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Chapter Text

Unseen Bonds

Chapter 1

The floor was cold on Hermione’s bare feet as she walked across the tile in her kitchen. It was still dark outside, but the sun peaked above the horizon in the distance. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned one last time as she prepared a pot of tea to help her start her day. 

Hermione had to run to the office that morning and make sure owls delivered some documents, and then she planned to go with Ginny to the Ministry of Magic lobby, where their respective husbands would meet them. Both had received letters stating that they’d return before noon, after arresting the dangerous wizard they were hunting for. A smuggler of magical artifacts, she heard. 

When they reunited later, she’d welcome him home with a tight embrace and a deep but quick kiss, given how public it would be. No doubt the two would make up for it that night when alone, with far more passionate expressions of love. Before that could happen, a lunch with Harry and Ginny followed by picking up their children up from the train, back for summer break from Hogwarts. Tomorrow they would pack and travel to The Burrow for a visit. Hermione was already exhausted thinking about it, but she would put up with it for her entire family. 

She reached for her wand, and with a few quick spells, her porridge prepared itself. The witch took a seat at her table and waited for the water to boil and her meal to be ready. She never enjoyed relying on magic for such simple tasks, but Hermione needed the extra help this morning. As usual, she’d stayed up far too late looking over documents in her office at the Ministry of Magic and only slept a little after she got home. That was her, Hermione Granger-Weasley, ever the workaholic. 

The kettle whistled, and she rose with a tired sigh, but stopped when the sound of a knock from her front door caught her attention. Her eyes glanced at the clock, noticing the time was 6:04am. She could see Harry in the sidelight windows along the entrance. Hermione smiled. She wasn’t expecting them to be done so soon. Though they didn’t come in, and Hermione giggled, thinking that Ron must have forgotten his keys again. And of course, neither could use Alohomora against her anti-magic lock.

She unlocked the door and opened it with a welcoming expression, but paused when she realized it was only Harry standing on her front stoop. Hermione was about to greet him as well, still curious about where Ron went, but Harry’s face was stiff and flat. He appeared as if he were forcing every emotion back. And her mind recalled the work accident the year before. 

“Did Ron get injured again?” she asked. 

Harry stared down at his feet, silent. Hermione’s heart pounded, and she shook her head. “It’s okay if he did. I wasn’t serious when I said I would turn you into a toad if he hurt himself on the job under your watch.”

She thought Harry might chuckle, but she noticed he held something, his grip firm and the knuckles turning white. Hermione reached for it and forced it from his hands. She examined the two pieces of long and thin wood. From the center of the crafted willow, a single piece of unicorn hair hung out. She brought the sticks together and when they met, they became one… Hermione’s knees gave out, and she fell to the floor. Her body reacted as she tried to process the fact she was holding her husband’s broken wand. Still on the ground, her gaze shot up to Harry. 

“Where is Ron?”

“Hermione, I’m so, sorry-”

“Where is my husband?!” Hermione cried. 

“There was a second wizard and we-”

“WHERE IS RON!” Hermione screamed. 

When she raised her voice, it shattered and fractured, causing Harry to step back as if someone had struck him. “He’s gone,” Harry replied.

“Where!” Hermione continued. “What hospital? Is it worse than last year? It must be if he broke his wand. This will be his third time breaking one. He has to take better care of it and…”

“You know what I mean,” Harry said. There was more force in his voice. It was not anger towards her, or how difficult she was being, but it was his own desperation to give her the information he needed to pass along to his best friend. “They’ve taken his remains to the Ministry of Magic for now. Ginny is already on her way to tell his parents and brothers.”

Hermione was shaking and shook her head from side to side as her tears fell from her face. Her entire body became heavy and a tightness in her chest gave her an immense pain she hadn’t known since the wizarding war, only it was far worse. “I feel like I’m being crushed.”

Harry stepped inside now and reached for her and helped Hermione to her feet. He brought her into a firm embrace, and Hermione griped him and squeezed him as she cried into his button-up shirt. Harry was silent. The only sound she could hear was the whistling of the forgotten kettle.

“He’s gone,” she wailed, though it was muffled in Harry’s chest. She had to accept it. Her hands shook as she gripped Harry and she held on, scared that if she let go, she’d fall. And keep falling. 

***

Draco enjoyed going to King’s Crossing as an adult. It brought him joy in the summer, only because it meant one thing: Scorpius was coming home. 

For all his flaws, the man liked fatherhood. After being controlled by Lucius Malfoy his entire life, the choice to become a parent was something he didn’t take likely, but had made with his wife, Astoria. He swore he’d be a better father than Lucius, and as far as he knew, he kept that promise. It seemed, unfortunately, Draco failed at being a better husband. 

He snuck into the hidden wall to platform 9 and ¾, and looked around at the several families that arrived before him. Draco spotted Astoria, standing in their usual pick up spot, and he hurried through the crowds to her. “I thought I’d be running late, but I got out of my meeting far sooner than expected,” he told her, offering her a smile. 

She glanced at Draco with a stone face, then turned away, not showing him any interest. His heart sank. They separated in January, and she had barely spoken to him since. He had tried, of course, but she already decided, and it seemed she planned to spend the six months of trial separation they had agreed upon in near perfect silence. 

He licked his lips. “I have the rest of the day off. Why don’t we go to The Enchanted Cauldron for lunch with Scorpius? I made a reservation. It would be good for him to see that we are still a united co-parenting team.”

She looked at him again, her eyes narrowed into a glare. “I’d rather eat a meal served by Dementors than be around you.”

He sighed in defeat. Draco cared about Astoria, of course. He married her out of his social need for an heir, but he had formed a friendship with her, and Astoria seemed to have done the same. They once talked about him wanting to subtract himself from the Malfoy Legacy, how he wanted to be a better person. She stood by his side through it all. All the changes and investments he’d made in various ventures, all with the goal of preventing any other future Voldemorts from coming to power. Or at least make it easier to fight back. Draco was determined that his son would never be a pawn like he had been. 

“Can I give you coins to go enjoy lunch without me?” He tried to counter the offer, wanting Scorpius to have some sort of warm welcome home. 

“You forget, I inherited my fortune too,” she sneered. “I need nothing from you.”

He took in a deep breath, trying to control his temper. The curse of having someone know him so well meant they also knew how to push his buttons. She was accusing him of attempting to buy affection, but he wasn’t doing that. He just wanted to ensure that Scorpius was cared for. “Fine.”

He noticed her smirk, and he regretted offering lunch to his family. “Then, this weekend, I’ll get him myself.”

“Send a servant,” she demanded. He was aware she didn’t want him anywhere near her new home, but he held no desire to comply with such an unnecessary command. Scorpius shouldn’t feel like he was not important enough to be picked up in person.

“I will wait outside your place.” Their fifteen-year-old child could make that choice himself. He could travel by himself, but Draco wanted to spend every moment possible with him, to let him know that even if divorce was on the horizon, both his parents would remain present.

“Fine,” she agreed. Her mouth was a straight line, but he could see the emotion behind her eyes. He annoyed her, but also showed a lot of exhaustion. She said sometimes dealing with him was worse than the newborn stages, though Draco didn’t always understand what she meant by that. And when he asked once, she told him he was impossible. Draco understood she wanted to speak to him as little as possible, and with nothing else to talk about, he accepted her giving in to his small request.

Just in time, the Hogwarts Express arrived at the platform. The steam echoed, bringing Draco back to the times when he would arrive home in the summer. His mother always waited, with a House elf or two, ready to carry the trunks for the family. His father had been too busy to even show up. 

The staff helped the children off, and he watched as a sea of young witches and wizards descended out to their waiting parents. It took a while before Draco saw his son leave the train. He looked around, and when he made eye contact with Draco, who then raised his hand and waved with a smile. Scorpius hurried to his father’s arms, embracing him. 

“I’ve missed you,” Draco whispered. Though his fifteen-year-old child, in some people’s eyes, may be too big to desire physical affection, Draco was glad Scorpius grew up still wanting that from them. He hoped that meant Scorpius was growing up happy.

“I missed you too,” he replied. When the two parted, the young wizard turned to his mother and gave her a loving hug. 

Draco looked away to give them their moment, and his eyes watched over the crowds. It was now that he would see some of his old classmates there for their own offspring. He noticed the Potter kids next to their cousins, the Granger-Weasley siblings. They were standing together, but still alone.

Draco thought that was strange, as their parents were always there before him. Every drop off or pick up, Harry and Draco shared an understanding nod. It’d become a silent tradition. Draco looked around, but didn’t see them,  then he heard a voice call out. “Mum! We’re here!”

When Draco turned back, he noticed it was the middle Potter child, Albus, who was waving towards his mother. Ginny. Draco searched, sure that Harry would be in tow, but to his surprise, she was by herself and looked flushed and in a hurry. 

“We need to go,” she stated when she reached the students. She turned to niece and nephew. “You have to come too. We’re going to the burrow, now.”

The kids seemed confused, but they were grabbing their trunks. Ginny grabbed what she could as they all left the platform. Draco was surprised, but he returned to his own family, assuming that they were just too busy to be here in person. 

Astoria was attempting to leave with Scorpius, and it caught Draco off guard. “I’m coming to get you this weekend,” he tried to assure his child. The teenager faced his father, taken aback by his mother’s actions as well. 

“Alright, thanks dad,” Scorpius added. 

Draco was defeated, knowing that his soon-to-be ex-wife wouldn’t be swayed. He sighed, and when they were gone from his sight, he apparated to his office. Earlier, Draco had every intention of spending time with his family. Now that they were gone, he had nothing else to do. 

Draco’s assistant was surprised when Draco entered. “Did you forget something?” 

Michael had been his second in command for almost two years, and had become a great help with him, and was casual with him, but Draco  could still always sense Michael’s nervousness around him.  

“Astoria wanted to avoid being in the same space as me. I decided to come back and work more,” Draco explained, collapsing in his chair and loosening his tie. 

Michael picked a copy of The Daily Prophet that was on his desk and brought it over to Draco. “Draco, this came late today, but I think you should see today’s front page.”

Draco didn’t feel like reading anything right now, but if Michael was bringing it to him, he knew it must pertain to him somehow. He unfolded the paper and read the headline. 

Tragic End to Auror during pursuit of Dark Wizard

Draco’s eyes widened as he scanned the article.

In a heart-wrenching turn of events, the wizarding community mourns the loss of one of its bravest defenders, as renowned Auror Ronald Weasley fell in battle against two dark wizards. The incident unfolded during a hunt for Errol Underwood, whom Weasley was hunting with his famous partner, Harry Potter. In the years since the second wizarding war, the world has had a slow resurgence of dark forces. Many believe that Underwood is the source of this growing trend. 

Weasley, known for his unwavering bravery, faced off with Underwood. An unidentified wizard joined, striking down Weasley. Weasley, like most Aurors, wore a Wardbreaker Amulet. It is unknown if it was in working order, or faulty. The company Guard Enchantments did not return posts by owl to comment on this matter. 

Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt expressed his condolences, saying, “Ronald Weasley was a genuine hero who risked his life defending our world against the forces of darkness. We extend our deepest sympathies to his family, friends and colleagues during this difficult time.”

As the magical community grapples with the news of Weasley’s tragic death, the surviving Auror’s vow to continue their fight against the rise of dark magic among us. 

Draco dropped the paper and ran his hand through his platinum hair and sat all the way back in his chair. Michael inched closer and took the newspaper again. 

“The Ministry of Magic has already come by, and they want a meeting after the Department of Magical Maintenance and Magical Law Enforcement investigates our Wardbreaker Amulets. Someone came for the latest data on it. I handed it over after I saw their ID, of course.”

Draco groaned. “First Astoria and now this. No wonder I didn’t see them at the train station.”

Michael raised his eyebrow. “Did you know Ronald?”

Draco chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, I did. We went to Hogwarts together.”

Michael showed him a sad expression. “Friend?”

Draco shook his head. “Enemy.”

“... Oh…” Michael stated, surprised and confused by Draco’s honest response.

“Get the dates for the wake and funeral, and fit it into my schedule. I wish to pay my respects at the very least.”

Michael agreed and returned to his own desk, leaving Draco with his thoughts, worrying about the coming days. 

Chapter Text

Hermione sat on the couch and stared at the floor. Behind her she could hear Molly crying while Arthur and Charlie comforted her. Bill sat with his wife, Fleur, and on the end was George. Percy and Audrey were at the table. All the present siblings were silent. A hollowness permeated the room, which made Hermione want to flee from the house and go out to the garden and scream and cry until her body was no longer capable of feeling pain. 

Harry came through the door, and everyone looked at him without a word. He’d gone to the Ministry to give a report of events, and returned just now. Hermione sat up right thinking that it was Ginny and the kids, but to her disappointment, it wasn’t. She slumped back in the chair and watched her friend with envy at his ability to not show the pain he felt. 

Hermione was silent even as Harry took a seat beside her. Neither looked at the other, but he reached over and rested his hand on hers. Hermione understood he was attempting to be there for her, but this only made it worse. It reminded her of Ron. A tick her late husband had when he was nervous or unsure of her reaction and he would put a hand somewhere on her person. His palms were usually sweaty. Especially in those early years of dating. A chill ran down her spine, and a pain in her chest followed. She didn’t want to remember Ron like that right now. She once thought Ron was adorable when he became shy around her, and would take it as a chance to guide him and assure him. Harry tried to comfort her and the sensation was too much. She slid free from Harry and whispered to him. “Harry, I can’t.”

His eyes were on her, and she stared at him. He was confused, but she also sensed that he was hurting. “I just wanted to help.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. I cannot explain without you thinking I’m crazy.”

“I would never-”

The front door swung open again, capturing everyone’s attention. Ginny came through. She appeared to be exhausted, and Harry jumped to his feet and helped her inside. Ginny insisted she could apparate to get all the kids herself, but she expended too much energy in completing this task. Five children trailed in behind, confused. Hermione spotted Hugo and Rose and ran to them. Her oldest child, Rose, watched with bewilderment. “Mum, what’s going on?”

Hermione glanced at the others and then back at her offspring. “Put your trunks down and come outside with me.”

“Mum?” Rose asked again. Hermione ignored her question, and she took one hand each and guided them out. She closed the door behind her and brought them a distance away. The siblings were terrified, but Hermione fought to keep her composure. 

She let go of her children’s hands and turned to look at the two. Rose was fifteen now, and was almost as tall as Hermione was, but she still looked every bit like a child. Hugo, while turning fourteen, was tiny for his age. Hermione reached for them and caressed their cheeks, but her bottom lip trembled. 

“Where’s dad?” Hugo asked. 

Hermione didn’t know how she could tell her children. No matter how she told them, it would destroy them, just as it had the entire family. 

Rose spoke up again. “Did dad have another accident?”

Hermione softly said. “Your father will not be with us anymore.”

Rose was stunned, and Hugo’s mouth dropped open. “He left?” he asked. 

“N-no,” Hermione stumbled. “Your father loved you both so, so much.”

“Then why did he go?” Hugo inquired.

Rose became silent, but tears burned down her cheeks. Hugo watched his sister. “Rose, why are you crying?”

Rose stared at her mother, dead in the eyes. “As we were getting on the train, I heard one professor whispering to another about an Auror being killed. They were hush-hush about it. It was dad. Wasn’t it?”

Hugo burst into tears, and before Hermione could find any more words, she grabbed her two children and pulled them close to her and held on. They held onto her and she squeezed, letting them both cry into her shoulder and chest. Silent streaks of water fell down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Hermione let them sob like that for a while. It wasn’t until their cousins ran from the house, their own faces stained wet, and they rushed over did her kids break free. They grabbed into each other and sobbed. Harry approached behind them, offering Hermione a one-armed hug. She rested her head on his shoulder, and tried to wipe her face dry, but fresh streaks of tears replaced them instantly. 

*** 

Hermione had desired to stop existing. It wasn’t as if she had wished to die to be with her husband. The witch simply wanted to feel nothing. It felt like breathing had become too much. The only thing that kept her sane was her children. With Ron gone, they needed her and she was now their shield. She concealed her tears from them, only allowing herself to cry when they were asleep or occupied by other family members.

Hermione’s parents had joined them at Hermione’s house, and stayed over. They were all crushed, but somehow the two could remain stronger than anyone else. For that, Hermione would always be grateful. Now that they were heading to the wake, the day before the funeral, Hermione didn’t want to leave the house, even for Ron. They’d be in a receiving line, and all those people would just repeat themselves. “Sorry for your loss” or some variety of that. It sickened her at the thought of how repetitive and insincere it would seem. But looking over at her mom and dad, they were all dressed and ready. She was physically ready to go as well, but she lacked the drive to actually go. 

“How did you say we would get there?” her father asked. 

Despite the time the Granger couple spent in St. Mungo’s, and the family therapy they received with Hermione afterwards, her parents accepted what had occurred just before the end of the war. Though they needed assurance with a vow from Hermione to never cast a spell on them again, unless she had express consent. Magic still occasionally freaked them out, especially when it happened unexpectedly. Hermione and Ron limited their magic around the two, and when they wished to join them for back to school shopping in Diagon Alley, the grandparents used the time to tell their grandkids stories of them taking Hermione to get supplies for Hogwarts. It seemed to settle her parents enough so that they were less startled by the magic going on around them. 

She knew Emma and Dan Granger might struggle today, but she already saw a considerable effort. Harry had helped her find a funeral home in Diagon Alley that held funerals that were friendly for muggle born family members. Very little magic was involved, except for the magical send offs that were traditional at the burials. Still, inside her black dress pants, she had deep pockets that hid her wand, just in case. For now, she was happy that they were putting some of their discomfort aside to accommodate her during this trying time. 

“Portkey,” Hermione answered. 

“And that is…teleportation?” he continued. 

She nodded. “We should try to grab it all at once and it will bring us to the funeral home. They have them set up especially for high-profile funerals like this.”

Mrs. Granger finished fixing Hugo’s tie under his robes and looked up at her daughter. “We’ll get through today as a family.”

Hermione hoped it was true. She closed her eyes and breathed to calm her nerves. Harry apparated into the living room, startling her parents. Harry uttered an apology and then turned to Hermione. He held up a cloth bag. “I have the portkey here.”

Hermione whispered a thank you before she moved in closer. Harry opened the bag, but held it at the still covered base. A small plastic figure of a wizard was present, which amused the teenagers. She motioned for her parents to join them. 

“You may experience some motion sickness when we arrive, but that’s normal. Just give yourself a moment to gather yourself,” Harry explained to the Grangers. “Everyone, get ready to touch it, and we will go. On three. One…two…three!”

Hermione forced herself to press a finger on the figure, as did everyone else. Hermione felt as if the invisible hands of a long forgotten god had grabbed her and yanked her through several dimensions and then tossed her into a foreign location. She landed on both feet, but she caught herself. The kids did the same, and so did her parents. Though Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s faces appeared much more shocked. 

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked them. 

“It would seem so,” her father managed. Her mother was green and held onto her husband, trying to not lose her balance. He caught her and helped her stand up. Hermione saw movement behind her and realized it was the wizard who owned the funeral home. 

“Mr. Rustleson,” Hermione greeted him by offering her hand. 

The elderly man was quick to give a shake. “Mrs. Granger-Weasley, welcome!”

He turned back from where he came and Hermione’s eyes found where he was studying. Despite the drawn curtains, Hermione could still see the shadows outside. “Are they waiting to come in?”

Mr. Rustleson looked annoyed at the moving shapes. “No. The media. I’ve cast charms. My doors will open if the person knows the family on some personal level. Classmates, for example. Not nosy fools looking for a story. Your family will have the privacy you all deserve.”

Hermione appreciated that greatly. Ever since Ron’s death, the media had shown up at the burrow, which resulted in protective charms to keep them away from the property line. Hermione did the same at her home, and every other Weasley sibling did the same. George had to shut down Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes when customers were being bothered by the journalist coming in to gather whatever scraps they could find.  

Harry and Ginny moved in with Arthur and Molly with their children, to both support the aging wizards, but also the crowds in their downtown London home were becoming overrun with journalists. The Ministry attempted to deal with it, but suggested they leave for now, before someone messed up and revealed magic to muggles. As happened after the second wizarding war, when Harry or anyone involved tried to do anything. It was a colossal mess, and even glancing at the shadows outside the curtains was too much for her to bear at the moment. 

“Thank you, Mr. Rustleson,” Hermione replied. 

He gave her another sympathetic look and motioned for them to follow him into the viewing room. It was open, and inside were the other family members. The casket was in the middle, against the wall, but it was shut. Hermione had never seen one closed before, but when she asked why to Mr. Rustleton by owl previously, he replied, “Given the state of the remains, I would not recommend it open.” 

When Hermione reached out to the rest of the family, they were all surprised too. Harry, however, was quick to jump in. “You do not need to remember Ron like that.”

This caused Molly to break down, and it numbed Hermione further. Harry chose not to disclose what happened in detail, but she knew the Ministry was provided with an extensive report. They made sure that Hermione remained in the dark. She was the head of the Magical Law department, but they managed to hide details from her. The staff took a few vows of silence, preventing them from sharing anything relating to the case, and effectively shut her out. She was too close, as this was personal, and because of that, Hermione understood. However, because of her curious nature, she desired answers, and she wanted them immediately. 

Hermione only glanced every so often at her in-laws, and stopped in front of the closed coffin, and placed her hand on top. As close as she was going to get for now. Hugo moved to her side and reached his hand out, but froze, too scared to touch the pine box. Hermione continued to be strong for her family. “You can touch it,” she assured him. 

He still looked unsure, but he reached over to her instead and placed his hand on top of hers. Hermione wouldn’t pressure him to do otherwise, and she gripped his fingers that dipped over the side between her thumb and forefinger.

Rose moved to the other side, and fresh tears fell down her cheeks, which prompted Hermione to put her arms around her daughter and pull her close. She leaned over to Rose and whispered in her ears. “It’s alright to cry. No one will shame us for what we feel.”

Rose nodded and continued to let tears fall. Hermione felt a hand over her shoulder, and she saw her mother, Emma, behind her. Emma smiled weakly. “That goes for you too.”

