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Eyes narrowed in concentration, her gloved hands steady, Hermione Granger cast a convoluted series of waves with her wand. The orb hovering before her crashed to the table, the glow vanishing from within, and she released a sigh of relief, a bead of sweat breaking from her temple.

"Very well done, Miss Granger," Lead Unspeakable Burke announced, and with a wave of his wand, his quill jotted a note on the pad of parchment floating alongside his shoulder. "You've deactivated the orb without significant bodily or mental injury."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said with a nod. "I'm very relieved, sir."

"I should say. Not all trainees are so successful," her superior clipped, a wry twist to his lips. Hermione felt a shudder creep down her spine at the thought. "That completes the last of your practical exams. Congratulations, Granger, I'm going to submit the final paperwork in order for you to become a fully certified Unspeakable."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione felt the flooding warmth of accomplishment. She had spent the better part of the last six months training for this position, and had faced some of the most gruelling magical challenges she had ever experienced.

It had been a physical, mental and emotional strain, and Burke had been a stern taskmaster, but she had pushed through – and she knew her mentor was proud of her progress.

Burke glanced over his shoulder as the quill crossed out two lines of copy, and scribbled something new. Satisfied, his lips curved up into a smile.

"We're thrilled to have you on board, Unspeakable-Trainee Granger." The quill carried on, racing across the page, and jerked back when Hermione peered closer. "Now, you know what this means."

"Right," Hermione said, unsure. "That I'll be able to work on my own experiments?"

"Yes," Burke said, waving a hand. "Small ones, at first, of course. But you'll no longer be shadowing a Senior Unspeakable. That doesn't mean, of course, that you can't ask for help. But your clearance level will be high enough that it won't be required."

"Fantastic," Hermione breathed. "Thank you again, sir."

"Thank you for your solid efforts." He caught the quill mid-air and tucked it away, along with his pad of parchment. "The Department of Mysteries has gained a valuable asset with you, Miss Granger."

Flushing from the compliment, Hermione stared as Burke walked towards the exit of the dimly lit examination room. "You can report to department administration for the assignment of your office and get yourself settled. Once this paperwork is submitted, you'll begin to see assignments coming in – beyond that, you are free to pursue your own work in any of the chambers, provided you submit a proposition first."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione repeated, beaming. She hadn't felt so relieved since she had passed her NEWTs with consistent O's, six months ago at the end of her eighth year at Hogwarts. But this felt even more significant.

"Aren't you glad we dragged you out of Magical Creatures now?" Unspeakable Burke turned back from the door, his lips tugged into a smirk.

"Yes," Hermione said with a chuckle. The work she had done during her first month at the Ministry had paled in comparison to the types of magic she had been working with in the Department of Mysteries.

"I told them your brain would be wasted in policy." With an amused huff and a small shrug of his shoulders, Burke left the training facilities, closing the door behind him.

Releasing a small, self-satisfied sort of giggle, Hermione pocketed her wand and peeled her protective dragonhide gloves from her hands, feeling the teeming warmth of the many spells with which they were imbued as she tucked them into an inner pocket of her robes.

With a cautious glance behind her to ensure the orb was still dull, she walked to the door, and with a non-verbal and wandless nox, the room fell dark.

Draco Malfoy yawned as he gazed around the Auror offices of the DMLE. He scowled, dropping his quill and shaking his hand out, part way through what felt like the hundredth report he had submitted since the completion of his training a month prior.

Biting back the usual sentiments on the tip of his tongue, Draco merely stared, unimpressed, at the Aurors lingering around the office, talking, drinking coffee and generally wasting time. If Draco so much as tried slacking off, he'd hear about it.

But many of these Aurors had been in Draco's same class – hell, he'd out-studied, out-worked and out-cast most of them. But yet, they were all afforded the opportunity to go out on real cases, and catch real dark wizards, while Draco sat idly by at his desk, pushing paper all day long.

He was sick of it – had been sick of it since the first week – but the last time he had brought it up to Robards, his department head had simply shrugged and said there weren't currently enough cases to go around.

Draco hadn't even been given a partner, so he knew they had no intentions of sending him out into the field.

"I'll tell you what," Robards had said, his voice gruff, even as he had stared across the office, "you've been doing great work. If you prove yourself, maybe you'll find yourself moving up the list."

Draco had silently fumed but nodded, realizing that it was the only way to advance.

And really, he had expected a certain level of unfairness and prejudice. He had seen it throughout the training, where the instructors were clearly suspicious of him. He didn't blame them – his father was in Azkaban for Death Eater participation, and Draco had barely escaped a sentence himself.

Many of the Aurors and instructors didn't seem to understand the threats Draco had been under during the war. But Draco had been acquitted, and had completed his Ministry-mandated eighth year at Hogwarts, his name clear.

The bridge of his nose wrinkled with the makings of a sneer as he heard Potter's raucous laughter from across the room. The only good thing about the situation had been the day when Weasley had dropped out of training, citing with significant and unnecessary fanfare that he would be going to work with one of his brothers at that blasted joke shop in Diagon.

So Draco only had to deal with Potter on a daily basis, and not both of them.

Luckily, Granger had not chosen to pursue an Aurorship. The last Draco had heard, shortly after he had enrolled in Auror training following the end of his eighth year, Granger was working in Magical Creatures. So provided he didn't have many cases involving the smuggling of Demiguises or poaching of dragons, Draco wouldn't have to deal with her either.

Not that it looked likely Draco would have any cases at all – certainly not anytime soon.

Pressing his lips together, his jaw tight, Draco picked his quill back up and carried on with his report.

"Auror Robards?" Draco asked, poking his head through his superior's open door. "Have you got a minute?"

"Auror Malfoy," Robards said, adjusting a set of spectacles on the bridge of his nose. "Of course, come in."

"Thank you," Draco murmured, sliding into the seat in front of Robards' desk. He hesitated for a moment, clasping his hands. "Sir, I was wondering, given there's been another new batch of Aurors –"

Robards held up a hand, pressing his lips together. "I understand. You hope to be partnered up and sent out of the office."

Draco couldn't stop the absent flicker of his brows. "Yessir."

"Look, Malfoy," Robards said, leaning forward across his desk. He removed his glasses and folded them. "I understand your concerns. Believe it or not, I'm on your side." The disbelief must have shown on Draco's face, because Robards quickly added, "Several of the instructors didn't even want to pass you through training. But you completed everything as required, and you went above and beyond in many cases. You deserve to be here as much as anyone else."

"Thank you," Draco grunted, taken aback. He bit his tongue to refrain from saying anything more.

"But I don't act alone, and this is what I can do to compromise. There are people who want to see your commitment to the department before sending you out."

"Before they'll decide to trust me," Draco drawled, releasing a sigh. "Fine."

"I want to help you, Malfoy," Robards said, a deep furrow to his brow. "I know you aren't your father, and I can see that you're dedicated to the cause here. I'm going to see what I can do to get you a case you can work on in the office. It's the best I can manage, right now."

"I would appreciate that, sir," Draco clipped, sitting a little straighter in his seat. "Thank you for your time."

"To Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, thrusting his fourth pint into the air. "The newest bloody Unspeakable who does unspeakable things that we'll never know about!"

"Hear hear!" Dean cried, clinking his glass with Harry's. They both sloshed ale all over the table and Hermione shook her head, even as she fought a smile.

She raised her own glass in a salute, giggling as she took a sip.

On her other side, Seamus slammed an empty shot glass down on the wooden table, alcohol seeping into its knots and fissures. Hermione found herself oddly fixated on the flow of liquid across the surface, and that was when she realized she'd had too much.

She looked up and realized Harry was watching her, a faint smile on his features.

"Your parents would be proud," he said, his voice quiet. She swallowed, forcing a thick smile.

"You think?" she breathed. "Maybe, if they could remember me."

Harry leaned in closer, pressing his shoulder against hers, and Hermione took brief solace in the contact. He knew, as well as anyone, the struggles she had faced around the decision she had made to remove herself from their memories during the war. He had been there with her, after the fact, when the healers declared there was no way to reverse the spell. He'd sat with her while she cried. He said, "They would be."

She released a tight breath, nodding.

"Now, here's the thing, Hermione," Seamus said, his Irish accent jarring and thick with inebriation as he broke the moment. She sunk back in her seat.

It was nearly closing time at the Leaky, and as Hermione blinked around, most of the patrons had already gone home.

Her gaze flickered back to Seamus, and she startled back into focus as she realized he was talking to her.

"– so then how does anyone know that anyone's actually doing anything down there?"

Hermione smiled absently, meeting Harry's glazed green eyes again. "I don't know, Seamus, how do we know you Aurors are actually doing anything up in the DMLE?"

Seamus waved a clumsy hand. "Of course we're doing work," he scoffed, "we've got… reports, and dark wizards and that."

"Well, the wizarding world hasn't exploded, imploded or vanished into a dark, gaseous cloud," Hermione snickered, "so we've got that."

Dean's jaw dropped, Seamus blinked, and Harry snorted.

"Okay," Neville broke in, having grown increasingly silent with each additional pint. "Hermione, can you do me a favour?"

"What is it, Neville?" Hermione asked, giggling as she finished the last of her mug.

"If you ever see any dangerous plants –"

A round of raucous laughter cut off Neville's request, and he flushed pink as he sucked on his teeth. "Just because, you know, I collect venoms, so –"

"If I could, Neville, I would," Hermione assured him with a grin. "But I would lose my job, and go to Azkaban for revealing Unspeakable secrets."

"It was worth a shot," Neville grumbled. He rose from his seat, wobbly on his feet. "I ought to go. Carrying on with my apprenticeship with Professor Sprout tomorrow."

"Good luck," Dean said with a snicker.

Neville flicked his brows and Disapparated; Hermione cringed and watched to be sure he hadn't left any body parts behind.

"I have a date tomorrow," Harry announced, deflating in his seat, dropping his pint to the table.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide. "You didn't tell me! Who is it?"

She hadn't seen Harry date anyone since Ginny had left London to play for the Holyhead Harpies after Hogwarts, and that had been nearly six months ago.

"You'll laugh," Harry said, dropping his head into his arms on the table.

"We won't laugh," Hermione assured him. Dean and Seamus nodded simultaneously.

"It's Daphne Greengrass," Harry muttered into his arms, his voice coming out muffled. He glanced up at the three of them. "She isn't, you know… like most Slytherins."

"I never knew her well enough to say," Hermione said, tilting her head. "Where did you get to know her?"

"At the Ministry," Harry muttered, sitting back up in his seat. "She works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation." He huffed, sliding his fingers through his disheveled hair. "I'm nervous."

Hermione was impressed he'd managed the whole title, despite that he had slurred his way through. She scoffed, "Harry Potter is nervous for a date. You'll be just fine."

"What about you?" Harry asked, fixing his gaze on her. He flickered his brows. "Anyone in your life these days?"

"You know very well there isn't," Hermione said, her lips curving with a smile.

And there hadn't been – not since she and Ron had broke things off in a terrible and spectacular fashion a few months into their eighth year.

Harry waved an absent hand. "If you're happy on your own."

"Thanks, Harry," she said, collecting her bag and leaving a stack of coins on the table to pay for her drinks. "I'd better go. I'm starting to work on my own tomorrow! And… I need to be functional."

She chuckled in a sheepish way.

Seamus tapped his temple sagely, saying, "Hangover draught, Hermione."

"Yes, yes," she muttered, rising from her seat. "Good night everyone. Harry, owl me about your date!"

"Will do," Harry said with a low chuckle. "Night, Hermione."

With a wave to Tom the barkeep, Hermione made her way to the Floo. An absent smile lingered on her face as she tossed a handful of powder into the grate, vanishing into her empty flat.

Draco's brow furrowed as he gazed at a plastic bag on his desk, its contents magically sealed within. He picked up the bag, waving it around in front of him, as his lip curled with the makings of a sneer.

"Malfoy!" Draco dropped the bag, fixing his face with a stoic expression. It was Robards. "I know, it's sort of ridiculous, but this is all I could get you on short notice."

"Understandable, sir," Draco murmured. "I haven't had a chance to look through the case file yet. Presumably this object is cursed?"

"Supposedly," Robards said with a grimace. "Or so says Madame Moreau. Which doesn't say a whole lot, given she's barmier than a doorknob, but you know protocol."

"Right." Draco eyed the bag again. Secure the item; investigate and determine the type and severity of the magic; neutralize the threat; file the report. "I appreciate you vouching for me, sir."

"Of course," Robards said, his voice gruff, as he clapped Draco on the shoulder. "Just keep your head down and do your best. You'll get there eventually, and better for it, having gone through these trials."

He nodded, swallowing at the sentiment. "Just one thing," Draco muttered, holding the bagged item up. "So we're clear, this is… a unicorn?"

He squinted closely at the small statuette. It was rather crudely sculpted and bulky, like a sort of overweight, graceless unicorn – but the off-centre horn on its head was rather conclusive, although it did had a strange curve to it...

Robards shrugged with a grimace. "Sort of what it looks like, doesn't it?"

Draco frowned, his brows high. "Suppose so."

"Let me know when you're done," Robards said, with a brisk smile. "You'll do great."

Draco nodded, still eyeing the figure with rising bitterness. Someone was chuckling over this, he was certain. Give the former Death Eater-turned-Auror who grew up in a cursed mansion a cursed bloody unicorn doll. Draco scowled and nearly tossed the bag into the rubbish bin beside his desk.

Instead he clenched his jaw, grit his teeth, and set to work.

Draco clicked his tongue, glaring at the figurine he should have tossed in the bin three days ago. The standard battery of cursed object tests had come back inconclusive – the most advanced testing had also provided no results.

According to the file that Draco had been given with the figure, Madame Moreau claimed the statue was an old family heirloom, but that it had been causing disturbances and strange occurrences in her home, and so she had sent for an Auror to take it to the DMLE to be assessed.

The only factor of any interest was a small engraving on the underside of it, and that could very well have simply been a scratch in the sculpting material, because it certainly wasn't any language Draco recognized.

For all Draco could tell, the bloody thing wasn't cursed at all, and this Madame Moreau was off her rocker. She was probably elderly and paranoid, and had found an old figurine on the day she had received bad news or left a bloody window open –

Draco scowled, rising from his desk, clenching his hands into fists. It was a rubbish assignment and whoever had selected it for him knew that.

He simply needed to walk away from the object for a while, return with fresh eyes and –

"Auror Malfoy," Robards greeted him as Draco approached the refreshments cart with a handful of coins. "How's the investigation going?"

Draco pressed his lips together, torn between admitting the truth – that he couldn't identify the spell on a stupid fucking unicorn doll – or lying.

Robards raised a brow, the curve of his lips suggesting he was amused, and Draco released a long sigh.

"I can't find any signs of a curse on the damn thing," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "I've performed the standard and advanced tests three times each, just to be sure. Are you positive the bloody thing is even cursed?"

"I'm not," Robards said with a shrug. "But we have to check it anyway. If you're certain it isn't cursed, file the report and be done with it. But if you're doubtful at all, keep at it. If you're really stumped, you could try submitting a request with the Unspeakables. They deal with all sorts of ridiculous things down there in the dark. Maybe one of them can help."

Draco frowned. The Unspeakables would laugh in his face if he brought a trinket down to level nine. He couldn't imagine even showing it to them. And he knew word would trickle back up to the DMLE.

He was growing more and more certain this had all been a trick designed by someone intent on getting him out of the Auror's office.

"I'll take care of it, sir," Draco muttered, handing his coins to the witch at the cart.

Robards grinned. "I thought you might."

Draco stared at the figure later, his eyes squinted and blurry, and he prodded at the plastic bag with a finger, shifting the protective covering.

His finger grazed a rough spot beside its horn and Draco peered closer, casting a magnification spell. Draco frowned – it looked as if it wasn't a unicorn after all. It must have had a second horn once upon a time, but only one remained.

He sneered at it. Regardless, it was stupid and it wasn't cursed. If it was cursed, it likely wouldn't have been able to break at all. The very fact that it was broken suggested dark magic had never touched it. At least, not the sort of dark magic Draco was used to dealing with. Most cursed objects remained immaculate, despite wear and circumstances which would have otherwise caused damage.

But still… something felt off. It didn't have an aura of dark magic, and the spells had all come back negative… but Draco didn't feel right filing the report. His gaze flickered across the office to where Potter and Finnegan were cackling over some joke or other – again – and Draco's lip curled.

Cursing himself and the figurine he was tired of looking at, Draco drew a Ministry memo and a quill before him. Rolling his eyes, he jotted a message.

Hermione glanced up at a knock on her door. "Come in," she called, and the door swung open. Unspeakable Burke walked through, chuckling to himself over something.

"I've got a task for you," her superior said, smiling absently. "I've just met with a daft junior Auror who seems to have found a cursed unicorn figure that he can't solve."

Hermione snickered. "A unicorn?"

"He claims it used to have two horns, but that one broke off." Burke shook his head. "I'm not sure what sort of people Robards is letting into the DMLE these days."

"If it's broken it isn't likely cursed," Hermione pointed out with a wave of one hand.

"That's what I said," Burke said with a shrug. "He was insistent. And since I don't have time to deal with some ridiculous nonsense about a not cursed carving, congratulations. It's your first official case."

"Great," Hermione said, snickering to herself. "It should be good for a laugh, at least."

"I told him to come back with his notes tomorrow," Burke said. "Have fun, and remember department protocol."

"Of course," Hermione clipped. "None besides Unspeakables into the chambers."

The offices and administrative services of the department were outside of the Department of Mysteries proper – the chambers which were only accessible via the black corridor.

Hermione chuckled as Burke left her office, gathering a stack of notes that some low-ranking junior Auror definitely wouldn't have the clearance to see, and tucked them into one of the secure drawers of her desk.

This should be interesting.

Chapter Text

Draco raised an eyebrow as he sliced into his steak, a smirk coming to his lips while he watched Theo poke at whatever was on his plate. There was a small wrinkle to the bridge of his nose, and finally Theo sighed and stabbed a bit of it with his fork.

"Okay, I'll bite. What the fuck is that?" Draco asked, chuckling.

Theo sniffed and raised a brow. "It's called tempeh."

Draco blinked. "So I suppose the more appropriate question would be why are you eating it?"

"I've gone vegan," Theo said, clenching his jaw. His eyes flickered to Draco's steak. "It's a soy-based protein source."

"Right, vegan," Draco muttered, absently waving his fork. "Is this like the time you decided to take up that Muggle stretching program?"

"Yoga," Theo said absently. "And no, although it was a valid meditation practice, and excellent for the mind. I wasn't any good at yoga, but believe me, it was worth it."

"You don't appear to be a very good vegan, either," Draco said with a smirk. "This doesn't have anything to do with that new girl, does it?"

"I may have told Selena I was a vegan when we met," Theo said, sniffing again. "This tastes like flavourless paste. It's as if the chef doesn't even know how to properly season food."

"So order a fucking steak. She isn't going to know, is she?" Draco snickered, shaking his head.

There were few things he hadn't seen Theo do for a woman. It would be another thing – and another woman – next week. These meetings with Theo were never dull.

"So tell me about this statue," Theo said, taking a large gulp of water. "This is so fucking unsatisfying, by the way."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's all a bloody farce. The higher-ups think they can force me out with grunt work, and believe me, they won't succeed. Supposedly this thing is cursed, but it just looks like an ugly, overweight bicorn or something."

"Bicorns are usually overweight," Theo reminded him, an absent tilt to his head. "Why don't you think it's cursed?"

"Because nothing's come back in the testing," Draco muttered, shaking his head. "I think someone's just messing with me to see how long it takes before I give up. But fuck them if they think it'll be that easy."

"Right," Theo said, "it's all very admirable of you. Personally, I would sooner die than be an Auror, but then, Healer training has nearly killed me, so there's that."

Theo let out an exaggerated huff of irritation as he gazed at Draco's steak once more.

"Okay, but consider this," Theo said suddenly. "It sounds like some old, crude sculpture, right? What if it's really old? You're testing it for dark magic, but there are other types of magic it could be imbued with."

"Nothing has come up," Draco repeated, slicing a large piece of his steak and chewing it slowly. "As in, nothing."

"Okay, but there's those Muggles who think they know magic, right, and every so often they get it right, don't they?" He waved a hand. "What's it, voodoo? Or sometimes they manage to summon spirits and whatnot."

"I don't think that's how that works," Draco said. "But at any rate, it would still leave some sort of signature, wouldn't it?"

"You're the Auror," Theo said with a shrug. "All I'm saying is, be sure you aren't leaving any doors open."

"Stones unturned," Draco corrected, his brow furrowing. Perhaps he ought to be looking further into the actual object itself. "But at any rate, I'm meeting with an Unspeakable tomorrow, so if there's some strange magic about it, they'll know, won't they? This really isn't what I trained in."

"So all the better when you prove them wrong," Theo said, and his tone was light, but Draco caught the deeper meaning.

"Absolutely," Draco said, pointing with his fork. He chuckled as Theo let out another noise of disgust. "I'm ordering you a fucking steak."

Hermione wandered down the corridor from the Planet Room, readjusting to the gravity beyond the chamber. Her mind was abuzz as she made her way to her office, processing the implications of what the Unspeakables had been studying within the room.

"Oh, Unspeakable Granger," the departmental administrator called, "you've just had a memo. An Auror will be down to see you shortly."

"Right, thanks Gladys," Hermione muttered with a brief smile as she carried on towards her office. She had almost forgotten about the Auror who was struggling with a cursed unicorn doll. She snickered at the thought.

She began to cast the complicated series of spells which would release the wards on her office door, when she glanced up, then did a double-take. A man with a shocking head of pale blond hair stood at Gladys' desk, and Hermione saw Gladys wave a vague hand down the corridor.

Hermione blinked, pausing halfway through unlocking her door, eyes narrowing on instinct.

"You're awfully lost, don't you think?" she asked, raising a brow.

Malfoy stopped dead in the hallway, turning to face her. He opened his mouth then closed it again, a furrow knitting his brow.

"I have a meeting," he snipped, continuing down the corridor towards her. A scowl came to his face, his lip rising into a sneer. "So mind your own. You're far from Magical Creatures."

"I don't work in Magical Creatures anymore," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Malfoy came closer, and Hermione realized he was checking the numbers on the office doors. She continued releasing her wards, wanting to get away from the blond prat as quickly as possible.

She released the last of the spells as he stopped beside her, huffing an impatient breath. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Move, Malfoy," Hermione said, her nose wrinkling as she made to shoulder past him. "I've got a meeting with an Auror, so if you don't mind –"

"It's Auror Malfoy to you," he hissed, eyeing her like he would something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Hermione blinked, before a vague recollection entered her mind that Malfoy had pursued Auror training with Harry and Ron, until Ron had dropped out.

Somehow, the idea that Malfoy would have passed and become a full Auror had seemed so preposterous she had never entertained the thought. And it wasn't something Harry had ever mentioned.

Attaching a respectable title to someone like Malfoy felt wrong.

"You can't possibly have made it through Auror training," Hermione snarled, stomping into her office. To her incredible dismay, he followed her inside. Hermione whirled to face him. "But if you... I don't know, bought your way in or something, and this nightmare is real, rest assured you won't be working with me. You can find another Unspeakable. Or figure it out on your own, or better yet, quit. It isn't as if you even need the money."

She rolled her eyes, making to shove him back through the door if she needed to.

He was eyeing her with no small measure of distaste, his grey eyes narrowed and jaw clenched.

"Listen, you fucking swot," he snapped, his eyes traveling to her face, "you don't know the first thing about me, so keep your fucking assumptions to yourself. You can ask your pal Potter whether I passed training or not. And I'm not leaving here without solving this fucking case, so you're going to sit down and help me or I'll be speaking to your supervisor about your blatant and unfounded prejudice."

