermione. I think of you as my own, too, for what it’s worth. All of Draco’s friends mean the world to him, so they mean the world to me” Narcissa said softly.

Hermione turned to look at her, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t respond, but clasped Narcissa’s hand, waiting for Draco and her parents.

The funeral was a bleak affair. She was sneered at by most of the attendees, so she took to staying near Harry. Despite what people thought of her, no one would approach her with Harry next to her. She missed her friends. Getting to see them, even in this capacity, was everything.

When everyone had left, Draco rejoined the group outside. A warming charm had been placed on the patio that overlooked the pond beyond the Manor. Her parents were chatting with Narcissa, Molly, Arthur and Harry. Pansy was in the corner with Theo and Ginny, likely talking about how to decorate Grimmauld. Neville and Luna were laughing with Padma and Blaise. Everything felt…right.

Until, two unknown owls dropped red envelopes in Hermione and Draco’s lap. Harry perked up immediately. 

“We just went over mail threats in the Academy, please let me check these. It’s no coincidence that these arrived the day of your father’s funeral, Malfoy,” Harry said.

They looked at each other, and through an unspoken agreement, gave their letters to Harry.

Harry cast a charm over the letters. “There are no obvious hexes, curses or poisons I can see, but be careful.”

“Let me open mine first, Hermione.” Draco said.

Hermione nodded and waited. She saw Draco’s jaw clench and he silently passed the unsigned letter to her.

Blood Traitor. Your father would be ashamed. See you soon.

Hermione handed it to Harry and opened hers with trembling hands.

Mudblood. We’ll paint the streets of Boston with you. See you soon.

Chapter Text

Hermione. January 27, 2000. London, England.

Hermione didn’t expect to be at the ministry so soon into her career in Boston, but there she and Draco were, sitting in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office. Kingsley had been doing an incredible job as Minister since the war ended, creating initiatives for former Death Eaters and rebuilding the economy. He had put in considerable effort recruiting Hermione to work for the ministry, and although he’d never admit it, was a little sore when she turned him down. Repeatedly.

It wasn’t due to lack of effort, though. Kingsley offered her positions in every department. Department of Regulation and Care of Magical Creatures, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Department of Mysteries, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, and so on. He almost snagged her with the Department of Mysteries, mainly because it required a significantly higher level of clearance and security that the other departments didn’t.

It wasn’t until Hermione remembered she had been attacked in the DoM. Sirius had died in the DoM. Bellatrix had killed him and she had watched Harry’s heart break for the hundredth time over in the DoM. She had seen Draco’s father act on Voldemort’s behalf in the DoM. With that information, she felt it would not be wise to return. Kingsley tried to assure her they had upped the security protocols, that she would be safe, but she just couldn’t.

But apparently, it didn’t matter where she went. England, Boston, fucking Asia, even. Death Eaters were after her. And Draco. Again.

So, here she sat. She and Draco in the chairs in front of Kingsley’s desk. Her parents behind her, Narcissa behind Draco. Harry flanked one side of the desk and Ron, the other. Tonks, Head Auror of the DMLE, stood next to Narcissa, lightly chatting before Kingsley entered. Tonks, Remus, and Andromeda had attended the funeral yesterday but had left before the threats arrived. Hermione’s mood lifted slightly at the sight of Narcissa’s relationship with Tonks. She often watched Teddy for Remus and Tonks and took tea regularly with Andromeda. How far they’ve come, Hermione thought to herself.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Kingsley entering the office with Violet in tow. Hermione turned to Draco, eyes wide in shock, who mirrored her sentiments. No one else seemed to know who she was, but she and Draco straightened up in their seats, with the others straightening their posture as well.

“Well, hello, you two,” Violet drawled. Hermione clocked Harry taking a double take, as Violet sounded like Snape in female form, “I am sorry for your loss, Draco, and wish I was visiting England for the first time under better circumstances.”

Draco cleared his throat, “Thank you, Violet, I’m sorry for the unpleasant visit. If you’ve the time, London really is incredible. I imagine this threat will be dealt with quickly, Potter over there just overreacted,” Draco said, tilting his head towards Harry.

Harry chuckled and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, “Malfoy, please, I’m saving your arse, can you just be grateful?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but a small smile graced his lips. Hermione missed the casual banter between Draco and Harry that had formed since becoming allies. Hermione wouldn’t say they were best friends, but the hatred had definitely dissipated.

Ron, on the other hand, had yet to let go of his animosity. He sneered when Draco entered a room or spoke to his friends. Ron felt that Draco had gotten off too easily and deserved some time in Azkaban. When Hermione and Harry would remind him that the war likely wouldn’t have been won without information from the Malfoy’s, Ron was quick to jump to the incident at Malfoy Manor, where he “watched” Hermione be tortured. Hermione had said this speech so many times to him she could recite in her sleep. How he built occlumency walls for her. How he secured her memories. How he planted responses in her mind to protect her, the Order, her friends, her parents and his mother. How he regrets withdrawing from her mind too soon. Ron’s next move would be to say that he still believed the pureblood elitist crap his father spouted. Hermione and Harry would negate that point, too, as he had issued several apologies to Hermione and others like her. Ron typically shut his trap after that, but would brood quite loudly, hoping someone else would ask him what was wrong so he could bitch about Draco again.

Honestly, what was Hermione ever thinking when she entered a relationship with him? She knew her self-confidence was low, not in any small part caused by the old Draco, but still. Ron was the first person who showed her any kind of male attention, so she took it. Not all male attention was the same, though, as was demonstrated as recently as yesterday.

Draco kissed her. Had wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to take her on a date. She must have just blindsided him in the moment before they had gone to dinner. He wanted her. She felt she could safely admit that some part of her wanted him, too. Hermione also thought it was important to note that the kiss with Draco had been everything she didn’t know she was missing in kisses with Ron. Or Viktor. Or Cormac, but that didn’t really count.

“Unfortunately, I disagree with you there, Draco. A letter in a red envelope was sent to Commonwealth Cursebreakers, threatening to ‘destroy’ our program if we didn’t fire you two. I am wondering if it’s possible that someone knew we’d be sending you to investigate cursed Death Eater objects. That was confidential information, though, so I’m really not sure,” Violet said.

Tonks spoke up next, “Red envelopes were sent to you, Narcissa, and you Mr. and Mrs. Granger, as well. The gist of the letter to the Granger’s was that while Death Eaters couldn’t get to you last time, they could this time. Narcissa’s letter was just blatant threats about being a blood traitor.”

Hermione instinctively reached for Draco’s hand, who gripped it back with intensity. She noticed the movement was clocked by Ron and Harry. She’d hear about it later, but for right now, she was too concerned with her parents.

She spoke up, more timidly than she initially intended, “So what do we do?”

It was Kingsley who spoke next. “Well, Miss Granger, we work your case. I’ve already put in a request with the Department of International Magical Cooperation so that the DMLE and MACUSA can work together. We will come and add protection wards to your homes and workplaces. All assignments from Mrs. Gentry here will be screened by the DMLE and MACUSA before you go out on them. We’d never dream of not sending you out in the field, but we’d need to do so cautiously.”

“Hermione, Draco, please know that we will not be firing you. I want to make that clear. You’re not the first cursebreakers to be threatened, and if anything, we could make this work to our advantage,” Violet stated.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked.

“Well, since we had already planned to send you after cursed objects owned by Death Eaters, and informed you of the bodies turning up all over the city with failed variations of the Dark Mark, we could essentially use you both to draw out the culprits behind this. It’s likely related, otherwise Commonwealth Cursebreakers wouldn’t have been threatened as well. I’m not saying we’d use you two as bait, that’s highly inappropriate, but we’d use you to put pressure on them, to corner them. MACUSA and the DMLE would be able to track them down easier if we apply the heat. They’ll get messier, sloppier, and would become more likely to be caught,” Violet said.

Tonks followed Violet in her sentiments, “Yes. We’ve noticed there is some overlap in Dark Chatter between the U.S. and England, and the failed Dark Marks are starting to show up all over the U.K. I’ve been working with the Chief of MACUSA-Boston, Eleanor Tanner, and she agrees with our plan.”

Violet jumped back in, “Eleanor, or Elle, is very good at her job. If she’s on board, the Commonwealth Cursebreakers are too. The only thing we need to know is if you two are.”

Hermione looked to Draco, who looked at her in return, the worry shining in his eyes.

“Do we have a choice?” Hermione asked.

Kingsley, Harry and Ron all responded, “No.”

_________________

Draco. January 27, 2000. London, England.

Draco hadn’t been in a room with so much authority since his arrest. The Minister of Magic, The Senior Cursebreaker of Commonwealth Cursebreakers (and his superior), the Head Auror of the DMLE, two aurors (in training. Which meant they were really half aurors, so they only totaled one auror), the brightest witch of her age, his favorite muggles and his mother. Draco was almost waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for them to turn on him and say that he was in trouble, but it never came.

He worried for his safety, for the safety of his mother. For Hermione and her parents. For his job. His colleagues. He couldn’t catch a damn break. His past would always be there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to take him down whenever he made a few steps of positive progress.

Hermione was still holding his hand. Their chairs were close enough that it wasn’t very noticeable, but he was sure Potter and the Weasel had seen it. His attempt at a relationship with Hermione was doomed already if those two were to be involved. But, he wanted to be positive.

She said she was interested. That she would like to kiss again and go on a date, he thought to himself. He’d never felt so… giddy before about someone. In fairness, he’d never really allowed himself the space to feel anything for anyone. He wasn’t even sure when he had allowed himself to do it for Hermione, but he suspected it was long before Boston. Long before he’d even turned for the Order. Maybe the Yule Ball? Fourth year? Christ, did I even know what love was when I was 14? 

Draco snapped himself out of his own thoughts. Love? LOVE?! Cool, cool, cool, no doubt, no doubt, no doubt. Draco decided to shove that thought way, way, way down, at least until he was alone and could deal with it. People literally wanted him and Hermione dead. Priorities, Draco, he thought to himself.

“What are we going to do about Hermione’s parents?” He asked, not thinking about the repercussions of that sentence.

Potter looked at him like he was a three-headed dog. Weasel glared at him. He was sure Hermione stopped breathing. Potter broke the silence, “Did you just call her Hermione? By her first name?”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Yes, Potter, an honor you have yet to receive. Back to my question, though. How do we protect them? Last time, I added Death Eater deterrent wards to their home, as well as the fidelius charm, but since those were detailed in trials, I’m worried those won’t be as secure.”

The room quieted. It seemed no one had thought that far ahead, but his mother stepped up, the gracious woman she was. “I’d like to offer Lila and Walter to stay at the Manor. The wards do not accept anyone who is not allowed, and Draco can strengthen them by turning them into blood wards. We can allow approved DMLE and MACUSA employees, Mrs. Gentry, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, any other friends of Miss Granger and my son, Minister Shacklebolt, any anyone else you’d like to add. It is one of the most secure places in England, I am sure of it,” she said, confident in her solution.

Draco turned to look up at his mother in awe. She wasn’t wrong, the Manor was incredibly safe. She looked down at him, smiling, a soft hand on his shoulder. He appreciated his mother, likely more than she realized at that moment.

“Narcissa, we couldn’t impose. That’s a huge accommodation, we don’t want to burden you!” Walter stated. Lila shook her head in agreement.

Tonks thought for a moment, “Actually, that’s a great idea, Narcissa. We can establish a Floo to the Granger’s dental practice and ward that, too, with similar spells . Draco, are you willing to fortify the blood wards for the Manor and the practice?”

Draco did not hesitate, “Absolutely. We can do it now, as long as I have access to some Blood Replenishing Potions.”

Tonks turned to Lila and Walter, “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t think it was the safest option. The other option is to obliviate you and ship you off, and I know you don’t want to do that.”

Lila and Walter exchanged tense looks, and then Lila turned to Narcissa, “Are you sure?”

Narcissa shook her head excitedly, “I am. It’s no strain on me, and it’ll be nice to have some company.”

Lila turned to Tonks, “I guess we’re in, then.”

Hermione turned to her parents, “I’m so sorry to have put you in this position again. I’m so sorry,” tears streaming down her face. He squeezed his hand in support and then let go so she could hug her parents. 

Walter released Hermione and held both of her shoulders, “Hermione, this was never your fault. These criminals are putting us here. You wouldn't be you if you didn’t want to help save the world. We’ll be more than okay, you’ll just need to visit us more often. Both of you,” he said, shifting his eyes to Draco. Draco felt… intimidated? Was that the word? All he could do was shake his head yes.

“That settles it, then,” Tonks said, “Potter, Weasley, please escort the Granger’s to their residence to gather their belongings and then follow them to Malfoy Manor. Hermione and Draco, please meet us at the Manor so we can strategize how to keep you safe in Boston. Okay?”

Draco and Hermione shook their heads in the affirmative. Draco shook Shacklebolt’s hand on the way out, only to be grabbed by the shoulder and slammed into a broom closet by Potter.

“What the fuck, Potter?!” Draco hissed, looking down at Potter’s fist bunching up his shirt around his chest.

“I’m only going to say this once. You’re an adult and she’s an adult, but I swear to Merlin, Malfoy, if you hurt her at all, I will pull every single favor I have ever earned as the Chosen One and make your life a living hell. I think you’re good for her, honestly, maybe even worthy to marry her, but don’t think for a second that I would not protect her,” Potter whispered through his teeth.

Draco looked at him, completely dumbfounded. “Potter, listen to me when I say this, I NEVER saw this coming. This is new as of, like, a week ago. I don’t think you could even call it a relationship yet,” he admitted. Why the fuck was he admitting this?

“How do you figure?” Potter asked, releasing him.

“Last Friday we went to dinner with two other cursebreakers. I picked her up at her flat and brought flowers, because I have some decency, and she asked me if it was a date. I panicked and couldn’t respond in time and she bailed and then my father died and then I kissed her yesterday and now maybe we are going to go on a date?” Draco blurted it all out. It actually felt good to get it all out.

Potter looked as dumbfounded as Draco felt. “Wait, was it a date?”

“I didn’t think so. I’ve noticed that since we started working together and hanging out that I’m… drawn to her. I can’t help it, she invades all my thoughts. But this was with friends. I hope that she knows that if I were to take her on a date, it would not be with other people. Wait, Potter, you’re an occlumens, right?” Draco asked.

Potter furrowed his brow, “A shit one, but yes. Why?”

“I’ve communicated with Hermione via legilimency a few times, and obviously went into her mind at the Manor, but every time I do there’s this blasted golden haze around everything. Have you seen that before?” Draco asked, hoping he wasn’t crazy.

“No, I haven’t, but Snape was the best occlumens I’ve ever seen, and he left me some of his journals when he died. I can check them for you and let you know?” Potter offered.

“I’d appreciate it,” Draco said, and then decided to offer an olive branch, “Thanks, Harry . I don’t have plans to hurt her. I like her, more than I realized apparently. Just, keep it quiet for now, and maybe keep the Weasel out of it? I know he saw her grab my hand, too, and I just can’t deal with that for now.”

Potter smiled broadly, “Sure, Draco , you got it. Frankly, if I didn’t have to work with Ron, I wouldn’t. Ever since Hermione dumped him, he’s been a right git. Even worse since he’s been engaged to Lavender. You’ve got my support, you know. Let me know if I can help. I’ll plan to return to Boston with you and Hermione when you go to add to your wards,” he said, extending his hand to Draco.

Draco took it.

Chapter Text

Draco. January 30, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco was looking at the strangest sight he’d ever seen. Potter, or Harry , was in his flat. In Boston. With Tonks. And Hermoine. And his mother. With his own consent . Draco never hated Potter, despite their early history, but he never thought they would be getting along. Friends, maybe. Bonding over their annoyance with the Weasel? Never thought it was a possibility.

But, Potter made his disdain for the Weasel known. They had barely spoken the night before while at the Manor. It was Ginny and Theo’s idea to throw a small “going away party” for him and Granger. Red, as he so lovingly called her, said that the party was non-negotiable. Really, she said something along the lines of “You two just up and left and didn’t tell anyone when you were going or for how long or that you were working together, so shut up, you’re getting a party, and you’re going to like it!”

He’d never admit it to her, but he did like it. While the pureblood and high society shit always bothered him, he did like to socialize. He liked to dance and laugh with his friends. He liked birthday parties and weddings. It was the stuffy, uptight and boring galas his mother often dragged him to that he hated, and Red and Theo could throw a damn good party. In the midst of the fun, food and drinks, Draco observed the Weasel brooding in the corner. He had always hated being at the Manor. Draco had initially chalked it up to him being held captive in his dungeons, but that was almost two years ago. You’d think he’d be over it by now, Draco rationalized, baby.

He noticed that he didn’t bring Lavender round to the party, which may have been in everyone’s best interest. It seemed that Lavender was not well received by the group, to include the entire Weasley clan. Molly, according to Red, chased him out of the Burrow with a frying pan when she realized that he proposed to another woman with Hermione’s ring within the year. Draco thought that most of the group was just over hearing her shrill voice say “Won Won.” Potter had said that people would cancel plans if they knew Lavender was coming. Red apparently had declined to be a bridesmaid in the wedding, saying something about how she wanted to “enjoy the wedding as a guest” when in reality, she couldn’t pretend she liked Lavender enough to put up with her wedding tyranny. Potter said he had turned down being best man, flat out telling the Weasel that he thinks he’s making a mistake and won’t support that. Potter did say that Molly put her foot down when Lavender said she didn’t want Hermione to come to the wedding.

Very few people stayed the night. He and Hermione stayed, separate rooms, obviously . Her parents had been given their own suite in the east wing. Tonks and Potter stayed in their rooms in the south wing, since it would be easier to take a portkey to Boston together. Hence, how the current scene had unfolded in his kitchen. Potter and Tonks were going from room to room, carrying phials of his blood and strengthening the wards he already had placed.

Blood wards were very old and very complicated magic. They weren’t typically used in modern society, and if they were, they were used almost exclusively by members of The Sacred Twenty-Eight. Draco felt that he and Granger’s flats would be the most secure in Boston. He had helped her obtain her own phial of blood to fortify her wards before they came to his flat, and he may have taken some extra care when bandaging her back up. You know, for science. Not in any way to hold her hand longer. Nope. 

Draco couldn’t help but look over at her. Her hair was unbound and flowed down to the middle of her back. She was wearing a soft jumper, light blue denims and ankle boots. She was sitting at the small breakfast table with his mother taking tea. The streetlights illuminated her cheekbones and the gold in her eyes. The warmth and goodness rippled off her in waves. It helped that she got along with his mother. Starting a relationship with her was nerve-wracking enough. Draco wouldn’t call it a silver lining, but he was glad that Hermione would never be subjected to his father ever again. While his mother wouldn’t bat an eye at Hermione’s blood status, his father would, and had in the past. At least that judgement wouldn’t play into their relationship.

Draco wasn’t quite sure why he kept calling it a relationship, he hadn’t even asked her on a date yet. But there was… a pull, and a strong one at that. He wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he felt anxious and on-edge when she wasn’t in his sight. He had never experienced that. He knew Luna would bring up some shit about heartbonds or something, but those were almost non-existent. He knew for certain that the last heartbonded marriage in the Malfoy line was approximately 600 years ago. His ancestors, Avedius and Evanora Malfoy, were one of the lucky couples who had an arranged courtship and marriage and ended up with a heartbond.

Draco had read about their union for a Hogwarts project in third year. When Avedius met Evanora, they got on well enough, but there was never any indication of a heartbond until their wedding night. Soulbonding is a traditional ceremony for a member of The Sacred Twenty-Eight, supposedly binding one's soul to another for this life and any other that come after. When the Malfoy’s consummated their marriage that night, the heartbond replaced their soulbond. They could feel each other’s physical pain to a certain degree and were tuned into each other’s emotions and body. What Draco found most interesting, though, was that a mindbond opened between the two of them, despite neither of them being a legilimens. They could communicate through the mindbond without opening their mouths. He was only ever able to communicate with Hermione if he initiated it and if he cast the legilimency spell. They lived a very happy life, something that was scarcely seen in the Malfoy line. They also were one of the only pairings to have multiple children in a marriage, particularly girls. While the Malfoy line always produced a male heir, because, you know, blood magic, Avedius and Evanora had one boy and three girls, which was almost unheard of at the time. Even now, four children in a wizarding family was rare, the exceptions being the Weasley’s.

“Alright, Malfoy, your flat is all set,” Potter declared. Draco went to stand by his mother and Hermione for the conversation and review of safety protocols.

“You’ll both check in with Violet daily. If you leave Commonwealth Cursebreakers during working hours, Violet will email your assigned MACUSA agent, Tegan Nichols. He will be getting a copy of your academy schedule and will vet any assignments you get after training. Every Sunday, you’ll need to email him directly with your weekly schedule, and as needed if those plans change. If you come back to England, you can owl Potter or I directly,” Tonks said.

“Nichols will be stopping by once a month to check on your wards, and I’ll send Potter sporadically as well, since he’s been allowed access. If any other MACUSA agents or DMLE aurors come knocking, do not let them in and contact help, even if you’re familiar with them. Do you understand?” Tonks asked.

He and Hermione shook their heads in agreement.

“Alright, you lot, then I reckon we’re done here. Potter will see you soon. We’ll leave you be for now,” Tonks said, motioning for his mother and Potter to follow. Draco shook Potter’s hand before hugging Tonks and his mother. They left through the Floo, and then there were two.

Hermione wasted no time, “So, do you want to come to my flat and we can send the email to Nichols together?”

Draco shook his head yes. They used the Floo from his flat to hers, since it was more convenient and it was bloody freezing outside. Honestly, did Boston ever thaw out? Did summer even exist here?

Hermione dusted herself off and went right to Crookshanks, who was giving both of them the cold shoulder for being gone. She turned around and pouted at Draco when Crookshanks pointed his tail in the air and walked away.

“Take-away?” Draco asked.

“Ugh, yes, please, I couldn’t be bothered to cook right now,” Hermione responded.

Almost an hour later, with pizza in hand, they sat down to send their email and Draco had an absolutely brilliant idea.

He observed Hermione write the email to Nichols on both of their behalf:

Sunday

• Nothing, returned to Boston with DMLE representatives, reviewed safety protocols

Monday: 

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• HG to grocery shop, Whole Foods, 5PM

• DM to business dinner, Merlin’s Hat, 6PM

Tuesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• HG to bring her familiar to the vet, 6382 Albert Street, 4:30PM

Wednesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• DM to the tailors, 348 Newbury Street, 6:30PM

Thursday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• HG/DM to Blockbuster, 65 Elm Road, 4:30PM

Friday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM

• HG/DM to dinner with colleagues, Bostonia Public House, 6PM

Saturday

• Nothing

Hermione looked over at Draco to confirm the details. It took literally every ounce of strength he had to keep the muscles in his face still, he didn’t want his smirk to give away his plans.

“Actually, I have plans for Saturday, I forgot to mention them,” He said, doing his best to sound bored.

Hermione must have bought it, because she promptly turned toward the screen, fingers hovering over the keys, waiting for him to speak.

“You also have plans,” he said, inspecting his nail beds. In reality, he was looking down because he could feel his face reddening and his cool facade beginning to break.

Hermione cocked her head, “No, I don’t. Do I? Ugh, hold on, let me check my journal.”

She rose from the chair, and Draco seized his opportunity and lightly grabbed her wrist. She looked down at where they were joined, and then up to his eyes. 

“You do. I’d like to take you on the date we talked about last week, if you’re still open to it,” He said, sounding hopeful.

Hermione blushed something wicked, and bit her lower lip, “Are you sure? Last week was… alot. You were going through a lot and I just hope you didn’t get caught up…” she trailed off.

Draco looked at her, confused, “Did you kiss me back because you thought I was ‘caught up’?” Merlin, he was about to throw up if he read this situation incorrectly.

Hermione’s eyes widened, “No, NO, not at all! I kissed you back because I wanted to kiss you! I just wanted to make sure you wanted to kiss me, too. I very much want to go on the date, I just don’t want to rush you if you need more time.”

Draco smiled gently, pulling Hermione down to his level, “Hermione, I don’t do things in halves. If I want to kiss you or take you on a date, I will make sure you know I want to do those things. I rarely date, and when I do, I am very serious about it. It’s one of the biggest things I reclaimed for myself when I took control of the Malfoy estate. But I will only do those things if I know you want it, too. So if last week was a pity kiss, please tell me now,” he teased, knowing her answer.

Hermione lightly smacked his shoulder with her other hand. “No, Draco, it wasn’t a pity kiss. I’d love to go out with you,” she said, trying to keep her smile from showing her teeth.

Draco pulled her wrist towards him so their noses were touching, close enough to share breath, “I’m going to kiss you again, okay?”

“Yes,” she exhaled, so quiet he would have missed it if he weren’t millimeters from her mouth. His lips landed on hers, warm and soft and fucking perfect. He hadn’t kissed many lips (okay, he had kissed two people, including Hermione, but Pansy didn’t count) and somehow he knew these lips were his favorite. When he withdrew, slowly sucking on her bottom lip before releasing it, he looked directly into her eyes, and in that moment, he knew that he would either be the happiest man alive or be thoroughly destroyed.

__________________

Hermione. February 4, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione found herself, once again, getting dressed with Draco Malfoy in mind.

Tonight, they were going to try and do dinner with Lilianna and Billy again, although they also added Lana and Casey to the mix. Hermione had minimal interactions with Lana and Casey, but they seemed competent and pleasant enough. Their return to work had felt natural and they eased back into working together quickly, like they hadn’t even stopped.

If Hermione were being honest with herself, and she wasn’t, but if she were, she would recognize that Lana intimidated her a bit. She was pretty and blonde and skinny and everything a traditional Malfoy man would be interested in. Hermione reminded herself, often, that Draco was not the traditional Malfoy man. In fact, he was breaking every mold that had ever been created for him. Defied his father? Check. Became a “blood traitor”? Check. Work an actual job? Check. Date a muggle-born witch? Check. Kiss a muggle-born? Check.

Draco Malfoy was never someone she saw coming.  Hermione was pretty inexperienced when it came to boys. Or men, for that matter. Her only real relationship was with Ron. She had kissed Viktor and Cormac, but had never gone further than that. She could only imagine Draco’s history, being pureblooded and wealthy, he likely had his pick of witches pining after him. That made her nervous. What if she wasn’t good at being intimate? Was he planning to be intimate after their date tomorrow? Oh, Merlin, Hermione, one thing at a time. 

She never felt…strongly enough for Ron to want to sleep with him. Her virginity was not something she held to be precious, but she did want to connect with whomever she had sex with first. She didn’t think that was unreasonable, and if Draco couldn’t understand that, then he clearly wasn’t the right person for her.

Her outfit was different this time. The weather had warmed up a bit, even if only for a few days, so she took full advantage. She wore a tight leather skirt with black nylons, since her tattoo had healed enough to feel comfortable in them. She added an oversized cream turtleneck and let her hair remain unbound. She had knee high boots on with a small heel and chunky gold hoop earrings. She slipped her jacket on and waited at the front door. She felt the wards ripple, then heard the doorbell.

Draco was wearing a casual white button down and navy blue trousers with a tan belt and shoes. His hair was continuing to grow, becoming more textured each day. His tan overcoat looked immaculately pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. He came with flowers again this time, but he stopped short of giving them to her.

“Okay, listen here, Hermione. Tonight is not a date because it’s with other people and I’ll be damned if you think our first date is a group outing. Tomorrow–you and I at dinner–is a date. I am bringing you flowers today because it’s the proper thing to do. I told you, I don’t do things in halves. When you pick a beautiful witch up, which you are, by the way, wow , you bring flowers. I picked these camellias because they represent admiration and perfection. You’ll find that as we explore…whatever this is, that flowers will play a big part of it. They have meaning and value and I intend to show you all of it. I’m not quite courting you, because we didn’t talk about it, but please know it’s on the table,” He said, finally taking a break and meeting her eyes.

She didn’t know if she wanted a courtship, but she loved that he was willing to explain everything. The flowers were also romantic as hell, so they didn’t hurt either.

“Wow, I really traumatized you the last time you brought flowers, huh?” Hermione teased.

Draco huffed a laugh, “Yes, you did, but it was my fault too.”