Hermione understood that too well. Hermione thought her letting her kids see her cry when they were already so fragile was not a good thing. They knew Hermione experienced the pain too, but she needed to be strong for them. Her tears could wait until they had cried themselves to sleep later. 

The room was quiet, with only the sounds of hushed whispers breaking the depressed tone. Mr. Rustleson came in to position them in the receiving line for greeters. Hermione and her children were at the front. Arthur and Molly were beside them, followed by Emma and Dan Granger, then Harry, Ginny, their kids, Ron’s brothers and their families. They heard the doors open, and Hermione’s entire body stiffened as she waited for the crowds of onlookers.

The family grew silent, waiting for them to come. It didn’t take long, and the visitors came in. Hermione almost lost herself as she saw Neville Longbottom at the front of the line, and to her surprise, behind him was Headmaster McGonagall. Then a weeping and bowed low Hagrid. She swallowed the lump that was forming in her throat, knowing that she was going to struggle to hold it together. 

***

Draco found it awkward the moment he arrived. All the wizard newspapers were there, and they were fighting to get a comment from the attendees or to catch a glance of the family. Draco kept his eyes forward and walked. He came late because of another meeting, so he was at the back of the line. 

Even when someone recognized him, and their magical camera pointed at him, he focused ahead and didn’t acknowledge the media circus. 

“Mr. Malfoy!” one called, trying to move in his direction. They attempted to approach him, and asked, “Do you think this death is related at all to the Dark Lord or your imprisoned father? Weren’t Mr. Ronald Weasley, and you always at odds while at school? Do you wish to comment?” 

Draco didn’t even glance at them, simply walked around them, and breathed a sigh when he made it past the doorway, freeing him from having to deal with them any longer. The line was long, but he already moved up a few feet. 

After a few minutes, Draco was already greeting the first siblings, Charlie, Percy, Bill and his wife, Fleur, their offspring, the surviving twin, George, then Harry and Ginny with their three kids. Draco shook their hands, but none of them said much, even as Draco gave his condolences. Ginny looked up and responded more than just a quiet thank you when he reached for her hand. Her eyes widened and let him shake it with a firm hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“T-thank you,” she stumbled. 

She glanced at her husband, Harry, who also was staring wide-eyed at Draco. “Malfoy, I’m…surprised,” Harry stated. 

Draco did the same as he had with Ginny. Draco still stood by one piece of his father’s long list of advice: always have a good handshake. “Potter,” he began far more softly than the sharp way he used to address Harry. “I’m sorry, truly, for you and your family’s loss. It never should’ve happened.”

Harry clenched his hand a little tighter at the last sentence as if he flinched, but he maintained eye contact with Draco and nodded. “We appreciate you coming out. I’m sure Ron would as well.” 

Draco almost snickered, and he could see the same behind Harry’s green eyes. Both knew how much Ron and Draco hated each other, and had never made up. Still, Draco was sorry, and he meant it. This should’ve never happened. He’d spent his entire adult life, well over twenty years, making and developing the Wardbreaker with only the best inventors and charm casters from the Ministry of Magic to work on it. Draco had donated so many to the Magical Law Department and Auror offices ever since they hit the market. Determined to protect those who wished to prevent any one like Voldemort from rising to power. 

“Please, reach out if you or your family need anything. I’m happy to help anyway I can,” Draco offered. 

Both Harry and Ginny were shocked, but they expressed their gratitude with thank you’s. When Draco turned to their kid, Albus was standing nearby. He looked glad to see Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, is Scorpius here with you?”

Despite his surprise, Draco smiled at the teenager. “He’s with his mother tonight. I have him tomorrow. I could bring him so he can pay his respects to your uncle.”

Albus took Draco’s hand and returned a handshake with a firm grip. “I would like that, thank you. I haven’t written to him yet.”

“Don’t put any pressure on yourself. Your family had a lot going on right now,” Draco reminded him. 

Albus’ face dropped, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, of course.”

“But,” Draco added. “I’ll tell him to write to you first.”

He was aware of Harry's and Ginny’s eyes on him even as more people shook their hands. Draco moved to the other two Potter kids, and then to two faces he did not recognize. He offered them the same courtesy as everyone else. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He had the woman’s hand first, and when he stared at the eyes. Brown, the color of chocolate frogs. They reminded him of a set of eyes that once narrowed at him and burned as their owner attempted to cast an Obliviate spell on him. An expression he never forgot all these years. “Granger?” he asked. 

The woman seemed surprised. “Yes, I am Emma Granger, Hermione’s mother. Were you two classmates?”

He shook her hand, and glanced down the line to the very end, where he could see Hermione. “Yes,” he answered. “You look so much like your daughter.”

Emma smiled with her eyes, but a hint of sadness remained. “I hear that a lot.”

Draco turned to the next person, “You must be Mr. Granger.”

“Daniel,” he replied. “Well, Doctor Granger, but I know that you folks don’t need them within your community.”

“I have heard of them,” Draco confessed. “I’ve read a lot about the medical advancements doctors have made in recent years.”

“Indeed, we’ve been looking into testing and using 3D printing to make dental implants,” Dan explained. 

“So, you’re a dentist?”

Dan seemed to light up. “Yes, both Emma and I are dentists.”

“Well, it’s clear why your daughter was so brilliant in school,” Draco complimented. 

Besides investing so much time in his business, Draco had learned more about the muggle world, and had been practicing giving compliments. The muggle couple seemed to indicate that he had done just fine. 

“Thank you,” Dan stated. 

Draco continued with Molly and Arthur, who were silent and sullen like the rest. And then it was Rose and Hugo. He glanced at Hermione, who stood at the very end. He’d known Hermione in passing for so long and been a bystander to her greatness in school and the war. And in their adult years, read countless articles about her incredible work within the Ministry of Magic. The woman looked to be a shell of the most brilliant witch of her age. Her eyes were downcast, and she mumbled a thanks. Draco took Hermione’s hand in his. 

***

Another hand took hers, and Hermione waited for them to offer her their condolences, just like everyone else. But then they cupped the back of her hand. The large hands were warm, and for a moment, Hermione came out of her numbed state. 

“I’m very sorry for what happened.”

A chill moved up her spine, but while her mind absorbed the words, she found herself stunned as she processed the voice. It was as if the kind tone and vocals didn’t belong together. Her brown eyes met silver, and her mouth dropped open. “Malfoy?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied. 

He had parted his white blonde hair to the side and brushed it back. His face was cleanly shaved, and his skin was as pale as it always had been. Though it was his eyes that caught her off guard. He once only spared her looks of disgust and words filled with prejudice. The man in front of her was not that person. “I’m sorry about Ron,” Draco continued. “Truly, I am.”

Hermione didn’t know what did it. The exhaustion from holding back her emotions from the kids, or the way Draco looked at her, and the sincerity in his voice, but tears fell down her cheeks before she realized it. Hot and fresh. She broke her hand free from his and brushed her face clean. “Thank you,” she replied. “Sorry, I’m such a mess.”

“You don’t need to apologize for crying,” he offered. “If there was any time it was alright to cry, it’s now.”  

More water flowed from her eyes. “I suppose, yes.”

“If you need anything, please reach out,” Draco offered. 

She froze at his words. “Oh…yes, of course.”

As if sensing how uncomfortable she was, he drew away, leaving her to take notice of the person waiting their turn to greet her. She glanced down the line at Harry, who had watched the exchange, and the two shared a confused look. Still, Hermione turned back to the next guest. She noticed Draco place his hand on Ron’s casket, gave it three slow pats, utter some silent words under his breath, and left. She found herself confused and unsure what to make of what happened, or what it meant. 

Chapter Text

Draco did his best to not stand out too much, given the situation. He knew he obviously did. There were many former classmates of his, but most were once in Gryffindor. A few Ravenclaw, and a Hufflepuff or two, but Draco was the only Slytherin. That was to be expected. His old house was especially distant to the Gryffindor students.

And now, after visiting the family, small clusters were forming to chat and talk. Draco thought it would be rude to leave so soon. Instead, he walked among the groups and studied the faces.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, this is unexpected,” an older woman’s voice caught his attention, and he looked up to see Minerva McGonagall, standing a few feet in front of him. He never liked her much. Not because she was a bad person, but because besides his far more unstable family, she intimidated him.

“Headmistress McGonagall,” Draco bowed his head in respect. “I hope things have been going well at the school.”

“As well as ever. It’s been pleasantly quiet since you all graduated, but still it’s always a pleasure to see my former students. I just wish it was under better circumstances.” Minerva looked around and back to Malfoy, her expression turning far more serious. Draco didn’t know that was even possible for her. “Forgive me, but I was under the impression you disliked Mr. Weasley.”

There it was.

Draco chuckled awkwardly and nodded. “That’s true.”

Minerva continued to stare, but she gave an approving nod. “You certainly have changed, Mr. Malfoy. If your son is any indication of what kind of parent you are, then the fact you came to pay your respects to someone you didn’t care for does. I am happy that the shadows of the past haven’t blackened your future.”

It was as good of a response as he would ever get from the old witch, and what a compliment it was. Draco tried to not crack a smile, even on the somber occasion, but he offered her a softened expression. “Thank you, Headmistress.”

Minerva glanced at the man next to her. “Professor Longbottom was telling me a few weeks ago what a talented student Scorpius is.”

Draco watched Neville turn his attention to them at the mention of his name. His eyes widened. He’d been talking to another former Gryffindor. Finnigan, if Draco recalled.

“Malfoy,” Neville breathed, surprised.

Draco shifted uncomfortably. “Hello Longbottom. It’s good to see you.”

Neville and Seamus both looked confused by his presence but both remained polite. Draco didn’t need magic to read how little the two wished to engage in conversation with him. He understood. The faded dark mark on his arm was a reminder of the sins of his past, but even with it hidden from view, there were many faces who knew and remembered. While his father served in Azkaban, and Draco completed his community service and paid a heavy fine from his inheritance, wizards would still consider him a black spot.

“I’m surprised…” Neville began, but tried to correct himself. “Pleasantly, I mean. How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing well. Keeping busy,” Draco replied. “I looked at your book last fall when I was getting my son ready for the school year. It’s excellent. Much clearer than the textbooks they had us use in herbology in our days.”

“Professor Phylilda Spore’s contributions to education at Hogwarts are nothing short of remarkable and her books were the basis for all my lessons, and the reason I’m a professor. To follow in her footsteps.” Longbottom replied stiffly.

Thanks to his mastery of Occlumency, Draco could hide just how horrified he actually was. He hadn’t meant to offend his former classmate, but Neville’s defenses were because Draco Malfoy, the son of a Deatheater and later who became one himself, was standing in front of him. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it remained painful for him. Draco feared that even if he donated everything he had to educate those on the dangerous paths, went broke and lived on the streets, people would still judge him on the acts of his father and himself when he was an impressionable child.

Coming here was a mistake. He wanted to show kindness to someone he disliked, but did not wish bad things upon the grieving family. Especially if it was his own product that caused the death.

“I truly didn’t mean to offend,” Draco offered. “I struggled with herbology, and I just want to say that your book will be a great tool for people who did not excel in the subject.”

Neville remained unconvinced, even though Draco did not raise his mask to hide his authentic emotions. Draco faced Minerva and gave her a nod. “I think I better go. Thank you for taking such good care of my son.”

Draco turned his back and walked away before anyone else could say anything. He headed to the front door, but came to a stop when the last person he expected stepped in front of him. “Potter,” he said, taken aback.

“Malfoy,” Harry replied. “I wanted to catch you before you left.”

His chest felt tight and Draco worried about what may happen now. “Yes, Potter. What is it?”

Harry motioned for him to follow, and the two found an unoccupied corner. Draco remained unsure what Harry was going to say to him and stood, while Harry himself looked serious.

“I just wanted to know what made you decide to come today,” Harry said.

Draco could have predicted that, but he still nodded and licked his dry lips. “A former classmate passed away, and I wished to share my condolences.”

Harry couldn’t hide his surprise. “As the best friend of Ron, I appreciate that, but I have to ask why? You never got along with Ron, despite him being the closest to a pureblood between the three of us.”

“Because I have been fighting for over twenty years now to become a better person. I’m not proud of my past self, or of my family’s legacy. And unlike popular theories about me, I am not plotting anyone’s downfall. I am genuinely and truly sorry that Ronald Weasley has lost his life.”

Harry nodded, and looked to where Ginny was talking to others a few feet away, and then back at Draco. “Not all may be glad to see you, but it’s a surprise. A good one,” Harry explained. He offered Draco a hand, which startled Draco, but he took it and they shook the same as earlier, but this time it was far more mutual and welcoming on both ends. Not a forced shake brought upon by a tragedy. It was almost as if they were more than awkward former bitter enemies.

“Will you be bringing Scorpius tomorrow?” Harry asked. “It seems Albus and him are close at school, but I never knew until tonight. I think he’d like to see his friend, given what he came home to.”

Draco nodded. “It’s my time with Scorpius, so yes.”

Harry tilted his head. “Time?”

“Astoria and I have separated,” Draco replied, which prompted Harry to open his mouth. Draco suspected Harry wanted to offer words of comfort, however Draco politely brushed him off. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on your own kin. We are hardly the first couple to separate.”

“Still-” Harry tried to speak, but Draco waved him off again and stepped away from their corner and reached for the door handle.

“It’s my business Potter. It was due to how much of a git I am. Say it’s karma or whatever the muggles call it,” Draco explained. He opened the door a crack and looked back at Harry. “Tell Albus that Scorpius will see him tomorrow.”

With that, Draco left the funeral home and apparated away, returning to Malfoy Manor. He landed in the library and loosened his robes around his neck as he collapsed into his arm chair near the lit fireplace. He used his wand to summon a cup of firewhiskey into his hand and took a mouthful. It was chilled and after his first drink, he brought it to his forehead and let the coolness rest against his head. A mild headache was forming, but he wouldn’t allow it to bother him much more.

A peck at the window alerted him to an owl wanting to come inside. He waved his wand again, and the bird came through the now open window dropping an envelope onto his desk. Draco observed his name as the addressee, but also that his assistant Michael had sent it. He set the firewhiskey down and reached for the letter.

Greetings DM,

I hope this letter finds you well, and the wake was as pleasant as one could be. I finished compiling the reports. There is nothing in any of the quality control testing reports going back to a full six months before the date of purchase of the particular amulet in question that indicates there has been any issue with any of that particular product prior to purchase.

The Ministry of Magic wishes to schedule a meeting to have a discussion with you about our findings. They also stated they are doing their own tests on the amulet Mr. Ronald Weasley was wearing when he died and they will share what they have learned. I have already talked to the witch in charge of quality control and she says she’ll double check the reports to see if they missed something.

Otherwise, all is in order, sir. I’ll send you another owl should anything else occur. In the meantime, please enjoy your time with your family this weekend.

Best wishes,

M

Michael had gotten into the habit of signing with only initials, given how secretive Draco had become about his work with Guard Enchantments. Only three people within the entire Ministry of Magic even knew the true name of the founder and owner. The rest of the wizarding community thought the owner’s name was Dorian Merlinus.

This was so no other Deatheaters would learn Draco was actively trying to protect Aurors against another dark wizard raising up. He especially had no desire for his father to hear about it. Being no contact was already difficult, but adding in charity work for the other side was too much for him to handle on top of everything else. While it was a passion project, it was still something that he spent most of his time doing and was a major point in his investment portfolio. Draco tested the product and trusted it enough to send Scorpius to school with one. Draco himself had an amulet around his neck. He pulled it out from his shirt and examined it.

He had dedicated so much work to it over the last five years, and if someone proved it faulty in such a high-profile case and exposed him, then there was zero hope he could ever redeem the family enough to even give his son a fighting chance in this world.

Draco reached into his desk and pulled out a treat for the owl and it devoured it. It was one he had for office use. Not a breed that a Malfoy would have used for how common it was, but Draco thought she was perfect. He ran a finger across the bird's speckled gray feathers. “Thank you, Lydia. You can return home now.”

The owl named Lydia offered a shake and purred, before turning from Draco and disappearing into the darkening night.

8 8 8

Hermione was on her couch looking at her children sitting at the opposite end. Rose held open a book and was reading out loud to Hugo. It was a modern history within the wi

zarding community, primarily about the last two wars. Hugo had gotten very sad earlier and wanted to hear stories about his father, but he seemed to know better than to ask Hermione. Not while in this state. Rose somehow found the strength to take on that role and read from the textbook about the war, and about what Ron had done to help defeat Voldemort during the final fight.

Hermione felt guilty as their mother for not being strong enough at the moment to be a decent parent. Still, she was proud of Rose, and told herself, once the funeral was over, she would pull herself together. She closed her eyes and listened to Rose’s soft voice.

“In a heroic effort, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, two prominent members of Dumbledore’s Army, destroyed a Horcrux within the Chamber of Secrets. This daring feat marked a significant victory in the ongoing battle against the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Sources close to the matter reveal that Hermione’s encyclopedic knowledge of magical lore and Ron’s unwavering loyalty were pivotal in unraveling the Horcrux’s protective charms. Their collaboration exemplified the power of unity and friendship in the face of adversity.

The destruction of the Horcrux not only dealt a severe blow to Voldemort’s nefarious schemes but also underscores the indomitable spirit of Hogwarts’ finest. Their selfless actions exemplify the bravery and resilience that define the very essence of the wizarding world’s struggle against darkness thanks to the courage and determination of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.”

Hermione noticed movement behind her and looked to see her mother with a tray of simple sandwiches. She was smiling at Hermione, but then offered the same kindness to her grandchildren. “Your mum hadn’t gone into great detail about the war to me before. And it’s difficult for me to get information in the muggle world.” Emma set the tray on the coffee table. "Why don’t we eat before the funeral, and Hermione? Would you tell us about what happened?”

The kids put the book down and each took a sandwich. Hermione’s body ran cold, and she stared down at the floor, and shook her head. “Not sure what to say.”

“Didn’t dad kiss you during it?” Rose inquired.

Hermione looked up at her daughter and then at Hugo, who also wanted the answer. Her father had joined her on the couch, and her mother knelt down beside the children. “Where did you hear that?”

“I asked dad about how your first kiss happened when I was in first year. He said I was too young to know about the war, but we learned about it in school this year. I thought I'd be able to sit down and talk to dad about it now. But…you know…So Mum, can you tell me, how did you first kiss?”

Hermione bit her lip. “Well, I was eighteen years old. Your father was seventeen. We used a fang from a basilisk to destroy one of the final Horcrux. Your uncle George, along with Tonks and Remus, had already lost their lives. We were terrified. Scared. We had both liked each other for a while but hadn’t told each other. After we destroyed the Horcrux, we became overwhelmed with excitement at our small win, but not knowing what awaited us outside. Your father and I, we were both so certain we would still die in battle. And so…we kissed each other.”

Hermione had two stray tears fall down her cheeks, and Dan put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder and rubbed it. She wiped her face and offered her children a sad smile. “Your father even yelled at some Deatheaters later and told them to stay away from his girlfriend. He hadn’t asked me out yet. Not that he had to.”

She laughed, which made her kids join in. Hugo spoke up after Hermione shared the story. “Was it love at first sight?”

“The first time I met him, he had a mouth full of chocolate frogs, and he introduced himself to me in a not so elegant way,” Hermione said, laughing again. “And I’m pretty sure we spent these early years hating each other more often than not.”

“And managed to put me awkwardly in the middle,” Harry’s voice called from the living room entrance.

He held up a key in hand and waved. Hermione knew it was the emergency one she’d given Ginny a while back. “Sorry about that,” Hermione offered, apologizing for the way she had treated him all those years ago. Harry smiled.

“I was too dumb to realize how badly you two liked each other. Until at least the Triwizard Tournament,” Harry continued. He entered the room and then glanced around. “Is everyone ready for the funeral?”

Hermione pulled out her wand, and waved it over Rose, Hugo and herself, transforming their clothing into something more suitable. Her parents had already dressed and prepared, but they looked on with awe. Even after all these years, magic still amazed them.

Hermione stood up. “Where are Ginny and the kids?”

“They’re helping Molly and Arthur out with preparations. Mr. Rustleson needed to talk to you about the send off. Everything is ready, but he wants to confirm if you have organized the private burial. It’s up to you, Hermione, as the next of kin.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “I was supposed to do that last night. I forgot about it.”

Harry shook his head. “Hermione, he deals with this kind of thing every day, you have nothing to worry about.”

She jumped up, realizing that while she was usually on top of everything, she’d forgotten something so important. Dread and shame filled her. It was as if she had committed the greatest of sins. “I have to go now.”

“We’ll all go,” Dan offered.

Rose and Hugo go up too. Hermione had managed to focus on the happy memories for a moment, but they had disappeared and grief had replaced them once more. Hermione was angry at herself for shattering the few peaceful moments she had brought to her children. Ron had always been the funnier of the two of them. He could make his children laugh hard enough that their milk would spill from their noses.

Hermione sighed, wishing that when this was over she could just erase her entire memory of this horrid day. Hermione took a deep breath and prepared herself for another new worst day of her life.

8 8 8

Draco was glad when he found out that not only was Scorpius ready to come to his house, but Astoria had reminded him to dress for the funeral. Scorpius had a wallet that was expanded inside with all the essentials he would need at Draco’s. First, they’d be going to the Weasley’s though.

“Albus sent me an owl before I could send him my letter,” Scorpius explained. “Do you think I’ll have time to see him face to face, or would that be improper? I’ve never been to a funeral before.”

“You can hang out with him, but it’s important to remember the reason we are here, so no joking around,” Draco stated.

“Of course,” Scorpius responded.

Draco took his son by the shoulder before he apparated with him. When they reappeared, tall grass surrounded them. He was surprised initially, but soon noticed a path through the tall grass and caught sight of people in the distance. They both followed the trail and moved into the open field with a large house towering above.

Draco was nervous as he saw the sizable crowd and many of the same faces as the day before. His son, who was almost as tall as Draco now, stood close by, and searched for his friend. Albus spotted him before Scorpius did and came over in a hurried jog.