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, her hand reaching for her wand.

He glared back, his eyes dark and threatening.

She didn't doubt he would speak to Burke – but what would she say in response? He was a bloody prat and a joke of an Auror? He didn't deserve the robes anyway?

She'd only been a full Unspeakable for less than a week, and she wasn't going to let a prick like Malfoy ruin it for her. And if he thought he was going to try he was in for a rude awakening.

"Fine," she snapped, huffing as she turned away from him. "Leave whatever it is you want me to look at and I'll get to it when I have time."

"This is important, Granger," he drawled, "not that I trust you to understand that. I'm not just leaving it here or it'll never get dealt with."

"You are if you need me to figure it out," she hissed.

"I don't need a damn thing from you, Granger," Malfoy snarled, and adjusted his bag on his shoulder, staring down at her. "I certainly don't need your fucking help."

"Fine," Hermione growled, rolling her eyes. "If you don't mind, then, I happen to be busy. Some of us have significant work to do."

From the way his body utterly stilled, the line of his jaw hard, Hermione suspected she had struck a nerve. And since he was investigating a supposedly cursed figurine, rather than going out and hunting down dark magic practitioners, that was probably the case.

She wouldn't trust him either, if she were the DMLE. It only made her wonder how he actually earned a spot as an Auror, when according to Harry, the training had been grueling, the limited spots in the department especially coveted since the end of the war.

His voice was quiet as he spat, "Fuck you, Granger."

Then he turned on his heel, his head held high, and swept down the corridor without looking back.

Hermione sucked on her teeth for a moment as she watched him go, then turned back into her office. She didn't owe that man a damn thing.

Meet me for lunch?

Harry

Hermione smiled as the memo drifted into her office, having been redirected from Gladys at the front desk. Checking the holographic projection of the time which floated above her desk, she startled, realizing it was nearly noon.

She drafted a quick memo in response and sent it up to the DMLE on level two. Finishing the paragraph of the draft proposal she was working on, she tucked the sheet into her desk and made her way to the lifts.

She smiled as she boarded the lift, recalling Harry hadn't yet told her about his date with Daphne Greengrass. She caught sight of the back of his scruffy hair when she arrived at the Atrium and walked with him to the small Ministry cafeteria.

"So," Hermione said, chewing on a carrot as she waited in line to pay for her tray of food, "how was the date?"

Harry's answering smile was sheepish. "It was nice. I like her."

"Are you seeing her again?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. It would do Harry well to get to know someone new. He had moped for far too long after Ginny had left London. And while Hermione didn't know Daphne very well at all, she had always seemed a quiet girl, and she hadn't been one of the Slytherin girls who had been prone to teasing she at every opportunity.

"Tonight," Harry said with a grin. "She's got tickets to a Puddlemere match and invited me to go."

"Sounds like your kind of girl," Hermione mused, casting Harry a sidelong smile as she handed the cafeteria witch a handful of coins. They settled into a table and as Hermione took a bite of her sandwich, she said, "You'll have to introduce us, you know. Maybe she can join us for lunch someday."

"I could do," Harry said, scalding his mouth on a large spoonful of his soup. Cursing, he took a long swig of water.

Hermione snickered and shook her head. Things were never dull with Harry, even now, a year and a half after the end of the war.

"Speaking of," she said, turning sharp eyes to Harry, who blinked, having missed her internal train of thought. "Malfoy is a fully certified Auror?"

"Yes," Harry grumbled. "I almost couldn't believe it myself, although I suppose he did do well in training. I just didn't think they would certify him on principle. I mean, his father's in Azkaban, and he nearly avoided a sentence himself."

"What does he even do?" Hermione asked. Something about the interaction with him in the Department of Mysteries that morning had left her feeling uneasy. "Is he… easier to get on with?"

"Hardly," Harry snorted. "They haven't even given him a partner yet, so he just does the files and a lot of the work no one else wants to do, if I'm honest. The good thing is that he doesn't talk much. The only person he even really talks to is Robards, which is odd in itself."

"Really?" she questioned, her nose wrinkling. "I know it's Malfoy, but that doesn't seem entirely fair, does it? Do you suppose he's genuinely trying?"

"Does he deserve fair, Hermione?" Harry raised a brow. "I know he's a bit of a greyhat, what with the war and all, but he's still Malfoy. He let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake. He was indirectly responsible for the death of Dumbledore. And whether or not he was trying to protect his own hide…" Harry shook his head. "I don't know. It'll take more than completing Auror training for him to prove to me that he's trying to start fresh."

"I suppose you're right," Hermione said, chewing her lip. "I only ask because he came down to the Department of Mysteries this morning."

"Why?" Harry asked, scowling.

"Some cursed figurine he's apparently trying to sort out," Hermione said with a shrug.

"Oh," Harry said, waving a hand. "I've seen him fidgeting with it. Just a grunt task Robards has given him to keep him busy. I thought it was someone's idea of a joke, at first, but the woman who sent it in was apparently really concerned."

"I see," she murmured, frowning as she picked at her crisps. "But you don't think it's worth looking into?"

"I don't know enough about it," Harry said with a shrug. "I'm not sure why he would have decided to bother the Unspeakables if he didn't think there was due cause. And one thing I can say for him, is that his work seems thorough. He does know what he's doing, despite that it pains me to say so."

"I see," Hermione muttered, a vortex of thoughts swirling around her brain.

"Did you look at it?" Harry asked, eating a spoonful of his pudding.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "We got into an argument and he left."

"Of course you did," Harry chuckled. "Why am I not surprised? I'm sure if it's important enough, he'll figure it out, or Robards will give it to someone more senior."

"Right," Hermione said, even as she frowned. "That's probably the case."

Harry's eyes flickered to the watch at his wrist. "I'd better get back. Seamus and I are heading out of the office to pursue a lead on an acromantula venom smuggling ring."

"Sounds exciting," Hermione murmured as Harry hastily collected his tray and rose from his seat. "Be safe."

"Always," Harry said with a grin, and swept away.

Hermione sat, deep in thought, until she brushed away the thoughts and returned to level nine.

"So what exactly did the figure do to you?" Draco asked, frowning as he assessed the elderly lady sitting before him.

As a last ditch effort, he had summoned Madame Moreau to the Auror's Office to ask her a few questions. The moment he had seen the woman, with her extravagant floral robes and her tall, ridiculous hairdo, Draco had nearly turned right around.

"It has cast an ominous air about my manor," Madame Moreau said, waving a dramatic hand in the air. "And my spirit – I no longer sleep well at night!"

"That could be from any one of a great number of things," Draco grumbled under his breath as he made a quick note on the sheet of parchment on the desk before him. At least this meeting was being held in a private room so no one could listen in. "Have you experienced nightmares or day terrors?"

"Always," the woman nodded.

"Anything specific?" Draco asked through clenched teeth.

"A primitive village," Madame Moreau said, nodding again. "Greenery and sand, and warmth, and… a river."

"Pardon me for misunderstanding," Draco said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, "but these are nightmares?"

"Oh, yes," the woman said. "There is an ominous feel to them, you know. The figure has been watching me. Even now, when it is no longer in my house, its evil spirit lingers."

"Right," Draco drawled, running a hand through his hair. "Can anyone else attest to the evil aura of this figure?"

"The gardener," Madame Moreau whispered. "He has felt it as well. When I asked him about it, he agreed with me."

"The gardener," Draco murmured, making another note. "What is his name?"

"His name is Balthazar O'Connell." The woman's expression was severe, the wrinkles around her eyes pronounced as she stared at him.

Draco thought it sounded made up, but he nodded all the same, jotting the name down. He fumed in silence – this woman was out of her mind, and to think he had wasted days studying the damn thing.

"Unless you have anything more to share, I think we're done," Draco clipped, rising to his feet. "Thank you for your time."

"Be careful," Madame Moreau breathed. "It is watching you now. Don't touch it!"

"I won't," Draco assured the woman, as she rose as well and led him from the room. Draco fought the increasingly ubiquitous urge to throw the figure into the rubbish bin.

His attempts to find the gardener proved equally fruitless, and even in the Ministry archives, he found no record of such a person. Idly, Draco wondered if Balthazar O'Connell wasn't a figment of Madame Moreau's imagination.

By the end of the day Draco left the Ministry feeling defeated. Cursing himself, Granger, and clay figurines in general, he stowed the bagged figure into a drawer in his desk and made his way to the Atrium.

Tomorrow morning, he would submit his report that the statuette was little more than an old, broken carving, and he would have to stand by the claim that the figure was as cursed as a blade of grass.

Draco Flooed home to his London flat, poured himself three fingers of Firewhiskey and sank into the couch in his sitting room, wishing he could forget about the entire ordeal.

As he was preparing for sleep, slipping into a pair of pajama pants, there was a light tapping at the window. Raising a brow, Draco let the tawny owl through the window, and removed the short scroll from its leg. Cursing as he dug around for the owl treats while the bird swiped at him with vicious claws, he dropped back into the armchair to read the missive.

Malfoy

Something has been bothering me about your unicorn doll. If you still want me to look at it, bring it by my office first thing tomorrow.

HG

Scowling at the letter, the owl having left without waiting for a reply, Draco nearly crumpled it up. It wasn't a bleeding doll.

But it would be his head if he filed the report and then it turned out there was something wrong with the figure. Releasing a string of vulgar curses, Draco resolved to sleep on it, and collapsed into bed.

Chapter Text

Draco scowled as he paced towards the lifts, making his way from level two to level nine. Granger's self-righteous attitude was already grating on him and he hadn't even made it to her office yet. The haughty presumption she had shown him the day before – when it was literally her job – had rubbed him the wrong way.

He clutched a paper cup of tea in one hand, the strap from his satchel slung across his chest, tugging his tie askew. Frowning, he attempted to right himself with his free hand, only managing to put his collar into disarray. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a thin sheen of sweat break out in his frustration.

"Don't you look a mess," Granger said as he approached her office, raising one angled brow. She was leaning in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest.

"Don't start," Draco choked out, fixing his face into a glare. He shoved past her into the office, slamming the tea down on her desk and throwing the heavy bag from his shoulder, finally able to adjust his collar and tie.

"How considerate of you to bring me a tea as well," Granger snipped, closing the door as she followed him into the office. "Earl Grey, one sugar, for future reference."

Draco pressed his lips together, huffing an impatient exhale through his nose. He was torn between walking away and blowing up at her, but settled for neither.

"There was no requirement for me to bring you a tea," he snapped, feeling his hands clench at his sides. She was the absolute worst, the most ingratiating, most unprofessional bleeding –

"Aside from the fact that it would be common courtesy, given I'm doing you a favour," she huffed, narrowing her eyes as she settled into her seat.

"Must you be an ingratiating swot?" Draco drawled, tamping the flare to his temper. He reached into his satchel and withdrew the bicorn figure, tossing the package onto her desk. Her eyes flickered briefly to it but she didn't reach for it. "Firstly, you aren't doing me a favour – this is your job, is it not? If you'll come down from your impossibly high horse for just a minute, I was about to submit my report on this thing. And for the record, I'm not enthralled with this case; I was told to investigate it, and I have. You were the one who owled me at an improper time of night to request I bring it by."

He swept several loose strands of hair from his forehead. Granger simply stared at him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. Some of the fight had sunk from her shoulders as he spoke – perhaps she realized he was right and she needed to demonstrate some proper decorum, fast.

Draco wasn't there to pick a fight with her, but if she didn't realize that, he would go to her supervisor. If she thought he was going to take her attitude lying down, she had another thing coming.

"And secondly – I don't owe you a fucking shred of courtesy."

"You owe me many things, Malfoy," she finally said, her voice resigned, reaching out to pick up the figure by a corner of its protective packaging. "But given I'd rather not speak to you more than necessary, why don't you just tell me what sort of research you've done on this thing and we can get on with it?"

Finally, something they agreed upon.

Draco sunk into the seat across from her, his back straight and shoulders tense, and listed the vast array of tests he had already run on the figure, as well as what Madame Moreau had told him about it. Granger's brown eyes flickered to him several times but she remained silent, her gaze otherwise fixed on the figure.

When he was finished, Granger continued to stare at him. Then she sighed as her brows flickered, pressing her hands against the desk. "Harry was right, you are thorough."

Draco blinked. Potter had said that about him?

"And," she went on, before Draco could think on it too much, "I can see why you're hesitant to submit the report. There is something… strange about it."

Draco didn't know whether he was relieved or irritated that she had agreed with him. A part of him had been hoping she would think it was nothing but a crudely formed sculpture, and suggest he file his report as such.

"It isn't dark magic," Draco said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "That much is certain."

"It's… older," Granger muttered, her brow knitted. "Have you looked into its historical significance?"

"I'm not a historian, I'm an Auror," Draco snipped. "My job is to determine the magic with which it's been imbued, not poke around through dusty old history books."

"I'm just saying," she shrugged. "It might be relevant. Sometimes it helps to look at things from every angle."

"Any chance to get to the library, eh, Granger?" Draco asked with a sneer. Even as he said it, though, he realized her words held merit. Perhaps there was more to the figure than he was seeing on the surface.

"It doesn't really look like a unicorn, does it?" she asked, picking up the bag again and peering through the covering.

"It's a bicorn," Draco said, waving a hand. "If you look closely at its head, you can see where the other horn broke off."

Granger cast a magnification spell, her eyes squinting as she peered closer. "I think you're right. But it doesn't look entirely like a bicorn either. It looks… I don't know, it looks like an old traditional carving. It isn't from England, I'm sure of that much."

"And the fact that it's been broken…" Draco trailed off, raising his brows.

"Right," Granger said, pursing her lips. "We can figure out more about it if we remove it from the packaging, like what it's made of or where it's from –" She broke off, shrugging. "It might tell us about its origin, and the time period in which it was made."

"I'm not touching it," Draco said, raising his hands.

"Obviously, neither am I," she scathed, her upper lip curling as she glared at him. "There's a self-contained box in the Planet Room that exists with the absence of gravity. You aren't allowed in there, but I can bring it here. It will allow us to suspend the object without releasing any of its magical properties into the air, or either of us needing to touch it."

"Fine," Draco scowled, "go get it, then."

Loathe though he was to admit, it was oddly relieving to know someone else shared his suspicions about the figure. And this was the most interesting thing he could be doing, so he wasn't in any particular hurry to get back to filing reports.

"I will," she hissed. "And don't get any ideas about digging around in my desk. These drawers are so heavily hexed you'll be wishing for the sake of your bollocks that you didn't touch anything."

"Kindly, don't mention my bollocks," Draco said, clenching his jaw. "I've just eaten breakfast, you see, and the thought of you having anything to do with them –"

Granger rolled her eyes as she stood from her seat and left the room.

Draco waited, glaring around her office, whilst simultaneously wishing he had one of his own.

He had to consciously remind himself that he needed to earn the trust of the senior Aurors, before he could ever think of having a workspace of his own, rather than an exposed workspace surrounded by people he couldn't stand.

Several minutes later, Granger returned, lugging what looked like a large, clear box with significant effort. She conjured a table with a wave of her hand and shot Draco a glare, before setting the box down on top of the table.

"You do realize you could have levitated that here," he drawled, snickering. "Muggle habits, I suppose."

"Shut up," Granger snapped, even as two spots of pink appeared on her cheekbones. She snatched the package from her desk and with several taps on the sides and top of the box, a lid materialized from nowhere. She lowered the whole package inside, and another series of taps sealed the box again.

Idly, Draco wondered if this was one of those Unspeakable gadgets he had always heard about. He wondered if she was even allowed to show this to him, or if it was above his clearance as an Auror.

Not that he would have minded if Granger lost her job because of him, the way she'd been acting.

She walked over to a bookshelf along her wall and thought for a moment, before drawing several large tomes from the shelf and returning to the table.

"There are spells in here to determine the age and material of an object, as well as to check it for strange magic," Granger explained and Draco's eyebrows flickered.

Inwardly he was finding it fascinating, and wished he had something like that. Not that he ever would have told her. Perhaps Draco should have pursued becoming an Unspeakable instead – but then he would have been forced to deal with Granger's insufferable attitude all the time. The brief interest waned.

Several more taps of her wand followed, and Draco watched as the object became suspended in the clear box, its protective packaging disintegrating into the air.

"Essentially," Granger was saying, "this renders the air in the box void of anything. No gravity, no oxygen, no external particles. There is zero chance of contamination, while the total balance keeps the object centred."

She glanced at him, and as Draco turned to face her on instinct, he saw a brief flicker of light in her eyes. But then, as if remembering to whom she was speaking, she frowned and turned back to the box.

She muttered under her breath as she cast another series of spells, her gaze flickering to one of the books for reference as she flicked through the pages with her other hand.

Draco wondered if she actually knew what she was doing, or whether this was a pretentious act for his sake.

Suddenly a holographic projection appeared above the box, much like the hovering clock that floated over the workspace of her desk.

Numbers and values began to populate, and a small smile came to Granger's lips as she watched. Draco couldn't keep the interest from his face as well, his eyes wide as he tried to track the spinning numbers and letters.

"Terracotta," Granger breathed, glancing at him. "That'll be the makeup of the object."

"I gathered as much," he drawled, fixing her with a glare for assuming him stupid.

"The next spell will date the figure," Granger continued on, ignoring the look he was giving her. In her academic frenzy, she seemed to have forgotten the animosity between them. Draco would have mocked her if he wasn't so intrigued himself. "Sort of like Muggle carbon dating, only more exact, because there is less room for error with magic. It will help narrow down where the figure might have originated."

Draco supposed that would be helpful if they would be looking at the history of the bicorn. His eyes narrowed back in on the spinning numbers, trying to comprehend, when he heard a small gasp of surprise escape Granger's throat.

Draco's eyes fixed on the number that had solidified and he pressed his lips together, even as he felt his heart rate escalate.

"2450 BCE," he murmured, glancing to Granger. "Just to be clear, that's –"

"Nearly forty-five hundred years ago," she said, her voice a little breathy, as she glanced at him.

Draco had suspected it was old, given the crude nature of the sculpting, but he hadn't expected that. He had never paid much attention to History of Magic, given the mind-numbing nature of Binns' lectures, although he found himself with a sudden and intense curiosity about the figure he had nearly tossed out several times.

"What's next?" he asked, glancing sidelong at Granger as she stood beside him, her lips twisted to one side in thought.

Blinking, she walked over to the open book on the workbench. "I suppose we test it for magic."

"I've already –"

"You've tested it for dark magic," Granger said, waving a hand. "It could be imbued with ancient, ancestral magics of the culture in which it was made."

The values began populating with an erratic aggression again, after Granger cast the appropriate spell and stepped back alongside him.

Draco nearly forgot to breathe as his eyes focused on the spinning and contorting letters, hoping that something would show up to validate his concerns about the figure, and to ensure that all of his time hadn't been wasted.

Granger was tense beside him, chewing on her lower lip, her eyes unblinking and fixed on the box. The spell was taking much longer than the previous two, and Draco was starting to wonder if it had failed or gone wrong somehow.

But she hadn't moved, and Draco sucked on his teeth to avoid saying anything.

After what felt like several minutes of whirring and spinning and nothing, the box began to flash purple, then green, then red, and purple again. A loud, high-pitched keening began to emit from somewhere, and the figure started to shake, suspended as it was inside the centre of the box.

Draco jumped in his skin. Granger cursed under her breath and darted forward, casting a complicated series of waves with her wand, and after another tense, chaotic moment, the keening faded off, and the lights ceased flashing.

But the figure continued shaking, its vibrations growing faster and wilder, and Draco approached the box with caution. Granger was staring in a wide-eyed sort of horror as she cast another spell, and another, and Draco turned to her, feeling a sense of panic encroach.

"Make it stop!" he hissed, at an utter loss as to what to do.

"I don't – it shouldn't be doing this," she snapped, wrenching at her robes with her free hand as she flew to the book, her eyes scanning the pages so fast she couldn't possibly be comprehending any of it.

Finally the vibrating reached a peak and stopped; its suddenness was jarring as they both simply stared at the figure, suspended within the box again. The spinning numbers and letters vanished. It felt at once innocuous and insidious.

Draco's eyes flickered to meet Granger's.

"What did you do," he fumed. "If you're trying to fucking sabotage –"

"I didn't do anything!" she growled, eyes narrowing as she glared at him. "I told you, I was trying to determine if there were any unusual forms of magic. I don't give a rat's arse about your stupid job!"

"Well obviously you did something wrong!" Draco exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'll just take the fucking thing and go –"

"Don't," Granger whispered, swinging a hand out as if to stop him, but then she recoiled and dropped it. "Don't open the box."

The letters re-appeared, brightening, and one large word hovered above the box.

ERROR.

Draco glanced at Granger again, pressing his lips hard together, his jaw tight. "And what will happen if I open the box?"

"We don't know, do we?" she breathed, taking a step closer. Her eyes scanned the reference text again, her hands fidgeting at her sides. "Whatever strange magic it possesses that has managed to confound the detection spell – if we open the box, that will be released."

"So can't you drain it or remove it somehow?" Draco spat. He just wanted to take his stupid figure and leave. Her voice was driving him up the wall.

"I don't know what it is," she hissed. "Have you touched it directly at all?"

"No," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't born yesterday. I've been around cursed objects my entire life, Granger."

"Of course," she said, looking a little taken aback, a flush rising to her cheekbones. "Then you ought to know we can't simply remove it. And when it does come out, it will need to be placed in secure packaging again."

"I don't know what your stupid containment box does," Draco said, waving a hand. "Maybe you did the spell wrong."

"I didn't do the spell wrong," Granger deadpanned, fixing him with a hard stare. "I've never seen that spell backfire before."

"So that means…" Draco trailed off, running a hand through his hair. He should have thrown the thing out when he had the chance.

"It means, something has gone wrong with the magic of the box, or between the magic of the box and the magic of the figure." Her expression was fixed into that of academic curiosity as she paced to the other side the box. "I'm going to have to ask my superior, Unspeakable Burke."

"Great," Draco muttered. Not only was he stuck dealing with this stupid bicorn figure, now more people would be involved. "I thought Unspeakables were supposed to know all of this."

"I've only just completed my training, Malfoy, honestly," Granger said, shaking her head in irritation. "You'll need to wait here."

Draco fumed, alone, as she left the office. She returned several minutes later with the Senior Unspeakable that Draco had spoken to two days prior. He huffed a breath, cursing the entire situation.

Granger conferred in hushed tones with her superior, and the two of them poked and prodded at the box until the man stepped back, running a hand through the stubble at his jaw.

"Auror Malfoy," the man said, his brow furrowed. "The magic of this figure seems very strange, indeed. I can release it from the containment cube but you'll have to be incredibly careful not to expose it directly to yourself or anyone else, until we have a better understanding of the magic it contains."

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This man must have been very powerful, as the head of the Unspeakables, and a Ministry department that reported to none other.

"I understand," he clipped, his expression stoic.

Another thing niggled at Draco's mind. Had he so greatly underestimated the power of this figure? Could it truly be that dangerous? And Draco had been of a mind to dismiss the entire case, assuming Madame Moreau to be batty.

"Bubble-head charms, to be safe," Burke announced, and he and Granger quickly cast the spell on themselves. Draco followed suit, eyeing the Senior Unspeakable with a tight gaze.

Then with a series of complicated flourishes, Burke released the seal of the cube, restoring the figure into its packaging simultaneously. Draco blinked and accepted the package.

"Thank you," he muttered with a brief nod.

Unspeakable Burke sped through another hushed conversation with Granger, while she stared at Draco, her eyes narrowed.