Hermione extended her hand for the flowers and added them to a vase in the living room. She turned back to him, grabbed both hands and leaned in, “I’m going to hug you, okay?”

He nodded. She wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching onto her tip toes so her chin nuzzled in the space between his neck and his shoulder. She felt his arms wrap protectively around her waist, holding on tightly but not so tight she couldn’t move, “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. She could feel the tips of his fingers tighten slightly, and it almost was as if warmth from Draco was pouring into her. She kissed his cheek lightly, “I didn’t ask, but I didn’t think you’d mind,” she said shyly, biting her lip.

He kissed the tip of her nose, “Same,” smiling broadly now.

When they arrived at the restaurant, they spotted Lilianna and Billy quickly, but Lana and Casey were nowhere to be seen.

“Hi! So glad we were able to do this again!” Hermione said cheerily.

Lilianna smiled, “Yes! I felt so bad about last time. How was everything? How are you doing, Draco?”

Draco shook his head, “All good here, no complaints. My father and I weren’t that close, so it wasn’t something that hit me hard.”

Hermione knew that was a lie. She had hugged him while he cried, confused about how he was supposed to feel, but she could understand not wanting everyone to know about that. It could make it seem like he sympathized with his father.

Casey and Lana arrived at that moment, and it seemed they came together. Were they an item? They certainly would be an attractive couple, she thought.

“Sorry we’re late! I ran into Lana at the entrance, so we’re both behind. How is everyone?” Casey asked.

Dinner went well. They ate, they drank (well, mocktails, or whatever these things were called), they discussed their week of training. Things had been going quite smoothly, until Lilianna piped up. Damn her and her curiosity.

“Hermione! I almost forgot, I asked you last time, before everything happened, if you were seeing someone! If you’re not, I have someone that I’d love to set you up with,” she said, looking hopeful.

Hermione froze. Was she seeing Draco? She definitely wasn’t seeing anyone else, so yes. He made it clear he’s an “all or nothing guy”, so he’s likely not seeing anyone, so maybe, yes, she is seeing someone? She couldn’t look at him for help, it would make it too obvious.

Then, she felt it, the nudge. She almost sighed in relief, but didn’t want to blow their cover.

Are you seeing someone, Hermione?

That depends. Are you?

I am.

Hermione felt him leave her mind, and with that, confidently responded, “Actually, I am seeing someone. It’s new, but I feel pretty good about it.”

Lilianna shook her head, “Ah, dammit, it was worth a shot!”

Lana took this opportunity to ask Draco the same. He responded, barely glancing a look in her direction, “I am seeing someone. I’m very happy about it.”

Hermione watched Lana’s face fall, almost pouting at the table. She knew Lana went to Beauxbatons and was likely familiar with courtships and betrothals.

“Are you bound by any marriage agreements?” She asked. Hermione thought she seemed…pushy.

“No, I am not,” Draco responded coldly.

Lana seemed to perk up at this, “Oh, so it’s not that serious then?”

Draco, who hadn’t been paying much attention to Lana, shifted his eyes to her. Hermione could tell he was about to hurt her feelings, but really, it was her own fault for asking questions she had no business asking.

“Well, Lana, that depends. I refused any marriage contract that was presented to me once I took control of my family’s estate, meaning that any relationship I enter into is one of my choosing. It is a relationship out of choice, not obligation or legality. So, I disagree that my relationship is not ‘serious’. Hopefully that makes sense,” Draco added. Hermione knew he only added the bit at the end to soften the blow, but she watched as Lana went back to her pouting face. It actually reminded Hermione of Ron when he was brooding.

Billy jumped in, with some change of topic, and the dinner was back on track. Bills were settled and goodbyes were had, and Hermione apparated back to her flat with Draco.

“Do you want some tea before you go home?” She asked, hoping that she didn’t sound too eager.

Draco smiled, “I was hoping you’d ask. I would love some. If you tell me where everything is, I’ll make some if you want to tend to Crooks.”

Hermione’s lips parted and she tilted her head to the side. “Am I hallucinating? Does Draco Malfoy want to make me tea? Without an elf? Should we ring the Daily Prophet?” she teased.

She thought he’d topple over with how hard he rolled his eyes, but she did as she was told and showed him everything. By the time she returned, she settled into the couch, tea in hand, and lightly chatted about their week. When it was time for Draco to Floo home, he held onto her fingers, rubbing each one lightly with his thumb. He kissed her on the lips with the sweetest restraint and the promise he’d see her tomorrow.

Hermione went to sleep with a smile, and dreamt for the first time since the war.

Chapter Text

Hermione. February 5, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione’s tempus alarm buzzed softly in the background while she got ready for her date.

Her date. With Draco Malfoy. Hermione smiled and shook her head. If you had told her, even a year ago, she'd be excited to go on a date with Draco Malfoy, she would have laughed at you. Really, a full bellied laugh. But here she was, slipping on one of three nice dresses she owned that wasn’t for work.

The dress was simple, but one of Hermione’s favorites. A royal blue sheath dress that hit just above her knees, with a significant slit that hit mid-thigh but was still tasteful. Draco hadn’t given her much to go on in terms of dress code, but did tell her that it was on the classier side. I’d rather be overdressed than underdressed , she thought to herself. She paired the dress with modest nude pumps and pearls. Her gold clutch with scalloped edging was packed and ready to go. She sprayed her perfume, deeming this date the perfect excuse to wear it. Her wine colored lips were topped with a clear gloss. Hermione checked her appearance before heading downstairs to wait for Draco. Her wand told her she had about 10 minutes before he arrived.

She felt the tell tale flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She popped a mint into her mouth, and thought about how tonight would go. As she rolled the mint along her tongue, smoothing its edges, she thought about that first kiss with Draco at the Manor.

She hadn’t known what caused her to deepen the kiss, but it felt instinctual, maybe even primal. Kisses with Ron had been, for lack of a better description, a tongue wrestling match. He was aggressive with his kisses, often leaving her gasping for air when they parted, and not in a good way. They were so wet , again, not in a good way. Her kisses with Viktor and Cormac had been chaste pecks on closed lips. No sparks or passion present. 

But her kiss with Draco? Well, if this didn’t pan out, he had ruined all other kisses for her. There was a tingling she felt throughout her entire body when their lips met. She hadn’t been expecting it but now that she knew what to expect, she was itching to kiss him again. Kissing him deeply, like at the Manor, was something that she felt she was craving. It wasn’t like kissing Ron and his overly aggressive tongue, but felt like… a dance. She felt attuned to him, felt his lips give way and she followed suit. It was strange but so, so very pleasant. She was startled from her daydream about Draco’s lips by the devil himself.

Hermione opened the door for him, and he stood in a very, very well fitted black suit and white dress shirt. He wasn’t sporting a tie, but nothing about his outfit seemed casual. His hair had been styled to fall in that messy perfection he seemed to nail. He smelled of juniper and some kind of warm alcohol she couldn’t place. His silver watch complimented her gold accessories surprisingly. Unsurprisingly, though, was the bouquet of flowers he held in his hand. Beautiful, bright orange and white roses that seemed to be fluffed to perfection. Hermione couldn’t count them, but she estimated two dozen.

“Draco, these are too much, you really shouldn’t have,” She said, biting back a small smile.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Witch, how many times do I need to tell you flowers are part of the deal?”

Hermione giggled, “I know, I know, but I will continue to say they are not necessary. You’ll need to tell me what these mean, though, I’m not familiar with orange roses.”

Draco’s features softened significantly, his eyes becoming almost dreamy looking, while bouncing them from the flowers to Hermione, “Orange roses are indicative of enthusiasm and white roses are for new beginnings. This is new for both of us, and it could be…complicated because of our history. I don’t want to bury it or pretend it didn’t happen, but I do want to focus on how much I am looking forward to seeing where this,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, “goes, and that this new beginning has given us the opportunity to explore it. You and I both are taking chances tonight. I have a good feeling about it and I hope you do, too,” He said, blushing slightly.

Hermione grinned, no longer wanting to hide her excitement. If he could be open about his feelings then she could, too.

“I am really glad you said that, Draco. I’ll be honest, I was a little embarrassed about how excited I was for tonight but knowing you feel that way too makes it a little less scary,” she admitted.

Draco wrapped his hand around hers, “I understand. I do. I meant it when I said I don’t date often. But enough about that, are you ready to go? Need anything before we leave?”

Hermione shook her head in the negative. They had landed on a muggle restaurant, since the risk of danger was decreased compared to wizarding restaurants. While the American journalists didn’t care too much about their comings and goings, the Prophet seemed to be doubling down. Several articles had come out since Lucius’ death and the involvement that she and Harry had in planning the funeral. Hermione had cast an incendio on the paper everyday while they were in England. Rita Skeeter, the foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach she was, could write a damn good headline:

The Chosen One, The Golden Girl and former Death Eater spotted at Lucius Malfoy’s funeral. Has the Malfoy Patriarch’s death revealed a hidden love triangle?

England’s Most Eligible Bachelor, Draco Malfoy, back in England for the first time in months. Are wedding bells in his future?

Golden Girl, Hermione Granger, seen cozying up to a Sacred Twenty-Eight Heir. See page 3 for details!

Ron Weasley nowhere to be seen as the rest of the Golden Trio reunites in Wiltshire. Are the Chosen One and Golden Girl moving on?

She thought that moving to Boston would have shook Rita loose, but she was incorrect:

Golden Girl hiding a new beau in Boston? See page 3 for pictures. (When Hermione saw the photo was from their group dinner before Lucius died, she was grateful that Draco had gotten up to check his jacket, otherwise there would have been a field day)

However, the most inflammatory headline was published just this week:

Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, seen taking tea with Lady Narcissa Malfoy, days after Lucius Malfoy’s death. Is the Golden Girl aiming for Draco Malfoy’s heart (or inheritance)?

The headline was not entirely incorrect. She had been photographed in Draco’s flat from the street level, in fact, having tea with Narcissa. Normally, she wouldn’t have cared, but paired with the articles about Lucius’ death, Hermione was painted as a gold-digging opportunist. As soon as she saw the article, she ran to Draco and Narcissa to explain that this was not her intention. Both of the Malfoy’s looked at her, brows identically quirked, while she babbled about Rita and her antics. When she was finished, Narcissa simply said, “Well, dear, thank you for telling us something we already knew. Tea?”

As she and Draco descended the steps and started to walk hand in hand to the restaurant, Hermione squeezed his hand and looked up at him, a bright smile on her face.

“So, you’ve told me very little about this date, other than to dress up a bit. Will you tell me where we’re going?” She asked hopefully.

“Where’s the fun in that, Hermione?” He teased back.

“What kind of food?”

“Nope.”

“What neighborhood?”

“Nope.”

Hermione huffed out a loud sigh, fighting the urge to stomp her feet like a child. “Draco, why won’t you tell me anything about this date? Am I about to be kidnapped? Disorienting me from my surroundings, are you?” She said, realizing a second too late that her words hit deeper than intended. She felt Draco’s hand stiffen in hers and saw his jaw clench while he averted his eyes to the ground.

“Hermione, that’s not funny. Not even a little bit,” he said, a sharpness in his voice that she hadn’t heard since the war.

Hermione felt shame wash over her, Of course it’s not funny, Hermione. You’ve ruined this night before it even started , she thought to herself.

Hermione dropped his hand and sadly looked up at him. “You’re right, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for and I don’t even know why I said it. The second it came out of my mouth I regretted it. I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” she turned to walk back to her flat, when a large hand gripped her waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Draco asked quietly.

Hermione looked up at him, confused, “I was going back home. I didn’t think…” She trailed off, looking at some of the melted snow banks piled up on the sidewalk.

“Didn’t think what? That I still wanted to do this?” Draco asked, the sharpness leaving his voice.

Hermione nodded feebly.

“Hermione, let me be clear. One misplaced comment or an ill-worded headline will not deter me from this. If we’re going to do this, please talk to me about whatever you’re thinking. You’ll find it’s kind of pointless to make assumptions about what I’m thinking or feeling, and I’ll tell you if something is bothering me,” Draco said, stepping closer, cupping a hand along her jaw and lightly swiping his thumb back and forth across her cheek.

“Now, if you had asked me why I planned this whole date without consulting you, I would have said it’s because you deserve a break. You deserve to not have to control everything. You deserve to be treated and spoiled, and it just so happens I have more galleons than I know what to do with, so you’re in luck there,” he said, his features remaining neutral but his tone was light, playful even.

“I…don’t know what to say,” Hermione admitted. At that moment, she realized that she had never really been taken on a proper date. The Yule Ball was primarily for publicity and Slughorn’s Christmas party was a pity date to get back at Ron. Outside of that, Ron had never planned anything. They had done some fun things together, but at the insistence of Hermione. She planned everything; transportation, activities, budgeting, all of it.

This bled into every other aspect of their life, too. If there was a birthday party, Hermione was out in Diagon Alley shopping for the perfect gift and card, tacking Ron’s name on it so he received some sort of credit. She picked out her own birthday and anniversary gifts, hearing Ron voice echo, “I don’t know, ‘Mione, you’re just hard to shop for. I’d rather you pick it out and I buy it so I know you like it.” While Hermione’s stocking at the Burrow had always been filled to the brim, her stocking at home remained empty, while Ron’s was overflowing. He never thought of her interests. He was thoughtless when it came to anyone but himself. Hermione shuddered at the thought, almost feeling bad for Lavender and their future children.

Draco was the opposite of Ron. He was thoughtful, patient, social, in a different league than Ron, if she were being honest. She wouldn’t say that Draco was overly touchy in public, but would be intimate with her in the touches that lingered along her jaw or wrist, clearly romantic in nature. Ron often slung his arm around her, some barbaric way to let people know that she was his. 

She knew that if she had responded to Ron the way she had to Draco that he would have yelled at her. Ron was, in fact, a yeller. He had never hit her, but would get into her space and back her into corners while his face became as red as his hair. She often would give into him just to ease the tension and avoid conflict. Hermione later learned this was a tactic that Ron used to control her. But Draco had talked to her, reassured her, and was calm with her. She needed to give me the benefit of the doubt.

She looked into his eyes, bright silver and waiting, “I’m sorry. I will talk to you next time, I promise. I’m just not used to all this,” She said, waving her hand at Draco.

Draco chuckled quietly, “It was the fucking Weasel then, huh?”

Hermione cracked a small smile, “Yeah, the fucking Weasel.”

_____________

Draco. February 5, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

It was touch-and-go there for a bit, but eventually, he and Hermione made it to the restaurant. Draco had picked classic French cuisine for their first date. Under normal circumstances, he would have apparated them to France, but there was too much risk. Whatever Boston claimed to be the “best French restaurant in the Northeast” would have to do.

They sat at the linen-lined table, non-alcoholic drinks in hand, looking at the menu silently. He had already decided he was going to order the confit de canard but needed to know what Hermione wanted so they could order. He figured he’d take the opportunity to show off a bit and order in French, as it was the staffs’ primary language.

“What’re you thinking over there for food?” He said, breaking the silence.

She furrowed her brow and bit her bottom lip. Merlin, that lip could do him in right now , he thought to himself. She looked…nervous?

“Hermione, did we not just have this conversation 10 minutes ago? Talk to me,” he urged.

She shook her head, “It’s silly, I’m sorry.”

Draco leaned forward in his chair and lightly grasped her hand, tracing small circles with his thumb on the top of it, “If it’s bothering you, it’s not silly.”

Hermione squeezed his hand, “Well, I was thinking of ordering the steak frites, but I didn’t know if it would cause any issues. I didn’t know if you would have any…objections.”

Draco must have looked as confused as he felt, because she shrunk further into her chair.

“Hermione, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I care if you ordered–” He stopped talking and a harrowing realization dawned on him. “Oh. OH. Fucking Merlin , Hermione, are you really telling me the fucking Weasel dictated what you ate when you went out?”

Hermione shrugged, “I cooked most of the time at home, and sometimes we ordered take-away, but when we were in public, Ron said it was a bad look for a witch to be eating things that were fried or red meat or even drink. My diet consisted of salads for the better part of a year,” She said, fiddling with a loose thread in the tablecloth.

Draco’s mouth hung open, likely several flies buzzing in and out of it. He could not comprehend where Weasley got the fucking audacity to think he could control what she ate, further controlling what she looked like. Hermione wasn’t overweight, not even close, but even if she was, that was no excuse to exercise that kind of control. Hermione was strong and toned and curvy and sexy as all hell. Weasley’s loss was his gain.

“Love, you eat whatever the hell you want. Get the steak. Fuck it, get ten of them, I don’t care. As long as you’re healthy, I couldn’t give a fuck what you do. You deserve to be happy,” He said, meaning every single word, “And for the record, I think you’re perfect exactly as you are. I wouldn’t change a fucking thing.”

Hermione looked up at him and her entire demeanor changed. She seemed to positively glow and he saw her shoulders relax. The waiter took this opportunity to take their order, and suddenly, he forgot any piece of French he ever learned.

“Oui, j'aimerais commander le steak frites, moyennement saignant, s'il vous plaît,” Hermione started saying, looking at him expectantly, “What do you want to eat?”

Draco shook his head and came to his senses, “Le confit de canard, merci. Pourriez-vous également apporter deux verres de champagne sans alcool?”

The man smiled and walked away, and he turned to Hermione with a smirk, “Since when do you know french?”

“Since when do you?” She teased.

Draco picked an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder and flicked it to the floor, “Hermione, I am a Malfoy, we basically own 25% of France. It’s in my blood to know French. Now, back to my question, though.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the admission but she recovered quickly and shrugged, biting the tip of her tongue between her front teeth, “My parents enrolled me in a bilingual primary school and I learned French at the same time I was furthering my English. Once I mastered French I was able to pick up Italian and Spanish quickly. Mandarin and German took longer, though,” she said, taking a sip of her fake champagne.

It was Draco’s turn to be impressed, “Well, fuck me, then. That’s impressive as hell. I thought I was all that knowing English, Italian and French, but you’ve always got to come out on top, I suppose,” he said, smiling at her.

“I never get a chance to use it, though, so I thought I’d show off,” she said, giggling into her glass.

“Great minds think alike,” he remarked, clinking his glass to hers.

The conversation flowed easily. They had plenty in common, but he also learned quite a bit about her. She broke her wrist when she was seven years old playing football with some of her schoolmates. Her first bout of accidental magic was at five years old after she fell off her bike. She still hates flying, even with the most experienced flyers. She loves Christmas and but hates Thanksgiving. She loved Valentine’s Day as a child, but Weasley never put in any effort, so she stopped celebrating it. Her parents go to Christmas Eve midnight mass every year and it’s a tradition she wants to pass onto her children, despite not being particularly religious. She does want to get married and have children, but not for a bit. Her favorite color was purple, but specifically lilac. She hates camping, even more so since the war.

Draco was entranced by this witch. He had never been on a date like this, where he was enthralled at everything that came out of her mouth. He cared about her traditions, her preferences, her opinions on music and art and culture, all of it. Draco had never, ever , felt like this about anyone. If he were being honest with himself, it scared him. But he wasn’t, so it didn’t. Hermione ran to the ladies room while he settled the bill, and he waited at the coat check for her. Just as he retrieved their coats, a hand slithered across his shoulder blades and landed on his left arm.

“Oh, hello, Draco, what a strange coincidence,” a voice purred into his ear.

Draco whipped around, his hand on his wand in the holster under his sleeve, to find Lana and an older couple, presumably her parents.

“Lana, nice to see you,” Draco said, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. The timing of this meeting could not have been worse. He wasn’t trying to hide his relationship with Hermione, but they hadn’t talked about telling anyone either.

“Draco, these are my parents, Garrison and Nadine Foley. They traveled in from Paris this morning to visit Boston and requested to see some of the…non-wizarding attractions,” She said, raking her eyes up and down his form. 

Draco nodded to her parents, “Very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Foley, if you’ll excuse me,” he tried to slip around Lana, but she grabbed his bicep.

“Oh, Draco, please stay! My parents apparently know your mother and father and were saddened to hear of the news,” Lana pouted.

“Sorry, Lana, unfortunately, my date just ran to the ladies room to powder her nose, then we’re off for the evening. Please enjoy, I’ll have to write to my mother to inform her I saw you,” Draco said impatiently.

He heard a small voice clearing her throat and he whipped around to see Hermione, eyes glued to the hand on his bicep. Well, there was no time to discuss this, he was going to take a chance.

“Ah, you already know my date,” He said, flashing a cool smile to Lana, who looked like she was about to explode.

“Yes. Mother, Father, this is Hermione Granger, she is a colleague with Draco and I at Commonwealth Cursebreakers.”

Hermione nodded her head curtly, “Pleasure. Draco, love, are you ready to go?”

Draco’s heart skipped a beat, she was playing along, a clever witch indeed . “Yes, darling, let’s go. Have a good night, all,” he said, walking away without so much as another thought. They exited the restaurant, made it about ten steps, before both of them doubled over with laughter.

“ Did you see her face?! ” Draco wheezed.

“ Did you see her parents' faces?! ” Hermione squeaked out.

Tears were spilling from both of their eyes, and it took some time before they recovered and could start walking. He wrapped his arm around Hermione’s waist, bringing her in and partially shielding her from the wind that had started to pick up.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to announce we’re dating,” Hermione said, still smiling.

“Yeah, I knew that was going to come up eventually. There was no way out of that one unfortunately, but I’m strangely okay with it. I hope you are, too,” He said, glancing at her.

“I am. I am very proud to be on your arm, Draco. I hope you feel the same about me,” She said, sounding confident.

“Oh, Miss Granger, you have no idea how proud I am,” He said, a wicked smile on his lips, “Would you like to come back to my flat for a proper drink? Bloody Americans and their daft rules about alcohol.”

Hermione shook her head, “Yes, let’s go.”

Draco walked them back to his flat and nodded to John on the way up. John nodded back, the slightest smirk on his face.

Once upstairs, Fern met them at the door, poured them a glass of red wine from the Malfoy Vineyards and Draco, as kindly as he could, dismissed her for the night.

He led Hermione around his flat, as he realized he had never really given her a tour. He left the best room, his study, for last. While not overly large, it contained a small library, which he knew she’d die for. He made a mental note to show her the Manor’s library one day. The large oak desk was ornate without being tacky and had a few personal photos scattered on it. There was a velvet green settee and matching loveseat and an abstract rug to cushion the hardwood from the furniture.

Hermione entered the room, and to his surprise, made a beeline to the muggle record player he kept in the corner, mainly for aesthetic purposes. There was a clear glass shelf next to the machine that stored several records Draco had never listened to before, but the man at the record shop was adamant that they were essential to any collection. He had consulted with Hermione’s father, too, as the Granger patriarch knew his muggle music better than anyone else.

Hermione turned to him with a twinkle in her eye, “Can I please play something?”

Draco laughed into his glass, “Of course you can. Take your pick.”

He watched as she thumbed the different vinyl slips, landing on a black and white cover and gingerly pulled it out. She had pulled Jim Croce’s “Photographs & Memories: His Greatest Hits.” Draco was familiar with this as Walter had shown him at the Granger residence. It took a few minutes, but the familiar chords of “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” came on, and Hermione started to bob her head along to the beat. It was then that she turned to the bookshelves in the room, thumbing those just as she had done with the vinyls.

She turned to Draco in surprise when she came across the complete works by Shakespeare. She delicately withdrew The Winter’s Tale from its resting place and flipped it open.

“Did you know–” She started, but Draco cut her off.

“I did. When I was at your parents home during the war, they told me all about you and the story of your namesake, so I purchased it. It was important to them, so it became important to me,” He said, looking up from the settee at her through his lashes.

“You have quite a lot of muggle work here, Draco. The Great Gatsby, To Kill A Mockingbird, Jane Eyre, oh, and my absolute favorite book–”

“ Pride and Prejudice , right?” He asked, knowing the answer already.

Hermione tilted her head, “How did you know that?”

Draco smiled and crossed his ankle over his knee while extending his free arm over the back of the settee, “Like you said before, we went to school together for seven years and spent the better part of a year bouncing around safehouses together, it’s hard not to pick up on this stuff,” he said, hoping it would satisfy her.

Hermione smirked and slinked towards him, filling the empty space under his arm. Once seated, she turned to look at him and bit her lip, “Okay, I’m going to ask you something, and if you tell me I’m ridiculous or laugh I’m going to go home.”

“Shoot, Hermione. What do you want to know?”

“Does whatever this is feel…new to you?” She was clearly nervous. Draco felt his stomach flutter and his heart race. Maybe this wasn’t new to her?

“If I’m being honest? No. It doesn’t feel new. I have felt something like a pull to you for a long time, but it’s intensified since being in Boston, you know?” He said honestly. There was no reason to lie.

Hermione’s eyes darkened before she asked, “How long?”

“Fourth year, maybe before that, possibly when you punched me for the first time. I never called you, uh, you know, after that. I couldn’t help but pay attention to you. When Voldemort was around, I never let myself have the time or space to develop any romantic feelings, but then the war was over and we kind of existed on the same side, and I don’t know when it turned into wanting to pursue something, but it did,” He said, taking another sip of his wine nervously.

Hermione softened, and lifted her hand to his cheek, brushing lightly, “Me too,” she said quietly. Draco looked at her, and started to see glimmers of gold around Hermione. He blinked, trying to clear it, but couldn’t. He assumed it was the wine, since his tolerance had gone down since moving to America.

To his surprise, Hermione spoke again. Really, she blurted out her statement, “You should know that I’m not, uh, very experienced .”

Draco froze. Why did she feel that she needed to say that? Did he make her uncomfortable? Did she think something was going to happen? Did she think he was experienced? Merlin, this got complicated quickly , he thought. But, honesty was the best policy, right?

“Er, Hermione, if you mean this in the way I think you do, you needn’t worry. I, too, am, um…”

“Not very experienced?” She asked, sounding surprised.

“Right,” he said, draining the rest of his glass.

Hermione seemed to smile, “There I go assuming again. I’m sorry, I promise I won’t do it again.”

Draco smirked, “Come on, I know I ooze sex god vibes, but that’s not the case,” he teased, “I just…hadn’t met the right witch yet.”

Hermione drained the rest of her glass, took his, and set them on his desk. When she returned, she kicked her heels off clumsily and curled up next to Draco.

She felt like she had melted against him. She felt soft and warm and smelled so fucking good . He ran his hand up her spine and felt her shiver under his touch. He could become addicted to that feeling if he wasn’t careful. When he reached the nape of her neck, he cupped it, adding a miniscule amount of pressure. “Time in a Bottle” started playing from the record player, and she looked up at him, “This is my favorite song of his.”

Draco nodded along, “I’m a big fan of ‘Operator’, but I see–”

Hermione cut him off in a searing kiss. Her lips were locked on to his, speaking in a language only he understood. He turned his head to fully face her and lifted the hand placed on the back of her neck into her hair. He tugged on it lightly and she gasped into his mouth.

He swallowed the sound and ran his tongue around hers delicately. She tasted like wine and something sweet, something he couldn’t place. He let his other hand drop to her waist, where he kneaded gently.

He pulled away, breathless, to look at her, “I think we’re just drunk.”

Hermione, as breathless as he was, responded quickly, “No, I’m not drunk. Are you drunk?”

Draco smiled, “No.”

He surged forward and placed his lips onto hers, trailing kisses across her cheek, her jawline and down onto her neck. He lightly sucked on her pulse point, pulling an almost guttural groan from Hermione’s throat. Merlin, how do I even know what I’m doing? He thought to himself. Before he could think further, he grabbed her hips and hauled her on top of him, both of her thighs bracketing his own. She, almost on instinct, wrapped her arms around his neck and started to trail her kisses from his mouth to the shell of his ear, lightly sucking on his earlobe before letting go.

He looked at her with such intensity and desire he thought he might die. He placed both hands on her hips, rolling her gently along his lap. He could feel himself harden underneath her, but he couldn’t even be embarrassed. His hands traveled down to her legs, feeling the skin under the slit of her dress, and he gasped, feeling sparks where their skin connected.