“Scorp!” Albus called.

“Albus!” Scorpius responded, waving to indicate he noticed his friend.

They offered the other an enormous hug, as if they hadn’t seen each other in a long while, and not just a few days. Scorpius pulled away first. “I’m sorry about your uncle.”

Albus smiled sadly at his friend. “Thanks.”

Albus turned to Draco and bowed his head in respect. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco offered the teenager a sympathetic look and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright. I knew your uncle and father well. I wish this was under better circumstances, however. Me being at your grandparents’ house, I mean.”

“Father, can I go check up on Rose and Hugo?” Scorpius requested.

Draco gave his son a surprised look. “You know them too?”

Scorpius shifted. “Rose is in my year, so we've talked a few times. Mother didn’t like it, but I was unsure about how you may react.”

“It’s not a problem with me,” Draco answered. “I’m glad the divide is shrinking within one generation. Go talk to your friends. Just come back with me when the funeral begins.”

The two disappeared into the crowds, leaving Draco by himself for the time being. He looked for anyone he thought might engage with him, but there were so many Gryffindor around, he doubted any other former Slytherins would be dumb enough to show their faces.

“Mr. Malfoy,” a woman called.

He turned in the direction the voice came from, and to his surprise, saw Emma Granger walking towards him. His eyes widened, shocked that the woman recognized him at all or bothered to remember the likes of him from just yesterday. He swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him and tried to force a genuine smile through.

“Mrs. Granger,” Draco greeted her cordially. “It’s good to see you again.”

He was about to offer her a handshake, but she already pulled him into a surprising embrace. It was quick and lasted only a moment, but the older woman gave him a powerful hug. He attempted to conceal his astonishment, despite being taken aback. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Wish it was under other circumstances, however.”

He tried to add this to not make it seem like this was something he was glad had happened, but she didn’t care at the moment. She glanced over her shoulder to the distance where Hermione stood with Harry, Fred, Dan, Molly and Arthur, and then she turned back and shook her head. “Hermione’s been a mess. Hasn’t eaten much and isn’t sleeping well. We are all taking turns staying with her until she falls asleep, but she always wakes up after an hour from nightmares.”

No other witch or wizard would have dared share such personal things with him, but Emma didn’t know what everybody else knew about Draco. Still, he looked over and studied her. Everyone in that group’s expressions was sad and sullen, but Hermione was different. Draco could tell that she had cast a glamor on herself that made her appear as depressed as those around her, but that kind of magic did not fool Draco. He caught glimpses and hints of her genuine expression. Large, thick tears stained her cheeks, and she was all but hyperventilating. He ached thinking about how she must’ve felt.

Draco knew that his wardbreaker somehow caused this pain. An invention he created to protect Aurors likely killed one of the most famous present day wizards.

The knowledge that Ron’s family was suffering made Draco feel guilty, and he realized now, despite his best efforts, he had traumatized the widow once again. He remembered them as children, and the look on her face when he had called her a Mudblood. At the moment, he had been satisfied and proud of how much he had hurt her, but since then, it had become a memory that he often thought of, not with pride, but shame.

Hermione’s face twisted into even more pain than in the past, and it was something Draco would never forget.

He almost forgot that Emma was standing in front of him, but she too looked at her daughter when she noticed how long Draco was staring at Hermione. “I don’t know how she’s going to come back from this,” she said. Not realizing, of course, how badly that kicked him in the chest. His heart sank and his shoulders hunched in shame.

“She has already suffered so much,” Draco admitted.

Emma agreed. “She was willing to give up everything to save your world. After we left St. Mungo’s, I thought we could just watch her be happy.”

“Why were you in St. Mungo?”

Emma looked surprised. “Well, she erased Dan's and I’s memories. We didn’t even remember we had a daughter. She wanted to keep her father and me safe in case those dark wizards came after us. They immediately brought us to the hospital after the war ended. It took two years to undo Hermione’s spell. It was hard, but dear Ron was with her the whole way. If she couldn’t visit every day, he would come in her place.”

Draco’s eyes found Hermione again, but when he glanced over, he could see her looking at them. When their eyes met, she looked away, catching Harry’s attention, who placed a hand on her shoulder. She said something, but then turned back and marched toward them. Draco hid his panic, similar to how she was hiding her true tears.

“Mum,” Hermione called with concern.

Draco didn’t think he was ready to have her confront him this second. Saying he was sorry in the wake was one thing. But her apparent desire to protect her mother from him was not something he felt like being faced with right now.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as Emma spoke up. “Yes, dear. Do you need me for anything?”

“H-how...do you know Malfoy?”

“Oh, we met yesterday,” Emma explained. “He was kind to your father and I. He knows what a dentist does..”

Hermione shot her head around to look at Draco, and stared him down, as if it would uncover some evil plot. He was innocent of that, of course, so it was awkward to have her staring at him.

“I came to support Scorpius, who wished to be supportive of his classmates. Plus, Weasley was my classmate too,” Draco defended himself. “Just as yesterday, I am sorry for your family’s loss. It is a great one, I’m sure.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Draco and moved in front of Emma as if she were protecting her mother from a threat. Draco took offense at that, but understood Hermione was likely defensive because of the uncertainty of what the future may hold. He didn’t blame her, but he’d never hurt her family purposely. Not anymore. Even if someone found him guilty in Ron’s death, he could never cause harm to anyone else.

“Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley,” Emma raised her voice. Her tone made the two forty year olds stiffen like they were children again and caught red-handed doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. Hermione looked down and away from Draco, but her expression remained threatening. “Mr. Malfoy has been nothing but polite.”

“He harassed me in school,” Hermione shot. “I tolerate him while dropping the kids off or picking them up at the train station.”

Draco couldn’t deny that stung, but he reminded himself that after his behavior when he was younger and how she grieved now, she had every right to be upset.

“Has he harassed you at all since school?” Emma asked sternly.

Hermione became silent and shifted. “No.”

Emma still looked at Hermione. “I won’t tell you to get over it, because I know bullying can be hard, but he took the time to offer his condolences. You don’t need to forgive, or forget, but he has done nothing wrong with being here.”

“Mum, he hates-”

“I did not come here to upset you or your family further.” Draco interrupted her, “I brought Scorpius here today because he wanted to support his classmate, your nephew. Please, do not worry further, I’ll stay out of your sight, and leave as soon as the funeral is over,” Draco cut Hermione off. “Afterwards, I will keep my distance. You won’t even see me at the train station. Astoria will drop him off herself happily, I’m sure.”

Before Draco could offer Hermione any more unintentional offence, he stepped away from the two and backed up, headed back towards the tall grass. He stood at the edge, out of eyeline. Hagrid, stood with the other attending professors, blocked Hermione and her family from Draco’s view and cried with a grand display of emotion. From his place, he could see Scorpius talking among the other kids. When they started, his son would have no problem finding him. And when they were done, Draco could get them out of there.

He didn’t expect a warm welcome. Heck, Hermione’s parents’ treatment shocked him. He hadn’t expected Hermione to come at him with enough aggression to be the opposite of Emma’s approach today. After Neville’s bitter reaction to him, it should have been obvious to him that this was a very dumb idea, and he wished he could’ve just stayed away, no matter how guilty he felt.

8 8 8

Emma shook her head, disappointed at her daughter, but she took her by the arm and guided her back to the group they’d come from. Hermione had no more words, but searched for Draco. He’d already disappeared, so she stood beside Ginny when they returned. Ginny looked at her and brought her into a one-armed hug. “Are you doing okay?”

How did she think she was? Her husband was dead, she was tired and hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days, her husband’s murderer was still at large, and Draco Malfoy, of all people, was here. She’d been too stunned to say anything yesterday and figured that was enough for her to deal with. Draco hated muggles. Maybe even more than he did muggle-borns. How could he not only come to the funeral of a man he didn’t hide how much he detested, but talk to the parents of a woman he tormented in their youth? And to top it off, he was a Deatheater! Of course, she wasn’t doing okay. Everything was a mess.

Ginny used her fingers on Hermione’s shoulders to give her a squeeze and bring Hermione back to the moment. She forced a sad smile for Ginny. “I want to be anywhere but here.”

Ginny brought another arm around Hermione and squeezed. “We’re all hurting. I wish we were all home. Maybe curled up on our couch. Listening to you and Ron arguing over an incantation pronunciation before the guys headed out for a job. You always made sure they had every spell and tool they may need. Rose and Albus would sit with the kids and distract them by telling them fairy tales. Lily loves those romantic muggle stories. Especially the one with the glass shoes.”

Hermione nodded, remembering last summer where they’d gather the cousins together for a big slumber party. Even while busy, their respective husbands would spend moments with the family. They were never out of touch for long, and Ron would always leave a letter on his pillow for her to find. Ron always filled his letters with promises to return and light teasing about her perfectionist need to make sure he was prepared, but he also loved that about her.

“She’s rattled because your old classmate, Mr. Malfoy, is here,” Emma offered after several moments of silence.

“I see,” Ginny sighed. “I am surprised he came, but he seems sincere.”

“Can we stop talking about him?” Hermione snapped. She released herself from Ginny and looked around. “I want to get started.”

Her family was stunned by her actions, and she saw many eyes on her, but she felt justified. She didn’t doubt Draco’s words, but she couldn’t imagine how angry Ron would be if he knew the Pureblood prat had come. Yesterday had been strange enough. And now today, with her mother, of all people. She knew the younger Draco best, and expected him to put a jinx on Emma, or transfigure her into something horrible.

She approached Mr. Rustleton. “Is everything prepared? Can we perhaps start a little early?”

The older wizard confirmed with a nod. “Of course. Mrs Granger-Weasley. Go ahead to the plot, and I will call everyone together.”

Hermione nodded and walked past him, moving to the hole they’d chosen at the edge of the property. The Weasleys had a family cemetery where Arthur’s parents and Fred had all been buried. And now there was a space for Ron. Marked not by the gravestone’s muggles used, but by a large slab that would be placed after the ceremony.

Hermione stood away from the hole with the coffin that was already inside. Mr. Rustleton raised his hands and emitted a light into the air. People turned and looked, and then he brought the wand to his throat and spoke. The magic made his voice louder and clearer. “We are beginning with the ceremony. Family at the front, and friends and others further back. Let us begin with our farewell to Mr. Ronald Weasley.”

Hermione saw her kids hurry to her, and she placed a hand on either side, bringing them to her and shielded them. Her legs felt like jelly as she stood there, looking at the large closed box, as it sat in its hole, remiding Hermione of Dumbledore’s funeral, but also her poor brother-in-law after the war.

Hugo put his arms around Hermione and rested his head on her collarbone. But Rose gripped her mother’s hand and squeezed hard enough that she thought her circulation maybe cut off. Hermione welcomed the numbing feeling, as it drew some attention from how miserable she was.

Emma moved to Rose’s side and put an arm around Rose’s shoulders, but Emma’s hand touched Hermione, and ran her thumb comfortably on her shoulder. To her surprise, Dan did the same on Hugo’s side.

The emotions beat out the numbing feeling that she wanted, and her sore eyes burned as scorching streaks of tears fell down her cheeks. Hermione choked back her cries as her grip around her children tightened. Her glamor spell faded and exposed her true emotions. 

Mr. Rustleson stood at the head of the open grave. “Today, we are saying goodbye to Auror Ronald Weasley,” Mr Rustleson announced, “And to comfort every person present, who has all been affected by his life. A son, brother, husband, father, friend, student, war hero. He has many titles, but none will do justice to the importance he held to every individual person. Let us raise our wands in his honour.”

Hermione released her children and dug around in her large pocket and pulled out her wand. Rose and Hugo did the same. This gave Hermione the chance to reach into her other pocket and the tips of her fingers fell onto the slim and broken pieces of Ron’s wand.

She gripped them. She intended to lay him to rest with the pieces, as per tradition, but she’d been unable to hand them over to Mr. Rustleson. Only Harry knew she had failed to do so, but he told her she should keep them if she wished. And now it rested in her pocket, giving her the courage she needed in the moment.

Once every wand in the gathering was raised, Mr. Rustleson shot off the first white light into the air, and then all the others followed suit. Hermione took a deep breath and let hers go.

It was the first time in her life Hermione was sure a spell of hers was going to fail. The once always confident witch, sure that it would fall to the ground, but by some miracle, it hovered in the air above. And after several minutes, each one faded back to nothing.

Then others came forward, each with their wands ready. All of them were Ron’s living siblings. And as discussed, they raised their wands as Mr. Rustleson moved, letting them use their magic to raise the heavy slab that would seal Ron’s grave.

They uttered their levitating spell, and Hermione was brought back to their first year of school, where she corrected Ron when he couldn’t cast his spell. How much of a snobby know it all she’d been. And how much Ron had once hated her for it. Years later, Ron joked about it, by always ending the story with a smile and a compliment about how truly brilliant Hermione was. How her husband adored her and how proud he was. She often reminded him of how he’d come into his magic, and how well he could hold his own in a duel.

Until someone took him out from behind.

And his Wardbreaker failed.

And that spell killed Ron.

Leaving her.

They placed the slab and cast a sealing charm, locking it so no one could ever break in, which made Hermione’s vision blur and her heart drop. Ron was now out of her reach.

Hermione looked down, the emptiness more than she could have thought possible. She didn’t know how she’d be able to go on without him.

A light reflected off the stone, and it blinded her, forcing her to wipe her face on her sleeve as she glanced up. Hermione was taken aback by a single ray of light from the wands that remained suspended in the air and then descended to the ground. The spells didn’t last this long. It was the slightest bit of silver. Nothing about it seemed spectacular to her, but she still reached up and let it touch her fingertips.

A warmth filled her hand, as if someone was granting her heat. She closed a fist around the magic, putting the light out, but its comforting feeling moved through her body. Hermione sensed something as if it called to her. She looked at the tall grass, but saw no one there. She ignored the pressing need to follow her senses. It reminded her of Ron and how it felt to be held by him. She stayed put, but managed the tiniest of smiles.

8 8 8

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer,” Draco apologized to Scorpius as they walked through the tall grass.

“It’s alright, I noticed how upset Rose and Hugo’s mother was,” Scorpius replied.

Draco sighed. “Did Albus tell you we weren’t on great terms?”

His son nodded, “No one will say why though.”

“It’s complicated,” Draco stated. “I’ll explain sometime soon. For now, I’d like to go home, have some supper, maybe practice some Quidditch?”

Scorpius agreed with a nod. “That sounds nice.”

Draco felt something in his hand and stopped in his tracks and he raised his palm to examine it. Scorpius stopped and looked back. “What is it?”

A strange sensation was present. It was as if a person was holding his hand. Or at least the ghost of a person, leaving only the body heat. He squeezed his hand closed and then released it, still feeling its presence. A shiver crawled up his spine, and it made Draco want to return to the somber event behind them. It was as if something was calling to him, though he didn’t understand.

He forced himself to face back to his son, and then ignored the sensation and shook his head. Instead, Draco offered his hand to Scorpius. “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Scorpius agreed and reached for the outreached hand and when they touched, Draco apparated them back to Malfoy Manor.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Draco always enjoyed being on a broom. It always managed to clear his mind. The subsequent weeks had him shifting through paperwork and test results. Checking Wardbreakers for weak points himself in the testing room, examining the findings personally, and with nothing to show for it, he needed to calm himself. With Scorpius visiting him for a few days, he was glad to spend his evenings on the pitch with his child. 

It was hardly a real quidditch game, but he was happy to chase after the Quaffle and throw it to his son, who’d try to catch it mid-flight. Knowing Scorpius was better with a broom than Draco pleased him. Scorpius would twirl around and angle himself to reach the ball, and correct himself on top. 

Now forty, Draco wasn't as skilled as he once was, but his eyes were still keen and he could see the talent his child displayed. Even as the sky darkened, they continued. The magical lights above them flickered to life, giving them the ability to play on. It wasn’t until Narcissa walked onto the field below and waved to gather their attention that they both noticed her. 

With the Quaffle in hand, Draco lowered to the ground. “Mother,” Draco addressed with a nod. She looked at her only child with a kind smile and even more affection when Scorpius landed a few feet away. 

“Dinner is ready,” she announced.  

“Why didn’t you get one of the house-elves to come out here?” Draco asked. 

Narcissa smiled and patted Draco’s cheek before turning to her grandson. “I wanted to see my boys.”

Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, Narcissa disliked not knowing Draco’s location. And who was Draco to tell his mother to calm down and not bother him so much? She was a strong woman who married the man of her dreams and had a son she adored. 

In the past, Narcissa watched as the Death Eaters groomed a young Draco. Acting as if it were his destiny at birth to join their cause. And when their Dark Lord returned, her son was all too happy to take his place in their ranks. She stood by and watched them make her son do unthinkable things. After the war, to protect her child, she put her life on the line and divorced her husband when he was sentenced to Azkaban for his crimes. 

Draco would let her be the protective parent if it made her feel less guilty. So Draco offered her a grin. “Well, thank you, mother. What has been prepared for dinner tonight?”

“Roast beef, potatoes and mixed vegetables,” Narcissa explained. “Pumpkin pudding for dessert.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Draco stated. 

“That will hit the spot,” Scorpius cheered. 

The three walked together across the grounds towards the manor. When inside, two house-elves were waiting to take their brooms. Father and son returned to their respective rooms to change out of their sportswear into comfortable evening wear. Draco wore his at home slacks, and a button up, not bothering with a jumper or robes. Scorpius chose similar attire, and they joined Narcissa in the dining room. 

She was already seated, waiting for them. Both took their seats across from her and dinner was served. Draco was ready to start his meal, but Narcissa got his attention by clearing her throat. 

“Your meeting with the Ministry is tomorrow, isn't it? Are you prepared?” 

“Of course,” Draco replied as he put thick cuts of meat onto his fork. “Michael has compiled all the data, and I have spoken to all the department heads and looked it over myself. I’m as ready as I am likely ever to be. There are no obvious answers, though, and we’ve heard nothing  about any possible flaws in the amulet design.”

Narcissa nodded and put down her utensils. “I don’t know if I should wish they find an issue or not. Have they sent anyone into the labs to examine things?”

“When it first happened, someone from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes came to look at our offices. They found nothing, but they wanted the reports. Which I gave readily,” Draco explained after downing some potatoes. “I would rather they find a weak spot or anything. At least if it’s that, we can make sure nothing like this happens again.  I’ve asked our designers and quality controllers to go back over everything, but they’ve found nothing.” 

Scorpius looked over at the adults at the table and pushed his food around with his utensil. He was frowning. Draco took notice. “I am aware that everything is progressing slowly. We’ll have answers come tomorrow, hopefully,” Draco explained.

“I’m scared of what will happen,” Scorpius confessed. 

“Why, darling?” Narcissa cried, concerned for her only grandchild. 

“I’ve overheard what people say about our family. Very few said it to my face, but I have read . books. My friends don’t hold it against me, but Albus has spoken about past grudges between us and the Potter’s and Weasley’s. What grandfather did. What he made you do, father.”

The room had gone silent and Draco exchanged looks between his mother and Scorpius. Narcissa looked ashamed. Draco broke eye contact and glanced at his arm, where, under his button up lay his hidden and faded Dark Mark. “That’s a complicated history. One I had hoped to wait until you were older to share.”

“Children talk,” Narcissa whispered with urgency. 

Draco stood from the table, understanding that Narcissa wanted him to at least be told an age appropriate version before he went to Hogwarts. Scorpius’ mother had potent feelings, and Draco had supported his wife, thinking they would leave things behind. How naïve he’d been. Draco looked at his son. “Let’s head to my office and talk.”

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” Scorpius stated.

“You’re not in trouble,” Draco explained. “You have questions, and this affects all of us. Ask, and I’ll answer.”

Scorpius jumped to his feet and followed Draco out. Narcissa turned to the house-elves. “Please keep their dinner warm. They’ll return after their talk.”

“Of course, mistress,” a female elf replied. 

Draco let Scorpius into the office when they reached it and offered him the couch in front of the fire. Scorpius sat and Draco did the same across from him. Silence followed, but Scorpius looked nervous. “I want to start this conversation off by apologising to you for not talking about this sooner. Your mother had strong feelings about telling you, and I went along with it. We never should’ve kept this from you this long.”

“I understand,” Scorpius replied, his voice was quiet, and Draco could tell his son was nervous. 

Draco encouraged his son to ask his questions. “Please, you're free to ask me anything.” 

Scorpius licked his dry lips and tapped his leg nervously. “Father, I’ve heard rumours about you as a student in school. A hateful bully, classist…and your hatred for muggle-born.” 

“All true,” Draco confessed, though he held immense shame and did his best to not sink into his chair and disappear. “It’s not an excuse, but I was a product of my environment. Before Hogwarts, I only spent time with pureblood families, many of whom were supporters of the Dark Lord. I didn’t know any better. After the War, your grandmother and I were done with it all. I got some community service, as did my mum.”

“And grandfather?” 

“Guilty as can be. He did awful things, but he was also a coward,” Draco explained. “He is not sorry, and he is where he deserves to be.”

“Is it true….?” Scorpius said, his voice lowered, and he seemed to trail off, unable to finish his question.

“What?”

“That…you have a Dark Mark?”

Draco hadn’t been this uncomfortable in a long while. Not since Draco had to go to St. Mungo’s after an accident when he’d been testing an earlier model of the Wardbreaker himself. The spell had repelled off the amulet as designed, but it bounced away and hit Draco. An easy fix to his broken arm turned awkward when they removed his shirt to put the bone back inside before healing, and the muggle born healer noticed his Dark Mark. She excused herself, and another doctor replaced her. Draco knew it was because she refused to take care of him. He didn’t blame her, even though he wouldn’t have done or said anything to her. The mark had faded a little, but anyone who knew Voldemort’s mark would be able to make it out. Now it looked like blurred ink on wet paper. Still, it symbolised the worst of their world, and most other magical folks would judge him for that. Tattoos weren’t commonplace in the wizarding world. 

Draco’s hand instinctively gripped his arm where his permanent brand was and squeezed. “I do.”