"I understand, sir," she murmured, "thank you for your help."

With a nod, Burke swept from the room.

Granger turned on him, folding her arms across her chest. "That figure can't leave the Department of Mysteries."

"What do you mean?" Draco scowled. "It's my case. I have to solve it."

"The magic is too obscure," Granger pushed, her chin high and her expression tight. "We need to study it here."

"Like hell you do," Draco hissed.

"Unspeakable Burke has insisted," she said, her voice authoritative enough to give Draco pause. "And if you do not believe me, have faith in the word of the most powerful man in the Ministry."

"Shacklebolt is –" Draco scathed, and Granger merely raised a brow, the corners of her lips twitching with amusement.

"Whatever you say," she clipped, and went about sealing the containment box. The flippancy in her voice made Draco seethe. "You can relinquish the figure. It is no longer your responsibility."

"Like fuck it isn't," he drawled, glaring at her. "It's my case."

"I understand that this is probably the first thing the DMLE entrusted you with, Malfoy, and most likely because they didn't realize it was powerful," Granger said, and her expression made Draco's hand twitch toward his wand on instinct. "But the Department of Mysteries will take over the investigation from here. We have the means to determine more about it, but only Unspeakables are allowed to enter the chambers in the Department of Mysteries proper."

"I'm not leaving it here," Draco said with a shrug. "I'll figure it out on my own, but I'm not going back to Robards without it."

Granger huffed an exaggerated sigh. "Burke has placed me in charge of the sculpture. So if you insist on continuing your investigation on it, you'll have to work with me. And I don't particularly –"

"Fine," Draco hissed. "I don't know if you don't understand or you simply don't care, Granger, but the future of my career in the DMLE lies with that stupid statue. So I'm not going to simply walk away from it. Let me do my job."

"You're in my office, Malfoy," she said through clenched teeth. "And if you try and take that statue out of this department you'll set off every alarm down here."

Draco tossed the bag on her desk, and holding her gaze, slung his bag onto his shoulder and grabbed his cold cup of tea. "I'll leave it here while I research, but I'm coming back."

"Sure," Granger said, her brows high and face unimpressed. "Then I suppose I'll see you in the library."

"Oh goody," he drawled, "the swot in its natural habitat."

"Sod off, Malfoy," she spat. "I'll laugh when you fail and lose your job over this."

"You fucking wish, Granger," Draco hissed. He spun on his heel and left her office.

Chapter Text

The Ministry of Magic's library had nothing on Hogwarts, although it was a useful resource all the same. But Hermione didn't have time to enjoy the atmosphere with a good book in a soft armchair today.

She darted through the time displacement link in the Time Room and appeared in an underutilized alcove of the library in record time. Then she located the section on ancient and traditional magic, collecting several books from the shelves so she would have a head start on Malfoy.

But when she took her books to a bank of tables, he was already flipping through a book at a nearby table, his paper cup of tea sitting before him.

Curious despite herself, Hermione walked over to see what he was reading.

"Ancient civilizations," she murmured to herself.

"Yes," Malfoy drawled without raising his eyes to her. "Have you got a problem with that?"

"I thought you were trying to locate the source of the magic," Hermione said, her nose wrinkling. "These books may not have any mentions of magic at all."

"Why don't you scurry off and let me do things as I see fit?" Malfoy sneered, turning the page in his book.

"You know," Hermione said, shifting her weight as she clutched her books to her chest; her eyes swept over his stack. "I suppose it would make sense if we worked together on this. If we shared our research."

Finally Malfoy looked up, his eyes squinted. "I don't expect you to understand why being an Auror is important to me, Granger. I don't want to work with someone who would like to see me fail."

"It's just that we're dealing with potentially incredible magic here," Hermione carried on. "We should be sure we aren't missing anything."

He stared at her for a long moment, his lip curling; Hermione held his gaze, even as flush came to her cheeks at his uncouth appraisal. But to her surprise, Malfoy waved an absent hand towards the table.

"I'm not going to let this cost me my job," he drawled. "But kindly, don't speak to me unless you must."

"Fine," Hermione snipped, taking the chair across from him and one seat over.

As she spread her books out before her and selected one, she couldn't help but glance back at his stack again. "Perhaps we ought to determine which civilization we're looking at."

Malfoy rolled his eyes as they swept to her. "Hence, why I'm looking it up, Granger."

"Okay," she whispered, conscious of the skulking librarian. "Let me know if you find anything."

"Not exactly as if I have a choice, is it?" he scathed, "given you've held my statue hostage in your department and I can't return to the Auror's Office until I've figured this out."

Hermione ignored him and began her search for strange ancestral magic.

Draco sighed as he set aside Incas, Aztecs and Mayans: Early Civilizations of the Americas and drew the next book towards him. Only one of the civilizations in the book was even close to old enough to have fit the profile of the figurine, and their artwork wasn't remotely similar.

He drew the next book from his stack, Mesopotamia and the Fertile Crescent, and started flipping through, keenly aware of Granger watching from further down the table.

When Draco had told Robards he wanted a partner to work with, this wasn't what he had had in mind.

He would have to report to Robards with an update – and hopefully, progress – before the end of the day, but so long as he didn't leave the Ministry, he would be fine to work in the library for the rest of the day, if he needed to.

He was torn between the side of him that wanted to keep Granger in the dark, and the side of him that needed to rely on her expertise as an Unspeakable – and an incredible swot – if he wanted his figure back.

And to be honest, his curiosity had been piqued, and he was interested to learn more about the magic of the figure, now that he knew of its significance.

By Granger's sniffling and furrowed brow, she wasn't having any more luck than he was, and a while later Draco set the second book aside, having found no direct indication that the carved figure was Mesopotamian in origin.

It would help, Draco thought, if he knew the first thing about ancient civilizations to begin with.

"Anything?" Granger asked, her eyes flashing up to meet his.

"No," Draco replied, sneering. "If I find anything, I'll tell you."

Huffing, she returned to her book.

This would be a long day.

"Burke did what?" Robards exclaimed, his nose wrinkled as he planted his hands on his hips. "He took it?"

"The Unspeakable I spoke to did, technically, but under Burke's orders," Draco explained. "They claimed the magic was too obscure to leave the Department of Mysteries." He met his superior's gaze, bracing himself for Robards' infrequent but legendary temper. "I can try to reclaim it tomorrow, sir."

Robards blinked, running a hand through his hair, his lips pressed into a thin line. "If Burke wants it, let him have it. If the magic is so ancient it's better in their hands than ours. And you hated the damn thing anyway."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "You don't want me to carry on with the case?"

"What else can we do?" Robards said with a shrug. "I'm not about to march into Burke's office and demand he return it if he wants it so badly."

Draco was torn between relief and disappointment, though he couldn't locate the source of the latter. Perhaps it was a natural sense of competition between himself and Granger.

"Sir," he ventured, frowning, "would it make sense for me to continue researching it all the same? The Junior Unspeakable who has it is searching for the source of its magic. I thought I would determine the civilization from which it came, and see if I could solve it from there."

Robards' eyes swept to Draco's for a second, even as he stared the other way, watching several Aurors loitering at the refreshment cart. "You want to keep researching this statue?"

"With all due respect, sir," Draco said through his teeth, in a state of stunned disbelief that he was even pushing the matter. "If the magic in the sculpture is so significant it could be harmful. This was and is my case to solve."

Robards rubbed at his stubble and his focus landed on Draco once more. "That's admirable, Malfoy. I can respect your dedication, and know that I appreciate your initiative. But if Burke and the Unspeakables want to take over the case, they might not want an Auror around. You won't be able to access any of their research chambers."

"I will relinquish the lead on the case if need be," Draco said, his shoulders stiff.

He did not want to work with Granger – but he needed to prove to Robards that he was dedicated. And if he gave up on his first case so easily –

"Who is the Junior Unspeakable?" Robards said, his expression pensive.

Draco grimaced, dropping his voice as he said, "Her name is Unspeakable Granger."

"Granger," Robards repeated, his brow furrowing. "As in, Potter's friend Granger? Didn't know she was working for Burke."

Draco flinched as, across the room, he saw Potter's attention flicker to them at the mention of his name. He pressed his hands together, releasing a tight breath.

"Neither did I, sir," Draco admitted, "but she is simply the Unspeakable to whom Burke gave my case. I suppose they probably thought it was a laugh."

Robards gazed across the room for another long moment before turning back to Draco. "I'll tell you what. Because I value your commitment to solving the case, I'm going to give you my authority to continue researching the statue. But be aware that you won't be able to pursue every avenue the Unspeakables have at their disposal, and if Burke finds you to be a deterrent, we will have to relinquish the case to the Department of Mysteries."

"Understood, sir," Draco said with a sharp nod.

"I'll send a memo to Burke," Robards said with a tight smile. "But if this thing still doesn't go anywhere, I'll have to pull you from the case in favour of other work."

"Right," Draco muttered, "plenty of reports to file."

The smile on Robards' face faltered for a moment and Draco wished he hadn't sounded so ungrateful. But then Robards chuckled and clapped him on the back. "You'll make a great field Auror one day, Malfoy. This case you're on just became significant, and the others will see that. I highly advise you don't mess it up."

"Thank you, sir," Draco murmured, and returned to his desk to collect his cloak and return home for the day. He ignored Potter's suspicious eyes on him as he walked.

Hermione absently scratched behind Crookshanks' ear as she turned page after page, her feet curled up beneath her, a cup of lukewarm tea on the end table.

Her brow furrowed as she worried her bottom lip. She had yet to find a single thing that would explain why the magic detection spell had backfired on Malfoy's bicorn statue.

In her desire to find the answer before her old schoolyard rival, Hermione had checked out a dozen books on traditional, cultural and ancestral magicks, but so far nothing had turned up. She wondered whether Malfoy hadn't been on a better track investigating ancient civilizations, but he had checked out all the books in the Ministry library on the subject, so Hermione hadn't even been able to look for herself.

She was hopeful Robards would call him off the case now that Burke had decided the Department of Mysteries would be taking over.

The thought of Malfoy bulldozing his way through her research was not something that appealed to Hermione. She would be more productive and more effective working on her own. And it would be her chance to prove her worth to Unspeakable Burke.

Although Hermione still disagreed with Malfoy being certified as an Auror on principle, she supposed she could see how he had made it through training.

He had always been smart – Hermione had known that even at Hogwarts – but his attitude had always had a tendency to negatively impact his performance.

Hermione squinted as she tried to remember whether things had been different when they had returned to Hogwarts for their eighth year, in order to earn their NEWTs. When she really thought about it, Malfoy hadn't played any significant role in her final year at Hogwarts.

He had been there but had kept to himself, and his usual swaggering countenance had been all but non-existent.

She supposed she hadn't been surprised, at the time, given the way things had gone for his family during the war, and how his father had landed a considerable Azkaban sentence only a month prior.

But here, on neutral territory, Malfoy's rude and malicious attitude was back with unapologetic force. Not that Hermione would have expected anything less.

She understood well enough why he was determined to solve the first actual case he had been given, but unfortunately for him, the case was hers now. She hoped, but doubted, he would simply walk away.

She set aside the book after once more finding nothing of value, frowning.

Unspeakable Burke's reaction to the failed test had been intriguing, to say the least. He had – with no small amount of authority – demanded the figure remain in the Department of Mysteries. She wondered what exactly he suspected.

It wasn't what she had expected for her first project as an Unspeakable, but she didn't doubt it would prove interesting.

And for as much as she was excited and fascinated by the chance to work on her first case – even despite that there was an unfortunate side effect by the name of Malfoy – she couldn't help the melancholy that swept across her at the thought.

It was the days when novel and unusual things happened, that Hermione missed her parents the most. The easy conversation, the shoulders to lean on – the pride with which the Grangers had glowed when she would tell them about the things she'd been studying at Hogwarts.

She had spent the summer after the war back and forth between Brisbane and London, consulting with ever magical Healer she could find. And despite the best care her galleons could buy – and the monetary sum that had come along with her Order of Merlin had been all but depleted in the effort – there was nothing for it.

Nothing could be done about her parents' memories, according to every Healer worth their salt.

Harry had been by her side, and she knew he understood, but the pain stung and lingered on. It had been difficult to bear the truth, but the alternative would have been devastating.

Her parents were alive, and together, and enjoying their lives. It was what she had been forced to accept – and with a heavy heart, the thought had driven her back to complete her NEWTs in an eighth year that was uneventful at best, and a hazy, painful blur at the worst.

But on the days like this, that small reassurance didn't make things any easier.

"I won't say I'm not surprised to see you here," Granger sniffed as she slid into the seat across the table from Draco the following morning,

"This is my case," Draco drawled, taking a long sip from his paper cup of tea. Granger's eyes narrowed. "Did you honestly expect me to give it up so easily?"

"Yes, actually," she said, her voice escalating in pitch. Draco made a show of wincing. "When considering the fact that you will most likely have no clearance to access the chambers which will be required to determine the type of magic within the statue."

"Funny," Draco said, turning back to his book, "because so far I've had clearance for every step of the research. Or are you going to get your boss to relinquish my library access?"

"I didn't think your boss would approve of you wasting time and resources," Granger snipped, spreading her books and notes on the table in front of her.

Draco lifted one of her books by its spine and relocated it to her side, the offending tome having covered the corner of the sheet of parchment on which Draco had been taking notes.

"Robards appreciates my initiative," he said, lip curling into a sneer. "He has contacted Unspeakable Burke, and the two of them have decided we will both work on the case."

Draco allowed himself to enjoy the scandalized look on Granger's face for a moment, before he returned to the passage that had caught his eye.

She huffed, her eyes narrowing. Her hair looked particularly frizzy this morning, as if she hadn't bothered with it. "I should hardly think –"

"Granger," Draco muttered, pressing his fingertips to his temple. "Do you mind? I'm trying to read. Or do I need to ask you to move to a different table?"

She let out a small squeak of indignation but fell silent.

Draco's eyes returned to his book once more, his brow furrowing with disbelief as his eyes landed on a reference photo in the text. He read the description of the photo again, eyes widening. His heart skipped into a quick rhythm, his mouth dry.

He glanced up at Granger, but she wasn't paying him any mind.

He scrawled a quick note on his parchment and marked the page in his book, then tucked the small volume into his bag. With another furtive glance to Granger, who looked up at him, her eyes narrowed, Draco rose and ventured back into the stacks.

When he returned several minutes later with a pile of books related to the lead he had found, Granger was staring at him, her brows raised into her fringe.

"What did you find?" she asked, leaning over to read the title of the top book. Draco quickly opened the cover so she wouldn't be able to see and she huffed, rising to her feet and circling the table.

Draco scoffed in irritation. "Personal space, Granger, do you fucking mind?"

"You're going to have to tell me regardless," she snapped.

He shook his head, feeling a migraine coming on. "Fine, look then."

With another huff, Granger took the rest of the stack of books and flipped through them, her brow furrowing as she read the titles. She stared at Draco, her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips.

"Indus Valley?" she finally breathed, dropping back into her seat.

"Yes," Draco snipped. "What do you know about it?"

"Very little, I'm afraid," Granger said, shaking her head. "Simply that it was one of the earliest known human civilizations, and one of the largest and most advanced."

"The Indus Valley Civilization, or Harappan Civilization," Draco read in a stage whisper, "was one of the three earliest cradles of civilization of the old world, the other two being Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. It was a bronze-age civilization, and its mature phase lasted between 2600 BCE and 1900 BCE."

Draco stared at her, watching the idea process through her mind, her gaze fixed on the page he was reading from.

"So why Indus Valley?" she finally asked, pursing her lips as she looked up at him.

"This is why Indus Valley," Draco murmured, drawing the first book from his bag and turning it to face her, pointing out the photo he had found.

At Granger's small intake of breath, Draco felt his heart rate begin to escalate. It was the first bit of information they had learned.

Her fingers ran across the photo – a photo of a clay seal which featured a bull-like creature with a striped neck like a zebra and a pair of horns attached to its head.

"It's the same as the figure," she breathed, her eyes wide as she looked back up at him across the table. "Only, a bit more crudely sculpted."

"Very good, Granger," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "So, we've found our civilization."

Granger snatched one of the books from his stack, instantly turning to the front page and Draco snickered, settling back into his own seat as he began to scour the book for any further information.

They both glanced up as a DMLE memo flew into the library and landed on Draco's sheet of parchment. Frowning, he removed the seal and read it.

Auror Malfoy

Please return to the DMLE at once. It is urgent. Bring the Unspeakable.

Robards

With a grimace, Draco handed the memo to Granger, who read it with increasing severity on her face. Her brow was furrowed as she returned it.

"Have you checked these books out already?" she asked, stowing her notes into her bag.

"Yes," Draco murmured, tucking his own supplies away as well. An urgent summons was unusual, and most likely, not bound to be pleasant in the least.

But the fact that Granger had been summoned as well was as much a relief as it was baffling. It meant Draco wasn't in hot water, but it also made no sense.

She kept pace with Draco as they made their way from the Ministry library to the Auror offices on level two. Draco made for Robards' office, feeling the anxiety spike as he dropped his bag off at his desk on the way.

The relief on Robards' face was palpable when he saw the two of them.

"Auror Malfoy," Robards said, with a nod, "and Unspeakable Granger, I presume."

"Yessir," Granger breathed; the tension in her shoulders matched how Draco felt.

"Please tell me neither of you have touched that cursed figurine," Robards said, a heavy furrow to his brow as he frowned.

Draco glanced at Granger as he shook his head. "We've been cautious with it, sir."

Granger chewed her bottom lip, then asked, "What is it, Auror Robards?"

Robards planted his hands on his desk as he leaned forward in his seat, looking each of them in the eye in turn. "Madame Moreau – the woman who owned the figure – was just found dead."

Draco choked on a breath.

Chapter Text

Draco stared at Robards for all of two blinks before his training kicked in, and his shoulders straightened.

"Cause of death?" he asked, his eyes falling on the file folder on Robards' desk.

"As of yet undetermined," Robards responded, nodding to the file. Draco leafed through it, his gaze landing on a photo of Madame Moreau lying, lifeless, on a floral Persian rug. "As is time of death. Although it appeared as if the body had already been sitting for a while."

"Who found the body?" Draco asked, turning away from the images. The utter stillness in a wizarding photograph was unnerving.

"Her gardener found her this morning," Robards said with an absent wave. "Strange name, the bloke."

"O'Connell," Draco breathed, landing on the report of the scene. "Balthazar O'Connell. I tried finding him before, sir –"

"The responding Aurors have already called him in," Robards said with a brief nod. Draco felt a thrill of relief, until Robards continued. "Aurors Potter and Finnigan were the ones to receive the tip, and picked her up. She's in autopsy at St Mungo's as we speak."

Draco scowled, about to speak, when Robards raised his brows and carried on.

"And given Madame Moreau was a person of interest in a pre-existing case, on which you are the lead Auror, you'll be running point on the investigation."

Draco blinked at his superior several times before steeling himself and offering a sharp nod.

"Thank you, sir," he bit out, chasing down a quick swelling of nerves.

"Unspeakable Granger," Robards said, turning to face Granger, and Draco jolted, having all but forgotten she was still in the room. "I'm afraid Auror Malfoy will have to step away from your research on the figure until the immediacy of this matter has been quelled."

"Absolutely," Granger said with a sharp nod. "He knows where to find me when he is ready to carry on."

Draco cast her a sidelong glance, and there was something reassuring in the brief curve of her lips.

"Malfoy, the gardener is in the interrogation room," Robards said.

"Very well," Draco said, snapping the file shut, and followed Granger from the room. Draco stopped at his desk to collect his bag, and when he looked up Granger was still hovering beside him.

Several of the Aurors in the office were staring. Draco scowled, turning to her. He pulled the books on the Indus Valley Civilization from his bag and handed her the stack.

"I'll meet you when I'm done here," he muttered, and Granger pursed her lips in thought. He fixed her with a stern look. "Indus Valley."

If there was one thing he could count on, it was that Granger would be thorough in her research.

"Indus Valley," she echoed, with another sharp, militant nod. Not for the first time, Draco wondered how they trained Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries. There was something about the stiffness of her posture that Draco didn't recall her having before. "Malfoy, good luck. Maybe you'll learn something about the figure."

"If this had anything to do with the figure," Draco grumbled.

"Perhaps," Granger hedged, and Draco looked up at the significance in her soft tone. "Someone was looking for it."

Draco blinked, absently moistening his lips as he stared at her. "Yeah, maybe. Or… maybe, the magic of it –"

"Find me after," she repeated. "If I'm not at the library, I'll be in my office."

Draco nodded as he slung his bag over his shoulder, making for the interrogation room.

He felt a thrill of excitement mingled with nerves at the thought of conducting his first investigation. But he also frowned as he walked, remembering the vibrant, albeit crazy, woman he had talked to only days ago, whose soul was now departed. It was in his hands to sort out the circumstances of her death, in order to offer some semblance of peace to her family.

"Balthazar O'Connell?" Draco asked, stepping into the room. His nose wrinkled as he appraised the unhygienic man seated before him. There were several days' worth of stubble on his jaw, his robes were dirty and oversized, and his eyes were dark below a heavy brow.

"Yes," the man grunted. His Irish accent was thick.

"You were Madame Moreau's gardener," Draco said, raising a brow.

"Yes," the man repeated, scowling.

Draco huffed a breath, and skimmed through his file. "You found Madame Moreau dead this morning. Where were you last night?"

"At home, wasn't I?" the gardener asked, sucking on his teeth.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Can anyone corroborate that?"

"No," the gardener scoffed. "I didn' kill 'er, if tha's what you're sayin'."

"Right," Draco muttered, deciding to try a different angle. "Did Madame Moreau ever mention to you a small figurine which she believed to be cursed? It looks sort of like a bicorn –"

"It is cursed," Balthazar grunted, and his expression shifted. "She was uneasy. Probably the figure tha' killed 'er."

Draco's eyes flew to Balthazar's dark gaze, his lips parted. "Did you ever touch it?"

"Yes." Balthazar folded his arms, sinking into his seat.

"How long ago did Madame Moreau bring up the subject of the figure to you?" Draco asked, hardly daring to breathe.

"Mebbe a week."

"A week ago," Draco said, "and you handled it." He dropped into the seat opposite O'Connell and drew a quill and parchment from his bag, jotting down several notes.

"Yes," Balthazar repeated, rolling his eyes.

"How often did you visit Madame Moreau's estate?" Draco asked, glancing up.

"Three times a week," the man muttered, sinking deeper into his seat.

"Do you know where she found the figure?" Draco questioned, his heart racing in his chest.

"Dunno," Balthazar said, with a dismissive flicker of his brows. "She was always travelin'. Coulda picked it up anywhere. She said it was a family trinket but nah, it wasn'." He shrugged. "She only had it mebbe a month when it went weird."

"Weird," Draco repeated, frowning.

"Can' explain it," Balthazar shook his head. "Felt dark, like. Almost dark magic, but not. Felt old."

"Yes," Draco said, nodding. His mind spun with unanswered questions, swirling like a relentless flood and he couldn't grasp on any one thought long enough. "Like ancient, traditional magic."

"Yeh," Balthazar agreed.

Draco's hand hovered absently over the parchment, his brain overrun.

Hermione glanced up from her notes at a loud pounding on her door. She adjusted her books into an orderly stack as she called, "Come in!"

The door swung open and Malfoy strode inside. There was a tightness to the corners of his eyes as he removed his bag and dropped into the chair opposite her, running a hand through his hair. Hermione noted he didn't have his usual paper cup of tea.

"Please tell me you learned something useful yesterday," he clipped by way of greeting. "I was holed up investigating the death of Moreau all afternoon."