Hermione looked down at him through her lashes, her eyes heavy with need. She bit her lip, and something in him snapped. He reached up to kiss her and sucked on her bottom lip hard. She whimpered quietly but didn’t withdraw or shy away. Her dress started to ride up as she continued to roll her hips gently against him and he moved to grip her arse, but his hands hovered over her, waiting for permission. She nodded and he wasted no time, filling each hand with the feel of her. He ran his hands over the knickers she was wearing and could feel they were some kind of lace. Cheeky witch , he thought. He was unbearably hard at the thought of running his fingers under her knickers and feeling her wetness, but he didn’t entertain that thought, otherwise he may implode.

“I’ve never gone farther than this,” she admitted, becoming very shy all of a sudden.

“Well, Hermione, you come out on top again, since I hadn’t gone that far before,” he admitted, feeling a little self-conscious.

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Oh, bollocks, Draco, you should have said something! I’m so sorry, I bombarded you like that,” she exclaimed, scrambling to get off his lap. There was no way to hide the evidence of his arousal completely, so he crossed his legs and adjusted his trousers as best he could.

Draco grabbed her hand, “Hermione, you misunderstand me. While I may not have done that  before, I enjoyed it very much and would like to do it again. If you do, obviously. Date included, not just the physical stuff.”

“I would."

Chapter Text

February 6, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

hgrangergg79: i had a rlly great time last night!

sprince1980: As did I. When are you free next?

hgrangergg79: hmm, not sure, lemme check my sched

sprince1980: sched? Hermione, honestly, did you trip and fall out of the Floo on your way home? You sound like you have a head injury. 

hgrangergg79: i swear ur a prat. im free wednesday if u are. or, u could come over and we can send nichols our email together, ur call. I can keep my hands 2 myself ;)

sprince1980: A few things:

sprince1980: 1) Yes to Wednesday. Would you like to plan this one or should I?

sprince1980: 2) Yes to coming over, I’ll be right there.

sprince1980: 3) What the hell is at the end of your sentence? A semicolon and a closed parenthesis?

hgrangergg79: draco, its supposed to be a smiley face thats winking if you look at it sideways. ill plan this one. c u soon.

_______________

February 6, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts

Sunday

• Nothing

Monday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• HG to OBGYN, 4:45PM, 763 Chestnut Street

Tuesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• DM to Harvard University for seminar, 6:30PM

Wednesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• HG/DM at Boston Common 6PM

Thursday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

Friday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• HG/DM take the train to visit Theodore and Ginevra Nott, 374 W 12th Street, NYC, NY

Saturday

• HG/DM in NYC (see above address)

Sunday

• HG/DM return to Boston, train arrives at 11AM

_________________________

Draco. February 7, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

“Hermione, I think we need to take down the slicing hex before the burning jinx,” Draco said. They had been working on a cursed rocking chair all day and the close of business was rapidly approaching.

“Draco, I hear you, I do, but honestly, I think the burning jinx needs to go down first,” Hermione said, for what Draco counted as the millionth time. The chair was their toughest project to date and would be their first to spill over onto a second day. Many of the other recruits took at least two days, usually three or four, to complete their projects, but he and Hermione typically only took one, sometimes doing more than one object a day. 

The particular issue with the chair wasn’t that it was complicated, but rather that the curses were in rapid succession, meaning that the second they disarmed one, another would be triggered. They had managed to take down four curses before hitting a protective layer that was currently protecting a slicing hex and burning jinx. Based on the way the runes were layered, you could not take down one without activating the other, leaving the person at risk for injury.

It was clear that this chair was given to them for a reason. Draco wracked his brain, trying to find a way to gently tell her she was wrong. Draco was quickly scratching the arithmancy equations required to narrow down the exact timing of the curses, noting that there would be approximately .7 seconds between the curses firing. Is there a way to take them at the same time? Draco wondered. The realization hit him like a freight train. There was no way that one person could deflect and take down those curses at the same time, but he figured that was why they were a team.

If Draco were being honest, he’d curse himself for not thinking of this sooner. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t.

“Hermione, which curse would you prefer to take down?”

Hermione absent-mindedly responded that she’d prefer to take the burning jinx if she got to pick. Draco shook her shoulder to get her attention and she looked up at him with those honey colored eyes.

“Here’s what we're going to do. You and I are going to tackle this at the same time. The second you attempt to take down the burning curse, I will do the same with slicing hex. You protect me and I’ll protect you. Got it?”

Hermione bit her lip nervously, an indication that she didn’t like the plan and it made her nervous. Draco looked around to make sure none of his colleagues were paying attention before he curled his pointer finger and lifted her chin so she was looking at him. He used the tip of his thumb to gently pull her lip from her teeth. He watched her pupils widen slightly and felt her swallow. He felt a certain sense of accomplishment in making her flustered, but it was short lived, because she always had to come out on top.

He saw her glance around the room before the tip of her tongue darted out and swiped along his thumb. It was Draco’s turn to gasp and blush, swallowing the groan that threatened to leave his throat.

“You cheeky witch,” Draco teased.

“I thought you liked that about me?” Hermione replied, a fake pout plastered on her face.

Draco shook his head, “Among many things, yes. So, are we doing my plan?”

Hermione nodded in agreement, “Yes, let’s set up. You can take down the slicing hex. We’ll need to take the defensive stance since both curses will be coming at us at the same time. Are you using a protego to deflect the spell first and then dismantling it?”

Draco shook his head. He had spent some time developing some spells that he could use during his training. He knew that slicing hexes were relatively common on cursed objects, so it was one of the first things he developed, “I created something that I’d like to see in practice. It loosely translates to ‘knit back together and dissolve’, but the wand work is pretty technical.”

Hermione perked up at this, “You created spells? You are one surprise after another. Alright, then, let’s see it!”

Draco turned to her, “Using a glacius to neutralize your burning jinx, right?” She nodded yes.

“Alright, here we go. I’ve got you, Hermione. You’ve got me?”

“I’ve got you. Let’s do this,” She said confidently.

The two of them turned to the rocking chair and assumed a defensive stance. He felt confident Hermione wouldn’t let his hair burn, probably. He trusted her, probably more than he trusted anyone else. He looked to his right and nodded, signaling he was ready. They removed the protective barrier and said their respective spells.

“ Glacius !”

“ Connexum et dissolve !”

Draco saw and felt the two curses come at them. There wouldn’t have been any way to disarm both of them if only one person was taking them down, but together, they were able to address the curses and render the rocking chair, utterly, uncursed.

They raised their hands and waited for Violet to check their work with only 10 minutes left on the clock.

“Ah, Team Granger/Malfoy, I was wondering if you were going to finish today! Now, let’s see here… Hmm. I don’t recognize this spell, who took down the slicing hex?”

Draco raised his hand slightly and felt himself get nervous. He wasn’t sure what Violet would think about using an unregulated spell. It wasn’t dark or illegal, but wasn’t something that just anyone would know. He watched her run her diagnostic spells over the rocking chair, as well as checking his wand for the last spell he used. He swore he felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple in addition to the hole Hermione was burning into the side of his head.

“ Connexum et dissolve ? Mr. Malfoy, where did you learn this spell?” Violet asked.

“I created it. I had some time and wanted to see if I was able to create spells that may assist me during this program,” Draco said, trying to tow the line of humility and ownership.

“Can you send me any notes you have on this? I’d like to incorporate it into our curriculum,” Violet said, winking as she walked away.

Draco, jaw almost on the floor, turned to look at Hermione, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

“Okay, okay, I know we’re not supposed to hang out tonight, but this calls for a drink! Can I meet you after my doctor's appointment?” Hermione asked excitedly.

Draco smiled, touched at the thought that she would want to celebrate his achievements with him. It wasn’t so long ago that his “achievements” allowed Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He truly felt that this program, with these people and this witch were where he was supposed to be.

“Just come to mine when you’re done,” Draco said as he packed up his bag. Hermione smiled and nodded in agreement.

___________________________

Hermione. February 9, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts. 

Hermione was excited for her date with Draco. She had chosen something casual but fun and something that Draco almost definitely had not done. Ice skating was one of her favorite muggle activities and a part of her past she’d like to share with him.

Draco knocked on her door promptly at 5:55PM with flowers in hand. This time, the bouquet consisted of hibiscuses (for delicate beauty) and white hyacinth (loveliness). Hermione rolled her eyes at him as he put them in a vase and cast a stasis charm on them.

“Draco, I’m going to have more flowers in the flat than I know what to do with,” She teased.

Draco cupped her chin, swiping his thumb along her jaw, “Hermione, love, it’s a pureblood thing. Flowers indicate passion and purpose in one’s relationship. Not all of the pureblood traditions are garbage and I’ve looked forward to following some of them for my whole life. So, if you please, I’d like to do that.”

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, before landing on a half-baked thought.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, are you courting me? Without telling me?”

Draco froze. She had caught him. She knew that flowers held significant meaning in pureblood courting rituals, but she hadn’t pieced it together until his declaration about following traditions.

“I, uhm, well, yes and no?” He said while rubbing the back of his neck.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and uttered a single word, “Explain.”

Draco sighed and sat on the loveseat. Crookshanks jumped onto his lap immediately and settled into a ball while Draco absent-mindedly scratched behind his ears.

“The short answer is no, I’m not courting you, because I’d need the consent of you and your parents for that. The longer answer is I am doing things that are…courting adjacent. I’ll be honest, Hermione, the thought of courting you scares the hell out of me for many reasons. I know you’re independent and it may feel archaic and I’m sure your parents would feel the same way. But something about you makes me want to do every courting ritual I know. I can’t explain it. I told you before that there was a pull, something that had been there for a long time. We’re young, I know that, too, but for the first time ever I get to choose what I want. I want you ,” he said with another sigh. By the way his shoulders had dropped, he had been holding onto this for a while. She should be furious. She should be worried. For some reason, though, she wasn’t.

“Draco, tell me about courting,” she said, sitting down next to him. He looked over at her in surprise, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. “You’re right. I didn’t grow up in your world, and I am highly independent, but I chose to enter this relationship with you, so I’d like to know what that means,” she said, a small smile on her lips. Her stomach turned and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears, but she’d be damned if she didn’t get to the bottom of this.

Draco’s throat bobbed, and he took a deep breath before he started speaking. “Traditionally, which this wouldn’t be, my parents would speak to your parents to draft a betrothal agreement. Things like dowry and stipulations about our relationship, to include timelines, would be discussed. Once the agreement was signed and turned into the Ministry, since we’re both still residents of England, for their records, we’d be courting. There are many courtship gifts, to include flowers, jewelry and other items. Particularly, the acceptance of a family heirloom, passed on from the male’s family. In this case, since I am the heir to two lines, you’d get two heirlooms. Because my father has passed, my mother would be picking out pieces for both the House of Black and House of Malfoy. Acceptance of those gifts would solidify your intent to join the family.”

He briefly looked up at her to make sure she was still listening. She nodded her head to encourage him to keep speaking.

He nodded slightly and started again, “Once you accept the heirlooms, it would be a matter of time before there would be, uhm, a proposal. You’d get an engagement ring, as well as signet rings for both Houses. We’d have an engagement ball before starting on the wedding, which would have a welcome ball, the actual wedding, and a goodbye brunch before heading off on a honeymoon. After that, depending on the contract, would be kids. The Malfoy line typically doesn’t produce more than one heir, hence why I’m an only child. Once there’s at least one heir, then the agreement is fulfilled and we live our lives however we want. But, Hermione, let me be incredibly clear. That is not how I would want to do things. At all.”

Draco looked at her with the clearest blue eyes. He wasn’t occluding or hiding, he was here, baring his soul for her to see. She’d hear him out.

“Tell me what you’d want to do, then.”

Draco looked surprised, likely wondering why she hadn’t hexed him into next year, but continued on.

“Well, for starters, I don’t need a contract. I think it’s archaic and unrealistic. You’re not a prized cow for your family to sell off. Plus, I think your parents would murder me and bury me in their garden if I came to them about a fucking dowry. I think it’s also unrealistic to put timelines in a legal contract for things like children. What if we don’t want kids? Or struggle to have them? Or decide to wait? It just seems like a recipe for disaster to say that a child needs to be born within a certain amount of years. Although, I would like to maintain the tradition of accepting the heirlooms and the signet rings. Those are important to me. The signet rings offer some protection from harm when they are accepted by a bride-to-be as they would recognize you as part of the family.”

Draco met her eyes, searching for any reaction. Hermione’s only thought came tumbling out of her mouth, as if someone had dosed her with Veritaserum.

“You want to marry me?”

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth and felt her cheeks heat, likely turning a violent shade of red.

Draco choked out a laugh, “You are a blunt witch, do you know that? Hermione, I think it’s always been you. It feels strange to say that out loud, but now that I know you and have felt you and given my feelings room to grow, I think it’s safe to say I’d like to court you, but only if you want it. I don’t want to scare you or pressure you or anything. I was hoping this conversation would come up later in our relationship, but you’re brilliant, so…” he trailed off, blushing furiously.

Hermione smiled and bit her lip. She wanted to say yes. Was that crazy? Obviously, you bint. Pull. Yourself. Together. She thought to herself.

“I’m not saying no. But give me some time to research it? Please?” Hermione asked.

Draco beamed at her. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him smile like that before. “Yes, of course, love, please. Take all the time you need. We can also date, like a regular couple, too, I’m just predisposed to spoil you. Sorry in advance,” he said, taking her hand and brushing her knuckles with his lips.

“Wait, Draco. You mentioned kids. Do you want them now? Or soon? Oh, Gods, we’d be ending TWO pureblood lines. What would your mother think?!” Hermione said in a panic.

Draco’s eyes widened but he regained his composure, “Hermione, neither my mother nor I could give a shit about our kids being purebloods. Frankly, it’s about time that tradition ends, too. And no, I don’t want them now. I want to get settled as an adult in my career and then discuss it.”

Hermione visibly relaxed at that. She knew that he was telling the truth, she could feel it. She started to see some golden sparkles around Draco’s face, some kind of a haze. She chalked it up to being nervous and adrenaline from the conversation they just had.

“Okay. Let me research, okay?” Hermione said.

“You got it. Now, what are we doing today?” Draco asked.

Hermione smiled. “Have you ever been ice skating?”

Draco shook his head. “No, and it sounds miserable. I can’t wait!” he exclaimed. Hermione laughed, grabbed his hand, and they exited the flat and walked towards the Frog Pond at the Common. Hermione got them rental skates and she showed Draco how to lace them up. He had a bone crushing grip on her hand as they stepped onto the glassy surface. Draco immediately fell on his arse the moment he let go of her hand.

Hermione propped him up against the wall and showed him how to take small glides forward. She was skating backwards while guiding him.

“Hermione, how the hell do you know how to do this? And to skate backwards? You have to be cheating and using magic,” He said.

Hermione giggled, “Nope. Just took lessons as a child until I started at Hogwarts. I loved it and wanted to share it with you.”

Draco looked at her thoughtfully, almost slipping again. “Take a lap around, show off for me, please,” he said with a wink. Hermione needed no other instruction. The pond was relatively empty so she had some space to “show off”, per Draco’s request.

She started gliding around the small pond, adding in minute jumps and tight spins. She slid past Draco a handful of times, often turning to skate backwards so she could look at him. He looked…enamored? Was that the right word? Merlin, this man wants to court me? ME? Of all people? A muggle-born witch? She thought to herself, her smile growing bigger the longer she thought about it.

It was too soon for marriage talk. Or kids. But courting? Courting just sounded like dating for richy-rich folks like the Malfoy’s. Hermione shook her head, not wanting to commit one way or another, at least before she did some research.

Draco waved her down and she looped back towards him, stopping short and shaving some ice in the process. “You. Are. Incredible” he said, punctuating each word with a kiss to her lips. He had managed to leave the wall and could stand up straight while gliding at a slow pace. Hermione was impressed with how quickly he took to the sport. She was skating backwards while holding his hands as they moved around the pond.

Once they had gone in circles a few times, Hermione led them off the ice and returned their skates. They walked for a bit before landing at a small diner. She was nervous about this choice. She knew that she loved the diner, but it was a greasy spoon and wasn’t sure how Draco would take to it. Her concerns were quelled quickly when Draco ordered a bacon, egg and cheese and black coffee. She ordered pancakes and hot chocolate, and they chatted about their week and their upcoming trip to NYC.

Once Ginny and Theo learned they were in Boston together, a trip to NYC had been immediately scheduled and there was no talking the couple out of it. Hermione had some concerns about bringing their relationship to Ginny and Theo, but Draco had explained it would be like learning to ride a bike with training wheels. They were removed enough that their other friends wouldn’t necessarily know and they likely would be the most accepting. Hermione explained several times over that she wasn’t afraid for people to know, but wanted to tell Harry, and eventually Ron, in person.

They had both agreed that they would wait to tell their parents until they had a more concrete plan in terms of courting. He said that he knew the second his mother caught wind of them dating, he’d have to stop her from planning the wedding immediately. He assured her many times, at her request, that his mother would love her no matter what they decided to do. Get married or don’t, have kids or don’t.

Hermione was still confused as to how she wasn’t feeling scared or trapped by Draco’s explanations of courtship. When Ron had presented her with an engagement ring, she felt like her world had become ten times smaller. Like being a wife and a mother was all she would be good for in his eyes. But Draco, for some reason, made her feel empowered. Like it was her choice. He wanted her informed and in charge of the decision. The glaring difference between Ron and Draco was so apparent, she cringed every time she thought back to her relationship with Ron. She was allowed to be her own person with Draco, and she knew that she liked the person she was becoming with him.

________________________

Hermione. February 11, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione and Draco left work on Friday afternoon and headed right to South Station to catch their train. They had small pieces of luggage, which Hermione inconspicuously cast an extension charm on so space wasn’t an issue. She was excited for the train ride into the city, especially since they’d be arriving at night.

Hermione had never been to New York and was feeling like a proper tourist while settling into the train. Draco, dressed in casual muggle fashion, held her hand while heading onto the platform and loaded her luggage so she didn’t need to lift it. Hermione blushed at the sweetness of it all. As they settled into their seats, she leaned into her bag and grabbed a small gift.

“I got you something. You don’t need to use it if you don’t want to, but since you shared some important aspects of courting with me, I wanted to share some aspects of muggle dating with you,” she said shyly.

Draco opened the bag to find a Walkman CD player, headphones, and an unmarked CD. Draco looked at her confused.

“It’s a CD player. The disk, or more commonly called a CD, is like a small record that you add to the player. You plug the headset in here and slip it over your head. While many artists sell CD’s like records with just their work, you can also make your own and put on whatever songs you want. I made you a mix, songs that get to know me. Really know me.” Hermione said, biting her lip in anticipation.

Draco looked at the Walkman and then back at her, a soft smile on his lips.

“I love it. Thank you for sharing this with me,” he said as he kissed her and settled back into his seat, his hand never leaving hers.

_________________________

Hermione. Later that same day. New York City, New York. 

As Hermione and Draco approached Ginny and Theo’s townhouse, she could feel the nerves starting to build in her stomach. She froze at the bottom of the stairs and watched as Draco quickly ascended them. He turned to look at her and when he realized she wasn’t there, he looked back. Something on her face must have worried him because he abandoned the top of the stairs to join her at the bottom.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked, lacing his fingers in between hers.

“What if they don’t understand? What if they don’t approve? What if Ginny hates me? Or Theo?” Hermione said frantically, her eyes starting to fill with tears.

Draco cocked his head towards the townhouse, “You say the word and we leave. We go somewhere else, anywhere else. But I am almost 100% certain they will be supportive. Theo is my oldest friend. He loves me and loves you. Ginny loves you more than her own brother for Merlin’s sake. I don’t want to hide you but I don’t want to pressure you. This is your call.”

Hermione closed her eyes and was grateful for Draco in that moment to ground her. She grabbed both of his hands with hers, took a deep breath, and kissed him like a starved woman. He responded with fervor to her kiss, releasing her hands and moving his to her back, bringing her closer while deepening the kiss.

“I’m ready, let’s do this,” Hermione said, determined.

Draco led her up the stairs and rang the doorbell. Once again, he never let go of her hand. She could see the outline of Ginny behind the frosted glass, who whipped the door open in excitement. She was beaming at the two of them, and Hermione tracked Ginny’s eyes as they dropped to their joined hands.

“Hey, Theo, love?” She called up the stairs.

“Yes?” He called down.

“You owe me twenty bucks!” she responded.

“Shut the fuck up, Ginevra, hold on!” Theo roared as he came barreling down the stairs.

Theo stopped at the bottom, nearly colliding into Ginny while he met Hermione and Draco at the door. Theo saw her hand clasped in Draco’s and smiled his toothy grin, his brunette curls plopped onto his forehead.

“About gods damned time you two! Get the hell in here and explain to me how I just lost $20!” Theo said, hugging Hermione and clapping Draco on the back. The door shut behind them, and Hermione knew they were about to be in for a long weekend.

Chapter Text

Hermione. February 11, 2000. New York City, New York.

Hermione and Draco followed Theo and Ginny through the narrow staircase into the main area of the townhouse. The home was beautiful, with tall ceilings and stained glass windows, it could have been featured in an interior design magazine.

Of course, that was to be expected in the home of two interior designers. Everything had a place and was intentionally styled without looking sterile. The balance they struck was really remarkable.

Theo and Ginny ushered them into a sitting room and practically shoved very full wine glasses into their hands. Hermione realized that she felt like she was being interrogated as Ginny and Theo sat on one couch and she and Draco on another, just staring at each other.

Theo and Ginny were trying, and failing, to make her or Draco speak first, but she wouldn’t budge. She wanted this to seem natural, not something she needed to explain or convince people about.

Ginny broke the silence, “Thank Merlin you two finally got together, I thought I was going to burst if I had to keep what I saw at the Manor a secret!”

She turned to Draco confused. What did Ginny see? She thought for a moment before realizing that she had seen their impromptu kiss. Hermione felt herself open and close her mouth several times, looking to Draco for assistance. He chuckled, put his hand over hers, and spoke for them. 

“Oh, yeah. That. That was… not planned. There hadn’t been anything romantic up until that point. Actually, the night my father died, I picked her up for a group outing and she asked me if it was a date and I didn’t answer fast enough, so we weren’t on great terms. She owled her parents to attend the funeral and I was so grateful I kissed her, and then told her I wanted to take her on a date, and we’ve been on two official dates but there have been other hangouts, too,” Draco said, running out of breath and bouncing his eyes between Ginny and Theo.

Ginny giggled, “So, how’s the sex?”

Hermione spit her red wine out on the plush white carpet. Theo chuckled and waved his wand to vanish the mess. 

“Ginny! If I tell your mother that you’re asking questions like that she’ll chase you out of the Burrow with a frying pan!” Hermione screeched at her.

“No, Hermione, she’ll just start asking you when you’re having babies instead of asking me . She refuses to acknowledge Ron and Lavender, Bill and Fleur have their hands full with Victoire, Charlie and Ralph are in Romania and haven’t started the adoption process yet, and George and Angelina are having such a hard time with their pregnancy that they’ll likely be done once the twins are born. It’s just me, you, Ron, and Harry left, and we know Pansy won’t have kids until her mastery is complete and she’s established,” Ginny whined.

Hermione glared at Ginny, “Um, hello, I know I’m just a cursebreaker here, a clearly very safe career, but I am also establishing myself. Frankly, you and Ron are in the best position to have kids right now. My relationship is too new for that.”

Draco shook his head in agreement, “Kids aren’t even in the conversation yet, Weasley.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Draco, “It’s Nott, you prat.”

Draco held his hands up in surrender, “Yes ma’am.”

They talked lightly about the train and their cursebreaking program before Ginny abruptly rose from her seat and told Hermione she needed help in the kitchen. Hermione reluctantly stood and dragged her feet towards the kitchen, making pleading eyes with Theo and Draco the entire way. They smirked at her and turned back to their conversation.

Hermione paused outside the kitchen door, closing her eyes and placing her palms on the cool wood. You can do this. You can talk to Ginny, Hermione thought to herself, pushing through the door to face a smirking Ginny Nott.

“So, you and the ferret, huh?” She said, biting her lip to hold back her smile.

“Don’t call him that,” Hermione bit back harshly.

“Oh my gods, Ginny, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out that way,” Hermione said apologetically.

Ginny waved her off, “No, no, it’s actually nice to see you fired up and passionate about someone. Merlin knows you weren’t that way with Ron. Tell me about the dates!”

Hermione launched into their first date, the flowers, running into Lana, the intense snogging, and the kind of courtship conversation they had earlier this week. Ginny was bouncing with excitement. “Hermione, do you have ANY idea what this means? Malfoy doesn’t care about anyone or anything that isn’t his family. You are the first thing he decided to allow himself to care about. This is huge. I don’t know what’s happened to him since we graduated, but he’s fit and you’re beautiful, and I can just tell he means this.”

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows together, “What do you mean?”

Ginny poured fresh glasses of pinot noir and turned back to Hermione, “Love, as a pureblood, we were taught all about courting. While the Weasley’s have been all but shunned from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, both mum and dad felt it was important to show us the ‘ways of wooing’. Families like the Malfoys and the Blacks don’t court every witch they see. It’s intentional, selecting only one to share that with. They don’t date frivolously and don’t stray from their marriages. Malfoy men in particular are fiercely loyal to their women, the exception being Lucius, because, you know, Death Eater. Otherwise, they are wholly devoted to their wives, doing anything and everything to maintain their love and happiness.”

Hermione was surprised at this information. She could see Draco being loyal and devoted to her, but Lucius? Absolutely not. She was aware that Lucius had abused Draco and Narcissa and had participated in the prostitution nights that the Death Eaters held regularly. How Draco had turned out the opposite of his father she would never understand.

“This is real for him, ‘Mione. If you’re not serious about it do not lead him on. To be honest, Theo and I have been betting on you two getting together since third year when you punched him, but there was too much water under the bridge for it to happen. And then Malfoy turned sides and you guys were always working together in the safe houses. And THEN you dumped my brother, rather spectacularly by the way, and by the grace of Merlin, you two end up in the same place. I’m telling you, ‘Mione, there’s something to be said about how there are too many coincidences,” Ginny said softly. 

It felt nice to have her support, to have someone to talk to that knew them before Boston. “And your bet tonight?” Hermione teased.

“Ha! I told Theo that he owed me $20 if you two showed up dating. He thought you would’ve made Malfoy work harder for it. Are you happy, ‘Mione? That’s really all that matters.” Ginny said thoughtfully.

Hermione answered immediately, “I am. He lets me be me. He loves my parents and muggle music and reading and he’s brilliant , Gin. Did you know he invented a spell and used it this week in training? Our boss wants to incorporate it into the curriculum. That’s what he did when he had some spare time. Can you imagine what he could do with dedicated time and resources? He thinks I’m beautiful and has already helped me break some of the…behaviors I was exhibiting while with Ron. There’s something about this that doesn’t seem new. We both agree on that. I swear, sometimes I see golden stars around him. It’s the strangest thing. I don’t know, though, I don’t want to rush it. We’re so young and inexperienced that I don’t want to mess it up,” Hermione said, biting her lower lip.

Ginny stopped mid-sip, “Golden stars? Hermione, are you seeing golden stars? I need you to be exact.”

Hermione felt a rush of anxiety at her friend’s question, “What?”

“What do you see and when do you see it?” Ginny asked, sounding almost urgent.

“Uhm, I don’t know? Sometimes he’ll communicate with me by legilimency and I see it when he leaves my mind. I saw it when we were snogging and when we were talking about courtship. It’s kind of like a fuzzy golden haze with smaller sparkles. Why? Should I be worried?” Hermione asked nervously.

Ginny smiled, “No, you shouldn’t be worried. I don’t know for sure, but it sounds like you may be better suited for each other than you realized. Destined, perhaps.”

Hermione cocked her head, “Explain.”

Ginny shook her head, “Nope. I’m not giving this away. I assume you’re planning to research the Sacred Twenty-Eight and courtships and pureblood marriages, right?”

Hermione flushed with embarrassment, “No. Yes. Shut up.”

Ginny laughed, “You’ll find what you’re looking for in your research, then, and please send me a message when you figure it out. I can’t wait!”

Hermione was annoyed at her friend's evasiveness to her question, but let it go for now since it seemed to be a good thing. She grabbed the cheeseboard and walked back to the sitting room, feeling lighter than she did before she left it.

____________ 

Draco. February 11, 2000. New York City, New York. 