Scorpius gave Draco a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry your father did that to you.”

Years ago, Narcissa expressed the same words to him after Lucius was dragged away to Azkaban. It didn’t seem as empty as when his mother said it. He knew she also experienced guilt over not protecting him like she should’ve, but when his own son echoed this, it truly felt sincere with worry. 

“I will never, ever, do that to you,” Draco added. “And if I try, you run away from me. Stay with your mum, or anyone. I want you to choose your path.”

“Father…I trust you so much,” Scorpius stated. He dug into his shirt collar and pulled out the chain he wore, and showed it to Draco. Around his neck was the Wardbreaker that Draco gave him for protection. His eyes widened, and he almost jumped out of his skin, unsure if he wanted his son to wear one anymore. “I trust you,” he repeated. 

Draco leaned forward and covered his face with his hands, shaking his head. He did not know what he could say or do. “I was a piece of shit,” Draco replied. “I was the kid no mother would want their child to speak to. Elitist, bigoted, and utterly egotistical.”

“But you aren’t now,” Scorpius stated. 

“After many hard lessons,” Draco explained. “I thought I was the greatest, simply because of my pedigree, but do you know who the best student in our school was? Not me. Not by a long shot. I wasn’t horrible, but they seemed to master most things they tried.”

“Who father?”

Draco chuckled and followed up with a sigh. “Hermione Granger, married name Weasley.” 

“Really?”

“I loathed her. Everything about her made me angry. I uttered words I can never take back. I cannot look upon my bare arm without thinking about them,” Draco explained. “Despite how much I hated them, when the moment came that I would have proven myself to father and the Dark Lord, I couldn’t do it. I despised the golden trio of Hogwarts, but I didn’t want to kill them, even indirectly. Granger’s screams while Bellatrix tortured her still haunt my dreams.”

“Is that why you created the Wardbreakers?”

“I made them because I wanted the first line of defence against any other rising dark wizards to have a better chance. So nobody’s children would have to be the ones to end the war. Harry Potter was seventeen years old, and had been fighting Voldemort or others since he was only eleven. I know it must sound adventurous to you kids at Hogwarts, but someone almost died every year, until they did begin to die,” Draco explained. “And if those trying to fight fail, then at least you’d be safe. It’s not known to many, but your Headmistress has enough Wardbreakers in her office for all persons at the school and Hogsmeade. St. Mungo’s, The Ministry. I donated them at a loss. That is how much I believed I was making up for my sins. I never imagined they would fail, and possibly kill, Ronald Weasley, of all people.”

Draco hadn’t realised that his hand was shaking, but he didn’t notice because his vision blurred as hot burning tears fell from his eyes. He used his sleeve to wipe them away and tried to clear his throat to speak further. 

“Many things could happen tomorrow, Scorpius. The wizarding world is going to learn that I own Guard Enchantments. I’ll have enemies on both sides. If it has to be, I want you to stay with your mother. Tell them you disown me. I don’t care. Just promise me you won’t try to protect me.”

“I don’t think I can promise that, father,” Scorpius confessed. “You did nothing wrong. Be honest with them as you have with me. Nobody could hide how shaken you are by this.”

“The world is much more complicated than that,” Draco stated. “Tomorrow, they could blame me, put me on trial, and take me away. The Potter’s will make sure Albus never sees you again. For your sake, distance yourself from me. Tell everyone you hate me. Change your name to your mother’s maiden name. Then, and maybe only then, will you live the judge free life I wasn’t able to achieve myself.”

“But…what about the family name?”

Draco shook his head, disregarding the concerns of his child. “It will die with me if that is what it takes.”

“You sound like you are giving up,” Narcissa’s voice came from the doorway. The two looked at her. Concern painted her expression as she spoke. “I’d beg you to reconsider, Draco, but you are stubborn and determined.” 

Draco hated that his mother had heard all this. She walked inside and sat beside Scorpius and put a protective arm around him. “I guess we should all just hope that tomorrow doesn’t end that way. Perhaps by some miracle, everything will fall in our favour.”

Draco nodded, but he suspected that was unlikely. Impossible even. Still, going in with some positive thoughts couldn’t hurt. He hoped the evidence he turned over reflected his desire for answers, too. And perhaps prove his innocence of plotting a murder. There was no way he wouldn’t be found guilty of a wrongful death crime, however. He supposed that winning that was something he could never hope to achieve. 

He stood from his seat. “Let’s return to the table. Dinner is the only thing we should focus on right now.” 

What more could they do until tomorrow?

Chapter Text

Draco looked at himself in the mirror after he buttoned up his shirt, and added a simple tie that was a lovely shade of grey. Over the top, he put on a black robe, careful to select something neat and clean, while still not as flashy as some of the other robes he owned. His assistant Michael suggested he dress nicely, but not enough to flaunt his wealth, to help him appear humble in his older years. 

Draco almost heard Lucius' voice in his mind crying about how a Malfoy should always act like they are better than most because they were. He trusted Michael far more, given his common background. He’d never directed Draco in the wrong direction before, after all. And well, Draco’s father’s track record spoke otherwise. 

When Draco left his room, he found his mother standing outside. Surprise took him, but Narcissa was far more surprised by the simplicity of his appearance. “That’s how you are going?”

“Michael said if I dressed neatly but plainly, it would show a humbler side, which I have been trying to achieve for years now. If it can help, then why not?” Draco explained. 

She sighed. “Michael knows better. He grew up among the most common of muggles.”

“He’s also family, and I trust him,” Draco added. 

Narcissa looked to the floor, ashamed. “I still barely know him.”

“Well, you never knew your brother either,” Draco said. “How old was he when you were born?”

“He was three,” Narcissa replied. “My father took him away when he failed to receive a Hogwarts letter. Given to a squib, and he paid the Ministry a lot of money to erase my brother from the family birth records.” 

Narcissa reached for Draco and caressed his cheek. “Be strong today. Michael will be with you, won’t he?”

“Yes, I’m going to the office first, and then we’ll head over together. It’s just a few blocks of walking,” Draco explained, though he turned far more seriously. “Make sure Scorpius gets to Astoria after I leave. I already sent an owl to her explaining the situation, so she’ll shield him if everything goes south.”

Draco could tell his mother wanted to say more, but she held firm as she agreed. “I will.”

Draco gave Narcissa a warm embrace, knowing he couldn’t wait any longer and had to go or he’d be late. So when he pulled from her, he apparated away to his office at Guard Enchantments, where his Squib cousin, Michael, waited for him. 

8 8 8 

“I’m going to that meeting!” Hermione cried when her boss told her she couldn’t be involved. With several ministry offices and the business owner of the Wardbreakers attending, Hermione felt she had every right to go. “I’m part of the department. I should be there!”

Sylvia Fairstone, Hermione’s superior, shook her head. “In any other situation, yes, but you are family and the widow of the victim. It’s too personal.”

“No one here will tell me anything!” Hermione raised her voice further. “There has been no explanation as to what killed my husband. The Wardbreaker? The dark wizard? Merlin’s ghost?!”

“This is a sensitive matter, and we are still investigating,” Sylvia answered. “Our best in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are on it.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “You’re best isn’t on the case, and you know it.”

Sylvia had ten years on Hermione and was already grey, but appeared older, likely from decades of working the hardest cases in recent wizarding history. Hermione always held a lot of respect for the woman who took her under her wing when she first arrived and was new to the department. Showing her any disrespect was not something Hermione would dare do. 

“I will give you a full report when it’s over, but you have to understand this is not an easy choice for me. It isn’t for any of us. We all cared for Ronald, but in this situation, we must treat you like everyone else. You cannot be part of this investigation,” Sylvia sighed.

“Harry’s involved,” Hermione shot. 

“He’s a witness,” Sylvia explained. “He was there. All the departments are sharing their findings, and we are interviewing the founder of Guard Enchantments to discover what the cause might’ve been. Mr Potter’s first-hand account will be invaluable to us. Please, stay here, and just be patient. Better yet, go home and be with your children.”

Sylvia, sure that she had got through to Hermione, took the papers from her desk placed them in a briefcase, and left for the meeting. Hermione’s fists clenched at her side and she almost picked up the closest seat and tossed it in frustration. 

“She’s doing what she thinks is best for you.”

Hermione peered over her shoulder and saw Harry. “I should be there.”

“If it helps, I don’t want to go,” Harry stated. 

“You have an important role,” Hermione replied. 

Harry took a seat in the chair that Hermione almost threw and looked at his remaining best friend. “I can bring you, but it requires you to do something for me.”

Hermione eagerly responded. “Anything.”

“Your wand has to be locked in your desk,” Harry answered. 

“Why?” Hermione asked. 

“Because I don’t know what you’ll do when you find the answers you are looking for,” Harry explained. “If you do that, I’ll get you into the meeting.”

Hermione was already at her nearby workspace and tossed her wand in a drawer. Harry looked surprised by how desperate she was, but judging by her expression, he knew he made the right call. Hermione rushed to his side. “How are you getting me inside?”

Harry pulled out a potion bottle and waved it in front of her. 

“Polyjuice?” 

“No, this is something new,” Harry explained. “It’s under wraps, but being tested by Aurors. It lasts for five hours, unlike polyjuice which is only one. I got permission from a colleague to lend me some hair. Stand in the back and watch, though.” 

Hermione didn’t have to consider anything anymore, and she grabbed the bottle and downed it. With everyone else in her department already downstairs, she could do this here. It felt similar to polyjuice, but tasted of fire whiskey and burned the entire way down her throat. The bubbling and changing of her body happened, and she moved to her desk, where a little mirror was. She picked it up and found a stranger staring back at her. 

“What’s her name, and will many attending know her?”

“Jeannie Dobre and she’s one of those people you tend to not notice, so she’s brilliant with undercover work. As long as you remain silent, you’ll be fine.”

Hermione was relieved they were the same size, but her clothes were a little tighter, although it shouldn’t be noticed. Luckily, Harry came prepared and produced a robe that matched his. An Auror one. Harry had planned this all out. 

She put it on and motioned for him to check her out. “Do I look okay?”

“As ready as you were the day we snuck into the ministry last time,” Harry expressed with a very heavy sigh, followed by shaking his head at the memory.

Hermione was pleased to hear it. The two left the department, headed downstairs, and followed the influx of people who were also attending this inquiry. Hermione stayed by Harry’s side and together they found a spot in the back, though Harry sat near the end so he could move to the front for when he would give his testimony. 

Wizards and witches were already taking their seats, but not quietly. Murmurers, gossip, and rumours floated in the air after falling from the mouths of those present. Hermione would’ve paid them any mind, but the importance of today’s subject left her with the need to soak up every syllable.

“How did your department do with the paperwork sent over?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. How about you? You examined the Wardbreaker Mr Weasley was wearing. How did that go?”

More words from others mixed in, changing what she could hear. 

“Didn’t he jump in front of Harry Potter to save him, and someone intended the killing curse for Mr Potter?”

“I’ve looked into Dorian Merlinus, but I couldn’t even locate a photo of him. Do you suppose he’ll be here or send his assistant?”

“Do you think Guard Enchantments will go under after this? They’ve donated so much to the ministry. Was that a front?”

So many things were being whispered about in the room, and Hermione didn’t know what was true or not. Did they hold weight or were they merely empty rumours? She turned to Harry and leaned over to whisper to him. “Can you tell me anything before we start?”

“They’ve kept just as much from me as you. So other than asking me questions about what happened, everything will be news to me.”

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms, annoyed that she had nothing to go by. She was the brightest witch of the age, well-respected in her field and her coworkers would come to her when they were stuck. Hermione thrived on solving the unknown. If people had given her the information they had, she would have solved this by now. Her past at Hogwarts and the yearly mysteries she helped solve with her two best friends were proof of that. It was her knowledge of various subjects that got them to the Philosopher’s Stone. Harry never would’ve figured out about the Basilisk and the pipes if she hadn’t had the paper from the library with the clue. They produced the polyjuice potion because of her talents. Regardless of her feats, past or present however, would do little to convince others why she should be there regardless of her status as the affected widow. 

“Everyone take a seat, we will begin,” Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice came from the centre. A desk by his side, scattered with documents. Kingsley used his wand against his throat to be heard over the attendees.

Silence fell as he commanded the room. He shuffled papers in front of him and turned to the other department heads. “Now, before we start, the ministry is going to come forth with some information. There are things about this case that were on the Ministry’s radar before the tragic events that took place. Namely, Dorian Merlinus, and his role. While that individual has been known to all of you as the founder of Guard Enchantments, that is an alias. They informed us of their true identity when they registered the business years ago. It was agreed that they’d keep themselves from view out of fear of lingering danger. Today, they’re to reveal themselves.”

The whispers began again, but Hermione only focused on Kingsley, who was a good family friend. He was at the wake and funeral but hadn’t said a word to her, or Harry, as far as she knew. Kingsley cleared his throat to get the attention of those present. “Given the still fragile state our community was in at the time,  this was the best choice for the safety of everyone involved. That anyone who holds the safety of our people so highly should have to fear for the safety of themselves and their family at the hands of that same community, we apologise. For now, could Mr Harry Potter come to the front and share what happened that night?”

Everyone turned when Harry stood, and they stared at him as he walked down the stairs and took his place at the little stand and chair set up for those who’d be speaking today. “Good morning, Minister,” Harry greeted when he sat down. 

“Mr Potter, could you tell us about the case you were working on?” Kingsley asked. 

“Certainly,” Harry replied. “We were investigating the smuggling of magical artifacts by a wizard named Errol Underwood near Cambridge. We suspected he was planning to use these pieces as weapons. Our intelligence suggested a growing underground community of wizards who either were once Death Eaters or young folks who idealised Voldemort. We heard of an exchange happening, and went to catch them in the act.”

Kingsley looked over the notes in front of him before he asked another question. “And did you see anything?”

“Not what we were setting out to find. We believe Mr Underwood had some magical detection going on because as soon as we noticed him arriving it was obvious that he knew we were there, even using magic to hide ourselves. We were attacked, so we defended ourselves.”

“And from there, can you describe the scene?”

“Another wizard attacked from behind. He struck my partner with the killing curse and, unexpectedly, the Wardbreaker didn’t bounce it off. I’ve seen it work that way before, so I’m not sure what happened. But it wasn’t just it failing to protect him. It exacerbated the damage, and there was an explosion of magic. We were all thrown back. The two wizards ran off, and by the time I got to Ron, he was already deceased.”

Kingsley looked over the notes some more and faced Harry once more. “Can you describe the state of Mr Weasley?”

Harry paused, and through the pounding in Hermione’s heart, she knew Harry was regretting letting her come. He had wanted her to not see his remains after all. That would render it pointless now. 

“His torso was torn open, and his neck had severe damage done to it, especially in the back and front areas. His blood vessels all over his body were blackened as if burnt. My partner’s eyes were black as well. The tips of his hair looked like it’d been singed,” Harry described, though his voice sounded robotic. Hermione knew he must have been reliving it. 

There were murmurs again, and even Kingsley appeared startled as if the report in front of him had lacked that amount of detail. “Thank you, Mr Potter.”

Harry left his place and returned to the back of the room. Many eyes followed him, and when he took a seat, Hermione almost embraced him but stopped herself. Remembering she was pretending to be someone else entirely.

“I understand why you didn’t want me to see him like that,” Hermione whispered to him. 

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he replied. 

Kingsley brought up Sylvia next and Hermione watched her and waited for her to present her own findings. “Fairstone, your department examined the Wardbreaker Mr Weasley was wearing, as well as Mr Potter’s. My understanding is that you added another random one as a control item. What have you found?”

“We have discovered very little. We tried to replicate what Mr Potter reported to us, and based on the shape of Mr Weasley’s Wardbreaker, it’s damaged, so we can’t cast any more spells on it without worsening the damage, and destroying the evidence. And it no longer protects against magic. We even got permission from you, Minister, to test it with the killing curse, and it too left the control and Mr Potter’s intact. We have no conclusion as to why the Wardbreaker failed, and theorise there was a defect with Weasley’s only.”

“And does your department suspect foul play?” Kingsley questioned. 

Sylvia shook her head. “As of right now, we cannot for certain conclude anything. We cannot find where the problem might be, or where any sabotage could’ve taken place. The Wardbreaker has an extended amount of damage, and we are unsure where the fault is. We have reviewed the quality controls provided by Guard Enchantment and accounted for all defects. Guard Enchantment has offered everything we have asked for, but we are going to do a far deeper investigation into them starting tomorrow.”

Kingsley nodded. “And can you describe how a Wardbreaker works?”

“Of course,” Sylvia replied. “The design is very simple, but genius. Magic can be conductive with certain metals, more than others. It’s why metal is not common within our everyday objects, it can interfere with the flow of magic. Even the most talented spell caster could have a spell fail. Our ancestors wore armour infused with materials that helped reduce this conductivity. Such as wood or leather. Each Wardbreaker is crafted of Rhodium-Plated Resin. While it looks like metal because of the Rhodium, that is only to look nice. It is made of resin, a material used often by muggles. It has no conductivity and is similar to plastic, but more sturdy. Gems decorate them and act as insulators. Quartz is the best as it fuses beautifully with natural elements and magic with ease. The final key is a powerful protection spell. Very few wizards perfectly cast them, so Guard Enchantments only had the best Aurors moonlight as hired help. Each Amulet is fused with the gems. With so many protections, should the wearer be struck, the Wardbreaker should bounce the attack away. Sometimes back at the caster, or at random.”

“Were all the materials present? And the spell cast perfectly?”

“Yes, and the quality control files we had showed that Ronald Weasley’s Wardbreaker passed all tests. And he never took a strike from it before, so it should’ve been in perfect working order,” Sylvia explained. 

“Do I understand correctly that one should only use Wardbreakers once?”

“That is correct. Since a wizard could be struck more than once, they can withstand multiple hits, but the Wardbreaker should be replaced after every occurrence of being hit. And Harry Potter’s testimony clarifies that Ronald was attacked only once.

 “Thank you,” Kingsley stated. “I expect a report after you have a look inside Guard Enchantments tomorrow.”

Kingsley used a quill to write things down on the paper, and then he turned to the doorway, hidden from Hermione’s view at the angle she was sitting. “Mr Malfoy, could you come forward?”

That caught both Harry and Hermione’s attention, and Hermione’s heart raced when she saw Draco Malfoy approach the bench now. He took a seat like everyone else had and adjusted his robes when he sat down. 

“Mr Draco Malfoy, please share why you are here today?”

Hermione watched as he seemed to take a moment to prepare himself, but what fell from his lips never could’ve prepared those present.

“I am the founder and owner of Guard Enchantments,” he answered. 

The reactions were loud and shocking. Several people jumped to their feet and shouted. There were so many voices, however, Hermione couldn’t hear the words being yelled. With everyone else’s attention on Draco now, Harry grabbed Hermione’s arm, as if he was holding her in place. Not that she could do anything to him from this distance without her wand, and she’d never make it down those stairs for an attack with her bare hands. Still, she splashed fuel into the inferno burning inside her and cursed under her breath. “How dare that sick bastard show up at his funeral?”

“Stay where you are,” Harry warned her. Which almost made Hermione set her rage out on Harry, but she stayed seated. “He’s already painted a target on his back by coming forward.”

Hermione imagined that was true enough. His invention had killed a war hero, but he also had a company that sold items designed to protect against dark wizards. With Draco’s family history, doing what he did would no doubt make him no friends. Still, Hermione knew he was guilty, and far more so than just manslaughter from negligence. He could’ve done this to get rid of Harry and Ron. Revenge for the past. Her head whirled with so many theories and angles, and the only thing keeping her in place now was Harry’s arm on her, holding her back. 

“Everyone settle down,” Kingsley’s voice boomed as he used his wand to vocalise. “We are all members of the ministry of magic, and we will conduct ourselves as such.”

The room took several more minutes to come to order, but when it did, Kingsley continued with his questioning. “Mr Malfoy, can you please share why you registered under the name Dorian Merlinus?”

“My family has a long legacy that traces back centuries, the family records show that even as recently as the last generation, those bearing the name Malfoy have committed great crimes. My environment shaped me, filling me with hatred and bigotry. After I served my community service, I decided I wanted to break that cycle by giving to the people who protect us and our children,” Draco explained. “However, I had no desire for people to think my products weren’t safe, or distrust them because of my history. I also didn’t want any glory from it.”

Draco looked unfazed, as the room erupted in shouts and slurs again. Kingsley had to command attention before asking Draco further questions. “You spoke with me and several other department heads. Who did you tell?”

“Other than yourself, I also consulted with Sylvia Fairstone, Head of Magical Law. Gregory Nimbly, Head of Aurors, and Terra Holdings, Head of the Department of Magical Equipment.” Draco gave his answer. 

“And how many of these departments were involved in creating the Wardbreaker?” 

“Terra Holdings and several others helped build prototypes, test, and give quality control for my products,” Draco explained. “Gregory Nimbly also recommended some Aurors to assist me with the protection spells.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“I commissioned the department to assist the staff I had on hand in designing many of my products. They provided help with testing and double-checked the quality,” Draco said as he handed over the records reflecting all of this upon the incident. “Their records show I took part in the testing, too. And I have hospital records from St. Mungo that show several incidents where I went for treatment. And I’ll sign documents that will allow them to release these records.”

“Murderer!”

Hermione couldn’t listen to any of this, but she noticed him flinch at the accusation, though she didn’t disagree with the words. Her husband was dead, and by the sounds of it, had a painful, but quick, death. Nothing Draco could say would convince her otherwise. 

“And how did these injuries happen? Were you wearing the Wardbreaker?”

“No,” Draco answered. “I was attacking the Wardbreaker myself. It bounced back and harmed me, protecting the mannequin and amulet from any harm. I suffered many broken bones, but never once did it fail to protect the wearer. When we were sure, I wore it myself and had it tested on me.”

“You must have been convinced of its protective nature to do that, I assume,” Kingsley commented. 

“Nobody put one on until it passed a human trial. And I was the first volunteer,” Draco explained. 