"I figured as much," Hermione said, distributing him a stapled copy of the notes she had gathered on the Indus Valley Civilization the day before while he had been busy. "Here is a brief synopsis of the Indus Valley."

"Brief?" Malfoy asked, staring at the thick package of notes. "I didn't sleep much – can you give me the basics?"

"Fine," Hermione said, her lips twitching. "So as you said yesterday, the Indus Valley was one of the three earliest civilizations in the cradle of civilization, the other two being Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. Of the three, the Indus Valley was by far the largest – over a thousand sites were discovered, two of the most significant being Harappa and Mohenjo-Daro." She hesitated, glancing at him. "It was a bronze age society, based around the Indus and Saraswati Rivers, in the region of what is now largely India and Pakistan. The Indus Valley developed as a society as early as the year 3300 BCE, with its peak period lasting from 2600 to 1900 BCE."

Hermione glanced at Malfoy and he was nodding along, his expression glazed.

She carried on.

"It sounds like it was an incredibly fascinating society. Their language is still unknown to us, however, they traded seals with symbols like your bull on them, as far away as Mesopotamia. There is also evidence to suggest they traded cloth for bronze." She paused, expecting Malfoy to look bored, but his gaze was intense as he stared at her.

"The people of the Indus Valley utilized complex drainage and sewage systems, with well-constructed, multi-level housing, and the largest facility in the city of Mohenjo-Daro wasn't a temple or a palace, but the public baths." Hermione shook her head in astonishment. "They were also incredibly peaceful – there was almost no evidence of weapons or any militant force whatsoever."

"Is that what happened to them?" Malfoy asked, blinking. He chewed the knuckle of his pointer finger as he thought. "They were taken out by an opposing force?"

"It's one theory," Hermione continued. "The thing is, no one actually knows, because we can't interpret their language. All we know is most of their cities were abandoned by 1700 BCE. They could have been overrun by an Indo-European tribe. Another theory is that they faced a drought, or earthquakes dried up the river systems they so greatly relied on for their seasonal flooding, and they were forced to leave."

Malfoy pressed his lips together, his brow furrowed.

"What about," he began, gesturing with a hand, "any sort of traditional magical practice? Anything that might explain the strange magic of the sculpture?"

"Unfortunately, no," Hermione said, turning back to her notes. "I was looking closer into that when you arrived. Without knowing to what their seals and scripts refer, historians can only guess, but there seems to have been evidence of the Indus Valley being a polytheistic society, along with the practice of deification of plants and animals."

"Okay," Malfoy said, dragging a hand through his hair, "so we know about the civilization itself, but nothing more about this figure, or why it possesses magic, or how it ended up here."

Hermione sighed, and said, "No. You've essentially got it. But there are other resources I haven't made it through yet."

Malfoy simply nodded, tucking her package of notes into his bag.

"What did you learn from the gardener?" she asked, chewing her lip.

"Very little," Malfoy said, and Hermione thought it explained his exhausted countenance, and his general lack of malicious snipes. "Madame Moreau told him about it a week before she dropped dead for seemingly no reason, according to the autopsy report."

"I was wondering if maybe, the magic of the figure killed her," Hermione said, chewing the end of her quill in thought. "Some sort of a delayed curse."

"That's what the gardener thought, too," Malfoy grumbled. "I haven't ruled out murder, and he's still a suspect, but I don't think it was him. And if it was something to do with the figure, that's a whole different issue." He glanced up, meeting her gaze. "O'Connell said she might have picked the figure up traveling. Do you think she could have stumbled across it in the one of the modern day countries of what was once the Indus Valley?"

"It's possible," Hermione said, blinking at the fact that he had asked her opinion. Furthermore, she couldn't recall him saying one rude remark yet. He must have been very tired. "It's just a theory… but if the magic of the figure got Madame Moreau – through contact, or maybe prolonged exposure – do you suppose it'll get the gardener as well?"

Malfoy's brows were high as he grimaced. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

"I suppose so," Hermione said, her mind racing with the stirring of possibilities. "I'll carry on with this research, to see if I can learn anything about traditional cultural magic in the Indus Valley."

"Okay," Malfoy said with a shrug. "I have to visit the coroner at St Mungo's with Robards, and follow up on a couple other leads, but if nothing pans out…"

He met her gaze, and Hermione suspected she knew where he was going.

Her eyes fell to the packaged figurine at on one side of her desk. Malfoy's gaze fell to the same corner.

"Something has to come together," Hermione said with a shrug. "Let me know if you learn anything?"

Malfoy rose to his feet and slung his shoulder bag across his chest again. "You as well." With a sharp nod, he left her office.

Hermione plastered a smile onto her face as Daphne Greengrass floated into the seat beside Harry in the Ministry's cafeteria, the next day at lunch.

Harry grinned and turned to drop a kiss to Daphne's cheek, who met his gaze with a demure smile of her own.

"Hello Daphne," Hermione said, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Daphne was the very picture of style and grace, her long blonde hair perfectly coiffed and her outfit an elegant mix of fashion and professional.

"Hermione, hello," Daphne greeted, turning to Hermione with bright green eyes and a wide smile. "It's so wonderful to see you."

"Same to you," Hermione said, though she had yet to decide if that was the case.

"Daph is leaving for a few days to Belarus, so I thought she could join us for lunch," Harry explained, his gaze soft as he stared at his new girlfriend.

Hermione bit her lip to withhold a smile. Harry was, without a doubt, smitten. Hermione was glad of it. "That's perfectly fine, of course. What's in Belarus?"

"The Belarusian Ministry has been campaigning to get their own national Quidditch team registered in the international league," Daphne explained as she took a careful bite of her sandwich. "A delegation from International Magical Cooperation, as well as the Department of Magical Games and Sports, will be visiting Minsk to meet with their Ministry."

"Sounds fascinating," Hermione said, blowing on a spoonful of her soup. "Harry, you should go along."

"I've tried," Harry said with a grin. "But alas, I've no reason to go, and the DMLE needs me here." He turned to Hermione, his face falling serious. "Speaking of, what's actually going on with that figure Malfoy's been studying? With the woman turning up dead and –"

"We're perfectly safe," Hermione said, holding up a hand. "The figure has some sort of unknown magic, and Malfoy hasn't determined yet whether it was responsible for Madame Moreau's death, but neither of us have handled the figure or been exposed in any way."

"I'm not concerned about Malfoy," Harry grumbled, earning him an elbow to the ribs from Daphne.

Hermione chuckled as she swallowed the spoonful of soup.

"I'm not particularly concerned about him, either," she admitted, casting a furtive glance at Daphne. "But he and I are investigating this case together, despite that being a situation I neither wanted nor saw coming. And if he's been exposed, chances are I have too."

"Malfoy's a bloody cockroach," Harry said, ignoring Daphne's eye roll. "So you'll be fine."

"What in the name of Merlin do you mean you don't know how my mother died?"

Draco stared at the irate man across from him in the examination room and sucked on his teeth before he set down his quill. Gerard Moreau had stormed into the DMLE minutes earlier demanding to speak with the lead Auror investigating the death of his mother, Madame Moreau.

There had been a chorus of snickers and rolled eyes as Draco's fellow Aurors had been all too happy to send the man to his desk.

"I mean the autopsy report has come back clean," Draco explained, meeting the man's gaze. "She was in great health, no injuries or contusions, and there was no magical signature to suggest she had been magically attacked."

"Then how do you explain her death!" the man shouted, throwing his hands into the air. "When I'm interrupted from a holiday with my wife and children with the news that my mother is dead, I should think I'm to be given answers!"

Draco quite thought the man needed to sort out his priorities.

"This is an ongoing investigation, Mr Moreau," Draco said, unimpressed. "And as of yet, we don't have those answers. Once we do, I will be sure to inform you."

"That isn't good enough!" the man seethed. "Why isn't a more senior Auror investigating my mother's death? You look barely old enough to have left school. I want to speak with your supervisor!"

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I assure you, I am a fully qualified Auror," he bit out through his teeth, "but fine. I'll see if Auror Robards is available."

He made for the door to retrieve his superior, but Gerard Moreau stormed past, leaving behind the privacy and security wards of the examination room, into the main Auror offices. Several Aurors looked up at the commotion as Draco followed the aggressive man towards Robards' office.

Robards blinked as he stepped out into the department and came face-to-face with Moreau.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his gaze flickering to Draco.

"Yes!" Moreau exclaimed, his shoulders tense. "This child of an Auror tells me he has no clue how my mother died! Perhaps he ought to be replaced!"

"This is an ongoing case, and as of yet, answers are uncertain for the time being," Robards said, and his mild tone was a sharp contrast to Moreau's overbearing anger. "Auror Malfoy is certified and capable of leading this investigation."

Draco felt a spasm of gratitude in his chest despite the situation. It was short-lived.

"Malfoy!" the man roared, rounding on Draco again, and his face was ruddy. "You've got a bloody Death Eater investigating the death of my mother! What in the blazes is this!"

Robards' face was hard.

Through Draco's periphery he could see the Aurors around watching, chuckling and muttering amongst themselves. He felt his wand hand twitch at his side and clenched his jaw hard to keep from saying anything.

"Mr Moreau," Robards said, his tone crisp but sure. "You may lower your voice or you may leave my department. Auror Malfoy will inform you once he has determined the cause of your mother's death."

"Unbelievable!" Moreau shouted. "What has this Ministry come to, then! Death Eaters employed as Aurors! You'll put someone else on this case or I'll be withdrawing my financial support!"

Draco felt his lip curl as he stared at the man, wanting nothing more than to hex him into oblivion, but that would cost him his job.

Robards' eyes narrowed, and he pointed to the door. His tone was soft but icy as he said, "We don't need your support. Leave."

The man huffed in outrage, his chest inflating, hands rolled into fists, but he stormed from the offices of the DMLE without looking back.

Draco glanced at Robards who returned the look with a grimace.

"He'll be back," Robards clipped, his nose wrinkled with distaste.

Draco pressed his lips together, exhaling a heavy breath from his nose. "Thank you, sir."

"I know your past, Malfoy," Robards said, "we all do. But as you stand here today, you're no more a Death Eater than I am, and I won't tolerate my Aurors being treated like that."

Draco felt that brief tightness in his chest again as he gave Robards a nod. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it at the amused faces of the rest of the Aurors milling about, staring at Draco as if he deserved to be ridiculed.

As if they knew anything about him.

His mouth snapped shut with a click of his teeth. He turned towards his desk, hoping to return to his work, when he saw Granger standing just inside the Auror offices, Potter at her side.

Her brow was furrowed as she stared at him, her lips parted. There was something like pity in her gaze and it burned Draco to the core, anger and humiliation rising with heat into his chest. He grabbed his bag, and sneering at her as he passed, left the office.

Chapter Text

Hermione breezed into the Department of Mysteries with a quick wave to Gladys and made her way to her office. Releasing the wards in an expedient manner, Hermione wasted no time in sinking into a continuation of her research of the day before.

She had felt her determination to find something build the night before until it had reached the point where she had nearly Flooed into the Ministry in the middle of the night, but had convinced herself sleep would be a better use of her time, and she could carry on with her studies of the Indus Valley in the morning.

There was a sort of urgency that Hermione couldn't quite shake.

And given the way Malfoy had stormed past her the day before when she had gone to update him on her progress, she didn't expect any help from him on the research front. And he was dealing with a murder case – she was fine to pursue this side of things on her own.

She had felt a twinge in her gut at the way Moreau's son had berated and belittled Malfoy, but had been distracted by the way Head Auror Robards had been the one to stand in Malfoy's defense. Idly, she remembered how Harry had mentioned Robards was the only one Malfoy actually talked to.

She wasn't surprised – Malfoy was the type to reach up to more powerful friends.

But maybe there was something Robards knew about – or saw in – Malfoy that gave him cause to trust a former Death Eater when everyone else hesitated.

Whatever it was, Hermione wasn't sure whether she could see it. But there had been something in the way Moreau's son had treated him, and how Malfoy's fellow Aurors had mocked him, all based on his name alone. She had already seen a hint of his proficiency in work ethic alone and she wasn't certain how she felt about that.

A niggling thought somewhere deep within suggested there might be more to him that she simply hadn't been looking for. Maybe he was actually trying to prove himself.

An owl had arrived for Hermione that morning as she had been leaving for work, and she hadn't had a chance to read the missive, so she unrolled it as she settled into her work for the day.

She had reached out to a magical historian, with the hopes of learning more about potential ancient magic that had existed in the Indus Valley, or anything that might have been helpful in the investigation. The historian had agreed to meet with her the following afternoon.

She scripted a quick memo and sent it to level two. Malfoy should have arrived at the Ministry by now, but given the way he had looked at her upon realizing she had been witness to the episode in the DMLE the day before, Hermione wasn't keen to see him face to face, or to subject herself to his sneering malice.

She didn't even know if he had any interest in meeting with the historian, but Hermione suspected if she didn't give him the option, she would hear about it.

She removed the lid from her paper cup of tea, allowing the steam to escape. And with a quick glance at the hovering holographic clock above her desk, Hermione dug into her work.

Draco folded an office memo from Granger into a tight square as he took a long sip of his scalding hot tea.

She would be meeting with a magical historian the following day, and there was no way Draco wouldn't be there to hopefully learn more about the figure and any form of magic that might have been practiced within the Indus Valley civilization over four thousand years ago.

He was starting to wish this would all tie up neatly and he would be able to walk away from it all. But he dreaded that wouldn't be the case.

Draco blinked, running a hand down his face as he looked up to see Gerard Moreau striding towards his desk. Cursing under his breath, he prepared himself for another confrontation.

But as the man grew nearer, Draco realized it wasn't Moreau after all. His eyes were softer, his face younger. A brother, then.

"Auror Malfoy," the man said, proffering a hand. Draco rose and extended his own, shaking the other Moreau brother's hand. "My name is Francois Moreau. I am told you are the lead investigator in my mother's death."

"I am," Draco said, his voice coming out gruff. The last thing he needed was another explosion in the bustling DMLE floor. And with his luck, Granger would be lurking in the wings to witness it again, and presumably doubt his capabilities even more.

"I am told my brother Gerard gave you a hard time yesterday," Francois Moreau said, and his expression was apologetic. "I have known Auror Robards many years and I trust his judgement, therefore I trust you're doing your best to solve this case."

"Thank you," Draco said with a nod. "I am doing everything I can." He stared at the man for a few moments. "I wonder if you could answer a few questions that might help with my investigation?"

"Of course," Moreau said, his brow furrowing. "Mum went a little batty these last few years, but she and I always shared a special connection. Whatever I can do to help."

Draco grabbed his bag and a pad of parchment, then led Francois Moreau to the examination room, setting his quill to automatically record the conversation.

"We don't know yet for certain," Draco prefaced, "and there are no signs of foul play in the case of your mother's death. But can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm her?"

"No," Moreau said, frowning. "My mother lived a simple life ever since my father passed away several years ago. She kept company with a few friends, but mostly stayed in the manor, other than to travel."

"Can you tell me about her travel habits?" Draco asked, watching the man closely.

"She traveled frequently, and usually alone," Moreau said, running a hand through his hair. He released a long breath. "She was an explorer. Loved to go beyond the beaten path, especially when she was younger. When my brother and I were young, she and my father would take us on interesting trips, most often away from the tourist areas. Gerard hated getting dirty and lost but I enjoyed it."

"Did she often bring home souvenirs?" Draco asked with a grimace.

Moreau's face scrunched up. "I suppose so. She liked to bring gifts for my children, and my brother's."

Draco hesitated for a moment. With a wave of his wand he projected an image of the sculpture, given it was still locked in the Department of Mysteries. "Had she ever shown or mentioned this sculpture of a bull? Or said anything with regards to its possession of strange magic?"

"A bull?" Moreau said, his brow furrowed. Then he shook his head. "Not in my recollection."

Draco sucked his teeth. "Had she been on a trip to India or Pakistan that you remember?"

"Yes," Moreau said, his eyes flickering with surprise. "Only a month or so ago. Maybe two, now. Why are you asking about all this?"

"Because around a week ago, your mother reported what she suspected to be a cursed object, and I've been investigating it for strange magic, along with an Unspeakable," Draco explained, twisting his expression. "Your mother claimed the figure had cast a strange air over her home."

"A cursed object?" Moreau asked, his brow furrowed. "She never mentioned anything like that to me."

"She mentioned it to the gardener," Draco clipped.

"The gardener," Moreau echoed, his frown deepening. "O'Connell? We sacked O'Connell nearly a month ago for thieving mother's heirlooms."

Draco stared at the man for a long moment, his lips parted and brows knitted, and the rapidly scrawling quill hovered to a stop. "You sacked him."

"Yes," Moreau said, shaking his head. "Why she was still speaking to him, I've no clue."

Draco rubbed at his eyes, feeling another migraine coming on.

Hermione glanced up at a knock at her door, and before she could say anything it swung open and Malfoy strode into her office, his bag slung across his chest and a cup of tea clutched in one hand. His tie was askew beneath the strap and his hair was out of place.

It was odd, she had decided, to see Malfoy out of sorts. She suspected he had been fighting a losing battle with the investigation into Madame Moreau's death.

He frowned as he settled into the seat opposite her at her desk, and picked at several pieces of hair that were out of place.

"I just spoke with Moreau's son." Hermione hesitated before opening her mouth, but Malfoy cut her off with a shake of his head. "Not the one who blew up in the DMLE yesterday. Another one."

"Did you learn anything?" Hermione asked, glancing up at him. His gaze was fixed on the figure in its protective packaging.

"Yes," he bit out. "Moreau was a frequent traveler, and didn't keep to the tourist sites. According to her son, she took a trip to south Asia a month or two ago."

"So she could have stumbled across the figure somewhere," Hermione breathed, her mind abuzz. "Though I have to wonder where an ancient, magically imbued figure just happens to hide for thousands of years without being discovered."

"She could have literally bought it in a shop without realizing its significance," Malfoy said, carding his fingers through his hair, mussing it again. "But we won't know, because I thought she was fucking barmy when I spoke to her."

Hermione blinked, shock passing through her at the idea of Malfoy admitting he hadn't been thorough enough. "Maybe the historian will know more. Are you coming to the meeting tomorrow?"

"Of course I am," he snapped. "This is my investigation."

"Right," she snorted.

Malfoy huffed a long exhale, the fight deflating from his posture. "The gardener was fired a month ago, for stealing Madame Moreau's heirlooms."

"What?" Hermione hissed, meeting his gaze with a furrowed brow. "The gardener she spoke to about the figure?"

"Apparently," Malfoy said with a shrug. "None of this makes any bloody sense. I'll bring him in tomorrow morning for further questioning."

"Good," she murmured, distracted. "I wonder if he had anything to do with the figure."

Malfoy shrugged, his gaze unfocused. "Did you learn anything more?"

"Yes and no," Hermione said, breezing through her notes. "I've been trying to search for anything that might have been odd or out of place, since there are no direct mentions of there being any sorcerers or magical practitioners of any kind in the Indus Valley, but most of these resources are Muggle history books.

"And unfortunately – or fortunately – since we can't interpret their language, there are a lot of things that are unexplained about their society."

Malfoy nodded, his eyes squinted. "Understandable. But what have you found?"

"Well," Hermione began, "for instance, in the city of Harappa, the excavators found a series of tunnels that had seemingly no purpose. They weren't connected to the plumbing or sewage, but they were incredibly complex and intricate. It's been suggested one could easily lose their way."

"Maybe they were storing things, or navigating between villages?" Malfoy asked, gesturing with a hand.

"No storage caches were discovered," Hermione said, shaking her head. "And the tunnels were self-contained. They never left the immediate area of Harappa. They were either pointless or… incomplete."

Malfoy cursed under his breath, shaking his head. "Maybe the magical historian will know something about them."

"There are vast discrepancies between sources, with regards to how they lived, how they ruled their societies, how they produced their food," Hermione listed, meeting his gaze. "But again, much of that is to do with the lack of understanding of their language."

"Right," Malfoy muttered. From his near proximity seated at her desk, Hermione could see the faint bruising to the skin beneath his eyes.

A sudden thought struck her that the first Moreau brother's accusations might have bothered Malfoy more than she would have anticipated. Or maybe it was just the stress of managing his first investigation. Hermione supposed he probably wasn't used to working this hard.

His gaze fixed on the figure again, sitting in a tray on Hermione's desk.

"If it wasn't for a murder investigation making this whole situation more complicated, I'd suggest we just burn the damn thing," he griped and Hermione felt her lips twitch.

"Where would be the fun in that?" she asked. Hermione had always felt a sort of thrill in researching the unknown. And this was historically significant – she could admit to herself she was enjoying her part of the case.

His grey eyes turned to her, one pale brow raised. "Whoever said this was supposed to be fun?"

Hermione pursed her lips, staring at him. "Obviously not you."

"Whatever, Granger," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. "I have some reports to file before the end of the day, so let me know if anything changes. Otherwise, I'll be back for the meeting tomorrow."

"Fine," Hermione said with a dismissive shrug. She worked better when he wasn't breathing down her neck, anyway. "Tomorrow, then. I'll send a memo if anything changes."

Malfoy gathered his bag and his presumably cold cup of tea and swept from her office.

Draco paced the hallway outside of the DMLE, cussing profanities under his breath.

He had sent the summons to O'Connell based on the address the gardener had provided the Ministry when he had been called for questioning with regards to Madame Moreau's death.

Draco supposed he shouldn't have been surprised the man failed to show up. But it threw a wrench into his investigation that he certainly didn't need.

Why was O'Connell still going to Madame Moreau's house if he'd been sacked? And if he was thieving her heirlooms, what was she doing discussing them with him?

The situation brought so many more questions than Draco was willing to face for the time being.

Since Draco still wasn't able to leave the Ministry for the investigation – which he found to be ridiculous – a pair of Aurors had been dispatched to collect O'Connell, but they had come back empty-handed.

Which left Draco short a lead and irritable. Especially because he was going to be late for the meeting with the historian if he waited any longer, and he didn't want Granger to think he wasn't coming. Despite the Department of Mysteries commandeering the figure, Draco was still in charge of the investigation into Madame Moreau's death, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the figure was somehow responsible.

He needed to get down to level nine, but he didn't want to tell Robards he didn't have any information on the gardener.

Draco hoped the meeting with the magical historian wouldn't go overlong and he would be able to try and track down O'Connell afterwards.

Huffing a sigh and cursing the man, Draco made his way to the lifts.

Draco made it down to the Department of Mysteries just in time and let himself into Granger's office without knocking. Her eyes narrowed as he drew a quill and parchment from his bag, and charmed them to record automatically.

"Hello to you too," he grumbled under his breath at her expression.

"You could knock," Granger hissed, her nose wrinkled and her hair looking like an explosion had just torn through the office.

Draco opened his mouth to say so when there was a gentle tap at the door. With a huff, Granger strode to the door and swung it open, and a smile plastered itself onto her face. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Master Helmo," she exclaimed, gesturing into the office, where Draco noticed a third chair had been placed. "My name is Unspeakable Granger, and this is my… colleague," Draco noticed her face wrinkle with distaste at the word and smirked. "Auror Malfoy."

Draco rose to his feet to greet the historian as the man followed Granger into the modest office.

"Draco Malfoy," he stated, giving the man's hand a firm shake.

"Ridley Helmo," the man returned with a chuckle. "I can't say I've ever been to the Department of Mysteries."

Granger offered him a banal smile.

She dropped into her seat and waited for Master Helmo to get settled into his own. He drew a pair of stylish lenses from his bag and slid them onto his nose, giving them both a smile as he folded his hands in his lap.