Draco watched as Hermione left the room and realized a second too late that his eyes had drifted to her arse. Theo snapped his fingers to get his attention, “Hello, Earth to Malfoy, can we talk about how you bagged the gods damned Golden Girl of Gryffindor? The one who literally has one of the most underrated and unappreciated arse’s in all of Hogwarts?”

This brought Draco’s eyes to Theo’s, “Mate, I love you, but I swear to Merlin if you talk about Hermione like that again I will hex you into the fucking East River.”

Theo chuckled into his wine, “Oh, it’s Hermione now, is it? Tell me, what the fuck happened there? I’m supportive and shit, but I am confused as all hell.”

Draco launched into their history and his feelings for her and his accidental slip-up about courting but not really courting. Theo was laughing so hard wine actually came out his nose. Serves him right , Draco thought.

“I don’t know, mate, there’s something golden about her, you know? I feel almost…whole with her,” Draco said, looking off to the side, hoping Hermione would come back.

Theo’s chuckling stopped immediately, “Draco, what the fuck do you mean she’s golden? Like, she’s happy?”

Draco shook his head, “No, I literally see some kind of golden halo around her. Do you ever see that with Ginny?”

Theo sobered up quickly. “No, mate, I don’t. I don’t think anyone has for hundreds of years.”

Draco raised his brow, “What are you on about, mate?”

Theo grinned like a Cheshire cat, “Oh, you’re fucked now. Let me know when you figure it out.”

What the fuck is he talking about? Is this some kind of riddle I’m supposed to figure out?

Before Draco could answer, Hemione and Ginny sashayed into the room, her vanilla and cinnamon scent immediately clouding his senses. She sat down next to him, a beautiful rosy flush spread from her cheeks to her chest. Draco did his best not to ogle her, but his eyes continued to drift down her shirt, and he could see a champagne colored silk with some lace detail. Draco felt himself blush, suddenly realizing that this is the first time he’d seen a bra on a woman he was interested in. Pansy changed in front of him often but there was never really any spark. He wondered if Hermione’s knickers matched her bra.

He became aware of the fact that he had been staring at Hermione’s chest for too long and the room was too quiet. When he looked up, Ginny and Theo were waiting for him to respond to a question he definitely did not hear.

He cleared his throat before speaking, “Sorry. What?”

Ginny rolled her eyes so hard he thought she might topple off the sofa, “Would you two mind sharing a room tonight? Our second guest room currently smells like paint. We had to do it the muggle way, magic made it look too streaky. I could offer you the couch, but since you’re together, I don’t think it matters much!”

Draco immediately used legilimency to check in with Hermione.

Are you comfortable with this?

Draco, please. It’s just sleeping. I can keep it in my pants if you can keep it in yours.

No promises, love.

Draco exited Hermione’s mind, the ever familiar glow around her, “Yeah, no problem.”

Ginny nodded, “Okay, head down the hall, second door on your left. The bathroom is across the hall and our room is upstairs. Meet tomorrow at 9AM ready to head out?”

Draco and Hermione agreed and made their way to their room, luggage in hand. The guest room was beautiful. The room was filled with champagne fabrics and gold accents, with pops of jewel tones throughout. The bed was a large, four poster canopy bed with plush bedding and what Draco counted to be approximately a hundred pillows. There was a small daybed by the window, two large wardrobes and a small bookshelf. Hermione laid her luggage down and pulled out her pajamas.

Draco felt his eyes nearly pop out of his head when he noticed the skimpy tank and shorts set she had laid out. It appeared to be made out of a silk material and was a deep cobalt blue color, the one that accentuated her hair and eyes.

Hermione turned to him and bit her lip, “I’m sorry. I sleep pretty warm and didn’t know we’d be sharing a bed. I can transfigure them into something more appropriate.” Draco watched the slightest flush spread down her neck and he felt himself strain in his trousers.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, love. I want you to be comfortable, plus, I won’t lie, I am very intrigued to see these on. Muggle pajamas, right?” He said.

She nodded in agreement.

Draco hummed, “Bless the muggles. Whoever tried to convince me that wizards were better clearly never saw these,” he teased.

Hermione smiled and grabbed her clothing to change. He quickly threw on his sleep boxers and his Slytherin quidditch shirt, performed a teeth cleansing charm and slipped into bed. He’d never admit it to them, but the bed was damn comfortable, borderline better than his own.

He set an alarm on his wand for 7:30AM and performed a quick tempus that showed it was 10PM. Draco frowned slightly at the lack of sleep, something that was crucial in his routine, but he was determined to persevere.

Hermione entered the room and appeared to almost be floating. She slid under the comforter but over the top sheet. Draco looked at her confused.

Hermione sighed, “I’ve never slept in a bed with a boy. I’m nervous. What if I kick you in my sleep? Or drool?”

Draco barked a laugh that was far too loud for 10PM. “Hermione, I’ve never done this either, but something is telling me to put my arm around you. If you don’t want that, I will respect it, I promise. If you want, I can transfigure the daybed and sleep there too. It’s your call,” He said, giving the tip of her nose a small kiss. 

Hermione smiled and scrambled to get under the sheet. Instinctively, he slid closer to her, nestling her against him and breathing her in. He decided that he could get drunk on the smell of her alone. She wrapped an arm over his chest, and the weight was quite possibly one of the most comforting things he had ever felt. The arm wrapped around her lingered on her spine, drawing long, languid lines up and down. He felt her warmth through the silk material and the tank slowly started to slip up her back. Draco was almost asleep when he realized he was stroking her skin and not the fabric of her shirt.

He peered down at her, expecting her to be asleep, but instead was met with her big, beautiful eyes. Something about them was different this time, though. Her pupils were the size of a small moon, clearly excited for something.

“Is this okay, love?” He murmured to her, never stopping his ministrations. She nodded enthusiastically, bringing the hand draped over him to the center of his chest, carefully tracing the lines of his pecs. Draco could feel the hairs stand on his arms and the back of his neck. He felt tightening in his lower belly and could rapidly feel his cock start to harden.

“Hermione, love, you’re going to drive me crazy if you don’t stop” he said in an attempt to get control of the situation, but it seemed his cock had a plan of his own.

“Tell me to stop, then”

Draco didn’t.

“I’ve never done this before, so please tell me if I’m doing it wrong or if I do something you don’t like,” she said nervously.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you and I’m nervous too,” Draco admitted.

Hermione nodded her head, “Yes, I’m sure. Can we figure it out together?”

Draco thought he had died and this was heaven. “There’s no one else I’d rather figure it out with, love,” He said as he dipped to kiss her. He silenced the room without words or his wand. She kissed him back passionately, their tongues meeting and swirling around each other in a perfect dance.

He rolled onto his side, his free hand reaching up to cup her face while her hands slid down onto his chest. Draco groaned softly into Hermione’s mouth, savoring the way she tasted and the way her fingers delicately worked his chest.

She broke their kiss, looking into his eyes and she slipped her hands under his shirt to lift it off. Her eyes immediately went to the sectumsempra scar, courtesy of Potter in sixth year. She traced the delicate silver skin, from his shoulder down to his hip. He involuntarily jerked his hips toward her at his touch.

“Sorry,” He mumbled as he fumbled with the straps of her tank. “Can I? Can I touch you, too?” He asked. Really, it was more of a plea, but he was far too turned on to care. Hermione gasped softly at his touch, “Yes, please.”

He wasted no time slipping the silk off her skin. She was bare before him and he pulled back to drink her in. The swell of her breasts was something he could have only ever dreamed of. He went to touch her, looking for permission, which she granted with a small nod. He could tell she was nervous, looking away and biting her lip. He was nervous too, but she was right when she said they would figure it out together.

He lightly drew her eyes back to his, never breaking eye contact as he lowered his mouth towards her nipple. It was the most beautiful rosy pink shade he’d ever seen in his life. He hovered over it, blowing hot air and watching as it hardened. He felt his cock twitch, the tip leaking with precum.

Anything he was doing at this point was learned from talk in the Slytherin common room or he was going on pure instinct. His tongue darted out to lick the tip of her nipple and she whined, arching her back and pushing her breast further into his mouth. He looked at her as he took it in his mouth fully, his tongue circling her nipple before releasing her. 

“Hermione, love, you are a fucking vision. I hope you know that. I can’t believe I get to see this,” he said, his hands roving the smooth expanse of her back as he lowered down to her other nipple. She mewled at his touch and he could feel her start to rub her thighs together, like she was desperate for friction. Her hands roamed towards his boxers, hovering over the waist band, her eyes looking for permission. He nodded enthusiastically, practically jerking his hips into her waiting hand.

She had pulled the covers back so she could see what she was doing. Her hand slipped below his boxers and hovered over the tuft of hair that was gathered above his cock. She shimmied down the fabric and he was completely exposed to her. He felt a pang of self-consciousness, until he looked at her. She was looking at him like he was the last meal on earth and she was starving. Her eyes were drunk with want and her hands were eager. She played with the blonde hair a bit before moving to take him in her hand.

He was impossibly hard. Harder than he had ever been for anyone or anything. Even in his daydreams about Hermione, he never knew he could be this aroused. She took him in her hand and he moaned at the contact, savoring the warmth that seeped into his skin. She looked up at him, confused at what to do next.

“You can grip it a little bit harder at the base, if you want,” he said nervously. She followed his instructions and awaited the next step. “Go ahead and twist up and down slowly. You can add spit if you want to make it smoother, but I’m not sure how you want to do this,” he said, hoping she wasn’t uncomfortable.

He learned that Hermione liked direction, taking his word seriously and stroking his cock as if she were waiting for her marks on an exam. Draco thought he could die this way. Frankly, he thought that if he were going to die, this is how he’d want it to happen. Death by a handjob from Hermione Granger. He quite thought that this phrase could be placed on his tombstone in the family cemetery.

Her hand started to pick up speed, and he could start to feel the tingly feeling associated with his orgasm building in his toes and working up towards his spine. Without prompting, she gathered the liquid pooling at the head of his cock and swiped it around. Draco almost yelped at the contact, savoring how sensitive he was. She leaned in and started to kiss his neck, asking meekly, “Is this okay? Does this feel good?”

Draco huffed a small laugh, “Hermione, Merlin, this is the best thing I’ve ever felt. You’re making me feel so fucking good right now. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Whatever. We’re rolling with it, I guess.

He watched as Hermione’s pupils blew even wider. Did she like the praise or the name? He made a mental note to check back in later.

“Love, you can go a little bit faster and focus on the– oh fuck– yes, on the tip,” Draco said as Hermione adjusted accordingly. He was teetering right on the edge of his orgasm and just needed the final push to get there. Hermione briefly stopped to spit into her hand and resume her stroking, and that was it for Draco.

“Oh, fuck, yes, Hermione, just like that– oh gods, keep going–fuck. I’m going to come, love, fuck–”

His words were cut short by the strongest orgasm he’d ever had. He moaned loudly into Hermione’s hair as she stroked him through it, his come landing all over her thighs. She didn’t stop until he physically couldn’t take it anymore and had to gently put his hands over hers.

He looked down at his mess, a little embarrassed, “Sorry, love, let me clean you up.”

She nodded gratefully, but leaned in to whisper into his ear, “I liked feeling it on my legs, maybe next time I can taste it.”

Draco shivered, and if he could have, he would have hardened immediately. Alas, he was just a man. “Next time, love, you can do whatever you want. You are fucking incredible. Now, it’s time to make you feel good, too.”

Draco slid down the bed, positioning himself between her thighs. He started to plant small, wet kisses on her knees and worked towards her center. He hooked his fingers on the sides of her shorts, always asking for permission. She nodded, and he slipped the silk down her legs. Draco was immediately presented with Hermione’s core, sans knickers. 

He grinned at her deviously, “My, my, Miss Granger, no knickers? What was going through that head of yours,” he said. He wasn’t sure where the confidence was coming from but she seemed to like it as she was whimpering and squirming under his touch.

“Once I knew we were sleeping in the same bed I left them in my bag, just in case,” she whispered.

Draco hovered over her mound, covered in a curly thatch of hair, blowing warm breath over what he was almost sure was her clit. She was positively dripping and glistening in the moonlight that streamed in through the windows.

“Good girl,” He said, testing his theory about praise. Hermione looked through her lashes at that and could see her pussy clench at the sound of his words.

Okay, praise. Got it. Merlin that’s fucking hot.

“Hermione, use your words right now, okay? Can I taste you?” He asked. Consent was not something he messed around with.

“Yes, baby, please,” she whined

Baby? Oh, fuck yes.

Draco licked his lips, met her gaze, and lowered himself onto her clit. Hermione cried out and pushed her hips further into his mouth.

“Love, tell me what you like. I know this is new for us, but something tells me you know what you like. Tell me,” he said, taking a swipe at her clit again. She turned her head and moaned into the pillow. She tasted like nothing he had ever had before. Sweet, salty, a little musky and something entirely her .

Hermione looked at him and bit her lip. “I like pressure on my clit, and if you use your fingers, you can curl them up a bit. But don’t feel like you have–”

Draco promptly dragged his tongue across her clit, flattening it so there was a decent amount of pressure against it. She arched her back off the bed aggressively. Draco thought her moans and whimpers were the best sound he had ever heard. He started to lap consistently against her clit, swirling his tongue around it and sucking it lightly.

No amount of locker room talk could have prepared him for this. He was operating solely off of Hermione’s reactions to his motions. He shakily brought his hand up to her slit and started to gather moisture on his fingertips.

He couldn’t resist tasting her and groaned slightly as he sucked his fingers. “Hermione, love, you might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. So fucking good, could drown in this.” Draco didn’t know he was so talkative but he couldn’t stop, almost like he was dosed with Veritaserum,

He brought his fingers back to her slit, stroking her up and down her center while flicking her clit with his tongue when he heard her first request.

“Draco, please– oh gods, yes– please, I need more”

Draco smirked as he buried his face into her. He pulled back to watch her face as he inserted his middle finger into her, slightly crooking it up as he pulled it back towards him, pumping slowly into her.

Her eyes rolled back into her head as she whined and started moving her hips. He watched her as he realized what she was doing, basically fucking herself on his finger. Draco was in awe of her, he had never seen anything hotter in his life. He added a second finger and she took in a sharp inhale. He ceased what he was doing, thinking he had hurt her.

She shook her head, “No, Draco, it’s good. It’s so fucking good. Please don’t stop.”

Draco did as he was told, but had an idea. One more way to say “fuck you” to his ancestors. He flipped his signet ring to the inside of his finger and almost cupped Hermione, having her clit rub against the cool metal design of the ring. She groaned at the contact and Draco pumped into her, his fingers glistening with her wetness. Draco was mesmerized.

“That’s it, sweet girl, does that feel good?” He asked.

Hermione nodded frantically, her hips jerking inconsistently. He felt an unfamiliar flutter against his fingers and he looked to Hermione for input.

“I’m close– fuck, please– don’t stop, I’ll come if you keep going,” she whined.

Draco picked up the pace a bit but tried to stay consistent. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to come a second time watching her come on his fingers.

“Come for me, Hermione, be a good girl and come on my fingers, all over my ring. Let me feel you, love, you can do it,” He encouraged her, and he felt her flutters become stronger, eventually clenching down on him. He looked at her face and saw it screwed up in pleasure, a long moan drawn from her throat. A small gush of wetness leaked onto his hand, and once the flutters faded away, he lifted his hand and licked the essence of her and moaned.

“That was the single hottest thing I have ever seen in my life, love. Are you okay? Was that okay?” he asked, wanting to make sure he was there for her in this part, too. The after.

Hermione smiled lazily, kissing him softly on the cheek. “Yes, love, that was perfect. Was it for you, too?”

Draco grinned, “Yes. Absolutely perfect.” He leaned down, kissed her forehead and cast a silent cooling charm as they gently redressed each other. She snuggled into his arm and he breathed in her scent. Even with his eyes closed, that warm, lovely golden haze surrounded him and lulled him to sleep, feeling more content than he ever had.

Chapter Text

Draco. February 12, 2000. New York City, New York.

Draco woke to the soft buzzing of his wand under his pillow. His senses were immediately invaded by Hermione. He glanced down at her sleeping figure and took her in.

Her hair was sprawled freely across the pillows, draping effortlessly over her shoulders and chest. Her skin was soft and glowing in the sunlight, the perfect juxtaposition to seeing her last night in the moonlight. Her lashes fluttered gently as she slept, her breaths deep and even, the soft rise and fall of her chest bringing him a calm he didn’t know existed.

She was tucked into his side, arm draped across his chest and snuggled into him. Draco had never experienced this before. Is this what life could have been like? If he hadn’t been such a prat to her? If he wasn’t on the wrong side of the war?

Draco’s thoughts were interrupted by amber colored eyes blinking up at him. A small yawn followed by the sweetest smile crossed her face.

“Good morning,” Hermione said, and Draco vowed that he’d need to wake up near daily hearing those words from her mouth.

“Good morning,” Draco said, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on her lips, “Did you sleep okay?”

Hermione’s smile broadened, “Yes, I did! I haven’t slept that well in ages. Did you?”

Draco didn’t even have to think, “Yes, I did. Best nights sleep I’ve ever had, I think.”

She looked up at him, a question on the tip of her tongue, he could tell, but he was quicker. “We should get up, Ginny will barge in here if we’re not ready in time.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but left the bed and Draco felt a little bit emptier with the extra space and pushed out of the bed. He crossed the hallway to the bathroom for a quick shower and then settled in front of his luggage to dress.

Today, Ginny and Theo wanted to take them to Wizarding New York, which was primarily based in Manhattan. Since Hermione had never been, they would be hitting some of the attractions there, then doing dinner and a show. Draco wore a pair of black trousers, black pair of custom made oxford shoes, and a sage green dress shirt without the tie. A grey overcoat topped his look, as well as a cream colored scarf.

He met Hermione in the hallway, and she had a deep grey sweater dress that was belted with thick, black leather. He observed knee high, chunky heeled boots and thick black stockings. A deep green scarf and black overcoat were donned, and Draco openly raked his eyes over her.

“You look beautiful,” He murmured into her ear, lightly kissing the skin beneath. He felt her shiver and couldn’t help but sport a satisfied grin as he pulled away. They met back in the sitting room, surprised to already find Theo and Ginny sitting on the couches, looking at them with identical smirks. Draco briefly panicked, thinking maybe they had heard them last night? No, no, silencing charm. Remember?

“Good morning! Are we ready to go?” Hermione asked, grabbing her beaded bag.

Ginny looked at the bag and rolled her eyes, “‘Mione, if we do nothing else today, we’re getting you a new bag. You’ve been using that thing for years and it’s been falling apart since you three were on the run. We’ll need to do some shopping today, so the boys can go make themselves busy.”

Hermione clutched her bag protectively, “I’ll get a new bag but I’m not throwing this one out. Too much sentimental value.”

With that, they were out the door in a single file line, the cold February day somehow softened by the bright sun. They walked to a small cafe where they sat for breakfast and talked about cursebreaking and their friends back home.

“Ugh, wedding planning with Lavender is as awful as it sounds. She’s already picked out a dress that makes her look like Little Bo Peep,” Ginny complained.

Hermione giggled at this, but Draco looked at Theo, who was equally as confused as him.

“When is the wedding?” Hermione asked, not making eye contact with Ginny.

Ginny rolled her eyes, “June of this year, I think. I’m just grateful I don’t have to be standing up there with her in four inch heels. I can get drunk without being responsible for anything. Theo and Harry said no to Ron, but I think Bill and Percy will be standing for him, mainly out of pity. I’m pretty sure Lavender only has Parvati right now.

Hermione hummed, “Interesting.”

Theo shrugged, “I don’t know Ron well enough to stand for him, honestly. Harry turned him down because he thinks Ron’s making a mistake.”

Draco snorted, “I’d agree with him there. Who proposes to someone with a ring meant for someone else? Honestly? No offense, Red, I know he’s your brother and all.”

Ginny waved him off, “Please, it’s nothing he hasn’t heard from literally all of us. Frankly, the only one who hasn’t said anything is this one over here,” She said, motioning to Hermione.

Hermione pushed the pancakes around on her plate before looking up, “I sent him a letter to congratulate him! Honestly, does he tell no one anything?”

“Oh no, we knew about that. I meant about him being engaged with your ring,” Ginny said.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It always struck him how serious the Weasel was about Hermione, but not in the ways that mattered. He was shocked when he heard Hermione snort.

“Please, Gin, that was never my ring. Did you see that thing? It was bigger than my hand and heart-shaped . There’s no way Molly never told the boys not to get heart-shaped jewelry, and that would not have been something I would ever pick for myself. The only thing he got somewhat right was the fact that it was a non-traditional colored stone.” Hermione and Theo started in on a conversation about different stones when Draco felt something wiggle against his mind, followed by a swift kick to the shins from Red. He looked up at her and realized it was her trying to communicate with him. Since when the hell was she a legilimens? He dropped his walls slightly and allowed her in.

Red, can I fucking help you?

Are you taking notes for future ring selections, Ferret?

You are in my head, Ginevra, it would be wise not to piss me off.

Well, it’s not like I can easily talk to you alone so this will have to do. Hermione told me about the conversation you had with her this week. I told her not to lead you on, that the Malfoy’s don’t mess around with this. You’re serious about her, then?

Since you seem to know all about the Malfoy’s and courting, then you know the answer to that. I told her we could do whatever she wants, but she called me out when I kept bringing flowers round. She’s too bloody observant for her own good, honestly.

Too true, Malfoy, too true. When were you going to mention you were seeing gold around her?

Wasn’t planning on announcing that, Red. Did Theo mention something to you? He got weird when I mentioned it to him yesterday, like I was supposed to know what it means.

No, she told me. She sees it too. And you should know what it means. What is the point of having the biggest wizarding library in England if you don’t read a damn thing in it?

Draco was shook from their conversation by the waitress bringing the bill over. He fought Theo for it and conceded when he felt a wand touching his knee cap under the table.

He held Hermione’s hand as they walked through the city, his mind drifting back to his conversation with Ginny. She sees it too. He’d need to ask his mother if she knew anything and follow up with Harry about his research into Snape’s journals.

They made their way to the Empire State Building and boarded the elevator that brought them to the observation deck. Hermione had been reciting facts the whole ride up.

Floor 3: “Did you know that this building took only 13 months to complete? It’s incredible, really!

Floor 24: “Did you know that this building is struck by lightning 25 times per year, on average? Fascinating!

Floor 46: “This entire building weighs about 365,000 tons!”

Floor 67: “There are about 6,500 windows! Who needs an observation deck when you have that many windows?”

If it were anyone else, he would have been irritated. But with her, he was enamored. He thought it was endearing that she took the time to research a place she had never been to and be so excited to recite what she had learned. He looked out over the city, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. It was cold and windy, but Draco savored moments like this, where he could breathe in the air and feel the wind on his skin. It reminded him he was alive, that he had gotten out of the hell he was in a few years ago. That his father was dead. His aunt too. That he was free. He felt a warm hand envelope his, and he opened them to see Hermione looking out on the city too.

June 5, 1998

Instead of flying like he usually did on his birthday, Draco paced the hallway of the Ministry, awaiting his trial. Today, he’d have to answer for his sins, for every awful thing he had done. He’d also need to talk about every single thing he had seen. 

Nagini attacking his Muggle Studies professor.

Taking the Dark Mark.

Attempting to murder Dumbledore.

Watching his aunt torture Hermione in his home.

He hadn’t spoken to anyone about his involvement with The Order yet, other than Kingsley Shacklebolt. Kingsley, now the Minister for Magic, told Draco’s solicitor that all would be revealed, but there wasn't any way out of avoiding a trial. Draco had spent the first two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts in Azkaban.

He’d read about Azkaban, but no amount of literature could have prepared him for the realities of it. He became intimately familiar with the corner of his cell. It was where he felt the safest. While dementors had been banned from the grounds, the everlong chill they carried with them never left. The food was tasteless and the water was scarce. It was…disorienting, to say the least. When the guards came to tell him he could await the rest of his time before the trial at the Manor, he thought they were joking.

But he arrived at his home, no more than two hours later, his mother greeting him with open arms. He hadn’t loved the Manor, but anything was better than his small cell.

He showered and slept in a bed and he felt like he was dreaming. Like the guards had made a mistake, and at any moment would be charging the gates to take him back.

Outside of his mother, Shacklebolt, and his solicitor, Anna Scott, he had no contact with anyone, Death Eater or Order Member. He had no idea who was still living, who had died, who was injured.

He knew the Golden Trio was alive. He had stood next to Granger and Weasley and watched while Potter played dead. He saw Red, Longbottom and Finnegan. Lovegood was there, too. He saw one of the Weasley twins but wasn't sure which one. He hadn’t seen Theo or Blaise. Pansy, he knew, had been imperiused but wasn’t sure where she had gone.

He felt he had a good defense, and Kingsley and Anna had mentioned that there were several Order members willing to testify for the information he and his mother had brought in. He didn’t like asking for help and hated it more when he received it, but he knew better than to deny it. He had built relationships with people he felt were genuine, so if they were helping, it was because they wanted to.

He had a stack of letters on his desk slated to go out right after his trial. Apologies, mainly. He wanted to make sure they got sent out, whatever his sentence might be. He glanced down at the names before shrugging on his robes and flooing to the Ministry.

Katie Bell

Neville Longbottom

Luna Lovegood

Garrick Ollivander

Minerva McGonagall

Rubeus Hagrid

Madam Rosmerta
Andromeda Tonks

Nymphadora Tonks & Remus Lupin

Molly & Arthur Weasley

Bill & Fleur Weasley

George Weasley

Ginny Weasley

Ronald Weasley

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Draco felt the pit in his stomach grow as he looked at the large stack of envelopes. Sixteen. He was so sure that he was missing people. He would spend the rest of his life writing apology letters. He lightly dragged his fingertips across the top envelope.

Hermione Granger

This was Draco’s shortest letter. Not because he didn’t have anything to apologize for. Merlin knew he’d have a lifetime of apologies for Granger, but he felt that he couldn't write down what he wanted to say. He penned an apology, but also asked to meet, somewhere on her turf, where she would feel safe.

Since switching sides, he had grown closer to her. Worked with her. She was a primary contact for him, even when she was on the run hunting horcruxes. She taught him how to cast a patronus. She gave him a charmed Galleon and explained how to use it. Whenever he was summoned by the Dark Lord, he would always return to the safehouse to find a piece of chocolate and a calming draught on his bed. She never took credit for it, but he knew it was her.

He was making apologies not only for the things he did to her, but for his father, his aunt. His friends. He inflicted so much unnecessary pain on her. For what? Because he was jealous? Because he had been taught from a young age that muggle-born witches couldn’t be better than him? Because he, maybe, had feelings for her?

Draco had been struggling with that last realization for quite some time, at least since he had turned sides. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. But her mind was undervalued and unappreciated pretty much everywhere. He couldn’t keep up with her sometimes. The way she devoured texts and theorized was something he could watch forever, he thought.

Draco was snapped back to reality by the sight of brown curls bouncing through the hallway into the courtroom. He couldn’t help but smile to himself. She came, he thought.

He entered the courtroom with purpose and held his head high. He refused to hide because for the past year, for the first time, he felt that he had made decisions he could be proud of. He saw his mother. Potter. Most of the Weasley clan. Hermione. McGonagall. Shacklebolt. Tonks and Lupin.

He was overwhelmed by the support. He tried to listen to everyone, but felt himself occluding to the point where he only heard bits and pieces.

“...My son was forced to take the Mark by his father for his own failures…” His mother.

“...Mr. Malfoy had been struggling his sixth year. He did not take to dark magic, that much was clear…” McGonagall

“...As the Minister of Magic, I can confirm that the Killing Curse did not leave Mr. Malfoy’s wand. The Imperius Curse and Cruciatus Curse have each only been cast once and those times have been accounted for. Mr. Malfoy was clearly under duress …” Shacklebolt.

“...My cousin has followed in the footsteps of many of the Black family members when fighting tyranny. I feel I speak for our line when we say that we are proud of him…” Tonks.

“...Mr. Malfoy and I worked to obtain information about Voldemort and the horcruxes. Many of our operations wouldn’t have been successful without his intel…” Lupin.

“...He didn’t identify us at the Manor and he did come back with some helpful information…” Ron.