Kingsley moved around more parchments and picked up and brought it over to Draco. “What is contained in this document?”

Draco took it and looked it over and then placed it down on the little table in front of him. “It’s all the quarterly reports from the last three years of Guard Enchantments.”

“You’re a businessman. Explain to the ministry why the profits are so low. You are operating in the red,” Kingsley added. 

“Because I donate most of my product,” Draco explained. 

“But you never used it as a write-off according to the tax records,” Kingsley produced more for the record. 

“No, I didn’t,” Draco stated. 

“Why not?”

“Because I have all the wealth I will ever need. I did not start Guard Enchantments to make a profit. I donated these Wardbreakers because I believed in the good they could do,” Draco expressed. 

“Where did you donate to?”

“Ministry Aurors, hospitals, schools,” Draco answered. 

“So you would say that you are running this business at a loss, and should this not have continued, you would continue to give to those who may need these for protection?” Kingsley asked. 

“Yes. My son wore his. He is my only child and my heir. I wouldn’t have risked his life if I thought they were unsafe,” Draco explained. 

“Liar!” 

More cries came from the crowd, and the shouting echoed through the room. Hermione no longer wanted to be here. She desired to return to her desk and retrieve her wand, get her hands on the Wardbreakers Sylvia had, and do her own investigating. Knowing that her once greatest nemesis at Hogwarts owned the very product that killed her husband disgusted her. 

It didn’t matter to her that in the morning the Ministry would take over a full investigation into Draco’s business. He could destroy evidence by then. She clenched her hands into fists and she bit her tongue so as to not join in the insults being thrown at Draco. She turned to Harry, who looked ever uncomfortable. 

“I’m going home,” Hermione said. “I’ve heard enough.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked her. 

She nodded her head. “Is there a way to undo this potion?”

Harry released her arm and pulled out another tiny bottle. “This will do the trick.”

Hermione took it, and stood up, and walked past the crowd that continued to yell, despite Kingsley trying and failing to silence the room. The security stopped her. She explained she wished to leave. The security, who were Aurors, appeared to be familiar with Hermione’s disguise and accompanied her out. 

Hermione glanced over her shoulder one last time at Draco still at the bench, waiting for more questions. Hermione would not let him get away with this, even if it ended with her losing her career. She’d prove once and for all that Draco Malfoy was every bit the same as the little boy she grew up with. 

Hermione would get into his office herself, and find the evidence to prove it. And no one was going to stop her. 

Not even Draco Malfoy. 

Chapter Text

Draco collapsed into his chair at his office, feeling both relieved and shocked that he wasn’t lynched in the ministry of magic. Somehow he left the place pending further investigations. Still, Draco’s head hurt, remembering all the yelling and curses people threw his way. He’d been able to hide it during the meeting, but Draco’s heart had been pounding the entire time, and he thought that someone might make an attempt on his life. It was no secret how unpopular he was.

His cousin, Michael, fell into his own chair and sighed as he loosened his tie, removed it, and tossed it on the desk next to that muggle machine he called a computer. Draco paid attention to him as he took out another one of his muggle devices, which Draco recognised as being used for communication. After checking something on the screen, Michael dropped it onto his desk and turned to Draco.

“That was brutal,” Michael sighed. “Did you go in there expecting them to hate you that much?”

Draco loosened his tie too and looked at his cousin with a serious expression. “I thought it would be worse. There are a lot of things about our world you don’t know, but Weasley was a well loved wizard. Potter, Granger and him ended the war.”

“And your father…helped the Dark Lord?” Michael asked.

“And myself,” Draco added. He took his wand and summoned the bottle of fire whiskey he had in his cabinet across the room. After today, he was far too tired to get back up again. He’d likely fall asleep at his desk at some point. Even so, Draco needed this drink. So he poured himself a glass. He motioned to the teacup on Michael’s desk. “Want some?” 

Michael shook his head. “That stuff is too strong for us muggles.”

“You’re a squib, not a muggle,” Draco corrected.

“Same thing,” Michael argued. “Anyway, I would rather get my hands on the cheapest muggle beer I can. Maybe some chips. I could bring you some.”

Draco declined. “No, just buy yourself something to eat. Everything needs to be ready for the Ministry tomorrow, so I need you late tonight. Paid overtime, of course.”

Michael stood back up and stretched. “I would volunteer to stay. For now, I’ll grab us some dinner. I don’t want you eyeing my chips like you usually do.”

Draco didn’t have the energy to argue with his cousin and waved him off, and took another long drink from his glass. Michael grabbed the device from the desk and shared a goodbye, leaving Draco alone. When silence embraced Draco, he pulled out some of his paperwork and looked it over and hoped he would see something he might’ve missed before.

8 8 8

Hermione had gotten her kids to sleep, and her parents had returned home earlier that evening after staying with them for the last two weeks. She tied back her hair in a low ponytail, and then pulled on black pants with an equally dark t-shirt and added a large baggy hoodie over top. Inside the kangaroo pocket she had her wand, and a few bottles with various potions and a few other odds and ends she thought might be helpful. In hand, she had a copy of the layout of where she was heading. Stolen from the Ministry.

She wasn’t as young as she once was, but Hermione was still in good shape and she was capable of handling this with ease. Taking a deep breath, she apparated a few blocks from her destination. After attending the meeting, she found the address of Guard Enchantments, along with the layout plans. Draco Malfoy took Ron from her and her children. They needed evidence to put him away, and if her team couldn’t do it, then she would find it herself.

In the city centre of London, Hermione held onto her wand in the pocket of her sweatshirt, but her other free hand grasped the two pieces of Ron’s broken one. She dared not tell anyone that she carried them with her everywhere. Even at his funeral, she had them hidden away in her little bag. It was the only thing that made her feel less lonely.

Harry wouldn’t approve, and if Ron was alive, he’d beg to go in her stead. Presently Hermione was alone and a grieving widow who wished to get her husband the justice he deserved, and she’d see to it her way. Her grip tightened on both wands, enough that her knuckles likely were turning white.

Hermione stopped in front of an ordinary-looking office building and checked the address written, confirming that it was the correct place. With that, she snuck into the alley, and from her back pocket pulled out the blueprints she discovered with the registration papers of the business. She ran her fingers over it, and confirmed the maintenance entrance hidden from muggle view. Much like the path to Platform 9 and ¾, she should be able to go straight in. Hermione put the blueprint away, and scanned the brick wall with the tiny window a few feet above, and pressed her hand forward, moving through inside. 

Hermione found herself in what was a maintenance room, but that surprised Hermione. She approached one machine, which roared loudly and gave off a choking heat. That made no sense. Wizards didn’t use electricity. Not the same kind as muggles anyway. These large industrial machines were unnecessary; all that was needed were enchantments. Hermione wondered if she went in the wrong building, but the hidden entrance suggested otherwise. Hermione glanced around for anything to give her a clue.

She studied the layout again, and found the only door that granted access to the rest of the office. She took out her wand, and pushed open the exit, ready to find her answers.

8 8 8

“The thing is beeping,” Draco complained when Michael returned from the food run.

Michael was in the doorway and froze for a second, wondering what Draco meant, but he heard it. Draco watched his younger cousin’s gaze widen, and he bolted to the computer on his desk, swearing under his breath, and used that thing that Michael called a mouse.

Michael brought up some of his moving pictures on the device and clicked through them. Michael had explained it to him once, but Draco understood. Non-magical eyes watching places for muggles while away. Michael said it was for security cameras.

“What’s going on?” Draco asked.

“Did you ask anyone to come in besides us?” Michael ignored his question and instead had his own.

“No, why?”

“Is someone in the testing lab searching through file boxes,” Michael explained. He brought up footage on another screen and showed a small framed person with a hood up, wand in hand. Draco approached and watched as they pointed their wand at several of Draco’s own fail safes. Charms that checked the identity of only those on the permitted list. They used magic to disarm them before they could confirm who it was. They had to be incredibly good with spells. Draco was able to cast them with ease, but even he would have difficulty disabling them.

“Why aren’t they getting your camera things?” Draco asked.

“You instructed me to invest in the best ones money could buy, and they are concealed in the light bulb sockets or among other ordinary muggle looking objects. Coat hooks and such,” Michael explained. “Most muggles wouldn’t see them unless they were searching for them with a detector, or knew what to look for.”

“Can you zoom in or anything?” Draco asked.

“No, that will just make it blurry,” Michael stated.

He clicked a few buttons, and another angle popped up. Closer to where the intruder was standing. Their hands inside some boxes, and looking through the papers. “Should I get an Auror?”

Draco didn’t know what to do. He could wait for someone to come in, but what if this person was planting something or looking to steal information that would make tomorrow even worse for him? He swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled out his wand. “Contact the Aurors. I’ll go down and try to hold them off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Draco answered.

He was about to leave, but Michael was already running to his side, and handed him a Wardbreaker. “You may need this.”

“We are investigating it for potentially murdering someone,” Draco complained.

Michael grabbed his cousin’s wrist, and undid his shirt buttons and freed his arm, tying the Wardbreaker to his wrist before correcting the button and sleeve. “I would rather you have it. I trust this product. You tested it yourself. Take it, just in case.”

Draco wanted to argue, but Michael only had the best intentions in mind and he only nodded and headed towards the door, his wand out, casting a disillusion spell to make him less noticeable. He left the office and slid through the building, down two flights of stairs, into the basement where the testing facilities were located. He was careful, and peeked inside the opened doorway, glimpsing the hooded figure.

They were already on their second box, to his surprise, but he also realized how small the person’s frame was. They swam in the bulky hoodie, but they were shorter than him too. A witch, or a tiny wizard. Draco readied his wand, knowing he would have to open the door further to get inside, which would make him noticeable for sure, and they’d attack. They were ready for this. Draco wished he could say the same.

His grip tightened, and he prepared himself for a potential fight. He’d lost every duel he had ever been part of. Fighting was not a strong talent of his.

‘Oh, sweet Merlin, I cannot believe it’s bloody come to this,’ Draco thought as he threw open the door, wand pointed and ready. “Petrificus Totalus.”

8 8 8

Hermione examined the room that was labelled as the testing labs and looked around for anything that might appear as a hiding spot. As someone who worked in the Magical Law Department, it became second nature for her to do that. Criminals always hid things, but every single one of them liked to use the same places. The results was the professionals, like Hermione, knew where to search first.

She found a few spots that appeared promising, but to her surprise, they were empty. Hermione looked around a bit more, but nothing popped out. She saw some boxes on the shelves. Perhaps there was some paperwork in there or something the ministry had missed. No one was perfect, after all.

She grabbed the closest box and opened it, grabbing the papers and scanned over them, searching for anything. At a first glance, they were just as it should’ve been, and to her dread, a second, third and fourth showed the same. This was not what Hermione had been hoping for. Hermione, known for her efficiency at work, wanted the answer quickly. However, as she looked at these documents, she found nothing, and memories of her years at Hogwarts resurfaced. During that time, a mystery had taken her an entire year to solve, with the help of her two best friends.

Hermione ended up taking a deep breath as she leaned on the table, bracing herself for new heated emotions that threatened to swallow her whole for another small breakdown. Determined to not do that, Hermione pushed that box aside after a tiny break and grabbed the next one, and searched through them for any more clues.

Harry wouldn’t help her, he was too straight-laced these days and followed every rule. Becoming an Auror, despite them not being known for following rules, did in fact lead him to follow the laws set out by the Ministry. Harry had personally seen and known what wizards were capable of when they broke from those lines, after all. And Ron, well, he’d be here helping her. Not knowing what he was looking for, but trying to be helpful. And him not being here was why she had to be here.

She pulled out more files and searched through them. Everything looked as it should be at first glance. She’d seen enough of these papers in other investigations to not be certain all was as it should’ve been. Hermione was about to grab a third box when she heard the door crash open and a voice shouted out an incantation. “Petrificus Totalus.”

8 8 8

He aimed his wand, but to his surprise the intruder ducked behind the table with much speed, making Draco wonder if this person was a hired professional. Draco had no time to think about it, as his spell missed. He tried to ready himself to cast another, but they burst from their hiding spot to shoot at him. “Stupefy.”

Draco was surprised, and was going to dodge, but it hit him. He braced himself, but to his surprise, it bounced away. It took him a moment to wonder why, but the caster was attacking again. “Stupefy!”

It was a woman’s voice, but Draco couldn't take notice beyond that as the spell struck him, but cast back. The witch grew frustrated and pointed one more time. “Expelliarmus!”

Draco’s wand was still in hand, but he’d been stunned by what was happening. This became even more of an issue when the disarming magic failed to do its job. In fact, it reflected off of him, it hit them, knocking the wand from her grasp.

“What the?”

Draco glanced down at his wand, noticing the small Wardbreaker amulet sticking out at his wrist, and his heart pounded when he realised that his own creation had just saved him. Jumping to his feet, he prepared to attack once again with his own spell to prevent them from escaping.

To his surprise, the witch already was in his face, and before it was possible to react further, she gave him a taste of a forceful right hook. He stumbled, but dodged another punch. Unfortunately, he fell into the table, but when she came at him, he pointed his wand to defend himself again and tried to cast, but she cut him off. She attacked him, but he grabbed her by the front of her hoody, and with a swift movement, swung her around, and with some force, he threw her down on the top of the workstation and put most of his weight on her to trap her.

That was enough to knock back the drawn hood that kept her face hidden, revealing a dishevelled and wild looking Hermione Granger-Weasley, glaring up at him.

“Granger?!” he cried from shock and confusion.

“Get off of me, Malfoy!” she snarled, trying to push him off of her. He continued to put his weight on her to keep her in place, but he pointed his wand at her as extra ammunition. “Gonna kill me too, are you?”

Draco shouted in surprise. “You broke in!”

“I’m an investigator!” she shot back.

“The ministry does not have the paperwork to investigate tonight, but tomorrow,” Draco replied. “So you are here illegally.”

She fought to get him off, but Draco held her down, keeping her in place. He had his wand to her throat, not intending to use it, but to warn her to stop moving. “Aurors are on their way. I did not know it was you here before I contacted them.”

It wasn’t a lie. Michael contacted them at least. Or he hoped Michael had by now. Draco tried to hold her down, but with a swiftness he hadn’t expected, she reached into her pocket and grabbed something, and before a reaction took place, the room filled with smoke. He coughed a few times before she elbowed him in the throat, forcing him back from her. Taken by surprise, he couldn’t stop her from jumping out of the way, and he lost her in the haze.

He choked, but cast a spell. “Ventus!”

A strong wind came, and for Draco, that meant the papers were flying everywhere too. He’d have to fix that too, but to his dread, when the smoke dissipated, Hermione stood with her wand in hand, her face still twisted in anger. “It’s safe to assume you are wearing a Wardbreaker that actually does its job.”

He didn’t have the courage to, but Hermione already continued, saying, “They aren’t meant to withstand multiple strikes. With three hits, I bet I can strike you down with one more.”

“Granger, I am not responsible in the way you think I am,” Draco tried to reason with her.

“I will decide that,” she hissed. “And it’s Granger-Weasley.”

Draco opened his mouth to continue trying to get through to her, but she cast another spell. It bounced off again, and hit the shelf nearby, knocking more of the boxes over, spilling those papers everywhere. Hermione grew annoyed.

“Accio Wardbreaker!” Hermione chanted.

He supposed she was attempting to rip it from his body. And for Draco in that moment, he cursed the fact they had a counter spell against that. It wouldn’t be possible to remove it from the wearer unless they removed it themselves. They hadn’t been able to stop it from bouncing off, however. And with a swiftness Draco didn’t expect, his arm forced him forward, and he almost crashed into Hermione, causing him to fall to the ground. Only missing her by Hermione jumping out of the way with a surprised yelp.

“Seriously?!” Hermione yelled. “Nobody can remove it but you?”

“We designed it like that,” Draco replied. “It’s in the manual we sent out to the ministry when we donated them.”

“Bloody Bastard,” Hermione cursed. “So, they work. You just messed with Ron’s. Was Harry’s set to fail too?”

His eyes widened. “No! I want answers, too.”

She glared, disgust painted across her features and she raised her wand again. Draco didn’t know what she would attempt next, or if his Wardbreaker would still protect him. He braced himself.

“Mimblewimble,” she called.

 He felt the Wardbreaker vibrate, and then a snapping sound followed, signalling the failure of the amulet. One too many spells, and as designed, it failed, no longer able to keep him safe. He noticed the look of satisfaction on her face, telling him she struck him.

“A-are y-y-you s-sat--satis…fied n-n-now? G-got it o-out of y-your s-s-sys--system?” he asked. He couldn’t defend himself like this and all he could hope was that he could buy the Auror some time.

To his chagrin, however, Hermione pointed at his want with her own. “Hand it over Malfoy.”

Casting spells was impossible with his mouth all messed up, and handed it over, defeated and unsure what she intended to do next. She snatched it, and before he could protest, she snapped it in half.

 “S-s-sss-serious-ssly?” Draco complained. Though it came out sounding far more snake-like than he thought she would appreciate at the moment. She narrowed her eyes at him and motioned for him to get up.

“Take me to your office,” she stated. “If there is nothing here, then there must be something there.”

There wasn’t. Draco had handed over everything he had to the Ministry, and everything else he had were duplicates. Hermione was here without the Ministry’s knowledge or consent. That shouldn’t have surprised him at all, as Hermione would do just about anything if it meant serving the greater good. Even the class pet broke many rules at Hogwarts more than he ever did if it helped Harry Potter or she got to show off how smart she truly was.

So Draco climbed to his feet and motioned for her to follow. She seemed hesitant at first, but she tailed him. “I have a copy of the building plans. I know where your office is. Don’t trick me.”

Even while grieving, the greatest witch of their generation would always maintain her preparedness by having the damned layout. He only nodded, rather than fumble his words any further, and guided her up the stairs to his workspace. He felt her eyes burn into the back of his head and hoped she wouldn’t do anything to harm Michael. So before they entered, Draco turned around and looked at her.

“E-e-employ-y-y-yee i-inside,” he tried to tell her. It was no point in trying to explain, not with the curse still affecting him. Hermione flashed with understanding, and she motioned for him to go in first. Though she moved up behind him, she grabbed him by the collar of his button up, and held him to her, her wand digging into the small of his back.

“Inside,” she ordered.

He tried to not complain, but he opened the door and raised his arms up to show he was wandless, hoping that his cousin wouldn’t try to do anything silly to help. To Michael’s surprise, he jumped from his desk where he had been focused on the computer, and his mouth hung open. “D-Draco!”

Hermione pointed her wand at Michael. “Wand, now!”

Michael panicked. “I’m unarmed.”

“I want your wand where I can see it,” she commanded.

“Squib,” Draco said, relieved that his speech had returned to normal. “He’s a squib.”

“Y-Yeah,” Michael confirmed.

“Draco Malfoy would never hire a squib,” Hermione shot.

Draco moved in front of Hermione’s wand, his own hands raised, his eyes narrowing at Hermione. “Threaten me, but not Michael.”

Draco hadn’t known his cousin as long as he knew Hermione. Close to five years now, but he was still family to Draco, and a defenceless one at that. Draco promised his uncle that when he brought Michael onboard, he wouldn’t let anything happen to him, and he intended to keep that promise. He already had several people who wanted him dead because of past actions he regretted or because of the death of a beloved Auror, husband and father. If Draco would fall today, he could at least protect Michael.

Hermione didn’t take him seriously and used her wand in a throwing motion and tossed Draco aside. He fell against a bookcase, and he climbed to his feet, just in time to see Hermione pointing her magical weapon at Michael. Draco jumped up to shield Michael, but Hermione snatched a small bottle from her hoody and lightly tossed it to Michael. “Drink it,” she ordered.

Draco froze, but Michael grabbed it, and stared at the silvery coloured potion. “What is it?”

“Veritaserum,” Draco answered.

“Is it safe?” Michael asked. His body shook as he studied it.

“It’s like a truth serum,” Hermione told him. “It works on muggles and squibs. If you are one, then drink it and prove it.”

Michael undid the cork and chugged it. When done, he stumbled and grabbed his chair.

“Why the bloody hell do you have Veritaserum?” Draco demanded.

“It was for you,” she answered. “My plan was to extract the truth from you.”

“That’s very illegal,” Draco responded.

She chuckled. “So is murder.”

“I didn’t kill Weasley,” Draco stated matter-of-factly. “Not purposely. I need to know how he died, too.”

Hermione pointed her wand at Draco. “Silencio.”

Draco cursed at her, but was shocked that he couldn’t even hear his own voice. He glared at her, but she was already focusing on Michael. She moved to the other side of the room from Draco to monitor him while she talked to Michael.

“Now,” Hermione began. “Your name.”

“Michael Black,” he answered.

Draco knew this was the better outcome rather than her just straight up attacking him, but he still worried about what may happen after the questioning. How much longer until the Aurors showed up?

“Black…,” Hermione said, pondering for a moment. “So, you’re related to Malfoy, then? On his mother’s side.”

“Yes,” Michael replied, though he seemed surprised by how quickly he answered. Hermione smirked, happy to hear the quick reply.

“How so?”

“My father is Narcissa’s older brother, Rigel Black.”

Hermione flashed curiosity. “I don’t recall seeing a Rigel in the family tree.”

“My grandfather discovered he was a squib and then paid a significant amount to someone in order to have his name removed from the family registry. They gave him to another squib family, who kept him secret. He married my mother, a muggle, and had me,” Michael explained.

“It’s possible for your squib father to have a wizard son, even if he had a muggle wife. Are you a squib?” she demanded.

“I am a squib,” he admitted.

Draco moved closer, not wanting to leave her alone with Michael too long, still worried about what might come after this. Hermione noticed him and pointed her wand at him as a warning.

“Michael, do you know a lot about the Wardbreaker designs?”

“Yes, I oversaw production with Draco,” he answered. “I helped source materials and was present for product testing and quality control.”

“Are all Wardbreakers created equally?”

“Yes.”

Hermione took a few more moments to ponder her next question. “Is it possible for even one item that is subpar or less to pass inspection and leave this place?”