"What can I do for you both?" he asked, looking between them.

"We were hoping you could give us a magical perspective on the Indus Valley civilization," Granger clipped, her tone sharp. "More specifically, which elements of their society may have included magic. Most of the Muggle resources don't suggest there was any, but we have this figure –"

She handed Helmo the bagged figure, and his brows flickered in surprise.

"– and it possesses strange, undetermined magic."

"It's certainly a common Indus Valley symbol," Helmo confirmed, and Draco felt a twinge of relief at the fact that they hadn't misidentified the nature of the carving. "I can't say with full certainty whether there was magic practiced in the Indus Valley, although in many cases, it is presumed to have existed. In some of the older civilizations, most likely. You won't read it in the Muggle history books of course, but ancient magicks were abundant."

"In what way?" Granger asked, her brow furrowed with consternation as her quill flew across a sheet of parchment.

"Magic was often practiced, behind closed doors, or in rituals." Helmo waved a hand as he spoke, and Draco found himself drawn in. The man was a natural storyteller. "Blessings of the spirits, enrichment of the soil, enhanced crops, that sort of thing. Often it was the priests or royalty who were in possession of magic, and they used it to land in a position of authority. Muggle historians have often glazed over such possibilities in their ignorance of magic, and refer to ritualized sacrifices and that sort of thing, when really it was magic."

Draco frowned, glancing over at his quill. "The Indus Valley wasn't focused on authority in that manner, were they? Kings and priests?"

"Not to the extent in which some of the early civilizations were," Helmo agreed. "Which is why we see little evidence of magic in their culture. Not to say it wasn't there, of course, but it's largely extrapolation."

Across the desk from him, Granger was chewing her lower lip in thought. "We read about some tunnels, beneath Harappa?"

"The tunnels," Helmo said, nodding. "No one understands their purpose. Some thought storage, though little evidence has turned up to suggest they actually stored anything there. Others thought, perhaps they were trying to build an underground network to Mohenjo. Ambitious, if you ask me."

"So how come they didn't make it further?" Draco asked, rubbing his temple.

"It isn't known," Helmo said, shaking his head. "Perhaps they realized it was a futile effort or they decided on a better way. History suggests the tunnels were built closer to the end of the Mature Harappan period, so they might have lost their workforce. Again, this is largely inference, because there is little evidence to suggest any of this.

"Keep in mind, however, that the Indus Valley did not rely on slaves, so any work that was done was of free will. It must have been a significant reason for so many to spend so long digging."

Draco glanced at Granger, and he could almost see the gears whirring.

"Is there a chance they ran into something that impeded their way?" she asked, pressing the end of her quill to her lips.

"It's possible," Helmo said. "But consider, in our discussion of magic – in the thousands of years since the downfall of the Indus Valley Civilization, the tunnels remain in pristine condition, despite the city above them falling to ruins. Not a single cave-in."

"Magically restored?" Granger asked, her brows knitted.

"Magically reinforced," Draco corrected, turning to Helmo. "They were built to hold firm, with magic."

Helmo pointed a finger in Draco's direction. "Magic was probably used in the development of the tunnels. It may not be magic the way you and I use it today, wielded through a wand, but there were almost assuredly practitioners nonetheless. We can't be certain, of course, but it is the most likely explanation."

"But yet they didn't they finish the task?" Draco asked. Something about the topic made him uneasy. If the Indus civilians were so bent on building the tunnels, why abandon them partway?

"You said it," Helmo said, gesturing to Granger. "Perhaps they ran into something that was a significant enough impediment. Or maybe they just lost interest and decided to travel by land."

"If they were trying to go somewhere," Draco insisted," why develop such a complex maze?"

"So maybe they were looking for something," Granger said, her voice soft. "But if their sorcerers had ancient magic of their own, why dig by hand?"

"These are all," Helmo said with a shrug, "unfortunately, questions to which the answers are unknown."

Draco sucked his teeth then released a sigh. It felt like something he needed to further pursue – as if something were pushing him to do so – but there was nothing he could do.

Granger looked equally disconcerted, frowning as she chewed her quill – Draco realized now, it was actually a Sugar Quill, and not simply a terrible habit.

They asked Helmo a string of other questions, until the afternoon was gone, and they had little more information for their trouble. It seemed as if the overt practice of magic in the Indus Valley simply wasn't understood, and what little evidence there was, seemed to have no direct influence on the society as a whole.

After Helmo had departed, Draco frowned at Granger.

"This has been an inefficient day," he muttered. "Hopefully I can track down the gardener tomorrow."

"I'm going to see if I can learn anything more about those tunnels," Granger said, though she looked unconvinced.

"Something about the tunnels," Draco said, shaking his head. "It makes me uneasy."

Granger nodded her agreement, straightening her notes and quill. "To have left such a significant project unfinished, and then to simply abandon it."

"If they were using magic to strengthen the tunnels," Draco reasoned, gesturing with a hand, "why not simply use magic to gouge them out of the earth?"

"And…" she hesitated, chewing her lip. "Did they uncover something? Maybe the magic wasn't to hold the walls firm from collapse…"

"But as wards to keep something out," Draco finished, uncertain whether he was breathing. He swallowed, pointing at her. "Keep at it. Reconvene tomorrow if you learn anything."

Granger nodded, and Draco grabbed his bag and swept from her office. If there was one good thing about the situation, it was that he knew Granger wouldn't give up until they had answers.

And neither would he.

Chapter Text

Hermione approached the DMLE the following day at lunch, intent to see whether Malfoy had learned anything about the gardener that might help them with the puzzle of the figurine. The more Hermione thought about it, the more likely it seemed that the mysterious circumstances around Madame Moreau's death had to be connected.

She nearly ran straight into the blond as he stormed past like an enraged hurricane, just barely skirting around him to avoid a collision.

The dark circles beneath his eyes were more pronounced than they had been the day before; he had a half-empty cup of tea clutched in one hand and a wrapped sandwich in the other. There was a layer of scruff on his jaw longer than Hermione had ever seen.

She started to wonder whether this case might have pushed him over the edge. She had always half suspected him to be unhinged, and the manic glint in his eye suggested she was correct.

She took a quick step back, eager to avoid a confrontation now that she had seen him, but he froze, his eyes narrowing to slits.

"What do you want, Granger?" he hissed, attempting to free his tie from the tight strap of his messenger bag, despite having both hands full already.

"I just came to ask whether you made any progress with the gardener?" she asked, folding her arms across her front.

"No I fucking haven't," he bit out.

"Excuse you, it was just a question," Hermione exclaimed with derision, her own eyes tightening as her lip curled.

He huffed a breath, blowing air upwards at a strand of hair that had fallen in his eyes. "I said I would let you know, didn't I? The gardener's fucking AWOL – what do you expect from me?"

Hermione didn't think she had ever seen him look so sloppy, and she opened her mouth to tell him so in her mounting irritation, but decided it wasn't going to help the situation any.

"You know what?" she said instead, fuming no less, "never mind! Keep in mind the Department of Mysteries is fully within its rights to completely acquire this case and kick you and the DMLE out of it!"

"It's a joint case now, and you know it," he growled, sneering at her. "There's an unsolved murder – it's DMLE territory. If you don't want to work with me, you can bloody well back out, then."

"You know that isn't happening," Hermione hissed, squinting at him, even as she held her ground against his much taller frame.

"Then bugger off and let me do my job," he exclaimed, clenching his jaw tight as he glanced down the corridor. "I am not dealing with your shite right now, Granger."

"You're a nightmare!" Hermione snapped, suppressing an urge to stomp her foot.

"Well get used to it!" Malfoy snarled, then turned and stormed through the door of the DMLE offices, leaving her gaping in the hallway.

Hermione released an infuriated huff, glaring at a couple of young Ministry drones down the hallway who were eyeing her with curiosity. She rolled her eyes, expecting they had never seen an Unspeakable outside of the Department of Mysteries before.

Malfoy was never getting that bloody figure back if she had anything to say about it.

Draco slammed his sandwich onto his desk and sunk into his seat, throwing his bag onto the floor beside his desk. The damn thing was so overloaded with books the strap was creating an indent in his shoulder.

Like he needed to deal with Granger now, on top of everything else.

It had been bad enough that Robards had approached him that morning, suggesting he might be interested in passing the case to someone a little more experienced.

Draco had nearly choked on his tea. Which was now ice cold.

He was more than capable of solving this case, and he had hoped Robards knew that. Draco suspected his superior was taking heat over allowing him to continue leading the case, and he knew it would be a matter of time before they would take more proactive measures in squeezing him out.

Which meant he needed answers right bloody now.

And Granger needed to stay in her dark hole down on level nine and do what Unspeakables are supposed to do, which was to solve mysteries of magic. Not to linger outside the DMLE to pester him, despite the fact that they both had better things to be doing.

Draco nearly snarled as he took a sip of his cold tea, wishing it contained a splash or three of firewhiskey.

"Auror Malfoy," Robards said, approaching his desk. Draco refrained from rolling his eyes, some deep part of him recognizing he was probably overreacting, and that this wasn't helping the situation at all.

In fact, he had probably been unfair to Granger in his frustration, given she had only been inquiring about O'Connell and he'd taken his anger out on her. He'd deal with her later.

"I've received a tip on a location for your gardener," Robards said. Draco huffed a breath. Finally something had gone right. "I've sent a team to bring him in."

"Thank you, sir," Draco said with a short nod.

Hermione fumed as she flipped through her book with caution. As far as she was concerned, as soon as Malfoy closed off any other leads on his investigation, she would do her best to get him removed as the lead Auror on the research into the figure.

He was repulsive, and vile, and showed a concerted lack of manners, despite being raised in the wizarding aristocracy. In Hermione's opinion, that meant nothing if one did not conduct themselves with respect for others.

She hated him – he hadn't changed one bit since Hogwarts, and Hermione had no idea how he had even passed Auror training with such a foul attitude.

She had obviously been wrong about him after the Moreau son debacle – he still lacked regard for anyone but himself – and admittedly she was more frustrated than she ought to be, but he brought out the worst side of her. He always had.

Hermione realized her hand was shaking with anger and she wasn't even reading the words anymore as she flipped the pages without any interest in their content.

Pushing the book away from her, she decided to take a short break.

The Unspeakables in the Brain Room were always pursuing some interesting research. Hermione would assist them for awhile, just to escape her office and the constant poring through ancient tomes that offered no information of value with regards to the magic of the figure.

And perhaps, to spite Malfoy, just a little.

She closed the book, massaging her temples. He was going to be the actual death of her.

They had sort of, almost, to a certain degree, gotten along the day before. They had been amicable in their research, and on the same page with regards to the tunnels below Harappa. And now this.

Furthermore, how had dealing with him on a daily basis become her life?

Hermione skirted into the dark hallways of the Department of Mysteries proper, careful to follow chamber entrance protocol, and made her way into the Brain Room, a vast chamber in which experiments were performed unlike any other. Once through the secure second door, she looked around, locating the team of thought-focused Unspeakables.

One of them glanced up at her approach, and the woman's eyes widened. Unspeakable Calisto, she thought her name was.

"Unspeakable Granger!" she exclaimed, and Hermione's brow furrowed as the rest of the Unspeakables dropped to the ground in a state of panic. "Look out!"

A breath choked loose from Hermione's throat as a wave of pulsing, raw magic emanated from their workstation, and as her vision went dark, she collapsed to the floor.

Hermione blinked awake, startled to see the bright and sterile atmosphere of an examination room at St Mungo's. She sat up and stared around the otherwise empty room, inspecting the whirring and whistling instruments and tools on every side of her.

"Hello?" she asked, raising a brow. She was no longer dressed in her Unspeakables robes, and was instead wearing a most unflattering, standard issue hospital gown.

"Miss Granger," someone said, and a man walked in studying a clipboard, his lime green robes signifying him as a St Mungo's Healer. "You're awake."

"How long have I been here?" Hermione asked, worrying her lower lip. She had too much work to do to be lingering in the hospital.

"Six hours," the Healer said, glancing up. Hermione blinked, then squinted her eyes as she peered closer at his face.

"Nott?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Healer Nott," he corrected with a hint of a smile, scanning his clipboard again. "How are you feeling?"

"Six hours?" Hermione exclaimed, as his words sunk in. She swiped at the instruments measuring her vitals with impatience. "I need to get back to the Ministry."

"We're going to need to keep you overnight for observation," Nott said, his voice dry and tempered with amusement. "Surely your department will understand, given they were the ones to deliver you here to us."

Hermione froze, recalling the way an unexpected wave of magic had barrelled through her, knocking her unconscious. She breathed, "What happened?"

"My initial assessment suggests the magic with which you were hit was not malicious, nor particularly harmful," Nott murmured, making another note on his clipboard. He was as infuriating and unhelpful as she remembered from eighth year. "But as I said, I'm keeping you here for observation."

"Then I need to send an owl," Hermione ground through her teeth. "Or, I'll at least need to retrieve some books from my office."

"We can send an owl on your behalf," Nott said, his hazel eyes snapping up to meet hers. "Although you will need to refrain from work for the duration of your stay. I am tracking your brain activity for any side effects of the spell."

Hermione rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. "I need to inform Auror Malfoy of my admission here."

"Auror Malfoy," Nott said, a smirk tweaking his lips again. "How interesting. But as it turns out, Auror Malfoy is already aware. He sent you a… rather aggressive owl several hours ago looking for you."

"You opened my mail?" Hermione seethed, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"I did no such thing. All incoming owl post is inspected upon entry into St Mungo's," Nott said, waving a dismissive hand. "I have informed Auror Malfoy of your whereabouts. He sends his regards, and laments he could not send an appropriate floral bouquet."

"Like hell he does," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"You're right, actually," Nott said, with a flicker of his brow, "he wasn't concerned. I believe he used the words clumsy and useless."

"You aren't helpful at all, you realize?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes. "And you seem a lousy Healer. Is there anything wrong with me or not?"

"I'm going to go with no," Nott murmured, flashing her a tight-lipped smile. "But like I said – too soon to tell."

Hermione huffed, dropping her head back on the overstuffed pillow between her and the headboard.

"So, Granger," Nott said, turning to her with a lecherous grin as he set his clipboard down on a countertop, leaning one elbow onto the surface. "An Unspeakable, eh? How fascinating."

"Bugger off, Nott," Hermione clipped. "And that's Unspeakable Granger, to you."

"Touchy," Nott muttered, his brows high and unimpressed. "You'll be receiving your evening meal shortly. Do try and eat it all."

He retrieved his clipboard once more, and swept from the room, his lime green robes billowing. Hermione narrowed her eyes, lip curling at the former Slytherin with whom she had never gotten along.

Then she groaned, sinking back into the pillow again. An entire afternoon of potential research wasted.

There was also the fact that she had been knocked out by a suspicious and unknown cloud of magic. But if Nott had checked her magical signature and detected nothing wrong, she supposed she had no choice but to trust him, despite every instinct screaming he probably didn't know what he was doing.

He wouldn't have made it through Healer training, nor earned the green robes, if he hadn't known how to diagnose her magical core for spell damage.

A suspect and unappetizing plate of food appeared on the tray beside her bed. Hermione raised a brow and sucked on her teeth. The tray shifted to hover before her, a silver knife and fork bouncing into the backs of her hands until she collected them from mid-air.

Frowning, Hermione forced herself to take the first bite.

Draco cursed under his breath as he wore a hole into the floor outside of Granger's hospital room. Of all places to possibly spend his night, and he was visiting that swot in the fucking hospital.

Which he wouldn't have had to do at all, if she hadn't been so careless.

"She's awake," Theo said with an absent smile, slipping through the door and closing it behind him. "And she's already angry, so have fun."

"Don't tell me you came onto her," Draco said, rolling his eyes. Nott would fuck anything with legs, tits and an arse, Draco was certain.

"Hardly," Theo said, raising a haughty brow. "She isn't my type."

"She's a woman," Draco snapped. "Isn't that your type?"

Nott shrugged. "Fair enough. Although I'm glad to be eating meat again. Selena was far too clingy."

Draco grumbled under his breath, but shook his head. "So can I go in there now?"

"If you really want to," Nott said with a snicker. "Though as your Healer, I have to say it's inadvisable to your health."

Rolling his eyes and adjusting the shoulder strap of his messenger bag, Draco shoved past his best mate and walked into Granger's room.

She raised a brow as he entered, a disgusted look on her face. Draco wasn't certain whether it was due to his arrival or the questionable plate of food in front of her.

"You look atrocious," he said by way of greeting, his eyes sweeping her with disdain. "Did you ask for the least fashionable gown possible?"

"I woke up like this, Malfoy," Granger hissed, narrowing her eyes. She took an unenthusiastic bite of something that might have been mixed vegetables.

"And what exactly did you do?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest, making sure to keep a safe distance. "I mean, I know you're bull-headed and careless but –"

"Do you mind?" she asked, cutting him off. "Please tell me there is an actual reason you're here, and not simply to bother me."

"Are you going to be back at the Ministry tomorrow?" Draco asked, sweeping some loose hair back from his forehead with one hand. Then he waved the hand towards her in the hospital bed. "Or is this leaving you debilitated? Because if you are, kindly pass the investigation back over to me –"

"I'll be at the Ministry!" Granger exclaimed, her jaw clenched tight. "Why are you here!"

"Because," Draco said, chewing the inside of his cheek as he debated how much information to share with her. But then he recalled the way he had treated her earlier and sighed, allowing the fight to sink from his countenance. "The gardener is dead."

Granger froze, her eyes widening in shock, her lips parted to speak. She released a harsh breath and closed her mouth.

"He was found," Draco carried on, adjusting his bag, "at the location Robards dug up. I was here to visit the coroner when I heard you had been blown up by some spell gone awry and came to see whether you had survived."

"How considerate of you," Granger hissed. She frowned, chewing her lip. "Obviously this is significant, and has to be related to the figure! What did the coroner say?"

"It's too soon to tell all the details," Draco explained, "but preliminary results suggest there to be no immediate cause of death."

"Like Madame Moreau," Granger breathed, the ire gone from her tone. She took a long breath, her eyes flickering across the disgusting food on her plate. "If both Moreau and O'Connell handled the figure, it must have exposed something into their immune systems, or attacked their magical cores, or –"

"Granger," Draco said, releasing a breath. "Madame Moreau said she thought the figure had released something into the atmosphere of her home. An 'ominous air', she called it." He hesitated, then continued on and tossed her a small vial. "I studied the initial conversation I had with her in the DMLE's Pensieve."

Granger eyed the vial and the silver memory within, before carefully setting it on the nightstand beside her bed.

Her voice was quiet, as if she didn't dare speak the possibility any louder. "You think whatever magic was within the figure was released into her home."

"We have to look at every possibility," Draco said. "I've already alerted Robards to the situation and he's sent a team to magically quarantine and seal the entire house. Neither of her sons had been to visit her since she had returned from her trip to South Asia."

Granger was very still. "What if it left her house?"

"Then we're going to have one clusterfuck of a situation on our hands," Draco said, his voice quiet. "But Robards also has a hazard team investigating that so we'll have the results back soon. He thinks it was probably contained to a concentrated area, such as her home. Often what we see with the spread of magic is that it will be severe or widespread, but it would be unusual to see both."

"I know how the spread of ambiguous magic works," Granger said, her expression vacant as she picked at her food. Draco wasn't certain she was even aware of what she was eating, so caught up in her thoughts as she was. "That would be the only good thing about the situation."

"We'll find out soon," Draco said with a grimace. "Robards will be informing me once his team has returned."

"Send me an owl?" Granger asked, her voice sounding small, as if she expected him to say no.

"You're on the bloody case, aren't you?" he scoffed. "Of course I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," she murmured, taking a bite of what looked to be a rock-hard dinner roll. She winced, setting the roll back on the plate, running her tongue along the tips of her teeth. "You'd think they could provide a half decent meal in this place."

"What exactly did happen?" Draco asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He would need to know if she was unable to do her job as usual.

"I can't speak of it," Granger said, her nose wrinkling. "All I can say is I was struck with accidental magic. Nott doesn't think it has had any serious repercussions but he's keeping me overnight to monitor my brain activity."

Draco snickered to himself. "Nott is keeping you overnight because –" he cut himself off, muttering, "never mind."

Granger glared at him, one eyebrow raised.

"And for the record, he gave you that atrocious meal as a joke," Draco said. "The elves at St Mungo's prepare wonderful food. I can't believe you're eating that slop."

Her frown deepened; she huffed a breath through her nose.

Draco snickered, shaking his head. "Nott isn't exactly… professional. I'll let him know you're angry," he said. "I'm going to get an update on the gardener's autopsy report and to check in with Robards about the house."

"Fine," Granger said, her lips twisted to one side. "Thanks for letting me know. Of all the poorly-timed magical accidents."

Draco shrugged. "Just work all weekend and you'll be able to make it up." His lips twitched at the look on her face.

Granger opened her mouth to respond but then pressed her lips together, leveling him with a cold stare.

Draco rolled his eyes, adjusting the strap of his heavy bag again. He would need to stop for a fresh cup of tea if he would be working into the night. Making for the door, he threw a, "Later, Granger," over his shoulder.

She didn't reply; Draco suspected she was wishing she had a stack of books beside her.

Chapter Text

Draco barely peeled himself out of bed the following morning, just skirting into the Ministry on time. He had only managed a few hours of sleep after working late, and he knew Granger would be anxious to find out what he had learned consulting with Robards.

He swept into the DMLE offices, deciding he would check in and then venture down to level nine to get it over with. But he froze at the sight of Granger already in the DMLE, in the middle of what appeared to be a casual conversation with Potter and Finnigan, a grin on her face.

So clearly, she was feeling better.

Draco was in no mood to deal with her two companions, however, so he carried past her with a raised brow, and made for his desk. His forehead furrowed when she excused herself from the conversation and followed him, dropping a paper cup of tea on his desk, another clutched in her other hand.

Draco blinked at her as he settled into the hard chair at his desk, and she dropped into the one opposite.

"Thanks," he said, frowning in surprise at the gesture.

"I knew you were working late," she clipped with a shrug. "English Breakfast, three sugars?"

"That's right," Draco said, staring at her. He didn't want to know how she had learned his tea preferences. Perhaps they kept files on things like that in the Department of Mysteries.

"Your owl last night was decidedly vague," Granger premised.

"I was exhausted," Draco sighed, taking a sip of the scalding tea, savouring the warm liquid as it flowed down his throat. It was exactly as he liked it. "It was good news on the pervasive magic front: the hazards team found no evidence of any magical aura beyond the central portion of her house where she was found dead. Her sitting room, and the area immediately surrounding it. So we don't need to worry about a whole county suddenly dropping dead."

"That is good news," Granger breathed, removing the lid from her own tea to allow the steam to escape.

Draco hesitated as he noticed upwards of eight Aurors staring at him talking with Granger. They all needed their pay decreased with the amount of time they found to observe Draco's business, although he couldn't help but note the interest in some of their faces.

He tapped a quill on his desk, his other hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"As with Madame Moreau, the autopsy on O'Connell came back with no known cause of death," Draco explained, and rifled through his bag for the report. "But there was something interesting."

Granger stared at him, prompting him to carry on. She was being far more obliging than usual this morning, especially given the way he had treated her the last time he'd seen her at the Ministry. The thought that she had still decided to buy him a cup of tea was unsettling.

"There was a trace element of something in O'Connell's blood – the faintest magical aura that might have been dismissed as natural or a simple biological anomaly… if not for the fact that it had been dismissed as a biological anomaly in Moreau's blood as well," he explained, chewing his lower lip. "Once could be specific to the magic holder in question –"

"But to present in both of them is a connection," Granger extrapolated. Draco nodded, taking another sip of his hot tea.