“...Draco could have identified me at the Manor. I knew he knew it was me. He was putting his entire family at risk by choosing not to identify me. Draco and Narcissa are the reason I am still here, and the reason the war is over. He didn’t kill Dumbledore. Draco gave me a wand in the final battle. We could not have done it without him. I believe he’s changed…” Harry.

“...Without a doubt in my mind, Draco saved my life. He protected my mind, my muggle parents, The Order, EVERYTHING. I owe my life, as well as my parents’ lives, to him. I am confident his opinions on muggle-borns have changed and he does not believe the ideals taught to him by his father. I worked with him daily and know that anything he did was to protect those he cares about. We were children fighting in a war started by those much older than I. He did the best he could and made the right decisions. Do not punish the son for the crimes of the father…” Hermione.

Draco could feel his occlumency walls falling at the sound of her voice and her declarations. When his charges were cleared, he was hugged by his mother and Tonks, but he only had eyes for Granger. She looked at him, smiling, and saluted him. He returned the sentiment.

She never took him up on his offer to meet, but accepted his apology, nevertheless.

__________________

Hermione. February 12, 2000. New York City, New York.

Hermione liked being in public with Draco. She liked holding his hand, feeling his arm wrap around her shoulders. Something about it seemed more intimate than what they had done last night. She blushed at the memory of Draco between her legs and the feeling of her orgasm and his come on her thighs. She thought she would feel different, giving that piece to someone else, but he had given it to her, too. She was just happy she had made him feel good, too.

She stood at the top of the Empire State Building, hand in hand with… her boyfriend? They never really took a moment to put a label on it. He felt like a boyfriend, but was that what he wanted?

“You told me not to assume, so I want to ask you something, but promise you won’t laugh?” She said, turning slightly to look at him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He said, but she could see the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, fighting a smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but carried on. “What are we? What do we call this?”

She could see Draco’s features harden, but his voice was soft, “Most people would call this a relationship.”

Hermione nodded, “As would I. But I don’t think we ever agreed to that. I don’t think you asked me, officially , to be your girlfriend.”

Draco turned to face her fully, eyes bright. He isn’t occluding , she thought. “You need me to spell it out for you, Hermione?”

Hermione smirked, “Yes, I do. I’m not very bright, you know. I need things spelled out for me, to be explicit.”

It was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes. She saw him complete a quick wrist movement, and he pulled a single red rose out of his jacket. He handed it to her, his hands shaking a bit. “Hermione, I’d like to officially ask if you’d be my girlfriend.”

Hermione took the rose, “I’ll think about it,” she teased. 

Draco, very seriously, said “Hermione, I will hex you in front of these muggles if you tease me one more time.”

Hermione held up her hands in surrender. “Is our anniversary our first date, then, or today?”

Draco thought for a moment, “Our first date, the fifth of February.”

Hermione hummed in agreement. She caught Ginny’s eye and the couple made their way over to Draco and her. They chatted and sipped on watered down coffee from the cart outside the building, but they were happy. Their next move was to shop. Hermione and Ginny would leave the boys and reconnect for an early dinner before their show. Hermione loved the theater and was thrilled to actually be seeing something on Broadway.

Ginny whisked her to her favorite shops, wizarding and muggle. Hermione had told Ginny she didn’t want to overspend or bring back too many bags, but in truth, she was excited. Hermione had acquaintances in Boston, but no one could hold a candle to Ginny.

Which is how Hermione found herself in one of New York City’s most luxurious lingerie shops. Ginny was friends with the owner after a recent remodel and was in the market for something new for Theo. No matter how many times Hermione didn’t want to hear about it, she was far too familiar with Ginny and Theo’s sex life.

As Hermione lightly dragged her fingers across the wardrobes of different fabrics and colors, she heard Ginny ask the questions she knew she had been waiting to ask.

“So…how did last night go?”

Hermione turned around, an unamused look on her face. “Gin, why do you ask questions you know you won’t get the answer to? And may I remind you that we’ve been officially dating for one week. One .”

Ginny rolled her eyes, “Right, sure, fine, but if Draco is anything like Theo, then something happened last night.”

Hermione blushed and Ginny clocked it, “Aha! I told you! Spill. Now.”

Hermione groaned and said “Something might have happened, or it might not have, I am not in a position to talk about it. This is very new for both of us , so, if you please, drop it.”

She should have known that Ginny, in fact, would not drop it.

“HE’S A VIRGIN?!”

Hermione was mortified. “Ginny, shut up . We’re figuring it out together. Don’t bring it up again or so help me, I will leave you in this store and go to a library.”

Ginny was laughing so hard she was crying, “No, no, I promise I’m not poking fun. It’s surprising and very sweet, and I’m honored that our home was somewhere you decided to ‘figure it out together.’”

Hermione wanted to shrink to the size of an ant and crawl away. She felt Ginny grab her wrist lightly. “If you’re happy, so am I. Now, let's get something here that the Ferret may like, yeah?”

Hermione allowed herself to be dragged through the store, landing on a periwinkle set, as well as a white one. Once they checked out, they walked further up Fifth Avenue and ducked in and out of stores.

Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being followed. She wasn’t able to identify who was following them, but she was sure she kept seeing the same black jacket and black hat in several of the stores that she and Ginny went into.

As their dinner reservation approached, she and Ginny had decided to regroup under the awning of Tiffany & Co. to find the nearest apparition point. While on their way, Hermione was able to get a glimpse of the mystery man, and she felt the color drain from her face.

This man was not a stranger. Actually, Hermione was intimately familiar with him. He was responsible for the large purple scar on her chest. She wasn’t sure if Draco didn’t see it last night or if he had just chosen not to say anything. But she felt the aching in her ribs at the sight of him.

Dolohov.

“Gin, keep walking to the apparition point and do not panic. But Antonin Dolohov is trailing us. How are the wards on your flat?” Hermione asked in a hushed tone.

Ginny tried to keep her voice calm but her blue eyes betrayed her, “They’re great. Two purebloods used blood wards to seal it, there’s no way anyone is getting in unless we allow them to. You and Draco have access. What’s the plan?”

Hermione grabbed her hand and started to pick up the pace towards the apparition point, “We apparate directly to your flat and we send Draco and Theo a patronus to have them meet us there.”

Ginny nodded in agreement and turned to apparate when Dolohov lunged at them with a gutteral scream. He managed to grab onto Hermione’s arm just as they were sucked into the void. When they landed in the flat, it was just the two of them.

“Dolohov wasn’t allowed in, so he probably got deposited outside the boundary of the wards. I’ll go check, you send the patronus,” Ginny said.

Hermione nodded. “ Expecto Patronum, ” she said, and her beautiful silver otter started bouncing around the room. “Please find Draco Malfoy and relay this message: Draco, Ginny and I ran into Dolohov while we were out. We are okay but please–”

She was cut off by Draco and Theo apparating into the flat, a worried look on their face. “Where the fuck is Ginny?” Theo asked, a strain to his voice.

“The ward boundary out front,” Hermione said, and Theo nodded and took off.

Hermione looked to Draco and realization dawned on them at the same time, “Who did you see today?”

Draco paled, “Nott Sr. You?”

Hermione swallowed, “Fuck. Dolohov.”

“Fuck.” Draco said.

Hermione looked down at her hands, trembling at her side. “This is really happening, huh? They’re here to start back up again?”

Draco looked to the floor, “I think so. Nott Sr. was screaming at Theo and I about how we’re blood traitors and once the Death Eaters take up the cause we’ll be some of the first people they make an example of.”

Hermione could feel tears gathering in her eyes, “I’m sorry that our relationship puts you in danger. I’d understand if you… if you didn’t want to continue it.”

Draco snapped his eyes up and made his way to her in two strides. He gripped her face and kissed her. “You, love, are not the problem here. They are. I’m not going anywhere, like I said before, it’ll take more than that to scare me off. I do think, however, we need to call Potter, Tonks, Violet and Nichols. Do you agree?” He asked.

Hermione nodded. “I’ll take Harry and Tonks, you take Violet and Nichols?”

He nodded and turned to cast his patronus. Hermione did the same, sending identical messages to Harry and Tonks, who responded quickly, saying they’d be there immediately. Theo and Ginny came back into the room with a bound and gagged Dolohov. Hermione’s stomach roiled at the sight of him. Time had not been kind to him, as he looked much older than he was. His eyes looked almost black and there were dark bags under them. Deep wrinkles were set around his eyes, forehead and mouth. His hair was longer, greasier and stringier than she had seen before.

They sat him in a chair. Hermione motioned for Theo to remove the gag from his mouth.

“Hello, Antonin. Long time, no see. How are things these days?” Hermione asked him sweetly.

Dolohov smiled at her, his teeth yellow and rotten. Hermione had almost forgotten about that detail about him.

“Hello, Mudblood. I see you’ve been busy, bouncing from pureblood to pureblood,” Dolohov spat. Hermione winced at his comment, but he didn’t notice. He addressed Draco next.

“Malfoy. Never expected to see you stoop to fucking a Mudblood, but Malfoy’s were always known for self-preservation. No better insurance than having Potter’s bitch in your bed. Your father would be ashamed of you. Or proud, who knows,” Dolohov spat.

Draco flicked an invisible piece of lint off his shoulder, “Wouldn’t know or care, Dolohov. My father is dead, so what he thinks or doesn’t think of me, is irrelevant.”

Dolohov seemed surprised at Draco’s admission, but schooled his expression quickly, “What a pity to end two pure bloodlines, Malfoy. We were only trying to get you back to the cause.”

Draco looked at him with pure rage, “No one in this room ever supported the cause, Dolohov,” looking up to see Nichols, Violet, Tonks and Potter enter the room. Tonks nodded at him to keep going, “What we’d like to know, though, is a bit more about your operation.”

Dolohov looked around the room, starting to chuckle, “Oh please, you brought Harry Potter to me? This is too good,” He said as he cackled.

Tonks stepped forward, “Hello, Antonin, we’ve never met officially, but I am Nymphadora Tonks, Head Auror of the DMLE. You know Harry Potter, one of our Aurors. This is Tegan Nichols, the assigned MACUSA representative and Violet Gentry, Senior Cursebreaker at Commonwealth Cursebreakers. Now, from what I understand, you and your lot have been causing an absolute fuss. I know about you, Nott Sr., and Fenrir Greyback…”

Hermione was sure Tonks continued to speak, but she couldn’t hear anything. A loud ringing was in her ears and her heart was beating too quickly. Her breaths were shallow and her forearm was stinging. She staggered into another room and sat on a chair, putting her head between her knees. Draco had followed her, worriedly asking what was wrong, but she couldn’t respond. She felt the reassuring pressure of his hand rubbing small circles on her back and…singing to her? He was humming the melody to “Time In a Bottle”. She felt herself start to come back, and she looked up at Draco with tears in her eyes.

“Greyback groped me when he brought us to the Manor. He threatened me with things… sexual in nature. He made a point to taste my blood so he could track me and… and that’s how he knows I’m a virgin. I thought that he died in the battle, but I guess not. I may be more scared of him than Dolohov, and he’s the one who left me with the scar on my chest.”

Draco nodded, his hand never stopping the small circles on her back. “I’m scared of what this means for us, for the safety of the wizarding world again.”

Draco hummed, “Me too, love. Me too. Do you want to go back or stay here?”

Hermione shook her head, “I need to stay here, but you go, please, and come back with information.” Draco looked hesitant, but agreed. He conjured a glass of water and cast a cooling charm on her before he left. It felt like an eternity before the group came to Hermione. 

Tonks spoke first, “We’re going to bring Dolohov back to the DMLE, since we have a warrant for him and can extradite. Nott Sr. and Greyback are in the wind. Hermione, we were already in Boston because someone tripped your wards, it was likely Greyback since he can track you. We’ll need to add werewolf deterrents to your home and workplace.”

Hermione shivered, “Greyback was at my flat? Is it safe?”

Every head in the room nodded, “Yes. The blood wards likely will not fail, but maybe, you’d want to consider staying with someone or somewhere else, if it would make you feel better?”

Harry stepped forward, “I’d like to offer to stay with her, Head Auror Tonks.”

Draco stepped next to him, “I can do that, Harry, since I live nearby. She can also come stay with me if she feels more comfortable.” He glanced around the room nervously, but Harry picked up on it.

“Draco, Hermione, is there something I need to know about?” Violet asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Hermione sighed and looked at Draco, the tell tale feeling of legilimency brushing against her forehead.

I think we need to tell them. It’s pertinent to our safety.

I agree, and I would also recommend staying at your flat, if you are okay with that.

Hermione, I am more than okay with that.

As he exited her mind, like warm water dripping over her, the golden haze appeared, only around Draco. She wondered if he saw it too.

“Hermione and I have recently…entered into a relationship. It’s new, but Dolohov and Nott Sr. already knew about it and made threats to me about her,” Draco said confidently.

Hermione found her voice, “With that being said, I’d like to stay with Draco. Harry and Tegan can still do security checks on my flat as I’ll need to return somewhat often, but I’ll primarily be in Draco’s building.”

Violet and Tonks looked at her in approval, Harry looked smug and Tegan looked uncomfortable. Ginny and Theo were bouncing on their heels in excitement.

She felt Draco a second time.

Cat’s out of the bag, are you ready to face everyone?

Yes.

Chapter Text

Sunday

• Return to Boston, HG to stay at DM’s flat unless otherwise noted

Monday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• HG/DM to The Kissing Raven, 47239 Massachusetts Avenue, 5PM

Tuesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• HG to her flat, 4:30PM-6PM
• DM to 34839 Brown Street, dinner meeting 7PM

Wednesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• HG/DM to BPL, 5:00PM

Thursday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• HG to 345 Newbury Street, 5PM, book signing
• DM to HG’s flat 4:30-6PM

Friday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• Floo to Malfoy Manor (HG/DM) 4:30PM

Saturday

• HG/DM to Malfoy Manor for DMLE Meeting

_________________

Hermione. February 14, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione woke up alone in the guest room of Draco’s flat. It felt strange to be in his guest room when they had spent the last two nights together at Ginny and Theo’s. While Draco’s flat was luxurious and had everything she needed, including Crookshanks, she did miss the familiarity and comfort that her flat had brought her.

She planned to go over once or twice a week to water her plants and check her wards, and when she couldn’t, Draco had agreed to. She was feeling particularly grateful for him, to have someone to go through this together.

Hermione dragged herself out of bed and moved to the large en suite bathroom and turned the shower on. While the room filled with steam, she drifted back to the conversations she had with Draco and Harry yesterday.

“Hermione, are you alright? What do you need tonight?” Draco asked, holding her hand lightly and tracing small circles.

Hermione smiled at him, “I’m okay, I was just taken off guard. I can deal with Nott Sr. and Dolohov and Greyback. I’ve decided that I’m going to make it my personal mission to see them in Azkaban or dead. I know that may make me a bad person, but honestly, I don’t care. Greyback has turned dozens of children and stalked more people than just me. I don’t hate many people but I hate him.”

Draco blew out a breath, “I understand, honestly, I do. Nott Sr. used to beat the hell out of Theo as a kid. He made my father look like father of the year. And Dolohov… I have a personal hatred for him. He was…liberal with the Cruciatus curse. Both my mother and I suffered at his hand, usually by my father’s command. Let’s just work this like we used to, yeah? With the DMLE and MACUSA, we’ve got a good chance at getting them. Dolohov is already taken care of. One down, two to go. Right?”

Hermione nodded. “I’m exhausted and it’s only 5PM. Take-away and Disney movies?”

Draco smiled enthusiastically, “Yes, I’ll order Chinese. Mind sending the email to Nichols while I make the call?”

Hermione sent the email and moved into her room to unpack. They had gone back to her flat with Harry to help pack up while Draco was refreshing his wards. More surprisingly, Harry had told her that he was happy for her and Draco.

“‘Mione, he’s good for you. You’re better for him. I may have threatened him when we all met at the Ministry after his father’s funeral, but he took it well. I’m happy for you. Plus, I cannot wait to tell Pansy about this. She, Narcissa and Lila will have your entire wedding planned before you’re even engaged.”

Hermione had told Draco about her conversation with Harry over dinner, and he chuckled darkly, “So much for being able to keep this between us for a bit. Mother will be livid I didn’t tell her and I’m strangely scared of your parents.”

Hermione giggled, “They love you. They’ll be more upset with me if it doesn’t work out.”

Draco stilled at this, “Do you see that happening? This not working out?”

Hermione shrugged, “No, but it’s so new that it could go either way. I want this. I want to put effort and time into this. I want to see what Ginny meant about Malfoy men. I want to know you and figure this out together. Ron was a terrible example of a boyfriend, and he was my only other real relationship, so I don’t really have anything to compare this to. You, however, continue to surprise me at every opportunity.”

Draco grinned brightly at her, “Ah, I knew Red couldn’t keep anything to herself. Well, buckle in, Hermione.”

She smiled into her stir-fry and looked around Draco’s flat. “Thank you again for letting me stay here, I know I kind of invited myself.”

Draco shook his head, “I was going to insist you stay here anyway. I hope the guest room is up to your standards.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Draco, you know that the guest room is the size of the sitting room in my flat, it’s more than enough. I think sleeping in the guest room is good for us, too, for space. Not too much, too fast, right?”

Draco smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes, “Yes.”

Hermione exited the shower and made her way to the wardrobe. She pulled on a black turtleneck dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Ron never liked when she wore this dress. He thought it drew too much attention to her. Hermione had a whole section of her wardrobe she hadn’t worn in a year thanks to Ron’s insecurities. She loved this dress and thought Draco would love it, too.

She finished her hair and makeup, choosing to sport a red lip for Valentine’s Day. She had gotten Draco gifts, despite not talking about the holiday since becoming a couple. Later, they’d head back to the tattoo shop to get Draco’s Dark Mark covered. He seemed excited about it, animatedly talking about it during dinner last night.

She walked down the stairs, passing Draco’s room and smelling his juniper, apple and cognac scent wafting around her. She wondered if her Amortentia had changed to match Draco’s scent, as he smelled different as an adult. She closed her eyes and savored the safety it provided her.

She was met with an empty kitchen, not even Fern was in sight. A french press sat on the counter, full of fresh coffee, as well as a mug with a small card next to it.

Hermione poured the coffee, took a sip, and held the note up.

H,

Meet me in the lobby in 15 minutes.

D

P.S., turn around.

Hermione turned to find a large bouquet of pink roses. If she had to guess, there had to be about two dozen. She knew that pink roses meant happiness. She walked up to them and inhaled, breathing in their sweet scent. Hermione had never received flowers on Valentine’s Day from Ron.

Ron thought flowers were a waste of galleons. “‘Mione, why would I buy them when you’re just going to throw them out in two weeks?” She stopped bringing it up after that.

But Draco took every opportunity to shower her gifts. Flowers, coffee, books she might like, new muggle records. Hermione sometimes felt dizzy from the thoughtfulness of it all. Normally, she would protest, but it was Valentine’s Day, and she was treating Draco today, too. While she had two gifts, they were meaningful, and she was excited to give them.

Hermione made her way down to the lobby, meeting John’s eye and giving him a small nod. She didn’t see Draco anywhere. “John, have you seen Draco?”

John smirked, “Ah, yeah, Ms. Granger he’s just outside, can’t miss him once you’re out there.”

Hermione nodded and went to the door. She could see the back of Draco’s head and as she approached, she lightly placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Goodmorning, love,” Hermione whispered in his ear. She could see him shiver, but it wasn’t because of the cold. He turned to look at her and she smiled at him. He looked handsome in a soft button up shirt and jeans.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hermione,” He said, planting a kiss on her lips. She noticed that he had a small box in his hands that he slipped back into his jacket. She wanted to push and ask him about it, but a small voice in her head advised her against it.

“Ready for work?” Hermione asked, starting in the direction of their office.

Draco threw her his signature smirk, “Hermione, did you really think that we’d be working today? I told Violet I needed you and the day off to refresh the bloodwards since you’re staying there now, so we have the whole day to ourselves.”

Hermione tilted her head, “But we refreshed the wards when we got home yesterday.”

“We did. Therefore, I have planned the whole day for us. And before you start, let me explain why. On our first date, I remember you saying that you loved Valentine's Day before the Weasel ruined it for you. Like I said, I love to spoil you. So, we’re not working and we’re shopping a bit and then grabbing an early dinner before my appointment with Lola,” Draco said.

“But–” Hermione tried to protest.

Draco held his hand up, “I already emailed Nichols the change in itinerary.”

“But–”

“And I already told Tonks and Harry.”

“But–”

“I will hear no more buts . If I hear one more but or any other reason why I cannot take you out and spoil you, I will revert back to calling you Granger,” He said, eyes looking forward as he grabbed her hand and they started walking towards the apparition point. Hermione rolled her eyes but didn’t push it any further.

______________

Draco. February 14, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco’s day went perfectly. They started out the day at the library, because he knew Hermione wouldn’t want to shop all day. She checked out fifteen books, and right before she went to leave, Draco pulled her into an alcove, which had a hidden staircase, which had a hidden lift, which led them to a hidden floor. Hermione looked a little nervous, but she didn’t object. Draco had recently become aware of the magical section of the BPL and knew Hermione would love it.

Her reaction was priceless. She looked like a kid in Honeydukes for the first time. She browsed first editions and foreign texts, textbooks and research tomes alike. He plopped himself down at a table with a book he had plucked and just waited for her to settle in. They added about ten additional books and four hours later, they were magically shrinking the books down and adding them to Hermione’s beaded bag.

The next stop was a luxury wizarding tailor. Hermione’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head when they entered the shop and she saw some of the prices. She turned to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Hermione, relax. Do not think of the price, just try some of these dresses on and pick what makes you feel beautiful. We’ve been invited to my mother’s Spring Solstice gala next month–apparently Pansy works fast–and you need a gown. I’ll match you once I know what you’re wearing,” He said, lightly gripping her shoulders.

She swallowed hard, but turned to face the consultant, who whisked Hermione away to try on some dresses. Draco took a seat and sipped on the coffee they picked up on the way. He checked the clock on the wall and noted it was about two in the afternoon, so they were right on schedule. Hermione walked out in the first gown and it took all his strength and etiquette training to not have his jaw on the floor.

The gown was a slinky, silk garment that dripped down Hermione’s body like liquid metal. The soft sage color complimented her hair and eyes beautifully. The thin straps graced her shoulders, leaving her arms bare. Hermione turned to him, and lifted her arms in presentation.

“So?”

Draco couldn’t speak. Literally, could not talk. He blinked and raised his eyebrows at her, before he managed to speak. “Do you like it?”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, “Umm, it’s beautiful, but do you think it’s a little form fitting? Would this be appropriate? Do you like it? For me?”

Draco tilted his head. She looked beautiful, why was she questioning herself and seeking his approval?

And then it dawned on him. The fucking Weasel.

“Hermione, I’m not upset, I promise, but I need to know…Would Weasley have an issue with this dress?”

Hermione looked down and nodded feebly. “Yes. He didn’t love when I wore things that were form fitting. He felt I was asking for too much attention. I have a whole section of my wardrobe that Ron didn’t like for that reason.”

Draco looked to the attendant, “Can you give us a second, Rachel?”

Rachel nodded and made her way to the back of the store. Draco turned his attention back to Hermione. He walked towards her slowly and purposefully, reaching his hand out and brushing her cheek. His hand made its way down towards her jaw, down her neck and along her collarbone. He took a sharp turn to follow the curve of her shoulder, down the side of her breast, her ribs, and down to her hip. He rested his hand there and gave her a squeeze. He leaned in, and in a whisper, said “Hermione, if you were to wear this dress to the gala, we wouldn’t make it out of the flat.”

He kissed the skin under her ear and saw gooseflesh on her arms. “You look beautiful. I would be honored to have you wear this dress, but I will never tell you what to wear. If you like it, you do whatever you want.”

Hermione blushed, her eyes shining. “I’d like to try on another dress, if that’s okay.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, mainly just so I can see you in beautiful dresses” Draco said, grinning at her. 

Hermione moved back to the changing room and came out in a handful of dresses. One cobalt blue that was fitted down her entire body and flared out at her knees. A Slytherin green ball gown with cap sleeves that Draco went nuts for, but Hermione thought was too on the nose. A yellow one that Hermione hated and wouldn’t even show him. The winner, though, was a periwinkle gown. It had a sweetheart neckline with attached lacy sleeves. A matching cape was draped over her shoulders, adorned with floral applique. Beaded flowers and leaves were peppered over the dress, bringing light to her entire body.

“And?” Draco asked.

“I think… I think this is the one. What do you think?” She asked, this time asking for his opinion, not his approval.

“I love this one, it’s perfect for you,” Draco said honestly.

She grinned, “Let’s take it then!”

“Tsk tsk, Hermione, I thought you knew me better than that. We need accessories, don’t you think, Rachel?” Draco asked.

Rachel shook her head, “Yes, Mr. Malfoy I have some ready if you’d like to see.”

Draco nodded and he observed the velvet lined boxes she brought out. He waved Hermione over so she could pick these herself. She looked at him with wide eyes and a protest on her lips, but he shot her a look and mouthed “Granger” and she blushed.

“I like these earrings,” She said shyly.

Draco plucked them out of the box and held them up to her ears. They were teardrop diamond pendants with a gold setting, probably three carats or so. “You like these, Hermione? Because I also like these. I also have some matching jewelry in the vaults that would go beautifully with these. I noticed that you prefer gold jewelry, is that right?” He said nonchalantly, handing the earrings to Rachel. 

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, “Yes, I do, thanks for noticing.”

“Weasley set the bar too low, love. Anyone who buys any jewelry for their girlfriend should know what metal she prefers. While I’m happy to take the credit, it is undeserved,” He said.

Rachel rang them up and he sent Hermione away so she couldn’t screech about the price. Frankly, this was pocket change for the Malfoy’s, but Hermione would have put up a fight. A quick dinner at an Italian restaurant (recommended by Casey, actually) and they were back at the tattoo shop.

Draco was nervous. He felt his stomach twist into knots and the smell of antiseptic flooded his nostrils.

Hermione grabbed his hand, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Draco nodded, “It’s time.”

Lola called him back and applied the stencil. Draco had chosen a dragon that matched his patronus, the Swedish Short-Snout. Known primarily for their protective skin, Draco thought it would be an appropriate creature to cover his Dark Mark. The rosemary, bluebells and thyme were wound around the dragon in a beautiful piece of art. Draco opted for a color tattoo, to bring as much light as possible to his arm.

He sat down in the chair, Hermione next to him, and closed his eyes as the mechanical quill, or tattoo gun as Hermione reminded him several times before the appointment, met his skin.

He thought it would hurt more, thought it would burn and sting more, but Draco had felt much worse pain than this on his forearm.

When he was summoned by Voldemort, the pain was all consuming. It felt like acid was injected into his veins and it burned through them as it traveled through his body. The tattoo felt soothing. Numbing, almost. Draco almost fell asleep, holding Hermione’s hand, when Lola said she was finished. The tattoo had taken almost three and a half hours. When Draco looked down, for the first time since taking the Dark Mark, he didn’t cringe or want to hide his arm. He loved the tattoo, the blue of the dragon contrasted by the greenery was perfect. He looked at Hermione, eyes shining, and kissed her. The Mark wasn’t even visible under the tattoo.

Draco paid and tipped Lola, and they apparated back to the flat. Fern had left champagne in Draco’s study and had the Jim Croce record on.

Draco looked at Hermione, feeling nothing but admiration and fondness for her. “I have a gift for you.”

Hermione nearly choked on her champagne, “Draco, you paid for this entire day. A gift is unnecessary!”

Draco smirked at her, “That’s it. Look what you’ve made me do, Granger .”

He could see her wince at that, but she raised her hand in surrender. “Fine, but I get to give you your gifts first!”

“Steady on, Hermione .”

Hermione grabbed her back and stuck her entire arm into it, almost up to her shoulder, when she pulled out two wrapped gifts. She levitated them over to him. “Open the bigger one first.”

Draco obeyed, silently removing the brown paper wrapping and green string. When it fell away, he was left with a larger book, with empty plastic sleeves in them. Draco flipped through all of them, but they were all blank. He looked to her for guidance.