“No,” Michael replied. “We test every single Wardbreaker three times before they were shipped. And then it has its protection spells recast, and two others witness the final casting.”

Hermione seemed confused by this answer. “That’s…excessive.”

“I wanted to protect those who needed it!” Draco cried, though his voice remained muted. Michael stared at Draco this time and he was sympathetic and sad as Michael understood what he was silently shouting.

“Our goal was to be sure that no one else like Voldemort would rise again, and if they did, the Aurors would step up and stop it,” Michael answered.

Hermione scoffed. “You haven’t seen your real cousin. Malfoy would never hire a Squib, even if he were family. He hated Ron. Maybe a little less than he despised me.”

“Past tense, you used it yourself,” Michael stated. “I don’t know what Draco was like back then, but the man I’ve known has a lot of regret and remorse for the person he was. He’s talked to me about it. He wants a better future for his son, for all our children.”

Hermione whirled around, glaring at Draco. “Have you used magic to manipulate this poor squib’s mind?”

Draco opened his mouth to argue with the accusation against him, but her blasted charm prevented any sound from coming out. The potion she used was powerful enough that it would cancel out any curse he might’ve cast to brainwash anyone, if he had done that, anyway. Hermione would know that. Not just as the brightest witch of her age, but as an employee in the Magical Law Department.

Grief was talking for her, but Draco still had the right to be offended by her words.

“Was it, Hermione?” Michael asked.

Hermione glanced at Michael and then to Draco, her eyes twisted in anger. “Yes, it’s Hermione.”

“Well, Hermione, I may be lacking in magic, but I have been reading a lot of textbooks on history and the science behind potions and spells. I'm very good at that, you see, and I seem to recall that certain elixirs can counter some curses. You’d know better than me, of course. I read that Aurors used that method to solve crimes. So, if Draco controlled me, would your potion have released me from that?”

Hermione lowered her wand and looked away from Draco and back to Michael. “Yes, it would.”

“My cousin is not the man he once was, and since your husband’s death, I’ve seen him here, everyday, trying to figure out the reason the Wardbreaker failed. I’m not saying his Wardbreaker isn’t responsible, or he shouldn’t face consequences, but I assure you, he is just as eager as you are to find answers. He never wanted this to happen to anyone, but I am willing to swear on my life about this.”

“Do you believe that?” Hermione asked. Her voice had gotten far more quiet. And Draco thought maybe she was wavering a bit and hoped so. Hermione was not all there, dealing with the grief that he understood was normal. He still didn’t want her threatening his cousin, or himself, for that matter. 

“Yes, I trust Draco,” Michael stated. “I grew up being told of the wizarding world from my father, but saw none of it, and never thought I would. Draco came to me, wanting to get to know me when he learned of my existence. We talked, bonded and became close. He tells me everything related to his business. And I’m in charge of all the muggle technology. I worked in IT before. I am like a healer for muggle devices and-”

“Information Technologies,” Hermione stated. “You repair muggle electronics, computers, cellphones, or other tech, when they are down. I know what that is. I am muggle born.”

Michael’s eyes widened, and he gasped. “Are you?! That’s amazing!”

Hermione seemed taken aback by his surprise, but Draco wasn’t. Michael was very interested in those born from muggles who one day found out about the discovery of magic and the knowledge they were blessed with it. Draco supposed it was from an unspoken wish that Michael had to be part of this world.

Hermione looked at Draco. Her face had gone emotionless except for the glassy brown eyes that stared at him. She waved her wand and uttered the spell to undo the silencing effect, and Draco found himself able to speak once again.

“Do you want to figure this out? What went wrong, I mean,” she asked Draco.

“Yes, as much as you do,” Draco replied after clearing his throat, as if her incantation had somehow made him have to clear it.

“And are you willing to pay for your crime if you're guilty of at least negligence for Ron’s death?” Hermione was serious with this question, and stern, just like she was when he overheard her lecture Ron and Harry about their shenanigans at Hogwarts.

“I was prepared to be arrested today at the Ministry, if that’s what they decided,” Draco stated. “I sent my son to be with Astoria because I was sure they would have locked me up by now.”

Hermione marched towards him, which made him flinch, but he tried to stand firm, unsure what she may do to him next. She stopped in front of him and extended her hand to him. He was confused by her purpose, but she still glared at him. “I want a wizard’s vow. One that will prove you’re willing to help me get my answers.”

“What?” he asked in surprise. “What did you just ask me?”

“I’m not allowed to work on the case, even though I am the best person. My department has to solve this. I’m the next of kin, therefore banned from working on it. And they are not finding anything, but I know I can solve it. If you mean what you said, make the vow and take responsibility, help me and do not betray me. If you regret what happened, you’ll have no problem with this.”

Draco was at least relieved that it was a wizard’s vow and not an unbreakable one. “And if I do? What’s the punishment?”

8 8 8

Hermione stood proudly, knowing what would hurt his ego most. With much confidence, she spoke to him.

“You will donate all of your family’s wealth to the Transition for new Muggleborn students,” Hermione stated with a smirk.

Ten years ago it was a fund put together and designed to assist Muggleborn witches and wizards who may struggle with entrance into the wizarding world. Volunteers would go with the parents and help with currency exchanges, school supplies and guide students to the train station. Every year, many made donations and more got involved, especially older muggleborns who were ready to give back. The Draco she grew up with would have spat at the suggestion.

In recent years, the wizarding world had become a more welcoming place for muggleborns. Gringotts was even easier to exchange British Pounds for Wizard coins now. Hermione remembered the struggle her parents had experienced when she was a child, and the entire process had been a nightmare, though they never complained to Hermione about it. The sharp minded eleven-year-old knew better.

“Is that it?” he asked. “Help you find the answers I already want. Don’t betray you, and if I break that vow, I will be compelled to donate every Knut I have to the T.F.N.M. S?”

She stared at him as he extended his hand. “Y-Yes,” she said.

“I’m alright with that. And what about you, Granger-Weasley? What happens if you decieve me or cannot help me solve this?” he inquired.

His tone had been emotionless, but she tried to not be concerned. He was far more calm about this. Still, she couldn’t let him get the better of her like this. Hermione took a deep breath. “What’ll be a suitable punishment, Malfoy?”

“You will swear to protect Scorpius,” Draco stated.

Her eyes widened. “Your son?”

“Yes, my only child. I trust Astoria to take care of him, but if it comes down to it, I don’t know if she is capable against a dangerous wizard. You can. If you cannot keep your end of the bargain, I want you to be compelled to at least protect Scorpius.”

“That’s it?” Hermione tried to play it off as not that big of a deal.

“Yes. You and I want answers. There is no reason for us to not work together,” Draco replied.

Both their hands remained outreached, but neither made the final push to touch the other and they stared at each other’s offered palms. Hermione finally took his hand in hers, and squeezed. “I, Hermione Granger-Weasley, swear, I will help Draco Malfoy investigate the cause of Ronald Weasley’s death, and will not betray him. If I do, I will protect his only heir, Scorpius.”

A faint honey coloured swirl of magic came over Hermione’s arm, sealing her oath. Draco took his turn next

“I, Draco Malfoy, swear, I will help Hermione Granger-Weasley investigate the cause of Ronald Weasley’s death, and will not betray her. If I do, I will donate my family fortune to the Transition of New Muggleborn Students fund.”

Draco’s magic sealed with a silvery shimmer, and it intertwined with Hermione’s. Their sorcery combined into a faint yellow that glowed with much brilliance. Hermione felt Draco’s magic move into her, and felt hers shift into him, leaving their hands unable to separate for now. His was cool like a breeze, but burned in her veins. 

Her body weakened when it hit her legs, and she nearly fell to her knees. Hermione noticed him also buckle. Hermione closed her eyes tightly when his magic entered her heart. An ache began, similar to the one she had already felt over her husband’s death. She’d read about the wizard’s vow, an exchange of magic, binding them together for the time being, until the promise they made was completed. They’d become sensitive to each others' magic, able to sense it nearby should they cast a spell, but also feel the other's essence. 

The oath was complete, and the two let go, and they stumbled back. Hermione fell against Michael’s desk, and Draco caught himself on a bookcase. Their breaths were hitched and quick, their eyes locked.

Hermione was stunned by the turn of events but couldn’t afford to feel regrets about this now. They had too much to learn, and the cost may be too great. Draco stared, but opened his mouth to speak when there was a pounding at the door.

Everyone present jumped, and Draco spoke up. “Y-yes?”

“Mr Malfoy, it’s Max Worthwell from the Aurors department. We swept the area, but found no one. Is it safe to come in?”

Draco shot his gaze over to Hermione and motioned to her wand to put it away. Hermione froze for a moment, not planning for this. She thought she’d have got out of here before the Aurors had arrived. She put her wand back in her pocket.

“Come in,” Draco said. “It’s just me, my assistant and my ministry contact.”

The door opened, and a middle-aged Auror entered, and stared at the group. Hermione met him in passing from Harry and Ron, but not well. He seemed surprised to see her. “Mrs Granger-Weasley?”

“Yes, hello. It's nice to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances,” Hermione tried to act casually.

He didn’t seem convinced, and looked between the three. “We received a report about a break and enter. Are they still here?”

Hermione opened her mouth, but Draco already was speaking up. “I was holding them off until you could arrive, but Hermione came in to prepare the paperwork for the Magical Law investigation tomorrow. She helped me, but they got away. She brought me here to patch me up. I got a little roughed up,” he explained, motioning to his dishevelled appearance.

Max studied the two. “Mrs Granger-Weasley, you look a little messy too.”

“I got caught up when they were getting away,” Hermione continued the lie. “I’m about to prepare an owl to report this. However, nothing was taken, so I’ll cast some protections for Mr Malfoy.”

Max focused on Hermione after a few moments. “I’ll report this to Harry. He’ll get the paperwork from you then.”

Hermione forced a fake smile. “Thank you Mr Worthwell.”

He offered a tip of his hat and left without another word. When they were sure they were alone, Hermione and Draco sighed in relief. “We are so lucky he didn’t ask you anything,” Hermione stated to Michael.

“I’m shocked he didn’t investigate further,” Michael stated. “Aren’t they like…the police officers of the wizarding world?”

“Aurors are like MI5 and the Magical Law department is closer to the police,” Hermione replied.

Michael turned to Draco. “Then he’s terrible at his job.”

Draco shook his head. “It’s not that he is awful, it’s that he doesn’t care, because everyone at the Ministry or who works for them hates me at the moment. No one would have cared if I had been killed.”

“It helped that I was here. He knew Ron, and knows Harry well.”

“What the bloody hell are we going to do about Potter?” Draco asked. “If he reports this, he’ll know you broke in here.”

“It was hardly breaking in. Your secret entrance is the same as King’s Crossing. Anyone could get in,” Hermione shot back. “And don’t worry about Harry, I’ll talk to him. He was going to stop by in the morning, and I’ll tell him.”

“He will be furious,” Draco stated. “You didn’t see how much they wanted to kill me at the meeting today.”

“Harry snuck me in,” Hermione replied with a smirk. “Harry will have to cover for me. Besides, we did worse at Hogwarts.”

Draco moaned. “Have I just gotten myself dragged into a classic Golden Trio misadventure?”

There was a pause, and Draco remembered that there was no longer the Golden Trio, but Hermione didn’t seem upset by his comment, but thinking about the past. Instead, she grabbed some paper on Michael’s desk and one of his muggle pens, and wrote an address, and handed it to Draco. 

“My address. Send an owl, and we will arrange a time to meet up. Tell me how things go tomorrow with the Magical Law department. I’ll take care of Harry,” she stated. 

She’d had enough Draco for tonight, and she had a lot to do to cover up her actions and anything else that may come to be in the future. She turned to Michael. “I wish I could’ve met you under better circumstances. You seem like a lovely person. Growing up away from the Malfoy’s and Black purebloods likely helped. I look forward to working with you.”

She didn’t give Draco another glance, as she disappeared from the office, leaving the two alone. Michael turned to Draco, concerned. “Is this the best option?”

Draco shrugged. “She’s the best option for getting answers. She is a force to be reckoned with and Granger-Weasley will find the answers if anyone can. I hate to admit it, but we’ll need each other.”

Michael stared at the doorway where Hermione had disappeared. “She doesn’t seem to know that you founded T.F.N.M.S.”

Draco chuckled awkwardly. “Let’s keep it that way. She’d kill me if she ever found out.”

Michael turned to his computer now and watched the cameras watching her depart the building. “She’s far scarier than anyone in that meeting today.”

Draco was amused thinking back to a younger Hermione. Hair wild and curiosity gleaming in her eyes when faced with impossible odds. “Your devil would piss himself if he crossed her.” 

Chapter Text

Hermione stood before an exacerbated Harry, who was pinching the bridge of his nose under his lifted glasses.

“Is this karma for everything Ron and I did to you in our younger years?” he asked, annoyed and put off by the news she had revealed to him. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “If this was Hogwarts, our places would be reversed, so I don’t understand why you’re complaining so much.”

“We were too young and didn’t truly know the danger we were in,” Harry tried to defend his past self.

“Come on, Harry!” Hermione brushed it off. “I made a deal with Malfoy for Ron’s sake. I fully intend to discover the truth. And he wants to prove his innocence. He’d probably hate to find out if his supposed perfect Wardbreaker design was flawed. His ego can barely stand it.”

“I’m talking about lying to the Auror and falsifying the report. It’s going to end up on my desk.”

Hermione marched towards him and poked her finger into his chest. “Don’t play innocent. You snuck me into that meeting, knowing I wasn’t supposed to be there. That was something you would’ve done twenty years ago. This is for Ron. Our best friend, MY husband.”

Harry took a seat after bracing against the table, but could no longer receive the support he needed at the moment.

“You are working with one of our lead suspects, Hermione,” Harry was angry, but remained stunned.

“You know the expression, ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer’,” Hermione offered.

Harry groaned and took off his glasses and rubbed his temple. “This is so complicated.”

“It always is,” Hermione sighed, taking a seat from across from Harry. “I’m not saying that everything I’m being logical. Someday I’ll realise how crazy I’m acting, but for today, I just needed you to know what is going on, but I need answers, and to do that, and your understanding.”

“To be honest, I can’t say that I agree with you, Hermione, but I understand how badly you want answers, because I do too,” Harry explained. “But I need you to keep me informed and up to date, otherwise it’ll be impossible for me to help you.”

Hermione smiled at her best friend, and she stood up and she reached for him and wrapped her arms around him and gave him a firm embrace. She noticed how tense Harry was, and she understood what he was worried about, but her desire to find answers about her deceased husband outweighed that.

“You know I will,” Hermione stated. “But you must keep me posted on any information as well.”

Harry nodded, but still looked to be under a substantial amount of stress given the situation, but Hermione couldn’t afford to feel regretful. This was Ron they were talking about, after all. She was determined to do what she could for him.

“I better get back to the kids,” Hermione stated. “They didn’t know I even left.”

Harry gave her a sharp look. “I know their teenagers, but Hermione, they just lost one parent, do you really think they want to wake up and realise you're missing? What do you think would happen if they thought something happened?!”

Hermadmithung her shoulders in shame. “I admit that was dumb, and I wasn’t expecting to be out as late as I was. In the future, I won’t again, I promise. If I have to go out, I’ll tell both the kids and send you an owl.”

“You better,” Harry said sternly. “Ron wouldn’t want you to do that.”

Hermione agreed with another nod and then apparated back to her home. When she entered her living room, she found the house dark and silent, just as she left it earlier. Taking out the magical instrument, she whispered, “Lumos.”

Her wand emitted a light, and she used it to move through the halls, stopping at her children’s rooms, and peeked in at their sleeping forms. She studied both Hugo and Rose, and watched their even steady breathing, and then checked on the other. Both sound asleep, leaving Hermione awake and alone.

She returned to her room and placed her magical device on her nightstand, letting it stay lit while she stripped from her dark clothing, removing the items from her pockets and placing them beside her wand on the table. Hermione tossed the clothes in the hamper and pulled out a clean tank top and shorts that she used to sleep in. When dressed, she turned to her queen sized bed and froze as she stared at it. Though Hermione sometimes felt like the mattress was too small and didn’t have enough space, now without her partner by her side, she was certain it was far too big. Hermione’s heart race and pound in her chest as she tried to reach for the covers and pull it back. This has been the first major purchase they had after they got married, minus a new mattress over the years.

She hadn’t slept in the room since Ron had passed, and Hermione didn’t know if she dared even try. She shook a little as her hand reached out, but the moment her hand touched the sheets Molly had gifted them for their last wedding anniversary, she let go as if they burned her and gasped, unable to do it. Even on nights Ron was away, she never was able to sleep well. How was she supposed to do it by herself for the rest of her life?

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she choked back a sob. She shifted to her nightstand and grabbed her wand, but also the broken pieces of Ron’s wand, and gripped them. Hermione turned her back to the bed and rushed from her bedroom to the guest room, where the bed was a smaller double. Hermione pulled the bedsheets and jumped in and covered the quilt over her like a scared child hiding from a monster.

Tears streaked down her face as she clutched her and Ron’s wand  to her chest. Her breathing became heavy, and her heart ached as she verbalised her grief, wishing that this nightmare would end and she could wake up next to her husband and realise none of this had happened.

8 8 8

“Kill me now,” Michael groaned as he dramatically collapsed onto his desk. Draco would’ve chuckled at his cousin’s theatrics  normally, but unfortunately he was just as exhausted. So much paperwork, data and looking over the physical amulets they had on hand. Draco would test all of them himself, if a certain witch hadn’t snapped his wand in half. He’d have to go out and replace it later today. Draco assumed that the ministry would take over the building for the day and that two Aurors would escort him to ensure he didn’t run away or do anything sketchy.

“When they arrive, they’ll probably ban us from the office,” Draco explained. “You should be able to leave and sleep at your place. I’m going to Diagon Alley to replace my wand. Don’t be shocked if you have Auror’s follow you home, too.”

Michael started with his baggy eyes, groaned, placed his head straight down on the desk and moaned in disgust. Draco didn’t mean to disappoint his cousin, but he wanted to be honest with what was likely going to happen. Draco would be fortunate if he managed to sleep by nightfall. He’d be even luckier if he was a free man by then.

Michael’s computer made a sound, and Michael looked up at the screen. He turned back to Draco and pointed to one box on the screen, revealing the camera footage of the front door. “It’s the ministry.”

Draco stood up and fixed his hair and robes. “Let them in.”

Michael turned back to the screen and used the clicker he called a mouse to press something on screen, and using the microphone, he spoke up. “Good morning. Mr Malfoy has been expecting you. Please come in, and we’ll be right down to greet you.”

Then he pressed another part of the screen, and the computer made a buzzing sound. Michael stood up and fixed his own appearance and looked back at Draco. “Ready?”

Draco took a deep breath. “As I’ll ever be.”

The two moved down to the lobby, where at least twenty witches and wizards were waiting. Draco knew many of them from the ministry, but knew others as Aurors. In the front was the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Draco offered his hand, and Kingsley accepted the handshake. . “Welcome. I wish it was under better circumstances, but welcome all the same.”

“I trust there is no one else here, but you two?” Gawain Robards spoke up, current head Auror.

“Yes, of course,” Draco stated. “Everyone received leave for the investigation,” Draco stated. “It is just myself and Michael Black,” Draco motioned to his cousin. “My assistant.”

Many looked at Michael with suspicion, but Draco did his best to bring that back onto himself. “Michael is a squib, but has added a lot of Muggle technology into my business and helped with a lot of research on how to make Muggle Technology work for us. Muggle Tech has grown in recent years, and it would be a shame to not adopt it to our use.”

“Yes, I read about that in some documents,” Kingsley stated. “A lot of research went into this.”

The eyes were back on Draco again, and Draco noticed Michael relax next to him. “Yes, and you will all have access to everything here. “I’m sure there is at least one Auror here who knows how to use Muggle tech.”

A hand went in the air, and a young witch stepped forward. “That would be me,” she said. “I’m Sera Godfrey. Muggleborn, and grew up with computers and have kept up with the muggle world all while studying magic. I’ll be looking at your computers and their data.”

“I’ll hand over all passwords,” Michael stated.

Sera gave an approving nod and stepped back into place. Draco looked back to Kingsley. “Where should we begin?”

“I’d like some of us to start in your office. Michael could go up to help Miss Godfrey with the muggle things, and I’d like you to show us to the lab and testing rooms. We will start there. When we’re settled, then I’ll be asking you and Mr Black to step away for the day. I’ve already selected two guards each to follow you until the investigation is over.”

Draco nodded. “Yes, I expected as much. Mr Black will head back to his place to rest, but the Aurors are welcome to stay with him. And I have some errands to run in Diagon Alley, so I understand.”

“Glad you understand,” Gawain Robards added.

Draco sensed the hostility, but he’d take it. He wasn’t a child who could hide behind his family name. He was a grown man and would take responsibility and be an example for his son.

“Then, let us not waste any time,” Draco responded. “Michael, please take these fine witches and wizards upstairs. Give them anything and everything they request. Mr Kingsley, and the others, please follow me. The labs and testing facilities are next to each other.”

Draco guided them down to the hall, and guided them into the agreed upon rooms. Some spread out to other spaces, but Draco didn’t mind. He had nothing to hide afterall. They could strip this building clean or even Malfoy manor for all he cared. Heck, stripping the manor clean would give him an excuse to update his family home into something not so dark and foreboding, as it had been for centuries. Draco stood back and let them use their magic to search for anything hidden, resulting in nothing.

It took well over an hour of Draco watching them getting frustrated. Some even cast recall spells to search for anything that might have been moved from the area. Papers that Draco had already given the ministry reappeared. At first they seemed excited to have discovered these papers until they realised they were the papers they had at the ministry. Draco almost wished they would’ve found something by hour three.

Kingsley approached Draco. “I think we will be here for a few days. You understand, we will probably look at every inch of this place.”

“I understand,” Draco replied. “You have a lot of pressure on your shoulders to solve this.”