"Exactly," he said, gesturing with his quill. He handed her a copy of the report. "Have you got anything down there in that department of yours that can determine magical signatures based on blood strains?"

"I think so," Granger said, scratching her hair. "Unspeakable Burke will know how."

"Good," Draco said with a nod. "Check in with him and get back to me. It could help us determine the type of magic being emitted by that damn figurine."

"Right," Granger said, clapping her hands on her legs. "I was thinking of going back to the Ministry library today to do a more in-depth search on rituals and crop enhancement – the types of practiced magic that Master Helmo was talking about that were overlooked by Muggle historians. After I talk to Burke."

"It can't hurt, I suppose," Draco said with a shrug. "Keep me posted."

But Granger had looked away, her brow furrowing and eyes flared wide. Draco followed her gaze, a scowl rising to his face as soon as he saw a red head of hair. Weasley was standing with Potter and Finnigan, the three of them howling with laughter at something.

Seriously, was Draco the only one who did any work around here?

Granger swallowed, and she shrunk into her seat, her gaze slipping back to land on his, then averting to her cup of tea. She took a long sip.

"Right," she murmured again, with a brief nod. "I'll let you know."

Draco recalled the brief and ill-advised fling Granger had had with Weasley following the end of the war – and he was now reminded of the loud and public breakup that had ensued in the Great Hall one day a couple of months into their eighth year.

But he couldn't quite bring himself to ridicule Granger over it – not when she had been so amenable. Not when he disliked Weasley so much more. While most of the training Aurors in Draco's class had been awful to him, Weasley had been steadily mocking. Draco had been relieved when Weasley had dropped out of training to work at his brother's joke shop.

So what then was he doing in the DMLE as if he had any right to be there?

Draco's lip curled as he watched the three of them, all animated gestures and wide grins. Granger took another sip of her tea, her eyes fixed on his desk.

"Was there anything else we needed to discuss?" she asked, her tone pointed.

"That was it for the moment," Draco said, fixing her with an appraising stare. "Don't tell me you're still hung up on that twat, Granger."

"Of course not," she said with an easy wave. She frowned at his apparent consideration of the subject. "But things between Ron and I are – stilted, to say the least."

Draco shrugged. "That doesn't surprise me," he clipped. "Just ignore him, then. Or leave, if you're bothered over it. We'll catch up later."

But when he looked up again, the three men were staring at him and Granger, Weasley's ginger brows high on his flushed face. "Too late," Granger groaned, following his line of sight.

Weasley approached his desk, and Draco felt his lips tug into a sneer. Potter followed at a distance, Finnigan slipping off to his own desk.

"What are you doing in the Auror's Office, Hermione?" Weasley asked, fixing the brunette with a questioning look. Draco offered him a hard stare but refrained from speaking.

"We're working on something, Ron," Granger said, skimming the report Draco had given her. "Did you need something?"

Something flickered across Weasley's face, and Draco would have laughed but for the simmering anger just below his skin. Despite that he didn't care for Granger, her obvious discomfort was enough for Draco to take her side.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" he asked, his tone clipped. "Last I heard, you didn't complete your Auror training."

"I'm allowed to visit, Malfoy," Weasley said, folding his arms across his chest. Behind Weasley, Potter was observing the scene with a careful expression.

"Well if you don't mind," Draco said, in his haughtiest tone, "Granger and I are working on an important case, so you'll have to visit elsewhere."

"You're working –" Weasley began, fixing Granger with a confused stare. "Hermione, you're working with him?"

And it was apparent to Draco in that moment – Weasley wasn't over Granger. He would sooner dig himself a hole than witness any more of this exchange.

"It's a collaborative effort between the Department of Mysteries and the DMLE, Ron," Granger said, her tone as professional as Draco had ever heard it. "And like Malfoy said, we're in the middle of an important discussion."

Weasley turned to Potter, who shrugged. "They are working together," he supplied with an absent wave. "Some sort of magical doll –"

Draco rolled his eyes. "If we could move this mundane and unimportant congress away from my desk?"

Weasley opened his mouth to say something else, his gaze still lingering on Granger, but he closed it again, taking a step back alongside Potter. "Fine. Hermione, we'll catch up another time, then."

"Sure, Ron," Granger said, and Draco didn't know how the rest of them didn't hear the feeble tone to her voice.

Weasley and Potter turned and walked back across the department. Draco huffed a sigh of irritation.

"If we're all done with that," he murmured, tone infused with disdain, "perhaps I'll be able to get some work done now."

"Right," Granger said, slipping the autopsy report into her bag. "So I'll keep you posted, and you'll do the same."

"Yes," Draco said, fixing her with a long stare while she gathered her tea and stood from his desk. She nodded, about to leave. "Granger?" Draco hedged, and she turned back to him; her expression was weary, her eyes dull. "Tell Weasley to fucking kick rocks."

There was a subtle twitch to her lips – Draco might even have imagined it. But then she nodded, her eyes a bit brighter, and she turned and made her way out of the department – past Weasley and Potter – without another glance.

Hermione tapped on the door of Unspeakable Burke's office, uncertain whether he was in the room or not. But several moments later the door swung open, and Burke's brisk smile appeared in the doorway.

"Unspeakable Granger," he nodded. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was wondering whether you might be able to help me diagnose a strange occurrence of magic in a bloodstream – more specifically, the bloodstreams of two separate victims." She frowned, and Burke mimicked the expression.

"Victims?" Burke repeated. "I thought you and Auror Malfoy were looking into the death of a woman."

"Her gardener was found dead last night," Hermione explained, "and he had handled the figure as well. Auror Robards has had the house secured, and his teams have ensured the magical aura from the figure has been contained."

"Good," Burke said, opening the door to his office wider and Hermione followed him inside. "Let me see the magical signature you're taking about and I'll see what can be done to diagnose it. We will need to obtain blood samples from the two victims."

"Noted," Hermione said, handing her superior the autopsy report. "I'll send a memo to Auror Malfoy."

Unspeakable Burke stared at Hermione for a long moment, his brow furrowed. "You've done well, so far, Granger." He hesitated, his gaze sketching down the autopsy report, and lingering on the part about the strange magic found in the blood of Moreau and O'Connell.

Burke took a seat at his desk, and his quill began jotting notes of its own accord on a roll of parchment.

Hermione drew an interdepartmental memo towards her and sent a brief missive to Malfoy.

"It occurs to me, however," Burke carried on, "that I may have dropped you into a situation beyond your depth and experience. I will speak to Robards about re-assigning this case to a more senior team of Aurors and Unspeakables."

Hermione swallowed the urge to counteract her superior. Would it be so terrible if she didn't have to deal with Malfoy on a daily basis? And it wasn't on her if Malfoy's first case of any real significance was taken from him.

But they had already committed so much to this, and Hermione needed to see it through.

"Sir, if I may," Hermione said, as Burke carried on reading the autopsy report. "Auror Malfoy and I have already spent days pursuing leads on this case. He has been directing a solid investigation into the death of Madame Moreau, and now Balthazar O'Connell as well."

She hesitated as Burke fixed her with his dark stare. "We have accumulated several days worth of research into the figure's origins, having met with professionals, and are currently following leads from within both the DMLE and here in the Department of Mysteries. I acknowledge that this case has taken a serious turn, but I believe Auror Malfoy and I both understand the severity and the protocol here. I believe we are capable of continuing on with this investigation."

Unspeakable Burke stared at her in silence for another long moment, his hand rising to scratch at the stubble on his jaw. Finally he released a breath, his head tilted to one side.

"I appreciate and respect your initiative, Granger," he said. "And I am not suggesting I think you to be incapable. I will allow you and Auror Malfoy to carry on with your investigation, and I will inform Robards of this decision. But I will be upgrading the severity of this case, which will require you check in with your progress daily, within both active departments."

"Done, sir," Hermione said with a nod.

"And I will be monitoring the situation closely," Burke carried on. "Lastly, please do not hesitate to come to me for help, as you have done today. I know how easily cases of an obscure nature can escalate, and I do not wish for you to find yourself in any trouble."

"Thank you," Hermione said, a smile tugging at her lips. "And I appreciate your support, sir."

"And to be completely certain," Burke said, setting the report aside, "the figure remains sealed?"

"Yes," she breathed. "It hasn't left its protective packaging in my office. It has also been warded against leaving the Department of Mysteries."

"Good," he said with a sharp nod. "Keep it there." He scratched his jaw again. "If word escaped of such a figure and it fell into the wrong hands – I'm sure I don't need to explain the severity of a situation that could follow."

"I understand," Hermione murmured.

"In fact, I would like it to be moved into the Department of Mysteries proper, into the safe artefact storage, at all times when you and Auror Malfoy are not studying it."

"I will have that done right away," Hermione agreed.

Malfoy's memo flew into Burke's office, having been redirected from the administration desk, and it confirmed arrangements to collect blood samples from St Mungo's.

"Go with Auror Malfoy," Burke requested. "And keep an eye out for anything else strange. Return here when you have the blood and we can run the tests to determine the nature of the magic. It may help us determine what we have as of yet been unable to learn about the figure."

Hermione withheld a grimace at the thought of spending more time with Malfoy, remembering how he had failed to ridicule her following her awkward conversation with Ron earlier that morning. How he had – albeit in a strange way – positioned himself to her side.

"Very well, sir, thank you," Hermione said, gathering her things. "Auror Malfoy and I will report back shortly."

Burke offered her a nod and a tight smile as she left the room, making her way back up to level two.

Draco followed Granger down to level nine, an hour after he had received her memo that they would need to collect blood samples from the coroners at St Mungo's.

She had informed him that Burke had offered to reassign the case to a team with more seniority, and how she had spoken in their defense. By the matter-of-fact way in which she had told the story, Draco suspected Granger didn't realize how much it meant to him to be able to carry on with his investigation. Not only was it his first shot at proving himself to the rest of the Aurors, but he had become fully invested.

He had set aside every other aspect of his life – including sleep – for this case.

Although he had at first been surprised Granger hadn't jumped at the chance to be rid of him, he recalled how fascinated she had been with the research. He knew while she may have felt a desire to prove herself as an Unspeakable, it was also academic for her. And knowing her type, now it was probably about providing closure for the families.

There had been nothing else notable about the bodies, and Draco had grimaced while the coroner removed the vials of blood from each of the victims. Granger's expression had been carefully stoic, but from the sharp breath she had released when they left the room, he knew she had been perhaps more affected than she had been wary to let on in front of him.

Draco had let it slide, remembering the way she had brought him a hot cup of tea that morning.

Unspeakable Burke opened his door with a grimace when Granger knocked on it.

"Granger, Auror Malfoy," Burke greeted as they trailed into his office. "I've found the spell we'll need to use to diagnose the strange magical signature in the blood. Hopefully this will be the key we've been missing."

Draco handed the two vials of blood to the Senior Unspeakable, looking on as he prepared the spell.

"Malfoy," Burke said, looking up at him. "Has the Auror's office determined the figure to be responsible for these two deaths, or are you still investigating other leads?"

"We continue to look elsewhere, but Robards and I are in agreement that it seems most likely at this point that the magic of figure is responsible in some capacity," Draco explained, and Granger's sidelong glance in his direction was unreadable. "Based on the timing, the circumstances, the fact that these were the two people to handle the figure – that we know of."

"Right," Burke said, his brow furrowing with distraction. "As I told Unspeakable Granger, the upgraded status of this case means that both Robards and myself will require daily updates, as well as to be informed of any other developments of any significance."

"Understood," Draco said with a nod. He would check in hourly if it meant he could continue leading the investigation.

"Very well," Burke said, looking between them. "We are ready. Auror Malfoy, while this isn't strictly private Unspeakable work, we are at the precipice of crossing the lines beyond your current Ministry clearance as an Auror, and I will expect your discretion moving forward."

"Yes sir," Draco confirmed. Granger cast him another inscrutable look. He returned it with a hard stare.

"The magical toxin in the blood could escape, so the spell will be conducted within the containment box," Burke explained, placing the blood samples to hover within the same sensory-free box in which Granger had initially tested the figure.

Then he began the spell, casting a complicated series of waves with his wand, some whilst speaking aloud and some silently.

Granger stood at his side, her head held high and expression neutral while her eyes focused on the box and its contents. Draco once again thought of his suspicion that Unspeakable training was militant in nature.

The glass vials vaporized, leaving the blood suspended mid-air, in a sort of slow motion expansion outward, one pool on either side of the box. Draco stared, feeling a breath catch in his throat as the blood began swirling, mixing together, caught in a miniature whirlwind inside the box.

Burke's gaze remained fixed on the blood as he carried on with the spell; there was a slight tension to Granger's shoulders belying her otherwise statuesque form.

The whirlwind escalated, and expanded again; the magic within glistened as it pulled to the surface, casting the blood with a blue-silver mask which shook and rattled within the cage of the box.

With another flick of Burke's wand, the last of the blood vanished, leaving the swirling and raging manifestation of magic alone. It inflated, doubling and tripling in size, until it was pressing against the walls of the box, causing it to shake on the desktop.

Burke whispered a continuation of the spell, and cast a convoluted wave of his wand; the rattling intensified, and Granger's eyes grew beside him. Draco felt his hand clench into a fist beside his wand holster, his breaths coming in faster. He had to admit Burke's spellwork was both impressive and unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

At the crux of the spell, the magic twisting and whorling beyond control, everything at once exploded and ceased. The tumultuous magic roiled once more and then it was trapped within a small vial inside the box.

The sudden silence and inaction felt out of place. The three of them continued staring at the box, and Burke let out a tight breath – the only indication of the release of his intense focus.

"It worked," he said, glancing between the two of them. "And thank Merlin it did." Draco sucked in a breath, allowing the sentiment to resonate for a moment before he gestured to the vial, hovering inside the box, at once innocuous and insidious.

"So that's the magic?" Draco asked, breaking the tension in the office.

"That's the magic," Burke repeated. Granger leaned forward, her hands pressing against the desk in front of the box.

"Then how come we couldn't draw it from the figure in this same way?" Draco asked, curious despite the levity of the situation.

"The magic in the blood was active; within the figure, presumably it lies latent," Burke said, rubbing his jaw. "I don't know. Keep in mind, Auror Malfoy, much of what we study here in the Department of Mysteries is just that – a mystery. It is abstract, and much of it is never seen before or again. There aren't cut and dry answers here, much as you are used to in the Auror's department."

Granger interrupted Draco's thoughts as she said, "So what do we do with it now?"

They both turned to Unspeakable Burke, whose brows were high. "Now – we figure out how it came to be."

Let me know what you think! xo

Chapter Text

Draco rose from his bed with a sort of urgency that was atypical – or had been prior to receiving his first major case as an Auror. He showered and dressed with efficiency, despite the burn in his eyes indicating another night of less than adequate sleep.

And only when Draco allowed the post owl in to deliver his copy of the Daily Prophet did he realize it was Saturday.

He sunk into the couch in his flat with a groan, running a hand through his still damp hair. His mind had been so focused on work and little else, he had automatically thought it to be a workday.

He pressed his lips together in frustration, staring around the modest but high-end flat he had purchased shortly after completing his eighth year, upon beginning Auror training. After the war, and after his father had been incarcerated in Azkaban, staying at the Manor held no interest. Perhaps one day Draco would return, when he was settled and ready to start a family of his own. But perhaps not.

He could hardly walk the halls of Malfoy Manor now without hearing the sounds of a snake slithering across the stone. Could barely turn the corner without expecting to run into a group of Death Eaters, returning from one of their Muggle raids, or worse – the revels.

Draco was happy to be in his own space – small though it was – because it was his chance to start over, on his own terms.

He had hoped pursuing an Aurorship might have offered the same opportunity – but his sins and those of his father had followed him into the DMLE.

And here he was, early on a Saturday morning, debating going to the Ministry to carry on with the case that had easily consumed his life.

But there was no sense in that, given he was to meet his mother at the Manor for tea at noon. Draco had offered to help her find a place of her own to live, and her sister, Andromeda – the two sisters had begun to patch their relationship following the war – had offered Narcissa a room in her own home.

Despite being such a large abode for one person, Narcissa was content within the Manor – or so she claimed. Draco wasn't sure whether she wasn't still processing the events of the war, or clinging to the hope that his father would one day return home.

Regargardless, it was the least Draco could do to visit her.

He set aside the Prophet, sipping a mug of tea, and looked around the flat once more. It was mostly bare, the white walls largely devoid of artwork, and few personal effects. But it was clean, and the decor was sharp.

Deciding he should set aside thoughts of work for the weekend, if he wanted to retain his sanity, Draco selected a book from the shelf against the wall and settled himself on the couch once more. Perhaps he would even owl Theo to meet him for a drink that night.

He took another sip of tea and settled into his book.

Draco strode through the Manor to the garden patio, where Narcissa preferred to take her tea during the warm summer months.

The tea service had been prepared by one of the expedient elves remaining in the Malfoy employ, but Narcissa was nowhere to be seen. Loosening his tie and collar in the heat, Draco sank into one of the wrought iron chairs to wait.

Draco heard a sound coming from the floral gardens, and rolled his eyes. Presumably his mother was trimming the flowers and lost track of time. It had always been unlike her – but since the war, she had been less proper and less punctual.

Draco had yet to decide if it was a good thing.

As he made his way down the winding path, he stopped abruptly, coming face to face with two men – both balding, both bespectacled – walking with clipboards. His mother, beaming, walked just behind.

Draco blinked, raising a brow at his mother's strange companions.

"Draco!" Narcissa exclaimed, coming forward, her hands held out. "So good of you to join us!"

"We were to have tea –"

"This is my son, Draco. Draco, please meet Mr Matias and Mr Nazar," Narcissa said, still beaming.

Draco nodded, shaking each man's hand in turn, the etiquette ingrained in him since birth rising despite the strange circumstances.

"Pleasure," he clipped. He didn't dare try and guess what these two men were doing in the gardens with his mother, so he turned to face her, a suggestive tilt to his head.

"Mr Nazar is the top floral adjudicator in all of England, Draco," Narcissa explained, her blue eyes sparkling. "Mr Matias is his assistant. They believe the hydrangeas could very well win some awards at the garden show in Devon next summer."

Draco sucked on his teeth and nodded. "Of course they could, Mother. You should be very proud."

Narcissa beamed at him once more.

"Don't forget those nasturtiums!" one of the men – Draco couldn't tell them apart – said with a boisterous chuckle. "Quite the green thumb, your mother has!"

"Right," Draco said, forcing a smile. "She always has."

"Very well, wonderful to see you Narcissa!" the man exclaimed, and the two men offered equally bland smiles as they allowed a house elf to lead them from the house.

Narcissa turned to Draco with a self-satisfied smile and settled herself into a chair on the patio. An elf was quick to pour two cups of tea and Draco stirred three sugars into his before speaking.

"You're looking well, Mother," he said, turning his gaze to her.

"Thank you, Draco," Narcissa said, her lips tweaking upwards as she gazed at him. "You look… frazzled. Fatigued."

"I suppose I do," Draco said, frowning. He hadn't realized it was so obvious.

"Must be all the ladies you know," Narcissa's brows were high, her stare pointed.

Despite the fact that Draco wasn't even twenty, Narcissa had already begun making suggestive comments with regards to the fact that he ought to settle down.

"I don't have time for women presently," Draco clipped, determined to shut that conversation down before it started. And it was true – he hadn't dated anyone in a long time. "Work is keeping me busy as it is."

"Of course," Narcissa said, her lips curved into a demure smile. "England's most promising Auror."

He didn't allow his smile to falter. "Right."

"I'm just so proud of you!" Narcissa exclaimed. "I was telling Penny Greengrass just the other day how well you're doing at the Ministry."

Draco couldn't bring himself to correct her. He had never been able to tell her about the atrocious and blatant prejudice that had been thrown his way since the day he had submitted his application into Auror training. Not when she was so proud and hopeful – and she needed some hope in her life, now more than ever.

It was one of the only things that had made her smile since Lucius had gone to Azkaban. Auror Draco and the hydrangeas.

"Absolutely," he said, fixing his gaze at a spot on the tablecloth.

"What are you working on now that's kept you so busy?" she asked, gazing at him over the top of her teacup.

At least, this was something he could be honest about. "I can't share the details of course, but I'm actually leading an investigation into a case involving two mysterious deaths and a figure imbued with strange magic. I'm working with an Unspeakable."

"An Unspeakable," Narcissa said in a hushed tone. "What is he like?"

"She, actually," Draco corrected, cursing himself the moment he did so at the way Narcissa's eyes lit up. "And I don't get along with her, so don't get any ideas."

"Surely you must, if you're working on a case together," Narcissa protested.

Draco rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed was to dig into the animosity that had existed for years between himself and Granger. "Only because we ended up together. I assure you it wasn't by choice."

Narcissa pursed her lips, taking another sip of her tea.

"Have you seen Andromeda lately?" he asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Last week," she said, waving a hand. "She and Teddy came over and spent the evening. The boy is growing like a weed, Draco."

"That's good, isn't it?" Draco asked, smirking at the thought of his young cousin. "It's good that you and Andromeda are taking the steps to mend your relationship."

"Yes, it's a good thing, Draco," Narcissa said, with a breathy sigh. "It will take time, of course."

"Of course it will," Draco assured her. "You've been cut off from one another my entire life. It makes sense that things won't be back as they were this quickly. You're different people now than you were then."

Narcissa's gaze flickered to his with something akin to gratitude. "I went to visit your father two days ago."

Draco felt himself tense at the thought of Lucius Malfoy. He still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the whole situation, especially having gone through the paces to achieve a position as an Auror. But convicted Death Eater or not, Lucius was his father and would always remain so.

"And what did he have to say?" he drawled, frowning as he turned to his mother.

"The usual," Narcissa said, her tone suddenly small. "He asked about you, and I told him about your career."

"Did you," Draco murmured, unsure how he felt about that.

"He's proud of you, Draco," Narcissa said, gazing towards the gardens. "For moving on, and creating a new life for yourself. We both are."

Draco pressed his lips into a thin line. This was why he couldn't tell his mother the truth – that he was the one doing all the paperwork no one else in the Auror's department wanted to do. That he worked three times as hard as the rest of them and still couldn't earn any respect. That he would probably never live down the sins of his familial name.

He cleared his throat and finished his cup of tea. "Thank you, Mother."

Narcissa turned back to face him, a sparkle in her blue eyes as she beamed at him, and Draco had to look away.

Hermione paced Diagon Alley, Saturday afternoon, intent on completing some errands on the weekend before settling back into her self-imposed isolation regarding the case she was working on.

She could feel the beginnings of sinus pressure building behind her temples as she replenished her ingredient stores in the apothecary on the wizarding high street. She had made arrangements to meet Harry and Daphne for lunch and briefly debated whether she would have time to return to her flat for a pain potion as she left the shop.

She shifted the heavy bag from Flourish and Blotts into her other hand as she pressed her fingertips against the spot of pain, squinting in the sudden and stark brightness of the sun. Hermione blinked several times and the dull throb dissipated slightly.

Irritating, but if she went home to get the potion she would be late returning in time for lunch with Harry. If it grew any worse she would simply go home afterwards and complete her errands the following day.

As she approached the diner where they had arranged to meet, however, she nearly turned and went home. Ron was standing with Harry and Daphne outside, dressed in his Weasley's Wizard Wheezes robes and chuckling at something.

Harry noticed her approach and waved with a sort of apologetic shrug in Ron's direction. Hermione forced a smile, unable to come up with a reasonable excuse to cancel now that she had arrived.

"Hermione!" Daphne exclaimed, stepping forward and grasping Hermione in a brief hold. Pulling back before Hermione could respond, the girl beamed at her and Hermione tugged a smile to her face in return.