“It’s a muggle photo album. I’ve purchased some disposable cameras that can take twenty to thirty photos before they need to be developed. We can add them to this album and label them with the date of each photo. We can buy more cameras as needed, but I thought it would be fun to document our relationship from the very beginning. It’s not flashy or expensive, but I thought you’d like it.” She said, biting her lip nervously.

“You thought right, this is very thoughtful, I can’t wait for you to show me how this works. Thank you, love,” he said, holding her hand.

“Okay, okay, open the other one!”

Draco unraveled the string to find a jewelry box. He looked at her and smirked, “I thought it was my job to buy jewelry?”

Hermione rolled her eyes for the hundredth time tonight.

Draco opened the box to find two items placed into the velvet padding. He saw two watches with golden faces and brown leather bands. The watches appeared to be a his and hers set, and he assumed that Hermione would be wearing the other.

“I bought these with Ginny in New York, before Dolohov found us. They were originally just meant to be a matching set, but I took it a step further when you and Theo were in their study. Ginny and I charmed them so we’re able to communicate through them.”

Hermione picked up the watch and fastened it around her wrist. She did the same for Draco and tapped it with her wand. The gold face illuminated briefly and then settled. Hermione motioned for Draco to stay as she walked downstairs to the kitchen. He felt the watch warm on his wrist and he went to look at it. Gone was the watch face. It was replaced with Hermione’s face. He could see her in his kitchen.

“Hi, love. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Hermione came back upstairs. “It’s a way for us to communicate if we’re not together. All you need to do now is to twist your wrist three times, like you’re checking the time, in a row, and then it’ll activate on my watch and I can see you in real-time. You can still use it to check the time without activating it, hence the twist three times. I hope you like it.”

Draco looked at her, eyes bright, and grabbed her hand. “You are bloody brilliant, you know that? This is genius. You could market this and sell it, there’s bound to be a huge market for this. This must have taken ages.”

Hermione shook her head, “No, not really! It’s actually a variation of the Protean charm I used on the Order galleons!”

Draco watched as her face lit up while she explained the processes behind the charm. This witch , he thought.

“I love it. Thank you, these are probably the most thoughtful gifts I’ve received in a long time,” Draco said quietly.

Hermione nodded and blushed. Draco withdrew a small box from his pocket and handed it over to her, wordlessly. She took the box and opened it gingerly, looking up at him, mouth agape.

Inside the box was a thin, gold chain, with the smallest “M” and “B” charms on it.

“So, I know you wanted to research courtships and pureblood marriages, and I’m not rushing you, but I feel that I needed to give you something. Courtship gifts are common, and while I normally wouldn’t give you this until after a proposal, I thought the added protections were necessary. Not because you can’t protect yourself, but for my own peace of mind. I transfigured the signet rings designed for my, erm, courtship, into a necklace. If you accept, you’ll be treated as a member of the Houses of Malfoy and Black. It can’t protect against a killing curse, but can lessen the impact of a Cruciatus and make you impervious to an Imperius . I’ve charmed them to rebound any curses that were created by Death Eaters back at the caster. I wear my signet rings daily, it just made sense for you to be protected, too.”

Draco looked at her, finally, feeling a bit nauseous after his rambling. He caught sight of tears in Hermione’s eyes.

“Too much?” Draco asked.

Hermione nodded her head, “Yes, but in the best way. Thank you, Draco. Can you clasp it for me?”

Draco did as he was told.

_______________________

Hermione. February 16, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts

Hermione looked at the object in front of her. They had seized a number of cursed objects from the warehouse that Dolohov was working in. She and Draco had spent the last few days taking the curses down and turning the objects back over to the DMLE or MACUSA. 

MACUSA had been able to detect traces of Nott Sr., Greyback, Macnair and Yaxley using a tracking spell. The problem is that the parties had all come and gone from the warehouse so often that they coudn’t tell where they were now.

The DMLE had used legilimency and Veritaserum on Dolohov, which yielded unimpressive results. They had been able to ascertain the location of the warehouse and objects left, but anything else about their operation had been obliviated from Dolohov’s mind.

MACUSA had sent patrols to many different locations that bore the traces of the Death Eaters and would be staking them out before raiding them. Tonks also had the unfortunate job of informing Draco that someone had attempted to tamper with the Manor’s wards. Hermione had sat helplessly while Draco paced, panicking so much he started speaking in French. Hermione couldn’t help but giggle, which drew his intensity towards her, resulting in a heavy snogging session in the kitchen.

They would leave for England after work on Friday to discuss progress and to face their friends and family about their relationship.

For now, though, she and Draco were trying to take down the curses from an object seized by MACUSA from the warehouse. Whatever it was had been concealed in a cursed wooden box. There were several layers, requiring complicated arithmancy and rune sequences. When the final curse came down, they called Violet over to check their work.

Violet opened the box, gasped, and dropped the lid.

Hermione looked at Draco with worry. They peered over the lip of the box to see a beating human heart.

__________________

Draco. February 18, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Draco grabbed Hermione’s hand as they tumbled out of the floo at the Manor. Narcissa, Lila and Walter were waiting for them, smirks plastered on all of their faces.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Narcissa broke the silence.

“How wonderful for the happy couple to finally join us!”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Mother, we just started dating. Two weeks ago. And we were ambushed by Death Eaters, forgive me if we didn’t get to put an announcement into the Prophet.”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes, “Draco, watch your tone,” which sounded harsh but the soft smile on her lips betrayed her statement.

Hermione dropped his hand to hug her parents and he automatically felt the loss.

He went to hug his mother, who kissed him on both cheeks and whispered in his ear, “Draco, I’m so proud of you. I could not have asked for anyone better for you.”

Draco blushed at that as he pulled away, his mother pinching his cheeks lightly.

They settled into dinner, conversation flowing easily. Hermione’s parents asked about their first date, their trip to New York, Draco’s new tattoo, anything they could to get information about their life since the funeral.

Narcissa inquired about Draco and Hermione’s living arrangement.

“I’m very modern, you know, I support witches and wizards living together before marriage! I’m just making sure everything is still…proper.”

Lila and Walter nodded along, with Walter taking additional measures by staring at Draco until he couldn’t take it anymore and Draco had to avert his gaze.

Hermione nervously laughed, “I’m staying in a guest room, promise!”

They retired to the sitting room, where glasses of wine were kept full and Hermione and Draco played their parents simple tunes on the piano. It turns out that in addition to ice skating lessons, the Granger’s had placed Hermione into piano and vocal lessons.

He had not known that she could do either, and while she was shy, she sang beautifully. Draco compared her to a siren, serenading him to his death. If any siren looked and sounded like her, he’d gladly lose his life for the chance to be with her.

As she played and their fingers often brushed while fingering the keys together, the golden haze started to form, feeling stronger than usual.

He leaned over to Hermione, “Be right back, love, you keep going.”

She nodded. He moved to leave the room, catching his mother’s attention and nodding his head so she would follow him. She excused herself briefly and met him in the receiving parlor.

“Yes, my love? What is it?”

Draco looked at her, nervous all of a sudden.

“Mother, I keep seeing this…golden haze around Hermione. It’s a newer development, but today is the strongest I’ve ever seen it. Theo and Ginny say that I should know what that is, but I have no idea. Hermione told Ginny that she had seen it, too. Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Draco asked, taking a sip of his wine.

His mother’s eyes widened and her jaw nearly hit the floor, along with the wine glass she dropped.

“Draco, you see gold around her? For how long?” Narcissa asked, in a hushed tone. 

Draco shrugged, “Not sure. Before we were dating, mainly when I would communicate with her using legilimency but it’s intensified since we entered the relationship.”

Narcissa’s eyes started to water and her lips started to tremble.

“Oh, Gods, Draco, this is wonderful news,” she exclaimed.

“What does it mean?” Draco asked again.

“Oh, my darling, you and Hermione have a heartbond.”

Draco’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He had a million questions. How? When? Why?

He didn’t get to ask any of them, because Tonks and Harry came barreling out of the floo with a crazed look in their eyes. Draco turned to them, and before he could speak, Harry blurted out words Draco never expected.

“Draco, the beating heart you and Hermione cleared this week is Lucius Malfoy’s heart.”

Chapter Text

Draco. March 4, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts. 

Two weeks.

Two weeks since Potter and Tonks tumbled out of the Floo at Malfoy Manor and turned his entire world upside down.

It had also been two weeks since his mother informed him that he and Hermione had a heartbond. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it earlier, but it all makes sense.

There hadn’t been a heartbond in the Malfoy family in 600 years. It was powerful magic, magic that hasn't been seen since then. He wanted to say he was surprised that it happened to him, and that it happened with a Muggleborn witch, but Hermione was extraordinary.

The thing about heartbonds is they get stronger as the relationship is strengthened. When a heartbonded couple consummated their marriage, the heartbond is at its fullest potential. They can feel each other's emotions and can tell when they are injured or need help, and a mindbond opens between the two parties. Draco suspected, though, that the couple didn’t need to be married to accept the heartbond. They likely just needed to consummate their relationship. Back in the old days, though, that wasn’t common. One of the lesser known perks of a heartbond, though, is that a shared magic is created. Hermione’s magic was warm, the type to settle into every nook and cranny it could find. His magic was direct, a cooler variation than Hermione’s. Together, though, they formed a perfect blend of their respective magic. Draco learned that the golden haze they had been seeing was actually their magic.

Tonks and Harry said that his father’s heart could be an indication of one of two things. One, that Lucius is alive and well and may be behind the Death Eater resurgence. Two, that Lucius was sacrificed and his heart is being used in an unknown ritual.

Draco did not love either of those two options. The DMLE said that it didn’t change anything, that Draco and Hermione can continue their work and they would re-evaluate once they had more information.

Draco hadn’t found the right moment to tell Hermione about their heartbond, either, and it was weighing on him. Heavily.

He knew she needed to know. Both of them having that information while at work could be beneficial, or gods forbid, if they entered into any combat.

He decided he would tell Hermione at the Malfoy Spring Equinox Ball. It was only a little over two weeks and he could take the time to make it special for her. He had sent an email to her parents before Hermione had woken this morning.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,

I hope this email makes it to you. Hermione said you prefer email over letters, but I’m still so new to this that it’s very likely I sent it to the wrong place.

I wanted to speak to you about my intentions with Hermione. I know that it is early, but circumstances have changed that expedite this conversation. In my family, and in other pureblood families, it is commonplace to enter into a courtship with the witch one intends to marry. To do so, I’d need her permission, as well as her parents.

While we were at the Manor, I spoke of some of the things I was noticing with my mother, and we came to the conclusion that Hermione and I share a heartbond.

A heartbond is an incredibly rare form of magic. My mother can provide information about it as I am sure you (rightly so) have many questions.

I do intend to court your daughter, but not in the traditional sense. I’d like to talk to you about it, answer any questions you may have, and hopefully, obtain your approval. Not that Hermione needs it, but it is important to me.

We are planning to return to England next weekend, on the eleventh of March, to assist my mother with the Spring Equinox planning, and I’d love to discuss it then.

Respectfully,

DLM

____________

Sunday

• DM/HG to farmers market, Haymarket

Monday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• DM to HG’s flat, 4:30PM-6PM

Tuesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• DM/HG to dinner with colleagues, 7:30PM 2786 St. James Avenue, Boston.

Wednesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• HG to her flat, 4:30PM-6PM

Thursday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• DM to Museum of Science for fundraising event, 8PM

Friday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• HG to dinner with colleagues, 5322 Adams Street, Boston 6PM

Saturday

• HG/DM to Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

___________________

Hermione. March 7, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione eyed Draco while he was focused on identifying the curses on a trumpet MACUSA had brought in from one of the warehouses that housed the Death Eaters here in Boston. Hermione, for the life of her, could not figure out why Death Eaters would need a trumpet, but whatever.

She knew something was bothering him but he was refusing to talk about it. He had seemed shifty and secretive since they learned about his father’s heart in a box. She assumed that it had to do with the fear they had all felt, but since being back in Boston, it hadn’t alleviated.

She turned back to the set of antique keys in front of her. She knew that if she were able to take down the curses on them, they’d be able to figure out the doors, or safes, that matched them.

There were five brass keys, all with different teeth and designs on them. She had run every single diagnostic spell she could think of and was hitting a dead end on all of them. She tried to remain calm, but her frustration was starting to get the best of her.

They had surpassed their colleagues in their training, now working on assignments from MACUSA. Her colleagues would be joining them in a few weeks, but they likely would be working with the major wizarding bank, Gnomegold, taking down vaults and items brought into their possession by private clients.

Hermione much preferred the thrill that working with MACUSA brought. Tegan had come by to check the wards on their office this week and made a pitstop to the training arena to observe what they were working on and assess their progress. Tegan was a quiet man, but was nice enough. He let her know that they likely had found the vaults these keys belonged to but it was a bit of a trial and error process.

She jumped when she heard Draco exclaim.

“Aha!”

“Merlin, Draco, what is it?” Hermione asked.

“I figured out the curse on the trumpet. Most of my tests were coming up empty and I couldn’t understand why. It occurred to me that I wasn’t checking for Unforgivables,” Draco said.

Hermione paled at his statement. The amount of skill and precision that it took to weave an Unforgivable into an object was unheard of.

“Which one?” She asked tentatively.

“The Imperius curse. I imagine that when the trumpet is played, whoever listens to the tune would be placed under it and then forced to do the player's bidding,” Draco said, his voice laced with concern. “I want to talk to Violet before I take this one down.”

Hermione agreed with him and flashed sparks from her wand to get Violet’s attention. An idea wormed into her brain, one that she hoped wasn’t accurate. She performed the diagnostic to check for an Unforgivable curse, and to her dismay, the symbols above the keys lit up like a Christmas tree. Three of the keys were plagued with the killing curse while the other two had the Cruciatus curse woven into it.

“Draco…” Hermione said, trailing off.

Draco turned to look at her diagnostic spell and went white. “Please, Hermione, wait for Violet. Don’t touch these yet. I can’t see you in pain like that, not again.”

His tone was soft but pleading. She knew that seeing her tortured in his home had affected him just as much as her. She would not put him through that again. She placed her wand on the table and stepped back. She could see Draco’s face relax at the motion, and he followed suit.

Violet eventually made her way over. “Alright, kids, what do we have? It’s not like you to have me over here before the curses are down.”

Draco stood and grabbed his wand and cast the diagnostic across the items. Violet raised her eyebrows, but didn’t react further than that.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. See one, do one, teach one. Okay?” Violet said confidently.

Violet stood over one of the keys with the killing curse. “I am going to show you how to take down one killing curse key and one Cruciatus key. I will talk you both through the Imperius takedown and then, you both can take down the remaining keys and teach the other recruits. It's not like they’ll ever see this on an object, but it’s better for them to be prepared. Deal?”

Hermione and Draco nodded.

She watched Violet with intensity and awe. The way that she knew how to make the precise wand movements and incantations that she had never heard before. She made it seem effortless, but Hermione knew better than that. These were intense and complicated and one misstep could be the difference between life and death.

When Violet was finished, she asked Draco and Hermione to take down two keys. They did. Hermione was beaming.

When the trumpet came around, she let Draco take the lead. Violet knew that they had charms that made them impervious to the Imperius  curse, but they didn’t want to take any chances with that. Hermione felt comfortable watching Draco perform the movements as she learned better by watching a demonstration. Draco was a hands-on learner.

Before either of them realized it, it was time to teach the other recruits. Violet stood by, willing to jump in if necessary. Draco took the Cruciatus key while Hermione took the killing curse key.

“ Relaxat musculos et nihil doloris ,” She heard Draco say, moving his wand in a tight cyclone. They watched the key start to levitate and radiate a red glow. With his precise movements, the key started to glow less and less, until it dimmed and collapsed on the table. The other trainees applauded and Violet beamed with pride.

It was her turn now. Draco nodded his head in support and stepped back to give her room to work. 

Hermione turned to her key. She could not make a mistake. The signet charms only protected her from the other two Unforgivables, not the killing curse. Violet could step in if there was a mistake, but she likely would be too late. Her wand movement was supposed to resemble a hyperbolic spiral, tight and precise, but fluid enough that the angle of the spiral was correct. She watched Violet do it effortlessly, and felt confident she could do it. 

“ Me adducere ad vitam ,” Hermione recited, being mindful she had enough space to twirl her wand about. The key lifted off the table, a bright green glow humming behind it. The glow increased, and Hermoine panicked, but she refused to let her concentration break. She shut out the world around her, focusing solely on the key and her wand movements. When she reached the end of her movements, the key faded to nothing and fell onto the table. The trainees applauded and Violet came over to shake their hand.

She looked to Draco, who was smiling at her and clapping. She clapped back for him, too.

________________

sprince1980: Ginny?

redheadedwitch: oh god, Malfoy, what could u want

sprince1980: Red, please. Who says I need something?

redheadedwitch: r u telling me you im’d me to chat?

sprince1980: …No.

redheadedwitch: thats what i thought. What did u fuck up?

sprince1980: Excuse me? You know what, nevermind.

redheadedwitch: Draco, pls, just get on with it

sprince1980: I figured out what the glow means. I know Hermione told you about it. I’m planning to tell her about it at the Equinox Ball and would like the help of you and Theo to plan something for her. I’m meeting with her parents this weekend to talk about courting and I want to make it special for her.

redheadedwitch: i knew u were good for her

redheadedwitch: we’d luv 2 help, but im getting Pansy on board.

sprince1980: Please don’t.

redheadedwitch: 2 late. expect an IM from her.

____________

girlwiththebob: DRACO MALFOY

girlwiththebob: do you mean to tell me you have a heartbond with Granger and you WEREN’T going to tell me?!

girlwiththebob: I could kill you sometimes I swear

sprince1980: Hi, Pans. I didn’t realize Red worked so fast.

girlwiththebob: what are we thinking? Are you going to court her?

sprince1980: I’d like to. I’m meeting with her parents this weekend and want to plan something private at the Equinox Ball to tell her about the heartbond and ask to court her.

girlwiththebob: what is she wearing?

sprince1980: Periwinkle dress, matching cape, gold diamond earrings.

girlwiththebob: oh my gods, Draco, this is a grown up Yule Ball for you!!!

sprince1980: Shut it, Pans. Will you help or not?

girlwiththebob: obviously. but im telling Harry. he’d wanna know.

sprince1980: I wouldn’t expect anything less. Thank you.

_______________

Draco,

So nice to hear from you, dear! Your email made it here without issue. Well done, my boy.

We are so delighted to hear about your heartbond. We spoke to your mother, and while we do have questions, we enthusiastically support this. We’ve known for a while you two would end up together, you just needed to see it yourselves. We approve, wholeheartedly, but you’re right. Hermione doesn’t need our permission. Since it’s important to you, though, you’ve got it.

We cannot wait to see you this weekend.

All our love,

Lila and Walter

_________________

Draco. March 11, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Draco paced nervously in the Solarium at the Manor. He was meeting with Hermoine’s parents today. His mother had taken Hermione and Pansy to Diagon Alley to assist with dress shopping. Mainly, it was a distraction so he could speak to her parents uninterrupted.

Lila and Walter entered the room, smiles on their faces. Draco walked towards them, shaking Walter’s hand and kissing Lila’s cheeks. Hermione’s parents radiated warmth, it was no wonder her magic mimicked that.

“Mr. and Mrs. Granger, thank you for meeting with me. I know this is a bit unorthodox,” Draco said, blushing and feeling the butterflies in his stomach start to flutter up to his throat.

Walter waved his hand, “Draco, how many times do I need to tell you to call us Walter and Lila? Please. If we’re about to be family, I’m going to drill this into you, mark my words.”

Draco smiled at this. Polka, the Head Elf at the Manor, brought tea and biscuits and they settled into the chairs to discuss.

“I imagine you have many questions. To be honest, I do too, but I’d rather start with yours,” Draco said, leaning forward to place his tea on the table.

Lila started, “Our biggest question in all of this is if Hermione has a choice in the matter.”

Draco nodded. “Yes, she does. If she doesn’t want to court or accept the heartbond, she is not required to. She would be able to have a happy relationship with someone else, as would I, if she chose to. I would never force her into this.”

Walter nodded his head in approval, “Good. Are you doing this out of obligation?”

Draco leaned back in his chair and blew out a breath, “No, I’m not. I have been drawn to your daughter for as long as I can remember. I cannot believe that she would ever feel the way I do. The heartbond is something I never saw coming, but it doesn’t really change anything. I wanted to court Hermione before I even knew it existed between us. She, unsurprisingly, wanted to research it before agreeing to it. I don’t know where she is in her research, though. I haven’t asked since I didn’t want to pressure her.”

“What does courting traditionally look like and how do you want to court Hermione?” Lila asked.

“Well, usually it’s arranged by the parents of the betrothed. There are dowries and contracts to sign and expectations to uphold. Things like the engagement, marriage and timeline for children are all specified. I’d like to eliminate those things. I think it’s unrealistic to set a timeline for children, especially when there are so many unknowns. For Hermione, I think that a courtship is mostly symbolic, just an intent to spend our lives together. Plus, there’s the added bonus of courting gifts. She’d have access to the Malfoy & Black vaults, as well as the jewelry archives. She’d be entitled to the protections offered by the House of Malfoy and House of Black. Really, I just want to take care of her. She, and you both, would never need to worry about anything. She’s earned it,” Draco said, realizing he may have overdone it.

Lila was smiling at him sweetly, but it was Walter who spoke next. “Do you love her?”

Draco paused, unsure how to answer the question. He knew he felt strongly for her, and he knew that those feelings would only intensify when the heartbond was accepted, but he had never loved anyone before.

“If I’m being honest, I’ve never experienced love, but I do know I’d do just about anything for her. I am the happiest when I am with her and would do anything to see her smile. I want to protect her and care for her and give her the world. If that’s what love is, then yes, I do.”

It sounded strange coming out of his mouth. He hadn’t admitted that to himself yet, but here he was, admitting it to her parents.

“And when things get hard? What will you do? Love is not always sunshine, Draco. I need to know you’re not going to leave her when things get tough,” Walter said, his face serious.

“I would never. We went through one war together, and it seems we’re about to go through another. I don’t know what’s harder than that. We’re stronger together, and I’ll do whatever I need to make sure we’re okay. I watched my father abuse my mother my entire life. I refuse to be the kind of partner who attacks the ones they love. If anything, you two are the perfect example of the kind of couple I’d like to be with Hermione,” Draco said, meaning every word.

Lila and Walter looked at each other, a silent conversation passed between them. “We have a few requests, if that’s okay?” Lila asked.

Draco nodded, “Of course. Anything.”

“We’d like there to be a Muggle ceremony in addition to a wizarding one. Narcissa told us that a soulbond is traditional, but we’d like to have both. Hermione has family that would like to see her get married, if that’s okay,” Lila stated.  

“More than okay,” Draco said. He meant it.

“We’d also like to help you pick out the engagement ring. Hermione currently wears Lila’s wedding band and we’d like to find a ring that matches that,” Walter said.

Draco nodded enthusiastically, “Whenever that time comes, we can all go through the jewelry archives together. If we don’t find what we’re looking for, we can design it.”

“One last thing. We’d like for whatever children you have together, if you have children, to have an understanding of Muggle culture. We’d like to be very involved in their lives, and find a way to blend the magical and Muggle world together,” Lila said.

Draco smiled. “Not a problem. If we have kids, that’s almost definitely something that Hermione wants, too.”

“I think that’s it, son. Hope that wasn’t too bad,” Walter said, throwing a wink his way.

“To be honest, Walter, I was expecting much worse. Thank you for being okay with this. I am grateful to you both, you have no idea,” Draco said.

Lila leaned forward and grabbed his hands, “You’ve been our son for quite some time, even if you didn’t realize it. It’s just time to make it official.”

Chapter Text

Monday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• HG/DM to HG’s flat 4:30-6PM

Tuesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• HG to dress fitting, 5PM

Wednesday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• DM to HG’s flat 4:30-6PM

Thursday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)
• HG/DM out to dinner, 5367 Tremont Street

Friday

• Commonwealth Cursebreakers 8AM-4PM (HG/DM)

• DM to robe fitting, 5PM
• HG/DM reset blood wards at both flats

Saturday

• HG/DM in England

Sunday

• HG/DM in England

___________________

Hermione. March 18, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

It was official. Draco had lost his mind.

He had been running around the flat all day preparing for the Floo trip to Wiltshire. Poor Fern had been running around like a mad person trying to fulfill Draco’s requests. 

“Fern, can you make sure my cologne is in my travel bag?”

“Fern, where are my dress robes?”

“Fern, can you brew some coffee before we go?”

“Fern, I need that box that was in the drawer of my nightstand!”

At one point, Hermione grabbed Draco’s wrist as he zoomed past her in an attempt to get him to calm down. He looked at her with crazed eyes, kissed her cheek, and went back to his panicking.

Hermione smiled at the thought. Things with Draco had been going surprisingly well. No arguments, excellent conversation, similar likes and dislikes, and sparkling chemistry. In the month or so that they’d been dating, it became clear to her that their physical chemistry was very compatible. Nothing more than they had done in New York, but they had grown more comfortable with each other, making their experiences more pleasurable.

She never felt rushed or pressured, and Draco took his time. She loved taking care of him as much as he did for her. Hermione often thought back to what Ginny had told her.

“Malfoy men in particular are fiercely loyal to their women…They are wholly devoted to their wives, doing anything and everything to maintain their love and happiness.”

But still, Hermione felt that Draco was hiding something. They’d continued to sleep in separate rooms for the sake of some separation, since they worked and lived together, but Draco had taken additional steps to lock and ward his room when he wasn’t in it. He had also been taking some Floo calls with Pansy and someone that sounded like Ginny, but she couldn’t be sure.

She knew Pansy was helping Narcissa with the ball, and she had helped Pansy pick a dress out last week when they were visiting, but she wasn’t sure what Draco would need from Pansy or Ginny. The whole thing just seemed…off.

Hermione had distracted herself with research. Specifically, research about pureblood courtships and marriages. The downside to this research was that it was outdated. Most pureblood traditions and rituals hadn’t been updated in several decades. The Malfoy’s were particularly archaic, choosing to use a soulbond for their vows. Soulbonds are powerful, meant for the most compatible couples. It made sense why they were so selective with those they court. Hermione had come to the conclusion that she would accept a courtship if Draco were to ask her. But he’d need to ask.

She checked her suitcase one last time, making sure she had her dress and her accessories. She made her way down to the kitchen, where Fern had two steaming mugs of coffee waiting. She sat down near the window and savored the warmth of the mug. The weather in England was similar to New England weather. March had been a nightmare with rain, flooding small streets and sidewalks. 

Draco rushed down the stairs and dropped his bags. He seemed on edge, nervous, and jumpy. Hermione didn’t know how to help. He hadn’t noticed her until she cleared her throat softly. He whipped around and upon seeing her, softened his gaze and relaxed his shoulders.

He grabbed his cup of coffee and sat down with her. They had about twenty minutes before they needed to leave.

“Hi,” Hermione said quietly.

“Hi,” Draco whispered back, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window.

“Are you alright? You seem…a little frenzied right now,” Hermione asked nervously.

She noticed Draco’s posture change, his shoulders tensing and his hand flexing around the mug as he turned back to look at her. “Sorry, love, just trying to make sure we have everything for the gala. You know my mother, ever the perfectionist.”

Hermione hummed absently and turned to look out the window. Refusing to meet the eyes she felt staring at her, she said “I finished my research.”

Draco paused. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” Hermione said, making sure to pop the “p” at the end of the word.

Draco’s voice sounded like dripping honey, “And what did you decide, love?”

Hermione faced him now. “I’d agree to a courtship, but you’d need to formally ask me.”

Draco nodded, almost noncommittally.

Hermione was surprised by his response. She thought he’d be happier, more excited. But he was calm. Had he been planning something the whole time? Or did he want to change his mind and now she had backed him into a corner?

Hermione went back to looking out the window, for fear that she’d let the tears brimming in her eyes fall in front of him. She couldn’t be upset if he changed his mind. If anything, she’d understand, seeing as she pushed him off for a month so she could research.

This was her biggest downfall, she thought to herself. Needing to have all the information, understanding every single aspect of something before agreeing or making a decision. Poring over every bit of–

She was pulled from her thoughts by a warm hand closing over hers.