“I’m going to ask you to leave. With how things are, I fear someone may attack you. I will send two Aurors with you. They will stay with you until you return to the manor. And will stay nearby. If you leave, you must report it to them. All coming and goings to your home must also be reported.”

“I understand,” Draco agreed again.

“Whitmore, Bennet,” Kingsley called.

Two wizards approached and gave a nod to the Minister of Magic. “I’ve informed Mr Malfoy of what we will do here, and he will leave now.”

“I have an errand in Diagon Alley, and then will be returning to my manor,” Draco explained.

“Of course,” Kingsley replied.

Draco could confirm that Michael had given over all the information to the team upstairs before he returned home to sleep, the two Aurors following him in tow. Draco had the two follow him to Diagon Alley. They followed behind Draco, far enough away to not be uncomfortable, but enough that Draco still felt their heated gazes on him. Draco stopped at the little storefront of Ollivanders and stepped inside. The two followed him in, but stepped back. A young woman came to the front from the back of the shop after hearing the door bell jingle.

“Hello, welcome!” she greeted.

She stopped when she saw the three grown men in the shop. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a wand replacement,” Draco replied, pulling out his broken wand and placed it on the storefront table. “Is Garrick in? He knows my wand well.”

The woman was already holding the broken wand and was examining it. “My great-grandfather retired after the school year began last year. I’ve taken over. My name is Gloria Ollivanders.”

She studied the wand and then placed the broken pieces together. “Hawthorn wood with a unicorn hair core, and…ten inches, it looks like.”

“Yes, same as my first wand. I replaced it after I lost mine during the war,” Draco replied. “It should be the same now, I suspect.”

“You were still a child back then,” Gloria said. “People don’t completely develop until at least twenty-five. You could be an entirely different person from the child you were. Your wand’s core reflects your new nature. It could be a veela hair, reflecting an unpredictable nature. Or perhaps even a Phoenix feather. That might be rather surprising.”

Draco sighed. “Let’s just try my usual and go from there.”

“Alright, alright,” she replied, turning back to the shelves upon shelves of custom wands. Her fingers traced the writing on the boxes, and then found one, and pulled it out. She brought the box over and offered him the wand inside. “Give it a go.”

Draco picked it up, ready for it to feel as natural as his last two, but something was a little off. Still, he gave the wand a flick, expecting the wand to choose him. To his shock, the mirror nearby shattered. The two Aurors and Gloria jumped.

“Why is it always the damn mirror!” Gloria cried. “I need to get a test dummy in here or something!”

Draco stared at the wand with stunned silence, but Gloria, with little customer service, snatched the wand from him and put it back in its box and put it away. “Just as I thought, you’ve grown past that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Hawthorn represents an inner conflict and chaotic natures, while Unicorn hair bond with those who will less likely to be drawn to the dark arts. But not everyone remains pure like a unicorn when they receive their unicorn hair core. And the length, ten inches, tends to be held by those with strong personalities. Forgive me, Mr Malfoy, but you have remained largely out of the public since your community service. That tells me you’ve grown as a person. And I read in the Daily Prophet this morning about you being the owner of Guard Enchantments. I don’t follow gossip much, but I doubt you twenty years ago would’ve done such a thing, or believed it. I think my great-grandfather would agree, you have outgrown your old wand.”

Draco frowned and looked down at his hands resting on the counter in front of him. Gloria has already searched for another wand, while Draco wondered if there was any truth to what she said. He thought back to his old self: narcissistic, egotistical, cocky, rude, unbearable to be around. While he never strived to be charismatic in his older years, it was a skill he’d been working on for a long time, to help with business, but he never imagined it would have grown to make him a better person. While that was a goal Draco had held for many years, he always felt like it was just an act. The desire to be a better person, but he never thought he could be capable of being a worthy person.

Gloria returned and dropped several wands in front of him. She grabbed one and passed it to him. “Try this one. It’s made of cedar wood. It fits those with leadership qualities. The core is Kneazle Whisker. It’s drawn to those who are empathetic. While the length is still ten inches, as that’s a good balance. Let’s see how the wand takes.”

Draco picked it up and studied the wand and gave it a wave. The boxes of wands Gloria put on the counter scattered around. Draco jumped back in surprise. “S-Sorry.”

Gloria pulled out her own wand and, with a wave, fixed the fallen wands. “Less violent reaction. Interesting.”

She took the wand from Draco and put it back and then scrambled through the pile. Her eyes fell over one, and picked it up, and then after a quick study, offered it to Draco. “The balance seemed good. But the core seems to disagree. Maybe the wood too.”

“This one is Vine, ten inches, and Dragon Heartstring.” Gloria presented the next wand.

“Vine?” Draco asked.

“I suspect you have a deeper side than even you know, Mr Malfoy. Individuals with great aspirations for the near or distant future attract Vinewood. Dragon Heartstring favours strong, powerful witches and wizards.”

Draco shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like me at all. My magical theory in school was good, but I was never amazing at spells, especially for defence. I’ve never even done a patronus, though I’ve tried in my adult years.”

“I’m the expert here!” Gloria snapped. “Let’s see how it reacts!”

Draco stared at the wand she offered one more time and then reached out. When it took it, there was a moment where a calm seemed to come over Draco, and Gloria seemed to notice it as well. Her eyes widened with excitement. “I think this is it! Try it!”

Draco’s grip tightened on the handle, and he gave the wand a gentle flick. A soft glow emitted from the wand, just as it had when Draco received his first went when he was a child. He was about to thank Gloria when a spark shot out and it shocked Draco’s hand, forcing him to drop the wand to the floor.

Gloria leaned over the counter and stared at the wand on the floor, her eyes furrowed with confusion but interest. “Hmmmm,” she thought to herself.

“What does that mean?”

Gloria raised her hand to silence Draco and used her wand to bring the wand back into her hand. She studied it and looked for something Draco was unsure about. Gloria put the wand back in its box, and then picked up the rest of the boxes and put them all away.

Gloria was mumbling something under her breath, and moved far enough away that Draco didn’t see her anymore, but he could hear her shifting through the back. He heard boxes and other large objects being dragged across the floor. Draco glanced back at the two Aurors who’d remained silent up to this point. They looked confused as well, but before Draco could open his mouth, Gloria came back, appearing to be covered in dust. “This wand is special, as it was a wand my great-grandfather made a very long time ago. His journals revealed that he felt drawn to make it one night, nearly forty years ago. No one’s ever been a match for it, though, as it’s a very rare combination.”

“What is it? Elder wood? Basilisk Horn?”

“Vinewood, ten inches, Dragon Heartstring-”

“We just tried that,” Draco cut her off.

This earned him a light smack on the side of the head with the wand box. “Don’t interrupt!”

“Ouch,” Draco flinched.

“As I was saying, Vinewood, ten inches, Dragon Heartstring AND Unicorn hair,” Gloria announced.

The room had fallen silent for several moments, but Gloria sighed and opened the box to show it to Draco. “It’s a duel core! Super rare. Usually they are made to order!”

“I know that,” Draco said. “But you said I’d outgrown my old wand. Why would it be unicorn hair and Dragon Heartstring?”

“Because I said so!” Gloria cried. When the room fell silent again, she sighed, and was more upfront. “Garrick, in his notes, theorised that the raw power of the Dragon Heartstring and the purity of Unicorn hair would balance it, making it more grounded and controlled. This should prevent what happened to the wand earlier. His journal suggests that loyalty and ambition would find a healthy balance between the two. Complimenting each other. The ideal witch or wizard would be someone who is ambitious, but grounded. Wanting to do great things, but maintain a sense of justice. Someone who is capable of not falling to darker impulses, a passionate individual, but also has leadership qualities.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” Draco stated.

Gloria stared unimpressed, but still extended the wand box to him. “Just open the damn box.”

Draco took the box and opened it, noting how much it looked like the last wand. He took it in his wand and studied it. Nothing happened at first, but Gloria stared, her annoyed expression turned into genuine curiosity.

“Mr Malfoy,” she said, her tone reminding him of a child who just had their first chocolate frog.

Draco had noticed nothing at first, but when he looked down at his wand, he noticed the glow that surrounded his body. A faint silver glow, and as he looked at his arms and legs, the light remained. Then it faded and ended. Draco still didn’t understand.

“Flick it!” Gloria said. “Test it.”

Draco uttered the first spell that came across his lips. “Lumos.”

It was as if a voice whispered that idea to him, and the end of the wand lit up as it should. Draco gasped, shocked that it worked.

“Ha! Knew it!” Gloria shouted with triumph.

Ten years ago, this would’ve stroked Draco’s ego in the most disgusting way, but now that he stood here with such a rare combination that chose him no less, he felt unworthy.

“Mr Malfoy,” one of the Aurors addressed him.

When Draco turned, he realised it was the one who Kingsley introduced as Bennet. “Yes?”

“The Ministry has ordered us to report everything you do, but since the first wizarding war, wands have been considered something kept between a customer and wand maker, as Voldemort used that knowledge against wizards and witches. We will need your express consent to report this. And we may end up having to return to question Miss Ollivander about this, too.”  

Draco wouldn’t question this. “I give my consent. Anything to prove my innocence.”

“I’m fine to be interviewed, too. And I can ask Garrick to make a statement as well,” Gloria stated. “However, I doubt this wand would’ve chosen someone who would’ve killed someone. Can’t say that the Wardbreaker didn’t kill Mr Weasley, but I doubt Mr Malfoy had any part in planning such a thing. A wand never lies.”

“We’ll pass that along,” Bennet replied.

“How much do I owe you?” Draco questioned Gloria.

“Ten Galleons for such a rare piece,” she stated.

It was twice as expensive as his old wands, but he didn’t question it and took out his coin bag, and counted out ten pieces and offered it to Gloria.

She thanked him with a smile. “Thank you for coming in today. Have a good day gentlemen, and best of luck with the investigation.”

Chapter Text

Hermione sat at her table after she’d served her children their breakfast. Simple oatmeal and pumpkin juice. It was all Hermione could manage on her own right now. She thought about making bacon, eggs, and homemade pancakes, but when she grabbed the heavily used recipe card Molly had given her, she nearly broke down. At the top it was written ‘Ron's favorite Pancake Recipe.’ She immediately searched for something else, and found the oatmeal and juice. It saved her from having a panic attack in front of her children. 

Despite the simple breakfast, Hermione couldn’t concentrate because Rose was reading the Daily Prophet. She had grabbed it from the owl that delivered it before Hermione had the chance to get it herself, and already Rose was deep into reading it. 

Judging from the front page, it was all about the investigation into Guard Enchantments, or perhaps the search for the dark wizard, Errol Underwood. Both took up the whole front page. A moving image of the Minister of Magic and a crowd of other witches and wizards entering the building Hermione had broken into two days earlier. Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. She hadn’t heard from Draco, but she wasn’t sure if he was avoiding her or if he hadn’t been able to send her a message because too many eyes were on him. 

Hugo ate in silence, his eyes focused on a book Hermione’s mother had given him. Hermione knew they had lent him several of Hermione’s from before she’d got her Hogwarts letter. She smiled when she noticed which book. A certain classic about children, saving a fantasy world after discovering it through a wardrobe. 

She hadn’t had time to share anything muggle-related with them and hadn’t thought to outside of a relationship with her parents. This might prove to be a pleasant distraction at the moment. After all, Hermione was far from embarrassed about her family history. 

“How’s the book?” Hermione asked, poking Hugo. 

He looked up from his book and smiled at his mother. “I like it a lot, mum. Muggles don’t know about magic, but it’s interesting to see what they come up with.” 

“A lot of creativity goes into creating those worlds, muggles with genuine talent,” Hermione replied. Her eyes caught Rose looking over the newspaper at the back window. Hermione’s eyes followed, and she noticed another owl pecking at the glass. 

She jumped to her feet and opened the window. In its talons was a letter, which it offered her. She saw her name on the letter and was surprised to see Michael Black had sent it. 

Draco had sent her a message! She looked around at her children. Both their eyes were on her, and she sent them an assuring smile. “It’s from my office,” she lied. She saw them watch, but noticed how they relaxed. Hugo even returned to his book and breakfast. Rose kept her eyes on her mother longer and then turned back to the newspaper. Hermione turned to the owl, and gave it a soft brush across the side of its head, thanking it for the journey. 

“I’ll read the letter and make a reply. Please wait a little,” Hermione stated. She left the kitchen and moved to the office space Ron and she had shared. She took a seat at her desk and opened the letter. 

While he had used his cousin’s name, Draco was clearly the one who wrote it. 

Mrs Hermione Granger-Weasley, 

I am contacting you as per our agreed-upon discussion from the other night. The Ministry came to the office today, and two Aurors followed  myself and my cousin for the entire day. They’ve found nothing, but the office remains under their control for the time being. As of this evening, the Ministry escort has backed off, but for the next few days, we may not leave our residences. Mr. Malfoy has also  agreed to an investigation into all of our assets, including Malfoy manor, and the summer home in France. 

As such, we would permit a visit at the manor on the day this letter should arrive. If this does not work, we can reach out again after the search. However, the sooner you arrive, the better for our investigation.

Hope to hear from you soon 

-Michael Black

Hermione grabbed a quill and some ink after she found some spare parchment. She wrote a quick response and stated she’d be there by early afternoon. The kids had plans with their grandparents and cousins at the Burrow that day. And Hermione knew she'd be able to sneak away for a bit. 

She wrote another note, this one for another owl, this one for Harry to let him know where she was going. She gave the letter for Draco to that owl and used another resting owl to deliver the one for Harry. This owl delivered their newspaper that morning and hadn’t left just yet. 

With them gone, Hermione turned back to her kids and joined them at the table. “I’m meeting up with a coworker at the office to look over some things after you go to your grandparents,” Hermione explained. 

Nodding, they looked at her, taking in what she was telling her. They seemed to believe her, not that they would have any reason not to, but Hermione felt guilty that she was lying to her children. No one would approve of where she was going. And if Harry had a chance, he might even show up at Malfoy Manor himself. 

Hermione was determined to see this through, no matter who or what tried to stop her. She would find her answers, and not even Draco Malfoy would stop her.

8 8 8

Draco sat at his desk in his home office and stared at the paperwork the Ministry had sent over earlier that morning. After looking into things overnight, they had found nothing at Guard Enchantments, and they were going to take over the building to investigate further. They had already spread out to anywhere else Draco had investments in, and were heading out to his summer holiday home in France. Not that Draco had been there in years. They’d be arriving by nightfall here at Malfoy Manor, and because of that, Draco worried Hermione might not make it in time. 

He knew it was important that she come in and look at everything before the ministry got there. He knew the ministry staff were smart, but if anyone could find answers to this messy puzzle, he hoped it would be Hermione. Perhaps she'd find the cause, but also prove his innocence in terms of a lack of maliciousness towards the victim.

Draco stood from his desk and walked around it to glance out the window. The grounds were wide open, empty grassy fields, with a quidditch pitch in the back. Narcissa found joy in decorating after her husband had been sent to Azkaban Prison. She had renovated the manor and the grounds. The fields now had beautiful hedges, flowers and even a pleasant garden with a table to sit and enjoy afternoon tea. 

Glancing over at the side of the house, Draco noticed his mother out there, enjoying tea with a book. It was all part of the daily routine she’d built for herself. If Scorpius was here, he’d be out there too, reading his books, or writing letters to his friends. 

It was a cool day, as was the norm here, but the sky was almost entirely clear, so it at least appeared to be pleasant enough for her to be out there. Even some house-elves were out and about, tidying and cleaning the yard as they did this time of day. 

He looked back near the entrance, where he noticed movement. A mass of colour shifted and moved, and slowed near Malfoy Manor’s gates in the distance. Enchantments would prevent anyone from apparating into the grounds, so whoever it was would have to be invited in. 

Draco stood by and, from the far distance, made out a woman’s figure. And his heart rate quickened. Draco recognised the bushy hair, even though it was tied back. He raised his new wand, and with a flick, it let the gate open. 

Hermione stepped inside, turned, and looked around the grounds as she headed straight down the path towards the entrance. Draco walked away from the window and headed down the hallway, to the entranceway, out to greet his awaited guest. 

8 8 8 

Hermione looked around the gardens as she walked through them towards the manor’s entrance. This differed from when she was here last time. Though she didn't have time to take notice of what it was like that night. 

Her arm itched, and she grabbed where the scar was. The letters Mudblood remained prominent even all these years later. Hermione closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and readied herself for this. She’d wanted answers and still did, but even as her pulse quickened and her heart raced in her ribcage, she hadn’t taken the time to imagine what it would be like for her to return to this awful place. 

As she approached the front door, it opened, drawing her attention. She stopped her approach. One hand entered her back pocket and reached for her wand, and the other was in her front sweater pocket and held the broken pieces of Ron’s wand. 

Draco walked out the door, stopped by its entrance and greeted her with a professional nod of his head. “Glad you made it,” he stated loudly to be heard from her current position. 

Her hand loosened on her wand, but her other hand remained on Ron’s. She approached him and stopped a few feet from him. “This is important,” she replied. “So, I had to make time for it.”

He turned his back to her opened the door and let her inside. She stepped in, her heart pounding even harder. The last time she was here, it was dark, reminded her of a tomb and it smelled of death and unspoken horrors. 

Hermione froze when she walked inside and noticed right away just how different it seemed. It was well lit, and everything seemed crisper and brighter. Even the walls appeared to be a different colour. 

“It looks different,” Hermione said out loud. 

“My mother did it over,” Draco replied. “My father was strictly against my mother leaving her mark anywhere on the manor. After the war, she needed something to keep her going. I told her to have at it.”

“It was so…” Hermione didn't dare utter the words. 

“Creepy?” Draco added. 

She raised her eyes, not expecting him to say anything bad about something that had been part of his family for so long, but she agreed. It had been creepy the last time she was here. “Yes.”

“Growing up, I even found it creepy. My father always said it was a house of character,” Draco explained. “I like to think the old place has got a well-needed makeover.”

“She did a lovely job, your mother, I mean,” Hermione stated. 

“Why, thank you.”

Both turned to where the voice had come from. Hermione’s gaze met Narcissa, who stood from another doorway, holding a book in one hand. She smiled at Hermione. “I put a lot into the place. It’s a better home now.”

“It’s more welcoming than when I was here last,” Hermione tried to further compliment. 

“When were you here last?” Narcissa asked, turning to Draco for the answer. “That must have been a very long time ago.”

Hermione responded, “They kidnapped me and brought me here with Harry Potter.” 

Narcissa’s eyes widened, and she shook her head before lowering it in shame. “Oh, dear, I am so sorry. I remember you now.”

Hermione’s scar itched, and she rubbed her arm, as if to soothe it. Hermione couldn’t meet Narcissa or Draco’s gaze. Perhaps coming here was a mistake. “I came here to talk to Draco about the investigation. Perhaps we should focus on that task.”

“Yes, of course,” Narcissa replied, her voice low. “I won’t keep you any longer. I will ask an elf to bring up some tea.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Hermione’s head shot up, and she tried to refuse. She still didn’t trust Draco and wanted to keep her wits about her as she worked to find answers. 

However, Narcissa was already gone, which left Draco and her alone. “Come to my office. It doubles as the library. I have all my research documents and some samples there.”

Draco took her to the right, the direction that his mother had come from, and guided her down the hall, where they went into the library. Hermione followed, but stopped in the doorway. This room still looked a lot like the old design of the house she remembered. The wood stains were a dark grey, and the chair and couch by the fireplace were black leather. The same dark grey stain covered the desk and table ends, too. Above the fireplace was a family portrait. Draco, Astoria, Scorpius and Narcissa stood. But unlike the one she remembered from Draco’s youth, slight smiles were present. As they moved, they looked at each other with affection and warmth. Draco put his arm around Astoria and Scorpius, his face showing pride. 

How unusual, Hermione thought in passing. The Malfoy family had a long, prideful history of the purest of bloods and were proud of who they were. This family looked proud of each other and loved each other. Hermione had always got the impression that Draco was always a disappointment to his father and that Draco would try anything to make it up to his family name. 

She glanced at Draco, who was looking at her with some confusion. Hermione shook her head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just surprised by how happy you all appear. I recall seeing yours a while ago. It was…”

“Stiff and suffocating?” Draco finished. 

“Yes,” Hermione replied. 

Draco crossed his arms as he faced the portrait and then glanced at Hermione. “I didn’t want Scorpius to grow up like I did. I idolised my father, but as I grew up, I noticed the red flags. And as I did, I don’t think my mother could shield me from it either and the resentment set in. When I finished my community service, my mother and I vowed to be a proper family. Like all those other wizard families, we looked down upon once. Far below our status…but happy. I have very few happy memories from my childhood involving my father. He sent out servants or hired wizards to play quidditch with me. I go out on our pitch with Scorpius every time he asks.”

Hermione’s gaze remained on the family. Draco’s eyes shined with love for Scorpio. “As a father should.”

Draco cleared his throat, walked over to his desk, motioned to the stack of papers, then lifted a box from the floor and placed it next to them. “I have copies of the files I gave the Ministry, but also several samples of various versions of the Wardbreakers.”

Draco pulled one out of the box, one that Hermione noted looked identical to the one that she saw Ron with. “And here, I have a Wardbreaker from the same batch as the one Weasley had. Each batch varies depending on supplies, but this one is identical to the one Potter and Weasley received. Since we don’t have access to the actual one he had, this is the best option.”

Hermione walked over to the front of the desk, reached for the Wardbreaker, and took it when he offered it. She studied it and ran her fingers across the gems on the front. “It looks the same. He showed me when he brought it home.”

Draco lifted some papers and offered them as well. “This is the report from that batch.”

Hermione put the amulet down and then took the papers. She wandered with them over to the chair by the fireplace and looked through them. 

Batch No. 113

Product number 5600-5650

This batch of wardbreaker amulets were constructed using rhodium-plated resin, with a large quartz stone in the centre. Five more quartz gems surround it, the larger one in  a north, south, east, and west design. Leather strips form the chain, and a solid Rhodium lobster claw clasp secures it at the back.  Before using these materials in the product, they were tested for conductivity and found to be suitable for production. 