"Hey, Hermione," Ron said with a grin. "Coincidence I've got my lunch break now, too! Harry said it would be fine if I join the three of you."

"Of course," Hermione murmured, turning to Ron. Something Malfoy had said the day before passed through the back of her mind, but she ignored it. She dealt with the git enough during the week.

"Great," Harry said, clapping his hands together once. "I've reserved us a table!"

Hermione followed the three of them into the restaurant, the pressure in her head settling as a dull, insistent throb and she suddenly wished she had gone home after all.

She winced at a sting of pressure, but forced the smile back to her face as Daphne's eyes met hers.

"Just a bit of a headache," Hermione murmured in explanation. Daphne offered a sympathetic smile. Hermione continued, asking, "How was your trip to Belarus?"

"Oh!" Daphne exclaimed, as if surprised Hermione had remembered. "It was lovely and successful. I only just returned to London last night."

"Wonderful," Hermione responded, pressing her fingers to her temples again as she settled into a seat beside Daphne, and across from Ron.

She took a long sip of her ice water as it was placed in front of her, hoping it would settle the dull ache in her head. She ought to have simply picked up a pain potion while she was at the apothecary, but at the time she hadn't wanted to spend money on something she already had at home. Now she was regretting that frugality.

"Hermione, how is your case going?" Ron asked, his brows high and expectant.

"It's hard to say," Hermione said, "and of course I can't explain any of the details, but the situation is constantly changing with new information being discovered all the time. At least the case hasn't gone cold."

"Right," Ron nodded.

"And you? How is the shop doing?" she felt obliged to ask, even as the pressure in her head grew distracting, and the lamp hovering over the table grew blinding. She wondered whether anyone would notice if she dimmed it with her wand.

"Great," Ron said with a tight smile. "Yeah, doing really well."

"That's good," Hermione said with a nod. Her stomach rolled at the pain, and she didn't know whether she would even be able to eat.

She placed her order as the waitress appeared, selecting an item at random from the menu. She pressed the side of her face into her hand, trying to steady her breathing.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Daphne asked with alarm, turning to her.

"I'm –" Hermione said, cutting off with a breath – "not sure."

Harry and Ron frowned, and through her blurred gaze she saw as they exchanged a concerned glance.

"I think I should go home," Hermione breathed, attempting to stand and collect her bags. She fumbled in her pocket for a few coins for the food she had already ordered, but Daphne caught her wrist, rising to stand as well.

"I think you need to go to St Mungo's," the girl pushed, and Harry and Ron muttered their agreement. She found herself nodding, lacking the energy to protest.

"Healer Nott," Hermione choked, despite the fact that he had been awkward the last time she had been there and provided her poor food for laughs. If it was somehow connected to the spell that had hit her, Nott would be the best to see.

Daphne slipped a hand around her waist as Hermione's balance gave way, her knees buckling as the pounding pressure in her skull grew excruciating.

She gasped, her vision swimming as tears broke from the corners of her eyes.

"Nott, I've got it," Daphne repeated, and Hermione thought she might have shared a look with Harry, who swept in to take Hermione's dead weight from his girlfriend, casting a weightless charm on her; her brain felt thick as the shimmer of magic danced across her skin.

Hermione bit back a whimper, grasping her head with tense fingers. It felt as if someone were trying to smash out from inside her head with a large rock.

Her eyes rolled back into her head and she welcomed the blessed darkness.

Hermione awoke to a similar situation as the one in which she'd been several days ago, except for the fact that Nott was leaning over her, his brow furrowed in consternation as he waved his wand across her face.

Hermione nearly jumped from the hospital bed as her eyes met his, wide with surprise.

"You," she hissed, clutching her head – the monstrous migraine she could last remember had settled to a low ache.

"You're back," Nott muttered, shaking his head. He took a step back, jotting something onto his clipboard. "With the most tremendous pressure on your brain I've ever seen."

Hermione scowled, wishing she had been able to request a different Healer. But in the moment, all she could think of was the fact that Nott had told her everything was fine.

"So what's actually wrong with me?" Hermione asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"Fuck if I know," Nott grumbled under his breath and Hermione hissed at him. "I mean it – the Unspeakables who cast the spell that backfired refuse to say anything about what they were doing."

"As they should!" Hermione exclaimed, defensive on behalf of her co-Unspeakables. "It is very important and secretive work!"

"Then how am I supposed to know how to treat this, Granger? You could have died today if Daphne had been much later bringing you in!" Nott carded a hand through his hair, looking more harried and serious than Hermione had ever seen him.

Hermione blinked at him, her nose scrunching up. "Really?"

"Yes, Granger, really," Nott said, rolling his eyes. "I have no idea what's wrong with you. And since I knew you wouldn't trust my expertise, I had my supervisor take a look as well, after she stopped your head from exploding with the most outrageous cocktail of potions I've seen."

Hermione felt a harsh breath expel from her chest. She gasped, "Oh."

"So if the Unspeakables won't tell me what they hit you with, they'd damn well better tell you unless they want that to happen again!" Nott exclaimed, waving an anxious hand. "I have to go report to my supervisor, but you need to eat while I'm gone. And take all of those!"

He gestured to a plate of food and a row of glass vials. Her eyes narrowed at the food, remembering the trick Nott had played on her the last time she had been here.

Really, he must have been a terrible Healer to make light of his patients' situations. Although, he certainly didn't seem to be acting that way now.

"It's bloody fine," he hissed, following her gaze. "No jokes today. I'll be back soon."

Once Hermione was alone she picked at the food, wondering how long she had been out. It must have been a while if Harry and Daphne were no longer there. Her stomach felt as if it were eating itself; almost without realizing it she had annihilated the entire plate. And true to his word, Nott had given her an edible meal this time.

She felt the buzz of magic atop the crown of her head and realized Nott must have been scanning her brain activity again. A sting of terror struck her at the thought that the spell with which she had been accidentally hit was manifesting itself in some strange way in her brain.

The thought that she could have died because of it…

She would contact Unspeakable Calisto first thing Monday morning and see if she could get more information that she could translate to Nott without revealing any private Unspeakable information.

Briefly, she debated sending an owl to Malfoy to inform him that she was in St Mungo's, but it was only Saturday and hopefully she wouldn't need to miss any work. And if she let him know he would probably scoff or find some way to ridicule her, so if she didn't have to, she wouldn't.

Nott returned ten minutes later, in a serious discussion with a woman Hermione presumed to be his supervisor.

The woman looked up, sharp gaze piercing Hermione's. "My name is Healer Randall. You gave us a scare, Unspeakable Granger."

"I don't know what sort of spell I was hit with," Hermione said, chewing the inside of her cheek. "So I can't give you any information."

Healer Randall frowned, her stare flickering briefly to Nott, who shrugged in an absent sort of way. She approached the bed and assessed the magic that was circling the top of Hermione's head, shaking her head.

"WIthout knowing what sort of spell has affected you, Unspeakable Granger, it will be difficult to ensure this does not happen again," Randall said.

"I'll talk to Unspeakable Burke," Hermione said, her jaw tight. "Perhaps he will be able to help the situation. At the least, he will know better than I do what protocol merits here."

"Good," Randall said, her voice gruff. "I suggest you owl him now."

Hermione frowned at the thought of disturbing Burke on the weekend. "How long have I been here?"

"Daphne brought you in around half twelve," Nott said, collecting the empty potions vials from the bedside table. "It is now almost ten o'clock."

"Ten," Hermione gasped. "I've been here for over nine hours!"

"We had to knock you out, Unspeakable Granger," Randall explained. "Your vitals seem stable for now. Send that owl and we will see about how to proceed. It may take a couple of days."

"I need to be back at work on Monday," Hermione protested, her eyes widening.

"What you need is to remain alive," Randall clipped before she offered Hermione and Nott a solemn nod and vacated the room.

Hermione pressed her lips together as Nott handed her a quill and parchment; she scribbled the letter and handed it back to him.

"Send this to Unspeakable Burke, please," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "He is the head of the Department of Mysteries. And for the love of Merlin – please don't mention this to Malfoy."

"Noted," Nott said, tucking the letter into the front pocket of his robes. He sniffed. "And Draco already knows."

"What?" Hermione snapped, "how does he know?"

"I owled him," Nott shrugged. "You're working together, aren't you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering whether Nott had always been so daft. "That doesn't mean he needs to know what I'm doing on a bleeding Saturday!"

"He asked me to let him know if you landed back in here," Nott said, sucking on his teeth. He raised his brows, unimpressed.

Hermione blinked several times while his words sunk in. "He asked you?"

Had she perhaps misjudged Malfoy? Maybe he was more open to their newfound partnership than she had realized.

"Yes," Nott said, "he said if you got yourself killed it would reflect poorly on him."

Hermione huffed a sigh, shaking her head, even as her eyes rolled and lips twitched. She should have expected something along those lines.

"Of course he did," she muttered to himself. "If he happens to come by to shred into me, I don't want to see him."

Nott snorted in the back of his throat. "Of course not. Take it easy, Granger. I'll be back to check on you in a while. Try not to do anything too… studious."

With another snicker, Nott swept from the room.

Chapter Text

Hermione blinked awake to see Unspeakable Burke seated in the bedside chair of her hospital room. He wore a frown as he gazed out the window and his eyes swivelled to meet hers when she stirred.

"Unspeakable Granger. Good, you're awake." Burke twirled his wand in one hand; he wasn't prone to fidgeting and Hermione wondered what was on his mind.

She became aware of the cognition tracking spells still whirring above her head.

"Unspeakable Burke," she nodded. Her gaze lingered on the clock on the wall for a moment; she had slept through Saturday night. "Is something the matter?"

Burke's eyebrows flickered but he didn't respond other than to return his gaze to the window. When Hermione was about to speak again, Burke clicked his tongue. "I've warded this room against all possible forms of intrusion." His heavy gaze landed on hers again. "I've spoken with Unspeakable Calisto and her team, at Healer Randall's insistence that we break protocol to inform her of the spell with which you were hit."

Hermione chewed her tongue despite the curiosity tearing at her. The spell had nearly killed her; she was rattled but waited for Burke to continue.

"The spell was a backfired attempt at a little-known and complex thought-related charm," Burke continued, his lips pursed. "As of now, we don't know what exactly it's done."

Hermione released a sigh. "Is there a way to reverse the spell?"

Burke's nostrils flared. "Not that we know of, without knowing what went wrong."

She swallowed, forcing her breathing to regulate. The last thing she needed was to lose her temper on her boss, not to mention a man that she trusted with her life. "So I'll just go on feeling as if my head is going to erupt until it kills me, then?"

Burke raised his pointer finger, his face twisted in thought, and then dropped the hand. "No. According to Healer Randall, the spell has been shifting since you were struck with the attack yesterday afternoon. It's… manifested."

Hermione paused, her heart racing in her chest. "Manifested. Into what?"

"That is what we don't know," Unspeakable Burke said with a tense shrug. She could see the way anger simmered just beneath his calm visage. "Rest assured, Granger, that Unspeakable Calisto's team will be adequately dealt with. It was a serious breach of protocol that you were hit with that spell."

"So I'm not going to have any more of those dreadful headaches?" Hermione asked, not sure whether she would prefer the headaches or an unknown manifestation of complex magic.

"Apparently not," Unspeakable Burke bit out. "The magic has levelled off as the Healers have been monitoring it. Maybe you've developed the ability to speak to animals, or learn languages in an instant – maybe it's harmless. But all we know at this point is that it'll be related to your thinking and cognition."

Hermione couldn't decide whether that was upsetting or not. On some level, the idea of having an extra sensory ability appealed to her.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said. "I appreciate you looking into the situation."

"And I'll ask you to exercise caution in keeping the details of this to yourself," Burke said, raising a brow. "I'll inform Healer Randall and her team as much as they need to know." His gaze flickered to the door as he stood up and began releasing the wards from the room. "And you can tell that blasted Auror waiting in the hall. I'll feel better knowing he understands the situation, in case anything else happens."

"The Auror waiting in the hall?" Hermione asked, blinking. "Do you mean Harry Potter, sir?"

Unspeakable Burke waved a hand. "Your partner on the case. Auror Malfoy."

"Right," Hermione swallowed. Why on Earth was Malfoy at St Mungo's on a Sunday morning? "Thank you again, sir."

"Look after yourself, Granger."

With that Burke swept from the room. Hermione braced herself, expecting her next visitor any moment.

She wasn't wrong – Malfoy slipped through the door a few minutes later clutching a tall paper cup of tea. He scowled at her as he took up the seat Unspeakable Burke had just vacated.

"Theo told me you nearly died yesterday." He took a sip of his tea.

"Thanks for the consideration," Hermione said, feeling her lip curl.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, huffing in irritation. "You're alive, aren't you? Did you want me to walk in here sobbing? We have work to do, and I need to make sure you can do it."

Hermione fixed him with a hard stare. "You can leave."

He shook his head, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I'm glad you're fucking alive, Granger. Happy? Burke just filled me in on the situation, and so you know, I don't intend to babysit you."

"Good thing I don't need a babysitter," Hermione spat.

Malfoy's eyes rolled back with exaggeration. "Whatever, Granger. Are you going to be at work tomorrow or not?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I only just woke up, I haven't even seen Nott yet."

"If you aren't, I'm bringing your research here," Malfoy said, running a hand through his hair. "We need to figure out what sort of magic was in Moreau's and O'Connell's bloodstreams. And, we need to test it against the magic of the figure to see what we can learn."

"We can't access the magic of the figure," Hermione sighed, even as she picked at the thin hospital comforter she wore. She felt oddly disarmed to be in bed while Malfoy sat beside her. But she would much rather debate work with him than argue like children. "Do you have any other leads on your side of the case?"

"Not now that every trail has led to the figure," he admitted. "Although I ought to follow up with Francois Moreau." He frowned, clicking his tongue. "Here's the thing, Granger: do we really have any leads right now? We can't access the source of the magic in the figure, and while we're in agreement the figure is responsible for the deaths, we can't exactly move forward."

"We will need to find a way to release the latent magic from within the carving," Hermione said, knitting her brows. "But I don't know of a way to do that, other than –"

"– other than exposing ourselves to it," Malfoy grumbled. "Which we certainly are not doing."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment while he sipped his cup of tea. "Even if we find out what sort of magic it is – what then?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, looking up at her, his chin tucked. "I've no fucking idea."

They both jumped, startled, as Nott walked into the room; Hermione blinked at the brightness of his green robes, and Malfoy scowled, leaning back in his seat.

Nott faltered, his gaze sweeping between them. "Obviously I'm interrupting a top secret conversation. Or some sort of lover's quarrel." His lips curled as he snickered. "But Granger needs her medicine."

"When will I be discharged?" Hermione asked, ignoring him.

"When you're ready," Nott clipped, casting several spells as he inspected the brain diagnostic running above her head. "Rather, when Healer Randall decides she's observed enough."

"Unspeakable Burke spoke with Healer Randall," Hermione ground through her teeth. "I have important work to do, and I can't do it from this bed!"

She caught sight of Malfoy, observing the situation with mild amusement, one arm folded across his chest while the other held his cup. Malfoy and Nott exchanged a glance and Hermione clenched a fist beneath her blankets.

"It isn't my call to make," Nott said. "Or frankly, Granger, I would have sent you away already."

Malfoy snickered and Hermione scowled at him.

"Pints tonight?" Nott asked; Hermione blinked, startled, until she realized he was asking Malfoy.

"Right," the blond responded from his chair, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Granger, you in?" Nott asked, his brows high. "Oh right, you can't – you're stuck here in the hospital."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the man, wondering not for the first time how he had achieved such a coveted position as Healer. She thought she heard Malfoy mutter, "Thank Merlin," under his breath, and wished they would both leave.

She caught Malfoy's amused grey eyes again, and for a moment she debated crashing their snobbish outing – only she knew they would somehow turn it against her. She squashed that idea without hesitation.

"As much fun as this is," Malfoy drawled, his brows flickering, "I'd sooner watch Mother's flowers grow, so I'm going to leave. Granger, if I don't hear from you by nine tomorrow morning, I'll send a stack of books to your room. But to be fair, you'd probably enjoy that."

"Drink these," Nott said, shoving a handful of potions at her. "I'll check with Healer Randall to see if we can get rid of you yet."

He had to be the least professional Healer ever.

Hermione clenched her jaw and ignored them both.

Draco frowned as he breezed through the entrance of St Mungo's the following morning. He hadn't heard anything from Granger since he had seen her in the hospital the day before, and following a quick owl to Nott, he learned she was still being kept for observation.

Perhaps the spell she had been hit with was more serious than he had originally thought. He felt a twinge over his flippant dismissal the day prior.

He had selected a handful of books from their extensive catalogue of research and thrown them into a bag before reporting in to Auror Robards – and from there he made his way to St Mungo's.

He tried not to allow himself to think of the fact that Robards had immediately granted him leave once the man heard Draco was meeting up with Granger, as if he were only allowed to leave the Ministry while being babysat by the girl.

Scowling, he stopped at the St Mungo's first-floor cafeteria and purchased himself a cup of tea. As he was about to walk away, he rolled his eyes and threw down a few more coins for a second cup – Earl Grey, one sugar.

It wouldn't hurt to start the day off on Granger's good side, given he didn't know what type of situation he could be walking into. For all he knew, Granger was on a rampage over being kept from her work and was looking for someone on whom to take her anger out.

He adjusted the cross-body strap of his heavy bag as he picked up Granger's tea as well, then made his way to the lifts.

When he tapped on the door of her room with an elbow and was allowed in by a Healer he didn't recognize, however, his eyes widened.

Granger's eyes were fixed, resolute, on her comforter while a team of Healers bustled about the room. Healer Randall stood at Granger's bedside, her expression stern, while Theo leaned against the wall, his arms folded and face pensive.

"What's going on?" Draco asked as he approached Theo.

"We don't know," Theo said, with a flicker of his brows. He looked like Draco had felt early that morning – the pair had stayed at the Leaky later than intended the night before. "The cognition diagnostic spell went berserk about an hour ago. Randall said she's never seen anything like it."

Draco's brow furrowed as Granger looked up and stared at him; her face was grim, with worry lines around her eyes.

Releasing a long exhale, he sidled to the other side of Granger's bed from where Healer Randall was working, performing a number of spells; sparks of various colours flew around the wild crown of Granger's hair.

Her gaze fixed on his as Draco dropped the Earl Grey onto her bedside table. "Thought you might be up for some tea."

Her expression shifted, one eye squinting for a moment. "Thanks, Malfoy."

"Right," Draco said, shoving his free hand into his pocket. "So do they think you're going to survive?"

"Of course I'm going to survive," she scoffed, but Draco heard an undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice. "It's a matter of what the spell has done now. It's been… shifting."

"It's strengthening," Healer Randall said in a sharp tone. "Unspeakable Granger won't be able to do any work until we're through here."

"Fine," Draco said with a shrug, making his way back to where Theo stood out of the way. He slipped his heavy bag from his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor beside him.

"Thanks for the tea," Theo said, raising a brow. "Granger gets one but not me, eh. I see how it is."

"Fuck off," Draco muttered beneath his breath. "You're fully capable of getting your own bloody tea." The amused curve of Theo's mouth made Draco uneasy. "She's fucking injured, alright?"

"Yes," Theo said, nodding. "Of course. I get it, Draco – you're working together, spending time in tight quarters…"

Draco scoffed. "You've seen too many of those Muggle pictures. There have been no tight quarters."

Theo snickered. "I'm only messing with you, mate. But you are awfully defensive."

"She's Granger," Draco deadpanned. He cringed at the thought of working too closely with her.

"Fair point," Theo conceded.

"Nott!" Healer Randall snapped, and Theo pushed himself away from the wall by his shoulders, his eyes wide as he vanished from Draco's side.

Draco took a sip of his tea, eyeing the chaos from a safe distance. Not for the first time, he wondered whether he would be dealing with this case alone – a case which he already hung onto by just a thread. And in any foreseeable circumstances, that would mean the case would be given to another Unspeakable and another Auror.

Draco couldn't let that happen – he would drag Granger into the Ministry hooked up to all manner of magical gadgets if that's what it took for the two of them to keep this case.

After another twenty minutes or so, the Healers stepped away, making furious notes on clipboards. Theo and Healer Randall looked to be deep in discussion, their brows furrowed, while two training Healers flitted around Granger, offering her a series of vials.

Finally the team of Healers vacated the room, leaving Draco alone with her. She turned an exhausted stare on him, but didn't speak. She lifted the cup from the nightstand, releasing the steam from the sealed lid.

"I put a stasis charm on it," Draco said, breaking the tense silence. He hauled his bag to her bedside and took a seat in the chair.

Granger fixed him with her curious gaze for a moment before taking a sip. Up close, he could see the frustration and nerves in her face.

"It's incredibly nerve-wracking, not knowing what's happening to me," she said, her voice delicate yet conversational as she set the tea on the bedside table.

"I can imagine," Draco said, crossing one foot over the other knee. He stared at her for a long moment, pressing his lips together. "If you'd rather not work today, I'm sure I can handle it on my own. If you need some time alone."

He didn't even know why he made the offer, but for the fatigue in her eyes.

Her shoulders sunk. Her voice was small as she said, "I could use the distraction."

Draco nodded, then drew a stack of books from his bag, settling them on the edge of the bed beside her.

"My thoughts with regards to our next steps, is that we try to activate the latent magic in the figure to see how that goes," Draco listed, "or, we can run tests on the magic drawn from the blood of the two victims."

"Which we can't do until we can get back into the Department of Mysteries," Granger said, her voice quiet. "Merlin, this is annoying."

Draco sighed, staring at her again as she shifted through the books. Her countenance, her tone of voice, the absence of her usual haughtiness – Draco took a long sip of his tea.

"Are you alright, Granger?" he asked; she met his gaze, her brown eyes startled.

And despite the vehement assurance he had perhaps expected, Granger merely frowned. "I just wish I knew."

"Maybe," Draco began, glancing away. "It's a good thing."

"I've tried to tell myself that, too," Granger said. "Maybe it's enhanced something, or awoken something. We use such a small portion of our brains, after all. But I can't help the thought that it's eating away at my brain, or something. I know that sounds ridiculous."

What she really needed, Draco thought, was to get out of the hospital for a while.

But that wasn't an option for the time being.

"I mean…" Draco glanced up at her. "For all you know, it could be eating your brain." She scowled at him and Draco chuckled. "Forget it for now, Granger. And forget work, too. We can work on this shite later."

"We ought to try and figure out what the –"

"Granger," Draco said, holding up a hand. To his surprise, she cut herself off, staring at him, her face wary. "You ought to distract yourself for a while. And work isn't going to do that."

Granger's tongue darted out, moistening her lower lip. "If this is some weird attempt to come on to me –"

"No, Granger," Draco scoffed, glaring at her. "And for the record, if I was going to come on to you, which I'm not, it wouldn't be fucking weird."

"Right," Granger said, the corners of her lips twitching. "You're never weird."

Draco blinked, his brow furrowing. "I'm not weird."

Granger clicked her tongue but didn't answer.

"I'm not," Draco repeated, leveling her with a scowl. "Of the two of us, you're definitely the weird one."

Granger rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the stack of books on the bed. Draco hesitated, about to leave the room after all, but he collected the books from the bed and set them aside instead.

"So what, then?" she asked, folding her arms. "How do you propose to distract me?"

Draco scratched the back of his neck, staring at her. "We should play a game or something."

"A game," Granger echoed, skeptical. "Have you lost your mind? What sort of a game?"