“I can hear you thinking, Hermione. I want this and you. It’s taken care of, love,” Draco said reassuringly.

Hermione looked at him, wide-eyed.

Draco sighed, “I’ve been planning something, that’s why I’ve been running around like a blast ended skrewt for the last two weeks. I was just waiting for you to give me your answer. But don’t ask me anything else, please, I’d like to make this special.”

Hermione grinned, the tears falling from her eyes anyway, but from happiness now. Draco ran upstairs to “check his email” before they left.

____________________

sprince1980: The plan for tomorrow is on. Tell Red.

girlwiththebob: Aye, Aye, Captain!

____________________

They tumbled out of the Floo and were met by her parents and Narcissa.

“Hello, dears! Ms. Parkinson, Mr. Potter and the Notts are already here. Ms. Patil and Mr. Zabini will be here shortly, and Ms. Lovegood and Mr. Longbottom will be here for dinner. I believe Mr. Weasley and Ms. Brown will be attending the gala only, arriving tomorrow, and will not need accommodations,” Narcissa stated, a slight smirk gracing her mouth at the last mention of guests. “Andromeda, Nymphadora, Remus, and the rest of the Weasley family will be attending dinner as well.” 

Her parents hugged her and Draco before leading them to their friends. Tea was a pleasant affair, with Blaise and Padma arriving shortly after them. The Weasley’s filed in, Ron notably absent. With everyone at the table, Hermione felt the warmth of the large family she always dreamed about. 

The Manor had been a cold, dark place for so long. To have music, laughter and light infiltrate the cracks of the Manor was something she knew Draco never thought he’d live to see. Luna had been held captive here. She had been tortured. Harry had lost Dobby. Draco had lived with Voldemort. Those feelings had no business here tonight. The Manor no longer controlled her. She chuckled to herself, thinking that it was probably a good thing she could stand to be here, seeing as she may one day be the Lady of the Manor. Hermione made a mental note to find books on pureblood women and how they fulfilled the role of Lady Malfoy.

Lady Granger?

Lady Granger-Malfoy?

No, Lady Malfoy. Definitely.

_________________________

Draco. March 18, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Draco could not be more relieved. Hermione would agree to a courtship and all he needed to do was ask.

Thank Merlin he had been planning to ask her tomorrow anyway. He felt better having an answer from her. He had pulled as many books on courting and the Malfoy’s as he could. He wasn’t sure that she had discovered any information regarding the heartbond. Hopefully that would remain a surprise.

Draco could barely focus through dinner. Red and Pansy were trying to talk to him about tomorrow, but he tuned them out. It wasn’t until he felt a light brush against his lowered occlumency walls that he realized someone was trying to communicate non-verbally. He looked around the table to see who was making eye contact with him and was surprised to see his mother staring back at him.

How can I help you, mother?

My dragon, I am just checking in on you. You seem…distant. Is everything okay? Are you nervous for tomorrow?

I am.

She loves you, even if she hasn’t said it yet. There’s no need to fret.

What did father do for you?

Your father brought me to Italy. He arranged for a beautiful candlelit dinner, with musicians and wine. Brought me under the stars and presented me with the Malfoy courtship ring. Your plan is perfect for her, don’t stray.

Draco felt the connection drift away and he turned back to his friends and food. Hermione had put her hand on his thigh and was rubbing lightly back and forth with her thumb in a comforting manner.

___________________

Draco. March 19, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

As Draco dressed in his robes, he could feel his anxiety reaching new peaks as he ran through the plan for today. He’d steal Hermione about an hour before the ball and lead her to the library where he’d formally ask to court her. 

He’d had Red, Pansy and Padma distract her so she wouldn’t wander to her favorite place in the Manor while their friends and family set the room up. He’d arranged for hundreds of red roses to be delivered, thanks to Pansy’s quick thinking to get Neville involved. Luna was charming floating candles and placing them around the room. His mother was charming the ceiling to look like the night sky, the Draco constellation in the center of it. Andromeda was tasked with locating the book that detailed the Malfoy history of heartbonds and setting it up in the center of the room. The Grangers were adamant they were involved, so they picked the music. Harry was tasked with making sure Ron didn’t come near them all night. Blaise and Theo were on security, leading other guests away from the wing the library was in so they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Draco firmly grasped the box in his dress robe pockets. He pulled it out and opened it up to reveal the Malfoy and Black courting rings gleaming back at him.

He had transfigured the original rings into Hermione’s necklace for Valentine’s Day, so these were purely ornamental, but he wanted her to have them all the same. For so long, these rings held the weight of a name that had been his family's undoing. But now, they were a symbol of change. Of happiness. Of a future he never dreamed he’d deserve. These rings were meant for her.

He cast a quick tempus and realized it was time to get Hermione. He called for Polka, who had been the elf that helped raise him.

Polka appeared, tears in her eyes, a silver sequin dress on as she’d be helping serve during the gala.

“Master Draco is all grown. Polka could not have picked better, Mistress Hermione is to be good for Master Draco. She will make him happy.”

Draco’s heart squeezed at her statement. He fished a handkerchief out of his robes and handed it to her. She dabbed her eyes and handed it back. Draco vanished it without her noticing.

“Can you please make sure there is champagne in the library and make sure none of the other elves come to that wing?” Draco asked.

Polka nodded furiously, “Yes, Master Draco. Polka is making sure the staff knows.”

Draco nodded and walked out of his room as Polka disapperated with a “pop.”

He walked down the hall to where Hermione was staying and knocked softly. He could hear giggling in the room and footsteps approaching the door. Pansy opened it and smiled softly.

“She’s just finishing up. We’ll step out and make sure your coast is clear. Good luck, Dray. I’m proud of you,” Pansy said, tears forming in her eyes.

Draco could feel his eyes pricking, too, but he shook them away and cleared his throat.

“Pansy Parkinson, are you crying? Over me? I’ll have to charge Harry a hundred galleons to give him this memory,” He said, his tone teasing. 

Pansy whacked his chest, “Draco Malfoy I will murder you right now and you won’t get your special night with Granger. Don’t test me.” Pansy sniffed, waving to the other girls to exit the room quietly as Draco snuck in.

He leaned up against the bed and waited for Hemione, who was in the bathroom, the door slightly ajar. He could see her hair was pinned in a beautiful braided crown and her dress fit her like a glove. He felt his trousers become uncomfortably tight. He thought of literally anything to shake that feeling so he could be fully present.

Hermione stepped out, surprised to see him there instead of her friends.

“Hi,” She said, sounding breathless.

“Hi,” He whispered back. She looked beautiful. Periwinkle was always her color, ever since the Yule Ball. The sleeves were delicate on her arms and the cape was draped effortlessly around her neck, leaving a slight train behind her. The golden diamond earrings they picked out were a bold statement. Hidden underneath the clasp of the cape was her protection necklace. He was glad she decided to wear it.

“I have something for you,” Draco said. Pulling out the second box, he opened it to show beautiful gold leaf hair pins. Hermione looked up at him in awe, so much so it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He delicately pinned them along the braided crown and stood back to check his handiwork.

Hermione looked in the mirror and gasped, “They’re beautiful, Draco. Thank you.”

Draco smiled, “Let’s take a walk?”

___________________

Hermione. March 19, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Draco led her down the hallway towards the library. She had seen Blaise and Theo awkwardly standing at the beginning of the hall and she looked to Draco for clarification, but received nothing.

She noticed a few floating candles as they approached, only increasing the closer they got to the ornate library doors. Draco stopped her, grabbed her hands and finally spoke.

“Yesterday you told me that you wanted me to formally ask you to court. I am doing that today. I hope it meets your standards,” He teased, winking at her as he used wandless magic to push the doors to the library open, taking steps inside as Hemione trailed him with her eyes.

Hermione audibly gasped and stopped walking. The sight before her was breathtaking. Red roses on every surface, the floral smell pouring into every nook and cranny in the room. The candles in the room illuminated the library just enough to make it feel ethereal. Hermione stepped further into the room where she noticed the ceiling was charmed in beautiful constellations. She watched Draco flick his hand and heard “Time In A Bottle” start to play.

She looked back up at the ceiling and heard Draco speak for the first time, handing her a glass of champagne.

“ Draco is in the center,” He said, sounding shy.

She looked at him and nodded, not able to find her voice just yet. Her eyes finally zeroed in on the book that was illuminated by a golden hue in the center of a room. As she approached the pedestal, the glow intensified and she stopped just short of it, turning to Draco for guidance.

“Go on, Hermione. Read it,” He said, a twinkle in his eye.

So she did.

A heartbond is the strongest bond to exist between a witch and a wizard. A heartbond would supersede any marriage or soulbond enacted between the couple. Since 1187, there have been fourteen documented accounts of a heartbond.

The last couple in the Malfoy lineage to have a heartbond was Avedius and Evanora Malfoy in 1365.

A heartbond will solidify upon consummation. Avedius and Evanora both described seeing a golden haze around their lover in the days following their marriage. Other heartbonded couples, to include members of the Nott, Peverell, and Weasley families, mentioned similar occurrences.

Notable characteristics of a heartbond include the ability for one half to feel what the other half feels. Emotions and physical sensations can be sensed by a partner. Physical pain is not felt, but the uninjured partner can determine if their spouse needs medical attention. A mindbond will appear between the couples, allowing a free flow of information and magic. The couple will have created a shared magic between them, able to be harnessed and shaped at will. A partner could lend more of their magic to the other if needed.

Hermione blinked at the page. Again. Again.

She turned to Draco, who was standing behind her with a wide smile and an open ring box, but he wasn’t kneeling. Hermione was sure she couldn’t breathe. She was going to pass out. Maybe? No? Yes? Possibly. The room started to spin, but her thoughts were quieted by Draco’s voice.

“Hermione, we come from opposite sides of the wizarding world and, somehow, have ended up in the same place. I never believed in fate until I met you. If you had told me that you’d ever return my feelings towards you, I’d never have believed that either. But a heartbond? That’s unheard of. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I am so grateful that it’s with you,” Draco said, his voice starting to shake.

“I was already planning to court you, but the second I figured out it was a heartbond, I started planning this. I talked to my mother, your parents, anyone I could think of for help. And then you gifted me with the subtle statement that you’d accept a courtship. I nearly slumped over the table when you said it. You’re it for me, love. We’ve said this isn’t new and I’m realizing now that we felt that way because of the heartbond, but let me be clear. The heartbond doesn’t create or amplify feelings, it just draws those who share it together,” Draco said, his eyes never leaving her.

Hermione couldn’t think. She should be panicking. He’d known the whole time and hadn’t said anything. Her parents had known and they didn’t say anything. None of her research had led her to a heartbond. She hadn’t even known they had existed. But she wasn’t panicking. Wasn’t anxious. Wasn’t scared or unsure.

She was confident.

“I love you. I loved you in third year when you punched me. I loved you in fourth year when you were hanging off of Krum’s arm. I loved you in fifth year when I threw Umbridge off your trail while your lot was arranging the DA. I loved you in sixth year when I had walked away from killing Dumbledore and arrived at Grimmauld Place expecting the worst, and you never treated me differently. I loved you in what should have been our seventh year, bouncing around safehouses and worrying about you while you were on the run. I loved you in eighth year, when the weight of the world wasn’t on our shoulders. I loved you at the mixer before we started. I love you now, and I think that you love me, too,” he said, biting his lip.

Hermione couldn’t find her voice, but gave him a small nod and a smile.

Draco beamed at her in response and walked towards her, grabbing her hands gently. He presented her with the two glittering signet rings, an M and B respectively on their own rings.

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, presented and supported by Lady Narcissa Rose Malfoy, formally ask for Hermione Jean Granger’s hand in a formal courtship, as presented by Lila Jean Granger and Walter David Granger. I present you today with the House Signet rings from the Most Noble Houses of Malfoy and Black. Should you accept, you would be afforded the protections from both Houses, as well as access to all funds, vaults and archives belonging to the Houses. Please take these rings as a symbol of my love, commitment, and intention towards you and our bond, Hermione, if you accept,” Draco said, his eyes locked on hers. No pressure or fear in his eyes, but pure love. Adoration. Intensity.

Hermione needed no time to think about her answer. She had memorized the acceptance script as part of her research.

“I, Hermione Jean Granger, presented by Lila Jean Granger and Walter David Granger, hereby accept Draco Lucius Malfoy’s offer of courtship, presented and supported by Lady Narcissa Rose Malfoy. I accept the tokens of your Houses and will wear them in good faith. Let the acceptance of these rings be a symbol of my love, commitment, and intention towards you and our bond, Draco,” Hermione said, tears starting to steam down her face.

She watched as Draco’s eyes lined with silver but did not spill over. His hands shook as he nimbly removed the rings from their velvet lined bed. Hermione held her hands out, seeing that she was shaking. She watched his hands shake as they approached her finger. He looked to her for her preference for placement. She eyed his rings on his middle fingers and indicated she’d like the same.

Draco slid the cool rings onto her fingers, where they spun before shrinking in size to fit. They warmed around her skin and she swore she could see a faint glow around them.

She lightly cupped Draco’s face with both hands, “I love you, Draco.”

Draco wasted no time. He surged forward and their lips met in a frenzy. He tasted of peppermint and juniper. His tongue swirled around hers in a complicated tango while their lips mapped every inch of each other.

Hermione’s hands drifted from Draco’s jaw to the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly before tugging on his hair. Draco groaned against Hermione’s mouth and she smiled.

Draco pulled away briefly, “Do you want what I want, Hermione?” The question laced with desire, his eyes looking down at her through hooded lids and lashes.

Hermione knew what he was asking. If she were being honest, she was hoping he would ask.

“What is it that you want, Draco? I can see if our views are aligned,” Hermione said, biting her lip in the process.

She could see Draco’s tongue run against the inside of his cheek. Silently, he laced his fingers with hers and led her up to the third story of the library. The stacks were dark and unfamiliar, but Draco moved through them with practiced ease. They found themselves tucked away in a corner, in front of a door that easily could have been missed.

Draco lifted their joined hands and lightly brushed his lips over her knuckles. He released her and placed both hands, palms down and fingers splayed wide, against the door. He gave her a look that encouraged her to do the same. She mimicked his hands, and felt the wood start to warm and vibrate underneath her. She felt her rings and necklace hum with power, and as quickly as it began it was over. The door quietly creaked open, revealing a hidden room. Draco motioned with his arm for her to enter the space first.

A smaller library within the Manor’s master library was what was waiting for her. One wall was lined with floor to ceiling stained glass, the green and violet shades cast over the room by the moonlight. The other wall was lined with bookshelves. Some muggle authors she recognized, but mainly, journals. Some seemed old and some seemed newer. A dark wood desk was pushed up against the stained glass, a journal on the desk, along with a few extravagant quills and an inkwell. A plush chair sat in the corner with a matching ottoman, the cream velvet inviting her to grab a book and sink into it.

In the center of it all was a large, plush bed, draped in cream and sage bedding. Several pillows were lined against the headboard, the comforter adorned with white and pink rose petals. On either side of the bed were dark wood nightstands, with vases of hydrangeas on each side.

Hermione turned to look at Draco, who was looking at her, despite the opulence of the room.

“This is my private study. It’s where I spent most of my time when I wasn’t at Hogwarts. The journals you see in here are mine, starting from around age ten. It was a safe haven when the Dark Lord was residing in the Manor. He wasn’t able to enter this room since the rings allow one access, and my mother always prevented my father from disturbing me. It was the one place in the Manor that I could call my own. The one place that wasn’t touched by his stain. You’re the only other person I’ve ever brought here. I thought, if you were amenable ,” Draco said, throwing in a signature smirk, “It could be the spot where we solidify the bond.”

Hermione grinned and eagerly nodded. She reminded herself that her virginity was literally just a concept that people put value on, but she couldn’t deny that her first time with Draco to solidify their heartbond was too precious. They would learn the things they didn’t know together. She could not have picked a better circumstance.

Hermione walked to the edge of the bed and unclasped her cape. It gracefully fell to the floor. She turned to look at him over her shoulder, “Would you mind unzipping my dress?”

Draco licked his lips as he approached, gingerly pulling the zipper down her spine. He peppered light kisses across her shoulders and up her neck, lightly nibbling on her ear as she shivered under his touch.

Hermione allowed the dress to join her cape on the wooden floor as she turned around to face Draco. He raked his eyes up and down her figure, taking in the matching periwinkle lingerie set that was hiding under her gown.

A strapless corset with small crystals adorning it cinched in her waist, while the matching lace underthings and lace garters on her thighs sat perfectly placed. Draco looked at her, clearly in shock.

“Why do you think I picked a periwinkle dress? I bought this in New York and knew I’d wear it for you at some point, I just needed to figure out when,” Hermione said, throwing Draco a wink before stepping out of her tangled fabrics and heels and crawling towards the pillows. When she turned herself around, she saw Draco taking off his formal dress robes and shoes, coming over to the side of the bed. She smiled warmly at him, and felt that warmth travel down her body towards her center.

She kissed him softly on the lips while undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. She fumbled on a few buttons but refused to pry her lips away from his. His hands roamed up and down her sides, ghosting over her hips and breasts each time he changed direction. He withdrew his lips from hers once his shirt was unbuttoned. Hermione pushed the shirt down his arms, her fingertips dancing over his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Draco leaned down to kiss her cheek, then her jaw, her neck, and her collarbone. While both of them were inexperienced, he had quite the knack for picking up what excites her. He was a very eager learner.

Hermione’s back arched when he placed warm, open-mouthed kisses around her collarbone, trailing downwards towards her chest. He reached behind her and fingered the satin ribbon that would undo her corset. He pulled back and looked at her for permission. She nodded and felt the corset loosen around her body. She shimmied out of it, only her knickers and garters remained.

Draco stepped back to look at her, his eyes dark with want. He went to remove his pants, but Hermione had a better idea. On all fours, she slowly crawled towards him and reached for his belt, removing it torturously slow. The pants slipped to the floor and Hermione slipped her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and pulled those down, too.

Draco’s cock bobbed in front of her, already hard and waiting. She grasped the base with her hand while her tongue circled the tip. She felt Draco jerk forward at the contact and she took the opportunity to take him further into her mouth. He released a soft sigh and tipped his head back, his eyes fluttering closed.

Hermione focused on the feeling of Draco in her mouth, and had her tongue swirl around him as she took him deeper. A low moan dragged its way out of Draco’s chest, his large hand coming to rest gently in her hair, guiding her up and down, careful not to disturb the braids or the pins he had placed earlier.

Her fingernails raked along his thighs, noting the slight tremble in them. She felt Draco hold her head firmly. She looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning, her cheeks hollowed around his cock.

“My turn,” Was all Draco said. Hermione heard the soft command in his voice and didn’t argue. She released him with a soft “pop”. 

He gently brought her to her knees on the bed, cupped her face, and kissed her like he was dying and she was his survival. He laid her on the comforter and made his way down her body, paying special attention to her breasts, making sure each one was peaked before moving downwards. When he reached her core, he dragged two fingers over the lace, looking up at her with a satisfied smirk.

“All this for me? Just from sucking my cock? You shouldn’t have,” Draco whispered, failing to hide his amusement.

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Draco, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t touch me right now I will leave you in your current state to deal with for the rest of the night.”

A devilish grin spread across his face, “So bossy, Miss Granger.”

Quicker than she could process, she was completely bare before him. She looked up in protest, but he cut her off with a hard suck to her clit.

Hermione almost screamed at the contact.

“I vanished them back to my room, no need to fret. I will need you to wear this again, so I made sure they weren’t lost forever,” Draco said, trying to be nonchalant. His tongue was punishing, swirling and sucking her clit in a rhythm that was sure to send her over the edge quicker than he anticipated. The fingers that had woven themselves in his blonde locks started to push him away, but he never relented.

“Draco, please, I’m–oh Merlin, yes–I’m too close.”

He stopped only to direct her again, “Come, Hermione.”

She had heard her first name on his lips for three months, but it never got old. Intimate in a way that only made sense to her. Between that and Draco effortlessly sliding a finger into her, it was enough for her orgasm to take over, making her legs shake and her voice tremble. Her eyes screwed shut in pleasure slowly opened to a beautiful golden haze around the room, like a shimmering mist.

She lifted her head to look at Draco, who was still gingerly lapping at her clit, helping her ride out the last few waves of her pleasure.

“Do you see that too?” She asked.

Draco closed his eyes and nodded, dragging his tongue up towards her belly button and lifting so he could bring his lips to hers. She could taste herself on them, seeing her release on his chin, glimmering like the mist in the room, but she could not be bothered. This was it.

She felt his length sliding between her folds, gliding with ease as the friction on her clit sent a jolt she could feel in her toes each time he dragged it through. He looked down at her, always asking for permission.

“Hermione, do you want to do this? If we accept the bond, there’s no taking it back. No breaking up, no walking away. We will be tied by this forever. I will not hold it against you if you want to wait or if you’ve changed your mind,” Draco said, his voice shaking, but there was no judgement in his eyes.

Hermione reached between them and positioned him at her entrance, “Scared, Malfoy?”

She knew that would rile him up, he never backed away from a challenge, and reverting back to his surname? Downright diabolical.

Draco’s eyes darkened, and he pushed his cock the smallest amount he could without entering her.

“Be a good girl and say my name and I’ll give you what you want,” Draco commanded.

She bit her lip, she couldn’t give in so soon. “Please, Malfoy.”

Draco tsked, “Sorry, love, wrong answer, want to try again?”

“Malfoy, we need to be at the gala soon, are you backing out?” Hermione teased.

Draco withdrew from her and placed his cock on top of her mound, his tip reaching her belly button.

“Granger, I have never wanted anything so badly,” He said, motioning to his throbbing length, before looking at her again, “I want to drown in your cunt and burn from your desire. I want you to consume me. If you’re interested in doing that with me, I’d suggest you say my name. I’ll give you anything you ask, just say my name,” Draco rasped.

Hermione felt her eyes widen with desire. “Burn with me, Draco.”

His resolve snapped and he rubbed himself against her clit once more, lining himself up before leaning down to kiss her. He held both of her hands as he slid into her, making sure he wasn’t moving too quickly. Once seated fully inside her, he pulled back to look at her.

“Okay?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

Hermione nodded. He had warmed her up well for this. She had never felt so full. There was a slight stinging feeling that was starting to numb the longer Draco was inside her. She locked eyes with him, and nodded again.

“I can take it, Draco, please. I need you,” Hermione begged.

Draco withdrew slightly and pushed back inside her again and again at a slow rhythm. His deep moans were not something Hermione knew she needed to hear, but Merlin she would do literally anything to hear them again. His pace picked up a bit and Hermione arched her back while releasing a small whine. She had no control over her thoughts or her voice, allowing breathy moans to come out with each thrust.

Draco leaned down and nibbled lightly on her breast, teasing her already sensitive nipples. Hermione held him there with her hand and she could feel him chuckle against her chest, switching to her other nipple. He was hitting a spot so deep inside her she didn’t know existed, and she felt the pressure building in her core.

Draco must have felt it, too, as he released himself from her nipples to straighten and slip his thumb in between their joined bodies and brush light circles around her clit.

“Oh, Draco– don’t stop. Whatever you do, don’t stop what you’re doing. Oh, gods–”

Hermione was taken by surprise at how quickly her orgasm came over her. Draco kept an even pace through her orgasm, only slowing when the flutters around him started to fade. He withdrew from her and flipped her on top of him.

“Hermione, love, I won’t last much longer, but do you have one more in you? Can you do that for me?” Draco asked.

Hermione wasn’t sure, but she’d damn sure try.

Hermione straddled him and sank down without warning. Draco gasped as she took all of him, only taking a moment to adjust to his size. The stinging returned, but faded quickly. She rolled her hips, and Draco’s hands flew to her waist, guiding her along as she grinded on his cock.

His eyes were closed and he was arching his back while keeping a bruising grip on her hips. She braced her hands on his chest, her nails marking him, while she got into a solid rhythm, up and down, on his cock. They took turns praising the other, speaking without thinking.

“Fuck, Hermione, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Oh, fuck Draco, like that, keep your hand there.”

“So fucking good for me, love, so wet.”

“Feels so good, Dra–co, fuck me like that.”

Hermione felt another orgasm rapidly approaching, and she looked to Draco, who seemed to be fighting his own release. He was meeting her thrust for thrust, but by the looks of it, couldn’t hold out much longer. Right as she was about to tip over the edge, she uttered a single word.

“Come.”

So he did. Hermione could feel herself grip Draco’s cock like a vice as he buried himself deep inside her with a moan, coating her walls with his release. She stayed on top of him for a moment, sharing a passionate kiss, before looking up. Their magic was all over the room, sparkling and weaving together in a golden glimmer. She removed herself and laid next to him, feeling him drip down her thighs. The magic started to gravitate towards them, seeping into the bed.

She looked at him and found him already looking at her. He held his hand out and she took it, and could feel her magic sing. The golden mist danced on their skin before settling into it. In their shared hold, small golden threads began weaving themselves around their hands and settled into their skin. She felt a small burning sensation and then something she could only describe as completion. Like the last piece of the puzzle had been put into place. Her missing half.

She looked up at him, eyes swimming with tears, to see a matching expression on his face. No words were needed, the unspoken understanding between them.

Whole.

Chapter Text

Draco. March 19, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Draco did his best to ignore the smug looks coming from Blaise and Theo as they exited the Library Wing and entered the gala.

Hermione had managed to charm away any love bites and fix her hair. He almost walked out of the library without his shoes on, but she managed to catch him in time.

He hadn’t felt this content in…well, forever.

He entered the ballroom to find it bustling and full of life. His mother did know how to throw an excellent party. He could feel Hermione’s magic intertwining with his under his skin, a soft vibration he could feel throughout his body.

He glanced over to Hermione, who seemed to be feeling much of the same. Her hand was tightly wrapped around his arm. He leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Just so you know, our courtship is about to be announced when we enter. Be prepared. Mother will give her opening speech and then we’ll be tasked with opening the dance floor.”

Hermione nodded, “Got it. Can’t promise your toes won’t be crushed, but I’ll give it a go,” she teased lightly.

He kissed her temple, “Not a problem, I can take it.”

Draco steered them over to Harry and Pansy, who tried (and failed) to be nonchalant about what had occurred in the last hour. Hermione’s face blushed when Pansy asked about the heartbond, looking to Draco for confirmation.

“She helped plan most of it, she knows,” Draco said.

“Um, hello? And who was I in all this?” Ginny said behind their back, Theo’s arm loosely draped over her.

“Ah, yes, Red, the mastermind. Couldn’t have done it without you!” He said, going to kiss her cheeks and shake Theo’s hand. When he turned back to look at Hermione, he shrugged his shoulders and rolled his eyes.

He spotted his least favorite Weasley across the ballroom, Lavender fawning over his robes like his mother. He was scowling into whatever he was drinking while making eye contact with Draco. Something about Weasley’s presence felt unsettling, but Draco chalked it up to the disdain he felt for the redhead.

Hermione spoke animatedly to Neville and Luna about the charms in the library, and just as he was about to join, he was pulled to the side by Blaise, Padma and Harry.

“Everything okay?” Draco asked.

Harry shook his head, “No. Your father’s heart is missing. Someone broke into the DMLE today and stole all the evidence we had as it pertains to the Death Eaters in Boston.

Draco felt his heart beat in his ears, “I’m sorry, come again?”

Harry shook his head a second time, “There’s no time. I placed a tracking spell on all my evidence, but it must be in a location that’s unplottable.”

Padma spoke next, “We also finally got the results of the inquiry we made weeks ago about the concerns in your father’s autopsy. With some research in the Manor library, we were able to determine that someone was performing an old-timey Malfoy ritual in an attempt to resurrect your father, likely Nott Sr. or Greyback.”

Draco felt lightheaded. “I’ve never heard of any ritual like that, are you sure? Padma, I need you to be 100% sure.”

“She’s sure, mate. The potions we found in your father’s system ultimately killed him, but we’re speculating that this was likely an attempt to get your father’s body out of Azkaban without causing a breakout. The combination of those potions point to whatever this ritual is” Blaise said.

“Meaning they had someone on the inside,” Draco said.

“Meaning they had someone on the inside,” Harry affirmed.