After extensive testing, Auror no42 was assigned the task of casting protective charms after assembly. Employee no11, Andre Brimmings was the one who assembled this batch.  The Auror and Guard Enchantments employee assembled and tested the Wardbreaker for quality control.

After which, the Auror and G.E.employee discarded product numbers 5604 and 5627 because their gems did not effectively block spells. The remaining passed inspection and reinforcement spells were cast before they were packaged, excluding product number 5650, which was kept at Guard Enchantment for confirmation of quality records. 

The next day the batch was sent with Auror no42 to the Ministry and transferred to the Auror’s office. Gregory Nimbly at the Ministry of Magic signed the release, and the signed document was returned via Owl, confirming the Aurors would distribute the batch for their use and protection. 

-Michael Black

Assistant to Dorian Merlinus

Hermione looked up at Draco after she read the paperwork. “Is it possible someone accidentally shipped out one of the two defects, and Ron got it?”

Draco shook his head and flipped to the back of the Wardbreaker. “The product number automatically imprints itself when the spells are cast. It’s enchanted and cannot be changed. I have 5604 and 5627 here.” 

He opened his desk and dropped two of them on the desk, showing the numbers etched into the back. “So unless the Auror or my employee messed up, I don’t know. The Ministry has found no issue yet, and they don’t know for certain how the Wardbreaker failed. It’s obvious it did, but how is the question?”

Hermione looked at the Wardbreakers that failed the quality control and studied them. “How did they fail?”

“The Quartz gems are supposed to take on the protective properties of the spell and the reflective Rhodium. However, they failed to bind. As a result, when you cast a spell, it doesn’t just bounce off safely. It can harm the wearer, and sometimes it blasts the spell off in every direction, which is much more dangerous than it should be. Most times, if they bounce off, they should hit the original spell caster. The quartz can absorb some spells, but the more dangerous ones bounce back as a safety precaution for the wearer.”

Hermione stared at them and lifted one up. “So, if the one Ron was wearing had the same issue, it would’ve killed everyone, not just Ron.”

“At least someone. A killing curse and a defective Wardbreaker, in theory, based on the Auror’s theories, is likely to cause a massacre. I’m not convinced it was an issue with the gems.”

Hermione needed proof. Not as extreme as he was suggesting, but something along those lines. Hermione looked at the Wardbreaker in her hands and tossed it into the air, and with her wand, she pointed it at the Wardbreaker to test this out. “Stupefy!”

It was as if time had slowed. She cast the spell, but then she heard Draco yell in surprise. She noticed him leap over the desk, his outstretched arm reaching for her. Her eyes moved to him, away from the Wardbreaker. Draco had reached her in moments, and they fell to the floor with a crash. 

The moment they hit the floor, Hermione was staring up at the mid-falling Wardbreaker, her spell striking it, but a wave shot out from the Wardbreaker, sending the magic in every direction, just as he explained moments earlier. It spread out, hitting the bookshelves and his desk, and everything flew in every direction. 

She gasped, but it was muffled by Draco, who unexpectedly shielded her entire body with his own as he lay on top of her. Her breath hitched in her throat under the crushing weight, but she felt the pounding of his heart near and his heavy breathing against her cheek. 

For a moment, Hermione froze, and she thought about what she’d just done. It was stupid, especially for her. That was something Ron would’ve done in their younger years. And Harry might’ve even encouraged it. Hermione would’ve done what she could to stop them, but here she was, present day, the stupid individual who’d just done something that Draco had, in fact, told her it was dangerous. 

The Wardbreaker fell to the floor a few feet away and broke into pieces. When Draco was sure the danger was over, he shifted from shielding her and looked at the amulet. She followed, and their gazes fell on the Wardbreaker and then on each other. 

“Are you insane?!” Draco cried. “I just told you that might happen!”

Hermione, still not trusting him, didn’t want to admit that he was right, so she tried to shift the blame from herself. 

“That’s why I used a less dangerous spell,” Hermione cried, trying to push him off of her. “Get off!”

Draco climbed off of her and looked around at the mess in his office. He pulled out his wand and used it to clean up the mess in the office. The books moved back to their shelves, and the desk contents returned. 

Hermione climbed to her feet and brushed herself off. Draco sighed and tucked the other wardbreakers away in his desk, not trusting her to not try something similar again. “I have no problems with you running tests, but we have to be in the right setting or we may get hurt. Let me know and I can set it up. But for now, don’t, ever, ever do something so idiotic ever again.”  

Hermione understood, but she didn’t want to promise anything just in case something came up. She watched Draco take a seat at his desk, and sighed again, as he covered his face with his hands. “Or at least warn me next time.”

“Wouldn’t you just try to stop me?” Hermione explained. 

“Of course, I would,” Draco said. “But if you were insistent, I could’ve cast a protective spell for us and the room.”

Hermione crossed her hands and sighed. “Fine, in the future, I’ll warn you if I decide to experiment.”

“Thank you,” he said with extra animation in his tone. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. “So, if it wasn’t the gems that failed, then what else would have it been?”

“I don’t know,” Draco said. “I have gone over everything I can think of, and tested all the individual pieces after. And before, Michael had a muggle test all the metals, or lack of in every piece, just to make sure there weren’t any mistakes. I vetted every wizard on the job myself, so I don’t believe anyone sabotaged anything.”

“Most people at the Ministry hate anyone who was an ex Death Eater,” Hermione stated. 

Draco growled under his breath, but didn’t look at her or reply, clearly knowing that what she said was the truth. Even if legally speaking Draco served his time, he would always be a criminal. 

“Can I see the list of people who worked for you?” Hermione asked. He opened his desk and found a stack of papers and handed them to her. “Do you mind if I mark on these?” she asked. 

“I don’t mind,” Draco replied. He offered her some ink, but she pulled out a muggle pen, and moved down the list and began to put little stars next to a few names. A few others, she drew lines under them in sharp bold strikes. It took her several minutes, but his eyes followed her as she worked down the list. 

Finally, Hermione finished, and offered him the list. “The stars are people who work for the Ministry, who I know for a fact who think Capital Punishment should’ve been brought back and used on every Death Eater, or have spoken badly of your family. And then the ones with their names underlined are all ex Death Eaters, who I think would have a grudge against you for doing what you’re doing now.”

She watched him as his face fell, and he mulled over her words. There were hundreds of names on the list. He had hired some staff for their talents, and then there were Aurors, whose talent helped him make the Wardbreakers possible. Draco looked to be in deep thought, perhaps rethinking about how he assumed he’d found the perfect team. But an outsider’s perspective proved to him how deeply wrong he was. 

“We all have enemies,” Hermione tried to offer him some comfort. 

“I just didn’t want to be like my father,” Draco said in a low voice. “I’m so tired of everyone looking at me and assuming the worst. Growing up, I heard tales of the great and powerful Voldemort and idolised him just like my father did. It wasn’t until I was faced with the realisation that he might actually return, I truly thought about what that might mean. I believed the world would be better off without the muggleborns I considered unworthy, and when I had the chance to make that happen, you know what happened?”

Hermione’s entire body stiffened, and she shook her head, not understanding what he was talking about. “I warned them. I got the chance to get rid of the one person I hated more than Potter. And I tried to warn them. I found myself scared of what might happen. I was fourteen years old, and I had never faced death before. All I thought about was trying to get them out of there. I felt guilty, and I should’ve done far more than I did. I should’ve taken their hand that night and dragged them from that place myself.”

“Draco…” Hermione breathed. “I…I had no idea you were that conflicted back then.”

Draco couldn’t face her and turned his back, but leaned on his desk. “While you three were off having your adventures, I was being indoctrinated into a cult, and was willing. Maybe everyone on that list with stars has a point. Maybe they should have put me down like a rabid dog. I wanted to change and be a better person. Even you thought the worst of me. And don’t deny it. You still don’t believe me.”

She didn’t. Not entirely. There were too many painful memories from her childhood caused by the man before her. So many threats, insults, slurs, and legitimate wishes for death towards her. 

“Would you trust the dog that snarled and snapped at you every chance it got?” Hermione stated. “It would take a lot of convincing for you to believe that dog could be trusted around you and your family, wouldn’t it?”

He had approached her, his eyes twisted in anger, and Hermione flinched, her hand clenched, ready to defend herself as needed. He stopped a few feet in front of her and began a tirade. 

“I don’t need to think about it,” he hissed. “I sent my son away, so he'd be free of my burden. Just this morning I was sent several howlers. When my community service ended, my father, who smuggled a letter out of Azkaban, sent me a death threat. I understand that no one trusts me, but I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust.”

She flinched again when his hand reached into her hoody’s kangaroo pocket and pulled out a vile of silver liquid. Her eyes widened, and she gasped and tried to reach for it. It was another Veritaserum she’d brought along, just in case she suspected he was lying to her now. She didn’t trust him, but she had thought nothing here was a lie. 

She realised how her having the vial looked, and she tried to reach for the potion, but he held it out of her reach as he stepped back. 

“Malfoy, wait!” She tried to get his attention, but to her shock, he removed the cork, and brought the potion to his lips and drank it back in one gulp. Hermione froze and her eyes widened when she realised what he’d done. 

When it was gone, Draco threw the vial aside with some aggression, and turned to Hermione again. “Go ahead. Ask me what we both know you want to know.”

Hermione couldn’t find any words for him, but he still looked a little wild to her. Anger was fuelling this, but she only dared to ask one thing. “How did you know?”

“I felt it when I protected you earlier,” Draco shot back. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she offered, but he brushed it off and instead took a seat by the fireplace. 

“Ask me your questions. Let’s get this over with,” Draco stated. 

Hermione took a seat on the couch across from him, and shifted in the chair, despite how comfortable it was. “Did…you know of any flaw in the Wardbreaker design when you shipped it out?”

“No.”

“Did you want Ron or anyone else to die?”

“When I was young, yes, in my adult years, no,” Draco replied. 

Hermione nodded her head and brushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. “So, you didn’t set up the murder of Ron?”

“No, I did not. I was just as shocked as everyone else when I saw it reported in the Daily Prophet,” Draco answered. 

“Are you sorry that Ron is dead? Even if it didn’t affect your business?” 

“Yes, I am truly sorry.”

Hermione was becoming emotional. The Ministry’s best potion-makers made her potions, and she kept a kit for them at home. Marked with expiration dates, and effectiveness based on the skills of the person crafting them. This one was the best the Ministry was capable of crafting. Draco couldn’t lie, no matter how hard he wanted to. 

“Do you want to be a better person?” 

“More than anything,” Draco confessed. 

Hermione burst into tears, covering her face with her hands, hiding herself from the ugly truth in front of her. He was telling the truth, but it was too unreal for her to accept. What a terrible, scary truth. Who else was it, if not Draco? If his design was this perfect, how did it fail?

“What can we do?” Hermione cried. 

It was rhetorical, but compelled, Draco answered her. 

“I need Ron’s Wardbreaker,” he said. 

Her eyes shot up. “What?”

“I need his Wardbreaker. I cannot say for certain if there is a flaw, but if we can get our hands on it, we can see where it failed, if it did. That could give some answers. From there, I’ll use some of my sources to see if there are any whispers about a flaw unknown to us. Perhaps someone knows something we missed and exploited. This Errol Underwood wizard, I’ve heard he is very intelligent. Perhaps he found something everyone else missed. The more information we gather, the more likely you’ll be able to solve this.”

His words surprised Hermione, but acknowledged how smart what he said was. It was how an Auror would investigate and wasn’t a bad idea. On top of that, he hadn’t said they could figure it out. He believed she would find the answers. 

“Me?” she asked. “You really think I’ll solve this?”

“Why else would I say it?” Draco raised his eyebrow at her. “The Ministry were idiots for taking you off the case. I’ve seen your numbers. You’ve helped solve more cases in your career than most others. Your colleagues average, what two cases at a time? How many do you have at any time?”

Hermione’s face flushed. “Five to seven.”

“You were always a force of nature,” Draco complimented. “And an angry widow on the case to solve her husband’s murder. If they had you on the case, you’d have several people arrested by now.”

‘I doubt that,’ Hermione thought, but she wanted to be sure he wasn’t just complimenting her, as he was now in control of the conversation and no longer here. “Malfoy, do you really think that?”

He was surprised by her question. “Yes,” he replied. 

Hermione tried to think of anything else to ask. “Earlier you said that you received several death threats, even from your father. Is it possible he was involved somehow?” 

“I cannot say for certain,” Draco replied. “If someone was involved, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was related to former Death Eaters, or younger witches and wizards who idolise Voldemort.”

“Yes…our office is seeing a rise in witches and wizards born shortly before or after the war who are idolising Dark Wizards,” Hermione sighed. “Purebloods don’t seem to be involved with this Errol guy, though they might be better at hiding it now. But I’ve seen second and third generation wizards from muggle born families falling to this as well.”

“Purebloods will do whatever it takes to paint a picture of perfection. They’d know how to hide how they felt. Look at the amount of Pureblood families that hid after a toddler Potter defeated Voldemort. Many of them were only exposed after the War. Like those who are unfaithful, they learn how to cover their tracks better,” Draco explained. 

He got up from his seat and wandered over to a book shelf and looked for a book. Draco found it within a few seconds and took it, bringing it over to Hermione. He handed it to her, and she reached out and took the offered book. 

“What is it?” she asked when she realised there was only Lucious Malfoy’s name and a set of dates written on them. 

“It’s my father’s journal. It was customary for the head of the house to keep a journal, to pass on their wisdom to the next head of the manor. He wrote about how he hid us from being caught. He used this journal from after he joined the Death Eaters until I was about six years old.”

“You want me to read this?” she asked. 

“If you think it’ll help,” Draco shrugged. “I’ve read it many times myself after I became the head of the house. I felt lost and scared, but even after reading it, I didn’t find any use for it other than doing the opposite of what my father did to raise me. The catch is, you won’t be able to open it unless I’m present.”

“Why is that?” she asked. 

He stood up and moved towards her, took her by the wrist, and pulled it toward him, the book she held in that hand. He brought the book to his lips and whispered to the locked latch. 

“Puritas Sanguinis,” he said. 

The book’s lock snapped open, and Hermione opened it and glanced at it before she looked back to Draco. “Password?”

“More than that,” Draco explained. “Enchanted, so that only the current head of the house with the password could open it. I would have to open it for you every time. The moment it’s so many feet away from me, it will close and lock on its own.”

Hermione glanced at the book again and flipped a few pages. “Your father would kill me if he saw me reading this.”

“Without a doubt,” Draco replied, though he covered his mouth after this response. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione brushed aside his comment. “Potion hasn’t worn off, I get it.”

Draco lowered his hand and nodded, but his expression looked saddened. “I want little to do with my father.”

“I know,” Hermione replied. “Your father wouldn’t have come to Ron’s funeral to even mock us. I hate to admit it, but you came to not only the wake, but the funeral. You even talked to my muggle parents, with enough kindness that when I came at you, they defended you. Even when I said how cruel you were to me and my parents don’t trust others easily.”

Draco shook his head. “You don’t need to pay me kindness. I’m not owed it. I went because of my guilt, but I knew everyone would blame me. Even if we find out it was someone else, there will always be those who put fault on me. I’ve always been a bit of a villain after all.”

Hermione smiled at him. His eyes widened, taken aback by her gesture. “You know, looking back with adult eyes, and based on something you said earlier, I can think of one instance from our past, where you did something to me that on the surface could be seen as cruelty, but with new eyes, I think I can understand the truth a little.”

“What truth?” Draco asked, his voice has lowered, and some emotion seemed to threatening to expose itself. 

“You said there was someone you once hated more than Harry, and when given a chance for muggleborns to be killed, you were happy, until you faced it. You said you should’ve taken their hand and got them out of there yourself. Instead, you tried to drive them out. I remember a time when you said, ‘‘They’re coming, Granger. Better get out of the way, Mudbloods.”

She noticed him flinch when she used the horrid slur, perhaps reminding him of a darker time he wished to forget. She stood from the couch, putting the book on the cushion beforehand. “Draco, did you warn me because you were frightened I might actually die?”

She watched him swallow, and even with the potion trying to force the answer out, he struggled to find an answer. “Yes.”

How could one word make Hermione experience such pity for a human she once detested so much? Perhaps it was because said person detested her very existence. But in a moment where it counted most, he made a choice that was meant to save her life. 

“Draco,” she said. The use of his name caught him off guard, and his silver eyes caught her brown ones. For a moment, she was taken aback by how much emotion was in his eyes. “Do you swear to help me, no matter what it means for you?”

He nodded. “I swear.”

“You mean it?” she asked again. 

“I do.”

Maybe it was because Hermione was still feeling very emotional, or perhaps it was the stress of everything. Or the knowledge that Draco was under the influence of the Veritaserum and couldn’t lie, but whatever it was, Hermione began to experience heaviness in her chest and wondered if it truly was possible for her to feel such strong emotions to his promise and confirmation. 

“I trust you,” Hermione whispered. 

An expression Hermione had never seen before on Draco appeared. It was a smile. Not a smirk, or anything remotely close to smugness. No mischievous intentions, or cruelty. Just, a genuine smile, perhaps with some relief. Whatever it was, Hermione’s heart skipped a beat, and she had to look away from him, returning to the book he’d lent her. 

“S-So, I should come by to study the book again, I suppose. How should we communicate if the Ministry is watching you?”

Draco erased the smile from his face, and cleared his throat, returning to his usual coolness. “It’s not something I’m exactly proud to suggest, but it might be what we need.”

Draco moved over to a book shelf, and he pulled out a book. Hermione watched with surprise as the whole shelf moved, revealing a secret passage. Hermione was surprised, but he took out his wand, and cast Lumos. 

“Follow me,” he stated. 

She did, taking out her own wand, and doing the same. The passage was warm surprisingly, but still dark. It was not a long tunnel andwhen they reached the end, they were in a room with a single fireplace inside. Hermione stared, surprised. “What is this place?”

“It’s an ancient fireplace. Older than anything connected to the Floo Network. Everyone was ordered to destroy fireplaces not connected by the Ministry. Most pureblood families kept one and hid them away. They were heavily used by Voldemort before his original body was destroyed. It’s how he moved between the Death Eater houses. Since my father was arrested, mother disconnected this one from all the other Pureblood families. It hasn’t been used in nearly forty years.”

“So, you have an illegal Floo Powder fireplace?” Hermione tried to confirm. “But it’s not connected anywhere?”

“I want to ask if I can connect it to your home. It would only work one way, so I wouldn’t be able to enter it. And you’d have to apparate home, but the Ministry wouldn’t be able to track you.”

Hermione had heard of places like this, and she shifted from side to side. “Don’t you use blood magic for this kind of thing?”

“Merlin, no!” Draco cried. “You leave an imprint of your magic on the stone, so only you and those holding onto you could travel through with you.”

“Multiple people can travel at once?” Hermione asked. 

“Another reason the Ministry put a stop to this. It hasn’t been used for a while, but these have been used for hundreds of years, so I assume it’ll be alright.”

Hermione put her hand to the cool stone. It looked like the same old style that the manor had before. “How do I do this?” 

“Focus your magic and think about your homes fireplace,” Draco explained. 

“We don’t need my fireplace to be one of these old illegal ones?” Hermione cut in. 

“No, we just need the one,” he stated, and continued. “Let your magic flow into it. It will connect you to your fireplace at home, and only yours. I won’t be able to use it unless we are holding hands.”

Hermione bit her bottom lip and tried to focus her magic like she did when she cast a wordless spell with her wand. Hermione’s magic seeped through her fingertips and into the old stone chimney. Golden hues of magic left her body and went into the stones, disappearing.

The rock became hot and Hermione hissed and pulled away when it became too much for her. A golden handprint was left behind, but slowly faded and disappeared like her magic had. 

“Just like my father’s journal said,” Draco explained. “You’ve imprinted your magic. The fireplace you were thinking of, and this one are connected, but not the other way around.”

“Would I use this just like the normal floo network?” Hermione asked. 

“No, you’d use your own magic and say where you want to go,” Draco stated. “The floo powder is what the Ministry uses to track people. The new fireplaces follow specifications that limit their use to what you are familiar with.”

Hermione had read that a long time ago, but hadn’t remembered. Hermione didn’t recall the last time she even used a fireplace for travel. Since they were in London, travel around by muggle means was possible, but apparition was very easy. She recalled that Ron liked to take the kids by Floo powder to visit his parents as they enjoyed it. But that was also because Ron struggled with apparating with multiple people, while Hermione managed just fine with the two kids. 

Hermione turned to Draco. “So I can come anytime?”

“Yes,” Draco replied. “It’s a secret room, so even if the Ministry was here, they wouldn’t know you arrived. The fireplace has an alarm that only I will hear if I am on the property, so I will always know when you arrive. Unless I send an owl warning you, I suggest you wait until I come get you. If I cannot for any reason, my mother will fetch you.”

“I want to look over all the Malfoy journals, if you don’t mind,” Hermione added. “You never know what your ancestors might know. Old forbidden magic. More clues hopefully.”

“Anything here, you have access to. Just don’t blow anything else up. Especially after I warn you what might happen,” Draco added playfully. 

She rolled her eyes. “Then, tomorrow night. They are allowing me back into the office tomorrow, but I am still not allowed to work on the case. I’m sure I can find out where the investigation is going. Any and all information could be useful after all.”

“I’ll be here,” Draco stated. “Will your kids be alright?”

“They are visiting with their cousins for a few days,” Hermione explained. “Harry knows we are working together, and while he doesn’t know any further details, he has agreed to watch my children. So, coming here tomorrow after work won’t be an issue.”

“Alright, I can have a meal ready, and brought to you in the office so you can eat while you read,” Draco replied. 

“Nothing fancy,” Hermione responded. 

“I ate the same food you did at Hogwarts,” Draco replied. “I like simple dishes as much as any other Brit.”

Hermione managed a smirk. “Then I will come with an appetite. I will take my leave then, Mr Malfoy.”

“Until tomorrow, Mrs Granger-Weasley,” Draco shared his farewells too.