“But why? Why go through the effort to kill my father and then try and bring him back in an ancient ritual that likely won’t work? And why would they just release that information if it could be traced back to this ritual?” Draco asked, his tone urgent.

“Because the ritual won’t fail. It was created to help protect the Malfoy line. If a blood member of the Malfoy dies and they believe they have unfinished business that could harm their descendents, the ritual will allow them to return to the land of the living to complete their task. Once it’s completed, they’ll return to death,” Padma said quietly.

“And the only way it was traced back was through information found in the Malfoy Library. This information isn’t available anywhere else,” Harry added.

“Could he be brought back a second time? A third? This is absolutely barmy!” Draco exclaimed.

Before anyone could answer, his mother graced the stage to give her opening remarks.

“Find Tonks and tell her now. If my father is alive, everyone in this room is in danger,” Draco whispered harshly to Harry.

“Already done,” Harry whispered back, “Just stay close to Hermione, we may need your heartbond today if anything happens.”

Draco nodded, his heart in his throat, and started to search the room for Hermione.

________________

Hermione. March 19, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Hermione stood on the perimeter of the room, a drink in hand, watching Narcissa speak. Her parents, some of the only non-magical folks there, stood close to her.

Narcissa was beautiful in her green robes, standing on the stage like she owned it.

“Witches, Wizards, and Muggles alike, I thank you for being here today. The Spring Equinox has long been a sign of new beginnings, of understanding new beliefs, and the forging of new relationships. I stand here before you as a woman who is finally free from the confines of her past, left by the poor decisions of her husband.”

Hermione was in awe of Narcissa, of the grace she possessed and the poise she maintained. The strength she leaned on to get her through this speech. To stand in front of these people despite her family’s past. She joined the audience in their round of applause.

“As many of you know, my son and I started to separate ourselves from my husband’s views well before the war was over. We tried to bleed his operation slowly, so as to not be noticed by him, and we were successful,” Hermione looked around the room to people raising their glasses in support.

“Through our years of helping The Order, we came to know and love several people. We were reunited with my sister, Andromeda Tonks, and her daughter, Nymphadora.”

Narcissa was cut off by Tonks’ heckling, “Don’t call me Nymphadora, Aunt Cissy!”

The crowd laughed and Narcissa pressed on, “We have a truly amicable relationship with Minister Shacklebolt and are lucky enough to call Harry Potter a friend and trusted partner in the Auror’s office. I’d like to extend a very heartfelt ‘thank you’ to Auror Harry Potter, Minister Shaklebolt, Auror Ronald Weasley, and Head Auror- erhm- Tonks for helping keep my family safe while they’re in the U.S. Another special thanks to Violet Gentry of Commonwealth Cursebreakers and Tegan Nichols of MACUSA, who have helped continue our fight against Death Eaters while on American soil.”

The crowd broke out into whispers, but Narcissa continued. 

“But I’d be remiss not to extend an incredibly special ‘thank you’ to Miss Hermione Granger. For those that don’t know, my son and Miss Granger have been granted positions at Commonwealth Cursebreakers in Boston and have been tasked with dismantling cursed items and vaults left behind by Death Eaters who are trying to start a movement in Boston, with the intent to spread throughout the country. Miss Granger and Draco have worked flawlessly together to gather information for the Ministry and MACUSA, and, in the process, uncovered something unexpected.”

Oh , Hermione thought to herself, this is it. This is the courtship announcement.

She readied herself and gave her drink to her mother, who smiled warmly at her. Her father kissed her cheek and gently pushed her towards the edge of the stage.

Narcissa made eye contact with Hermione, and spoke directly to her. “I never wanted an arranged marriage for my son. I knew that while I could guide him and make suggestions, he’d always listen to his heart first and choose a witch who would challenge, support, and love him, no matter what. When Draco told me he had entered into a relationship with Miss Granger,” Hermione heard whispers around them. They weren’t a secret, but they hadn’t sat down with The Prophet, either.

“I knew she was perfect for him. What I didn’t know, though, is that Draco and Hermione had been experiencing signs of a heartbond. After a little bit of research to confirm, which we did, by the by, and much planning, I am pleased to formally announce the courtship of my son, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger!”

The audience erupted into applause and she saw Narcissa motion for her to join her on stage. A warm, comforting presence joined her, and she threaded her fingers through his hand. Draco kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, “Ready?”

They walked on stage, hand in hand, and made their way to Narcissa, who greeted them with open arms and kisses on their cheeks. She presented them formally, moving out of the way so the photographers assigned could take photos for their respective papers. Draco led Hermione down the stairs again to the dance floor that had opened for them.

He extended a hand and bowed, “May I have this dance, Miss Granger?” He asked, his voice edging on devious.

It took everything in Hermione’s power not to roll her eyes. She curtsied and slipped her hand into his. They danced well together, Draco led and Hermione followed.

Not that she had a choice, he was the one who was trained to dance, but that was neither here nor there.

Draco leaned in and whispered again, “Hermione, have you talked to Potter or Tonks?”

Hermione craned her neck up to his ear, “No, why?”

She felt the hand on her hip tense, “Do not react to what I’m going to tell you. Someone broke into the DMLE today and stole their evidence about the Death Eaters in Boston. My father’s heart is missing. Apparently, they’re under the impression someone is trying to resurrect him so he can complete some ‘unfinished business’. It’s some Malfoy ritual I’ve never heard of.”

Hermione blanched and tightened her hold on Draco, “We can get through this.”

She could tell Draco was trying to regulate his breathing, “Maybe, love. But with the courtship announcement, we’ve got two massive targets on our back, bigger than before. I didn’t get a chance to stop her before she made the announcement. Potter said he was going to take Weasley and check the wards. If my father is out there, he’s pissed and dangerous.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, “Okay. Do we stay here, then, or go home to Boston?”

Draco nodded his head in a way that let her know that he wasn’t sure, “We need to talk to Tonks, Shaklebolt, Violet and Nichols to figure out what to do next. Whatever they say goes.”

She understood. She squeezed his hand reassuringly and he spun her out and back in, the crowd clapping lightly. He dipped her when she returned in, and bent down to kiss her. Like a bad romantic comedy, Hermione managed to balance the dip on one leg, while her other leg gracefully extended out, the heel barely peeking out under her gown. Draco brought her back up and bowed. He escorted her off the dance floor, making a beeline for Tonks, when the lights were cut.

People screamed and Hermione heard the sharp cracks of apparition. She felt someone’s wand pressed against her back and a hand over her mouth. A voice she didn’t recognize whispered something behind her and she felt binds wrap around her wrists. She felt a hand snake into her dress pocket and retrieved her wand.

When the lights came on, somehow, everything was silent. Narcissa was being held by a Death Eater, as was Harry and Draco. Hermione knew there was one behind her, too, but she wasn’t sure who it was. The masks were slightly different, meaning they weren’t able to identify who it was by the silver on their face.

A final crack of apparition sounded loudly through the quiet room, and there, beyond all odds, stood Lucius Malfoy, very much alive.

________________

Draco. March 19, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Draco was pretty sure he was about to throw up. Or scream. Or kill his father.

He was bound and silenced by a random Death Eater behind him. He locked eyes with Hermione, who was staring intently back at him. He calmed himself as best he could, and closed his eyes, feeling the threads they had weaved together merely an hour ago. He held them loosely in his mind and followed them, feeling them grow more taut the further he went. When they would not tighten further, he uttered a single word in his mind.

Hermione.

He waited. She likely needed to center herself before responding, but he eventually heard her, almost like a distant echo.

Draco.

Before he could offer a plan or support or anything, his father spoke.

“Well, well, well, what a sad excuse for a welcome party,” Lucius drawled, flicking a piece of invisible lint off his shoulder.

“I’ve been in Azkaban for, what, three years or so? Dead for a few months, and when I return, I find my wife bragging about betraying the ideals her family was built on and my son entering into a courtship with the intent to form a heartbond with a Mudblood . Not just any Mudblood, mind you, but Hermione Granger, of all people,” Lucius spat, glaring at him.

“Tell me, Draco, was your life so miserable? Did you ever want for anything? Did you not have everything you needed? Everything that you wanted? And this is how you repay me?” his father said, stalking towards him and putting his wand under Draco’s chin. 

“You’ve always been a disappointment, Draco. The world knows it now,” Lucius said, and Draco almost laughed. His face must have shown it, since his father cast a finite incantatem and bore his eyes into Draco’s.

“Father, you must be joking. Everything that I am, everything that I have become and plan to be, is in spite of you. Mother taught me everything I needed to be a man, but Hermione has taught me how to be a good person. You think I’m a disappointment? That’s fine, you were never responsible for me,” Draco spat.

Lucius cackled an evil laugh. “It would do well to respect me, boy. I have never been more powerful than I am right now. I will finish what the Dark Lord started to protect my family, whether you realize it or not.”

Lucius circled Draco, stopping at his back. He felt exposed. His wand was taken and his hands were bound. Suddenly, he felt his father latch onto his rings and tug harshly, the rings clattering to the floor. Draco started to panic, those rings were his best form of protection. Hermione must have felt it because he started to feel her.

Draco, are you wearing your watch?

Yes, why?

I added a location spell on the watch. No matter where they take you we’ll find you. Use your occlumency as best you can. I love you.

Draco felt a surge of pride towards his witch. The best thing they had going for them was that his father was unaware that they had consummated their heartbond. He nodded at her slightly.

Lucius stalked towards Hermione now. “What makes you think you can end hundreds of years of pureblood lines? What makes you special, girl?”

Hermione looked him dead in the eye and smirked . If the situation wasn’t so dire, Draco would have felt aroused, but the Death Eater mouth-breathing behind him dampened the mood a bit.

“Well, you see–”

Hermione never finished her sentence. His father backhanded her across the face, a red splotch already blooming on the corner of her mouth. Draco fought the restraints he was in, the Death Eater behind him tightening his grip.

“You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you? I’m sure we could find someone to teach you what to do with that mouth. Isn’t that right?” Lucius called out to the group.

The Death Eaters snickered with him, eyeing Hermione hungrily. He knew she could handle herself, but the thought of those men touching her? Draco knew what the Death Eaters were capable of and saw how they treated magical and Muggle women alike. It was…bad, to say the least.

“I’d like to see you try,” Hermione said, spitting at Lucius’ feet. He backhanded her other cheek, a twin bruise forming immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked for anyone who might help. Everyone was bound by the Death Eaters–except Weasley.

No fucking way , Draco thought to himself. Was Weasley helping his father? For what?

Draco’s question was answered when Lucius roughly grabbed Hermione, taking the rings off her fingers as well, and handing her over to Weasley.

He saw Potter’s eyes go wide, his face strained as he tried to scream, but he was silenced, too.

Draco thought about how to proceed. He cast a silent and wandless finite incantatem towards Potter and Tonks, who rushed to action. Tonks pulled a secondary wand out of her robes and stunned as many people as she could, but Potter started swinging.

He looked to Hermione, who was staring at him. He did the same for her, and she clocked Weasley with as much strength as she could manage. Weasley looked at her, stunned, for just a moment, before he pointed his wand at her. Yellow sparks bounced from his wand, and Draco wanted to run to her.

The sparks hit her, and she straightened. Imperio .

Weasley leaned into her, kissing her cheek, and whispering in her ear. Hermione turned towards Draco with a sick smile on her face. He was nervous. 

He felt the threads tug.

They took my rings but not my necklace. I’m okay.

Draco almost smiled. 

What does he want you to do?

Grab you and Harry and apparate you to a warehouse back home.

Boston?

Yes.

Draco was proud of his witch for her quick thinking. He went to release himself so he could join the fight, but yellow sparks in his periphery took him by surprise.

His father stood on the other end of the wand that cast them.

“Now, listen here, boy.”

Chapter Text

Hermione. March 19, 2000. Wiltshire, England.

Hermione was panicking.

They had stripped Draco of his rings, just as they had done with her, but that meant he no longer had protection.

Lucius had ripped the signet rings off her fingers, not thinking to check the protective qualities on them. Her rings were completely ornamental. Her necklace remained intact and hidden under her cape.

Before she could cast a silent and wandless notice-me-not charm, Ronald had cast his own Imperio. Hermione had to use all her strength to not kill him right there. She straightened herself, willing her face to go slack and her eyes to glaze over.

Ron leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek and whispered in her ear.

“It’s okay, Mione, I’ll make sure you’re safe now.”

Hermione wanted to vomit. Ron’s hot breath was fanning across her face. She didn’t dare speak or react. She could not give Ron any indication he had no control over her.

“This is what you deserve for sleeping with Death Eater scum, Mione. I’m just cleaning up your mistakes. You’re so naive, thinking he’d take care of you. Look at who his father is. I’m saving you. Grab Malfoy and apparate to these coordinates. Go. Now, ” Ron hissed while shoving a scrap of paper into her hands.

Hermione turned to Draco, sending a message to him through the bond. Before Draco could acknowledge he’d understood the plan, Lucius had placed Draco under the Imperius curse, meaning the Draco she knew and loved would be fighting under the haze.

Hermione turned on her heel and headed towards Harry. He had escaped his bindings somehow and was throwing punches left and right at the several cloaked figures in the room. When he saw her approach, he drew his wand, causing her to stop in place.

“This isn’t you, Hermione, please. Fight the curse,” Harry begged.

Hermione wanted to cry. She nodded slightly towards him and mouthed, “I’m okay.”

Harry’s shoulders sagged with relief. It was short-lived, though, when Ron came up behind her, his blue eyes shooting daggers into Harry’s green.

“What did I say?” Ron grit through his teeth.

Hermione nodded and grabbed Harry by the arm. He fought for just a second before she squeezed his hand. Harry gave in and followed Hermione towards Draco.

This would be the harder task. She had no idea what command Lucius had given him, nor was she sure that Draco would willingly go with her. All she could do was try.

“Draco, let’s go,” Hermione said, hoping her voice sounded strained and distant. Lucius was standing behind Draco, a smirk plastered across his mouth. Hermione vowed to herself that the next time Lucius died he would remain dead.

Draco looked at her, his face twisting, trying to fight the curse. Hermione’s heart broke each time a tear slipped from his eyes.

“They want us to leave, Draco. Let’s go. I’ll get us there.”

Draco stayed rooted to the floor, his hands clenched into fists and his jaw ticking.

“I’m afraid, Miss Granger, I’ll be apparating Draco to Boston. We have much family business to catch up on,” Lucius drawled, rounding Draco and stepping in between them.

Hermione’s eye twitched, “Sorry, that’s not what I was told to do.”

Lucius cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “You’ve still got a mouth on you, despite being put in your place. We’ll need to fix that immediately.”

Lucius started to pull his wand from his serpent cane when Hermione grabbed onto Harry and lunged for Draco. She grabbed his wrist and he attempted to fight her off. She held on with as much strength as she could. Right as she went to apparate them, Lucius grabbed onto Harry and they were sucked into the void together.

___________________

Draco. March 19, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco was tired.

His head hurt.

He felt like he was constantly running into a brick wall resisting the Imperius curse, like the portal into Platform 9 ¾ had closed and he kept trying to breach it.

He was distantly aware Hermione and Harry had approached him. He knew his father was behind him.

His father’s only command was to ignore Hermione.

When Hermione asked to apparate them, Draco was screaming in his head to go with her. Anywhere would be better than where he was right now. He could feel the edges of his consciousness start to fray. He just wanted her safe. He tried to reach out and take her hand, but they remained at his side.

That didn’t seem to deter her, though, as she lunged forward and grasped his wrist. Draco wanted to hold on, to feel her skin against his, but instead he fought.

He was weak. So, so fucking weak. 

Suddenly Draco was…somewhere?

Wait . He knew this place.

Why were they at Commonwealth Cursebreakers?

___________________

Hermione. March 19, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione apparated to the safest place in Boston she could think of– Commonwealth Cursebreakers.

While initially that seemed like a good plan, Hermione had apparated to another continent with not one, not two, but three people. 

Hermione had only meant to take Draco and Harry, but Lucius was quick and made the jump with them and she was exhausted. She couldn’t give in. Not yet.

Harry and Draco were slumped in an unconscious heap on the floor. Lucius was disoriented as he stumbled and Hermione took it upon herself to restrain him while his back was to her.

“ Incarcerous!” Hermione shouted, and thick ropes left her want and snaked their way around Lucius’ arms and legs.

She waited until he was completely bound before she sent a Stupefy his way, for good measure, of course.

Hermione levitated Draco and Harry to Violet’s office, where she set them down against the wall and sent her patronus to Tegan, Violet, and Tonks.

“We’re at location 2, VG’s office. 5 minutes and the wards go up.”

Hermione hoped that help would arrive soon. She rushed to Harry and Draco. Harry groaned as he woke, clutching his side. Hermione guessed he broke a rib or two during the apparition.

Hermione cast a Renneverate for Draco and he woke, staring right at her. His eyes blank and glassy, his cheeks red and his hair mussed.

“Harry, can you go and stay with Lucius?” Hermione asked.

He nodded and strode to the door, but turned before he left, “Be careful with him, Hermione. We don’t know what Lucius commanded of him.”

She turned back to Draco. She held his hands and squeezed them hard, trying any kind of external stimuli to break Draco from the trance. She knew it wouldn’t work but she was running out of time and options.

She closed her eyes and thought back to what she remembered about the curse. The caster had to die, release the curse, or the victim needed to overpower it with significant mental strength.

They couldn’t kill Lucius, at least, not yet. It was also unlikely he’d release the curse, which meant Draco needed to fight this battle on his own.

Well, not completely on his own, Hermione thought to herself. She heard Tonk’s voice with Harry, and she felt relief. But then she heard the volley of spells and dashed outside the office. Tonks, Harry and– was that Narcissa?!

All three were interrogating Lucius, who was as silent as a stone. Hermione walked towards them.

“I’ll be in Violet’s office working on Draco,” Narcissa was the only one to acknowledge her with a small nod.

When Hermione returned, Draco was not where she had left him.

“Fuck.”

___________________

Draco. March 19, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Damn his father.

Like most of his family, his father was a legilimens and proficient at wandless and wordless magic.

Despite being bound, his father had cast another command to him.

“Find the keys and go where they take you. Fenrir and Nott will be waiting.”

Draco didn’t want to. A few days before they left for the gala, MACUSA had brought in more mismatched keys, similar to the ones they had disarmed earlier in the year. That must be what his father was talking about. While Hermione left the room, Draco stood in Violet’s office. His movements felt foreign and jerky, like someone was controlling his body as if he were a marionette.

He fought every step of the way, dragging his feet and holding onto doorways in an attempt to break the curse. It was futile.

Draco slowly made his way down to the training arena and searched each table to find the keys. Just as he approached Lilianna and Billy’s table, everything went dark.

___________________

Hermione. March 19, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione knew adding a tracking spell to Draco’s watch was a good idea. She really had never intended to use it for anything other than life or death and, well, this was life or death.

A quick spell of her own invention showed that Draco was still in the building and heading towards the training arena.

That was the most dangerous place he could be heading, but she followed him anyway.

Her heels clicked along the corridor. Hermione transfigured them into flats, as well as her dress. The cape was transfigured into a jacket, while her dress was transfigured into denims and a jumper. Her hair, while falling out, was mostly still intact. Her necklace was secured under the jumper and hidden by charms.

Hermione rounded the corner and strode toward the double doors that led to the darkened training arena.

She was grateful Draco had spent time teaching her wordless spells as she sent her Revelio into the room. Near the tables was a figure that was struggling to move forward, their movements erratic.

Hermione knew that if she alerted Draco to her that he could attack her. She didn’t want to engage in battle with him, but would if she needed to keep them safe.

Her last option was her heartbond.

She closed her eyes and sunk into the darkness of her mind, following the slackened threads of their bond until it started to pull taut.

Draco.

…

Draco, can you hear me?

…

Draco, I want to help you break the Imperio. With our combined power, we might be able to shake you from it. Can you let me in so I can help?

…

I love you. Our life together just started. Please, let me in.

…

I can’t– not… strong enough

A flicker of hope grew in Hermione’s chest. She knew Draco didn’t think he was strong enough, but it’s likely he didn’t realize the amount of strength it took to send a message to her.

Let me in, love. I can help you.

…

Hermione felt a cooling sensation douse her from head to toe. Draco’s mind was dark and cold, likely a result of the Imperio’s effect on him. She observed herself in a darkened room in his mind, small bluebell lights were floating about, but were not strong enough to cast light on anything.

“Draco?” Hermione called out, hearing a faint echo of her voice.

Nothing.

Hermione cast a number of spells to see if anyone, or anything , revealed themselves but was met with nothing.

She tried communicating by the bond again.

Draco?

…

Please, love. Tell me where to go.

…

Three doors materialized in front of her, two with a silver handle and one with a gold handle.

Hermione felt the unease growing in her stomach. Her body was unattended, hidden in the training area, while she was lost in Draco’s mind, but she wouldn’t dare risk the connection.

With nowhere else to go, Hermione picked the first door, one with a silver handle.

Chapter Text

Draco. March 19, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Draco felt Hermione’s presence in his mind immediately. A warm, loving embrace around the imperio , slowly starting to thaw it.

He looked around, slowly coming out of the darkness that had pulled him under. He was looking at… a door? Why the bloody hell is there a door here? Draco thought to himself, standing up and staggering.

He strode towards the gold handle and gripped it tight, pulling to open, but the door wouldn’t budge.

Draco attempted an alohamora , bombarda, and a finite incantatem , for good measure, without success. He understood the basics of his situation: he was imperioed and in his own head, his father was alive, and Hermione was also in his head.

What Draco was not sure of, though, was where his physical body was. He was approaching a table in the training arena when he blacked out. Was he struck with a curse? Was he dying? He couldn’t be sure of anything. He heard a door slam behind him and he spun around, only to be met with the room he had woken in.

A wooden desk, with a single chair, sat in the middle of the room. A few blank pieces of parchment were atop the surface, along with a quill and an inkpot.

A large oversized chair sat looming in the corner, a standing lamp next to it, offering the only light source.

Finally, the only thing hanging on the beige walls was a large mirror. Tall enough to fit Draco’s entire frame, but wide enough to encompass two-thirds of the wall.

He walked towards it, noticing a rippling shimmer over the reflective surface. As Draco approached, his reflection became less and less clear, the mirror morphing into a viewing glass.

It was then Draco saw Hermione pacing in a room similar to his own, and the fear sank low in his belly, spreading dread through his veins.

He started yelling, pleading for her to hear him, but she never looked his way.

He pounded his fists on the glass, hoping to break through, but only failed.

Draco summoned the chair and sat in front of the glass.

If Draco couldn’t physically get to her, he’d try something else.

___________________

Hermione. March 19, 2000. Boston, Massachusetts.

Hermione was…in an empty room?

She had entered the first door that had appeared to her, one with a silver handle. She quietly chastised herself for not picking the door with the golden handle, that one obviously was different and was likely where Draco was. Hermione was torn between picking what she thought and using logic, since the door she chose was the first in order of appearance.

Hermione called out, at first quietly.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Draco?”

Silence.

“Where are you? What is this room? What can I do?”

Silence.

Hermione rolled her eyes and grumbled, “of course, why would this be easy?”

The walls shook at her accusation.

A sharp pain came from her right temple, and Hermione nearly collapsed.

Hermione? Can you hear me? 

Draco!

Yes! I can! Where are you?

I’m in the room next to you. I can see you through the mirror.

Hermione opened her eyes slowly and scanned the room once more. She noticed several paintings on the walls, mostly of landscapes or bowls of fruits, but no mirrors.

I don’t see a mirror?

Your back is to me. Turn around.

Hermione whipped around, her hair spinning around her like a flowy dress. She was met with a blank wall.

There’s nothing here, Draco. What should I do?

I…I don’t know. I don’t think I can help you because of the curse, but I can be here, at least. 

That’s better than nothing, I suppose. Hang tight, love, I’ll find you.

Hermione, where is my body?

I moved us into a storage closet in the training arena so we wouldn't be caught. I stunned you. Sorry. 

Brilliant. Okay.

Hermione walked towards the wall and placed her hand against it, the feeling cool against her skin, like she was touching glass, but it would not reveal itself to her. If he could see her, she wanted him to know she was there. That she would try.

“I’m here, Draco. We’ll get you out of this.”

I never doubted you, Hermione.

Hermione fought the sting of tears she felt growing in her eyes, and moved towards the desk. There were three dates written on parchment.

3 August 1996

30 June 1997

9 April 1998

Hermione knew these dates. Knew the significance of every single one.

Draco, there is a list here with three dates, 3 August 1996, 30 June 1997 and 9 April 1998. I know what these are, but what do I do with them?

Silence.

Bugger , Hermione thought. Draco had said the curse was restricting his ability to help. She focused on the earliest date, closing her eyes, and remembering where she was.

When Hermione opened her eyes, she was not where she had pictured herself.

She found herself inside of Borgin and Burkes. Like she was inside a memory without a pensive. She watched as Narcissa and Draco entered with Bellatrix, Fenrir hiding in the shadows of the store, tinkering with items Hermione was sure could be considered illegal.

She hid behind a large chest, thanking every god she could think of that she and Draco had managed to master the disillusionment spell wandlessly and wordlessly.

She wasn’t sure if this was the same as a memory, where she wouldn't be noticed by the other members of the scene, but she wasn’t about to find out.

Hermione attempted her heartbond with the memory version of Draco, who seemed perturbed that some entity was entering his mind. She felt his occlumency shields erect, strong and powerful.

Draco, it’s me.

Who?

Granger.

Granger? What the fuck? Get out of here, it’s not safe.

I’m fine, I’m saving you from yourself, honestly.

What the bloody fuck does that mean?!

It’s complicated. Do you trust me?

Not at all.

Could you try?

No. I have to do this. I need to protect my mother and… No. Granger if you’re close enough to speak to me mind to mind, you’re too close. The Dark Lord is on his way right now. Get the fuck out of here.

Believe it or not, I’m using a heartbond connection, Draco, not legilimency.

You’re off your rocker, Granger. We don’t… We can’t… there’s no way.

There is. We solidified our bond on the Spring Equinox in March of 2000. You’re currently under the imperius curse and I’m trying to break you out of it. Now, do you trust me?

Granger–

Draco! No time. Yes or no, you insufferable prat!

Yes! Okay! Fine.

Okay, stay still.

Hermione stunned each member of the crew assembled in Borgin and Burkes, starting with Fenrir and Bellatrix. When Narcissa went to check on them, Hermione stunned her as well. A pang of guilt went through her, but she had to remind herself that this likely wasn’t real and that Draco was her priority.

She revealed herself and Draco stumbled back from her, a look of confusion and fear across his face.

“Granger?” He said, tilting his head while looking at her. He looked younger, weighed down with duty and responsibility.

“Hi, Draco. Do you know what’s happening to you today?” Hermione asked.

He nodded slowly, “Yes. The Dark Lord is coming to make me one of the members of his inner circle since my father failed and he will be giving me a task.”

“Do you know what that task is?”

Draco shook his head.

“The task is to fix this vanishing cabinet so you can let Death Eaters into the school at the end of the year, and… to kill Albus Dumbledore,” Hermione said, hoping the words would shock him.

“Are you mad? Kill Dumbledore?!” Draco nearly yelled at her.

“That is your task. You fail, by the way, and take the out he gives you to turn for the Order of the Phoenix,” Hermione says.

Draco is gaping at her now. “I…fail? And I turn into a traitor?”

“No. You help instead of hurt, Draco. You serve no time in Azkaban and we end up working together as cursebreakers in America.”

“Boston?” Draco asked, sounding almost hopeful.

“Yes, Boston,” Hermione says, the corners of her mouth turning upwards.

“And we–” Draco motioned between them, “are we together?”

“Yes, we are,” Hermione said, feeling the blush across her cheeks.

Draco stared at her for a moment, “what do we do now?”

Hermione shrugged, “I have no idea, I’m in your head, and present-you can’t help me due to the curse. My thought is if I change the course of each event for you that you break out of the imperio .”

He chuckled, “Not a bad idea, Granger, if it didn’t make you sound absolutely fucking barmy.”

“Well, it’s the best idea I have,” she huffed out, getting irritated at how long this was taking. She reached forward and grasped his hand, savoring the contact, if only for a moment, before she was sucked into blackness and placed in front of another door.

With a silver handle.