"Maybe since we're going to be working together." Draco dug the toe of his boot into the stark white floor. "It couldn't hurt to know more about one another."

"You're serious, Malfoy," Granger gaped. "You have lost your mind."

"Apparently I have." Draco released a sigh. "Look, bad idea. Whatever. Enjoy your books."

He shook his head, rising to his feet and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Granger stared at him, her expression vacant. He collected his cup of tea and made for the door.

As he reached for the handle she said, "What's your favourite colour, Malfoy?"

Draco froze, his fingers twitching for the door but he clenched his jaw, turning on the spot. His eyes narrowed; Granger was watching him, her shoulders tense.

He lifted his chin. "Purple."

"Purple?" Granger repeated. "Like, fuschia? Lilac? Violet?"

"More like royal purple," Draco said. He sunk back into his seat, sipping his tea. "Like eggplant."

"Fascinating," Granger said, drawing out the syllables.

He placed his tea on her end table and interlocked his fingers, settling his hands on his stomach. "Yours?"

"Believe it or not, mine is green. Or it was, until I met you."

"Green," Draco repeated, feeling a grin tug on his mouth. "You'd have liked the Slytherin common room, Granger."

"Perhaps," she said, meeting his gaze, a certain measure of the insecurity she had displayed before replaced with a familiar defiance. "Your turn."

Draco considered for a moment; if he asked her anything too personal, she would refuse to answer. "What was your favourite subject at Hogwarts?"

"Arithmancy," Granger said, a tilt to her head. "Or Ancient Runes."

"Ancient Runes as well," Draco returned with a nod. "Although I also enjoyed Divination, when Firenze taught it."

"You." Granger's eyebrows shot into her hair. "Enjoyed Divination."

Draco raised a hand, pointing into the air. "Not Trelawney's version. She was completely batty."

"I have a hard time accepting that someone like you believes in all that nonsense," Granger said, shaking her head.

Draco frowned, a wrinkle forming in the bridge of his nose. "What do you mean, nonsense? Divination is perfectly valid."

"It's a load of crock!" Granger exclaimed, her mouth hanging open as she stared at him.

Draco shook his head. "Do you know, Granger, why your blood status was actually ever even a factor, never mind all the prejudice and propaganda of the war?"

She narrowed her eyes, jaw clenching with rising fury. Draco held up a hand before she could erupt.

"It's because, despite all the things you learned about magic one day, completely out of the blue, you still refused to believe in Divination, based on experiences with one half-cooked woman." Draco shook his head. "Divination is one of the oldest, most respected branches of magic to have ever existed. But you came into this world, not knowing about things like that. And I'm not saying that was your fault, or within your control at all, but it is what it is all the same."

Granger scowled at him, her teeth clicking shut.

"If you had bothered to study the subject, you'd know that Divination is older than wand-wielding. Even you can't deny that some magic comes naturally to some and not others." Draco frowned, tapping a hand on the arm of his chair. "Look at yourself, for instance. No magic in the familial line, yet you were top of our year with absolute consistency. Even now, look at what you've achieved in becoming an Unspeakable fresh from school. Can you really say all magic, and by extension, all magic-users, are equal?"

Granger hesitated for a moment, blinking at him. "No. But that doesn't mean you can see the future through tea leaves and mumbo-jumbo."

"Not just anyone," Draco conceded. "But there are legitimate seers. And if you saw one of them, saw a practitioner of real Divination, your mind would be blown. People can see the future, and the past; they can see alternate dimensions, and different timelines – what could have been."

"Have you met someone like that?" Granger asked, her eyes narrowed.

"When I was young," Draco said. "Genuine, multi-faceted seers are rare. But they're as real as you or I."

"If it's an alternate dimension, you can't know whether it was real or not," Granger said, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Draco rolled his eyes. "So little faith, for someone who's seen half as much as you have. If you saw a seer like that, you'd believe in it."

Granger glared at him, and for a moment he thought she was going to say she would rather work on the case instead. "What do you do for fun?"

Draco blinked in surprise. "Quidditch. Reading. I'll have a drink or two at the Leaky on occasion."

"Shocking," Granger muttered under her breath. "I like to read, too." Draco snickered. "And I like to paint."

"You paint," Draco said, raising a brow. "I like to draw."

"You should show me something you've drawn." Granger was eyeing him closely when he looked up, a challenge in her face.

"Not a chance. I don't draw to show anyone, I do it because it relaxes me." Draco felt a twist in his stomach; it wasn't something he usually shared with anyone. "And I'm not very good, anyway."

"Humility isn't a shade I've ever seen you wear, Malfoy," Granger said, her head quirking to the side. Draco scowled at her.

"If you were an animagus, what would you want to be?" Draco asked, changing the subject.

"Well, my Patronus is an otter, so that might be nice," Granger said, drumming her fingers on the comforter. "But to be a bird, I think, would feel so free."

Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. "A bird would be nice. Or a wildcat. A cheetah or something like that."

"Oh, that would be fun, too!" Granger exclaimed. "What's your Patronus?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "I don't have one."

Granger's brow furrowed; Draco wished he hadn't brought up the subject of animal forms at all. "Have you tried?" He wished he couldn't see the hesitation in her gaze.

"It doesn't matter," he clipped. "And that was a waste of your question, by the way. My turn."

Granger opened her mouth to argue but Draco cut her off. "Your favourite time of year?"

Chapter Text

Draco looked up in surprise at a tall cup of tea landing on his desk. He followed the arm to see Granger staring down at him, chewing the inside of her cheek. She wore some sort of extravagant wide-brimmed summer hat with her Unspeakable robes; Draco quirked a brow at her untoward fashion sense.

"What's with the hat?" he asked, scrunching up his face.

She released a tight breath. "Healer Randall's still observing my brain but I convinced her to let me out of St Mungo's. Only I have to wear this awful hat; it's imbued with the cognition diagnostics tracking my brainwaves."

"Noted," Draco said, with a flicker of his brows. "You could probably transfigure it into something less… atrocious."

Granger released a breath, scowling. "Mind your own."

"Thanks for the tea," Draco said, returning to the notes he was taking.

"Nothing worth mentioning in here," Granger said, stacking books one at a time on his desk, from within her bag. "I spent half the night going through this lot."

"Nothing here, either," Draco said. "I wonder if we've reached something too specific to be found in any of these books."

"Probably," Granger shrugged. "We can attempt to draw the latent magic out of the figure today."

"Let's do that," Draco agreed. "I met with Francois Moreau this morning, but nothing new. And no updates on either Madame Moreau or Balthazar O'Connell. All the leads here in the DMLE are currently dead."

Granger clicked her tongue a few times. "Fine. We might have to talk to Unspeakable Burke later, but we can see about attempting to expose the figure to something inside the zero-sensory box. Maybe we can draw the magic out of it that way."

"We'll have to try it," Draco said, nodding. "Otherwise we might be able to study the magic extracted from the bloodstreams of our victims. Have you got a spell that can do that?"

"I'm sure I do," Granger said with a small shrug. "Come on, then."

Hermione scowled as she counted to ten in her head, willing her breathing to slow.

It had been an unproductive afternoon; every spell they had cast in an attempt to draw out the latent magic of the sculpture had done nothing. Malfoy's cursing and huffing had far surpassed irritating, and Hermione was ready to throw him out of her office.

She wondered how they had managed to survive a somewhat amicable afternoon the day before when she had been in the hospital. Despite herself, she was curious as to why he had even bothered.

"Can you move your fucking hat!" he exclaimed, batting the overlarge brim of it out of the way as he bent over one of Hermione's spellbooks.

"I cannot," Hermione grit through her teeth, "I need to wear this."

"If it were me," he sneered, "I'd sooner cut off my own head. But we always knew your fashion sense wasn't strong."

"At least I wear colours other than black!" Hermione exclaimed, clenching her jaw as she lost control of her anger management.

"I also wear grey and white," Malfoy drawled, his finger tracing a line in the book he was reading. "Did you try this one?"

"Yes, we did," Hermione rolled her eyes. "That was the one where literally nothing happened."

"Well you could help me look," he scowled.

"What about the condensed magic from the blood?" Hermione said, pressing her fingers to her temples beneath the brim of the hat as she sank into her chair. "This figure is giving us nothing to work with."

"What are we even supposed to do with it?" Malfoy asked, throwing his hands into the air.

"We need to determine its origins," Hermione growled, nearly tearing a page from her book in her anger. On a sharp intake of breath she soothed the battered page, pressing a crease from the paper. "If we can find where it came from – it has to have had a purpose, right?"

"I don't know," Malfoy snarled. "Maybe it had a purpose four thousand years ago, but it doesn't anymore."

"Well we are getting nowhere!" Hermione huffed. "You might as well go back to the DMLE. If we keep working on this here, one of us will kill the other."

"You aren't getting rid of me from the case, Granger," Malfoy spun on her with an accusatory gesture. "You and Burke need Robards' approval to extract the case from Auror involvement."

"That was not my intention, Malfoy, but now I'm thinking about it," Hermione snapped. "Now leave my office! Get your bleeding tea, or firewhiskey, or Merlin cares what."

"Fuck this," Malfoy exclaimed, throwing his notes into his bag. "Fuck you and the figure and the magic."

"Eloquent, Malfoy," Hermione snipped, shaking her head. She wanted to bury her face in her hands at the oncoming migraine she felt, but didn't trust Malfoy not to hex her if she exposed her back to him.

She scrawled a quick memo to Harry and sent it up to level two while Malfoy packed his things.

Once he was gone, Hermione released several long breaths, forcing herself to calm down. He drew the worst side of her to the surface and Hermione was tired of it.

She would solve this damn case on her own, if that's what it took.

Harry's returning memo was quick and brief, and Hermione exhaled a sigh of relief. An evening at the Leaky with her friends was just what her frazzled nerves needed.

Hermione Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron shortly after eight o'clock that evening, smiling when she saw Harry and Daphne already seated at a long table with Dean and Seamus.

"Alright, Hermione?" Harry asked, a wide grin on his face and one arm slung around Daphne's shoulders.

"Alright," Hermione agreed, settling into the open seat beside Daphne. "It has been a tiresome day, to say the least."

"Hermione, that's quite the hat," Daphne said, her face inscrutable as she took in Hermione's extravagant headpiece.

"It's monitoring my brainwaves," Hermione said, wishing she could have left the damn thing at home. She had almost forgotten she was wearing it.

"Still no progress on that case with Malfoy?" Harry asked, his face scrunched up. "That would certainly be exhausting, working with him as much as you have been."

"He changes his mood faster than I can keep track of," Hermione admitted. "But no matter. I don't have to deal with him tonight!"

"He's always been that way," Daphne said with a chuckle.

Hermione smiled as Hannah delivered her usual drink order to the table. "Thank you, Hannah!"

"Of course, Hermione," Hannah replied with a smile. "Anything to eat for you?"

Hermione considered for a moment. She had stayed late at work, trudging through countless spellbooks, none of which turned up anything. As a result, she had failed to eat dinner, and if she intended to have a couple drinks, she would need something to eat.

"Fish and chips, I think, please," Hermione returned.

"An excellent choice," Hannah agreed with a click of her tongue. The girl swept away, nearly running into Neville as he stepped through the Floo, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed. Neville nodded at the group as he took the seat beside Dean.

Hermione took a long sip of her firewhiskey, feeling the warm liquid flow down her throat and settle in her stomach. She closed her eyes, savouring the first sip, allowing the stress of the day to slough away.

"How have things been in International Cooperation?" Hermione asked, turning to Daphne, who offered a bright smile. The girl was growing on Hermione with her cheerful personality. And Harry was more than a little smitten, if the look in his emerald eyes said anything.

"Oh, just excellent, thanks for asking, Hermione!" Daphne exclaimed. "It's never too early to start planning the logistics of the next Quidditch World Cup, and the British Ministry is always taking strides to improve amnesty with other Wizarding societies."

"It sounds quite interesting," Hermione admitted. "Some days being an Unspeakable is incredibly complicated."

"I imagine so," Daphne sympathized. "Although foreign dignitaries can be a handful as well."

Hermione snickered and nodded. "I would guess so."

As she took another sip of her drink, Daphne's attention was drawn to the door and her face lit up with recognition as she waved to the newcomers.

Hermione followed Daphne's gaze, and nearly choked on her firewhiskey as her stomach leapt into her throat. She wanted to vanish into her seat at the sight of a familiar head of pale blond hair, and she rolled her eyes as she saw Malfoy standing with Nott and Zabini, in conversation as they scouted for an open table.

Hannah slipped around the three former Slytherins to deposit Hermione's meal before her, despite that her appetite had just vanished.

"We've got plenty of room here!" Daphne exclaimed when she caught Nott's eye. Malfoy and Zabini exchanged a glance as Nott sauntered over, dropping into the seat beside Hermione and swiping one of her chips.

Malfoy followed, hands in his pockets as he fixed Hermione with a hard stare, Zabini at his side. They selected the two seats across from Hermione and Nott. She pressed her lips together and met Harry's gaze as she looked away; his eyes were concerned and Hermione offered him a small shrug, forcing a smile.

Zabini offered a tight nod and a smile at the occupants of the table. Seamus, Dean and Neville returned to their conversation and Hermione was left to swat at Nott's hand as he reached for another of her chips.

"How have you been, Daph?" Malfoy asked, his shoulders tense as if he expected a brawl to break out at any moment.

"I've been excellent, Draco!" the chipper blonde exclaimed, "and you?"

"Fine," Malfoy returned, nodding. Hannah delivered their drinks shortly and he took a sip of his ale.

Hermione met Zabini's dark eyes across from her, and he leaned in and muttered something to Malfoy, who snickered.

"Nice hat, Granger," Zabini remarked, raising one dark brow.

"It's fucking ridiculous, is what it is," Nott responded, poking at the wide brim.

"You bloody gave it to me!" Hermione exclaimed, glaring at Nott beside her. "And you know better than anyone why I have to wear it."

Malfoy laughed, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin. "It really is terrible, but Granger's already been given enough shite over the hat today."

Hermione blinked at him. He gave her a sort of half-hearted shrug in return, his eyes rolling back in a self-deprecating way. The man was hot and cold like the weather, she was certain.

"The best part," Nott said, stealing Hermione's fork and shearing off a piece of her fish, "is that Healer Randall was going to give you something unobtrusive and natural. I convinced her you were the ostentatious type."

"Nott!" Hermione fumed, snatching her fork back out of his hand. Across the table, Zabini and Malfoy broke into a fit of laughter and Hermione huffed, turning to Daphne and Harry instead.

But the couple were wrapped up in one another, talking in low voices, and Hermione shook her head, wishing she had stayed home after all.

"Also," Nott said, and Hermione smacked his hand as he made to steal another of her chips, "Randall said this afternoon you don't need to wear it anymore. The magic has levelled off; your brainwaves are no longer shifting under the influence of the spell."

"And no one thought to tell me?" Hermione asked, her teeth ground together.

"I'm telling you now," Nott said with a shrug.

Zabini laughed again, shaking his head. Hermione wrenched the hat from her head, fixing the wild curls beneath it. Zabini said, "Nott, get your own fucking meal, yeah?"

Hermione stared at him, her eyes narrowing on instinct. She couldn't tell if they were being deliberately antagonistic or not. She already knew Nott's sanity was questionable, but Zabini was a wild card, given she hadn't seen him since sixth year.

But Zabini took a long swig of his drink, turning to Malfoy. "I hear the two of you are working on a case together. That's fun to witness, I'm sure."

Malfoy's lip curled as he stared at Zabini. "Not much to witness. So far it's been a whole lot of nothing."

Hermione bit her tongue, willing Malfoy to keep to Department of Mysteries protocol. Despite not being an Unspeakable, saying anything with regards to the experiments they had worked on was strictly forbidden, especially to people without the proper Ministry clearance.

She didn't even know what Zabini did for a living.

But it seemed Malfoy wasn't going to continue the train of thought, and he met her gaze with a raised brow.

"Books and spells and that," Hermione said, holding his gaze. She turned to Zabini. "Nothing too interesting, I assure you."

"Aside from the two dead victims," Harry threw in, waving his pint, and Hermione groaned. Zabini's head shot up, his eyes widening.

"Right," Malfoy clipped. "But of course, as Potter should know, this is all confidential below a certain level of clearance."

Harry waved a hand, and he and Seamus chuckled. "Everyone in the DMLE knows what you two are up to."

Hermione very much doubted it, as they were only privy to the Aurors' side of things. They may have seen the two victims, and Malfoy's investigation into the details and meeting with Moreau's sons – but they had no clue about the origins of the figure or the strange magic trapped dormant within it.

But it was Malfoy who said it. "You don't know the half of it, Potter. And since Granger and I value our positions at the Ministry, neither of us are going to be saying any more about it."

Hermione stared at him again, feeling something akin to gratitude flit through her. She gave him a tight smile, which he returned with a nod.

In her peripheral vision, Hermione caught sight of Nott leaning an elbow on the table, his head resting in his palm as he observed the exchange.

The door to the pub opened again and Ron walked through with Susan Bones. Hermione swallowed, taking a quick sip of her firewhiskey. She had heard the two of them were together, but seeing it was another thing.

She had been over Ron since eighth year – but that didn't mean it wasn't uncomfortable seeing him with someone else.

She tore her gaze away from the pair of them as they joined the group. Hermione offered Susan a tight-lipped smile, and when she glanced away she noticed Malfoy watching her, his expression hard, the skin around his eyes drawn.

She was reminded of Malfoy's words the time Ron had been at the Ministry.

Tell Weasley to fucking kick rocks.

Hermione held her chin a little higher as she turned to face Zabini and Malfoy again, and she would have sworn she saw the slightest twitch of approval on Malfoy's lips.

When Hermione dragged herself into the Department of Mysteries the following morning, a memo was already waiting for her, hovering outside of her office. The missive followed her inside once she released the wards, knocking against the doorframe.

Granger

I'll be staying in the DMLE today. Let me know if you find anything.

D.M.

Hermione sighed, settling down at her desk, her gaze skirting across the stack of books that had yielded them no answers the day before, and wondered what she could possibly find today that would be any more useful.

She hadn't exactly gotten along with Malfoy the night before at the Leaky, but they had been tolerant of one another – it was a scene Hermione had never imagined, a group of former Gryffindors and Slytherins all sitting together.

Usually he would have a reason if he opted to work on his own in the DMLE for the day. Perhaps he too suspected they would end up like they had the day before, at each other's throats, and had simply chosen to stay away.

Hermione flipped through books until lunch, her eyes glazed as she stared at familiar historical data and irrelevant information about ancient cultural magic.

Nothing was adding up – and she was at a loss as to where to go next.

Her shoulders slumped as she dropped her head into her arms on her desk, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her face. She couldn't remember feeling so lost since she had attempted to arrange the first – and most ambitious – draft of her NEWT study schedule.

She debated checking in with Malfoy but he had made it clear they wouldn't be working together that day, for whatever reason.

Rising from her desk, Hermione made her way to Burke's office, tapping lightly against the door.

"Granger," Burke said as he opened the door, his brow furrowed. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," she hedged, rubbing the back of her neck, "but we seem to have reached a dead-end with regards to the magic extracted from the two victims' bloodstreams. And none of my research is turning up anything, and –" she cut herself off, shaking her head. "I was wondering if you had any methodology suggestions."

Burke scratched the stubble on his jaw as he set aside some paperwork. "Take a seat."

Hermione slipped into the chair across from him, her mind abuzz.

Burke's eyes narrowed slightly as he said, "You're highly intellectual, Granger. I was incredibly book smart coming out of Hogwarts, much like yourself." He held up a hand before Hermione could respond. "It took me some time to learn that things in the Department of Mysteries exist on a spectrum that books cannot follow. Things here are not so black and white."

"I'm aware of that, sir," Hermione tried, feeling colour rising in her cheeks.

"This isn't a criticism," Burke said, his voice soft. "I would encourage you to look through everything you have already learned about the situation. What doesn't line up? Where are there holes that don't make sense? Perhaps you and Auror Malfoy need to take a closer look at what you might have missed. Sometimes the answers we seek are evident and clear within our grasp, only they are not delivered in such a tidy package as we would hope."

Hermione blinked. She hadn't expected such a cryptic answer, but maybe what Burke said contained merit.

She had been through so much information that it was all starting to blur together – maybe she needed to take a step back. Perhaps she would hop up to the Auror's office and check in with Malfoy. What could it hurt?

"Auror Malfoy is working in the DMLE today but maybe I will venture to level two," Hermione nodded. "Thank you for your help, sir."

"It may be that you haven't found your answers yet," Burke said, with a tilt to his head. "But I reckon something in your stacks of research might give you a new lead."

Hermione offered Burke a tight smile and he returned to his paperwork before she had closed the door. Frowning, she made her way to the lifts, bracing herself for whatever type of mood Malfoy might be in that day.

His mood, as she learned shortly thereafter, was frazzled. His hair was disheveled, his tie slightly skewed to one side.

"Granger," Malfoy said, blinking as she fell into step with him as he crossed the department from Robards' office to his desk. "What are you doing here?"

"I think we need to talk through some of the research we've been doing, to see if there's something we've missed," she said, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. "We've got stacks upon stacks – there's a chance we've overlooked something important, don't you think?"

"Fine," he said, running a hand through his hair as he reached his desk, shifting through a stack of papers. "Unfortunately, Granger, today isn't the best. I sent you that memo because we had not one, but two Aurors owl in sick this morning. Robards has been throwing me around like an messenger pigeon trying to keep up with the missed workload."

"Oh," Hermione said, pressing her lips together. "Of course, I knew you were busy –"

"Tomorrow morning?" he asked, his eyes wide as he glanced at her. "I'll come by first thing, and we can go through it all, piece by piece if we have to." He grimaced as he settled into his chair. "I want to figure this out as much as you do, but with these Aurors out sick, it's administrative bollocks for the day."

"Right," Hermione nodded, "tomorrow morning is great."

He gave her a tight smile, and Hermione was taken aback at the utter lack of animosity. He was nearly impossible to read. "See you then."

With a quick wave to Harry across the room, who also looked out of sorts, Hermione returned to level nine.

Chapter Text

Draco waited outside the door of Granger's office, a steaming cup of tea clutched tightly within each hand. He grimaced, gazing down the hall, and flinched when he saw Granger stop and talk to the woman at the administrative desk.

He gestured to her door with a tilt of his head when Granger made her way down the corridor, his lips pressed into a tight line.

She blinked when she arrived, glancing at the pair of teas Draco had brought; she too held two cups of tea.

"This one's yours," she said, brandishing one of the cups.

"Trade you," Draco clipped, offering the Earl Grey. They made an awkward trade in the hallway. "Thanks. I'll drink both."

"Thanks, also," she said, her cheeks bright with colour.

"Unward your office, please," Draco ground through anxious teeth. "I have something to tell you and I'm not going to say it in an exposed corridor."

"Of course," Granger said, startled, and her expression shifted with urgency as she cast the series of flourishes to release the wards on her office, maneuvering one of the paper cups against her body. Draco followed her in and set down both cups of tea on the desk while she activated the wards from the inside, opening his own cup of English Breakfast.

"So what happened?" Granger asked, her brown eyes wide and brow furrowed with alarm. "Did you find something?"

"I don't know," Draco said, waving his free hand, "but you'd better take a seat."

Granger did as he asked, perching on the edge of her chair, while Draco sat across from her.

"Do you remember how I told you two Aurors had owled in sick yesterday?" He waited for her nod before continuing. "One of them went to St Mungo's last night – I received a late owl from Robards – the Auror had traces of that same magical signature in his bloodstream."

"What?" Granger gasped, her mouth open in surprise. "How is that –"

"The second Auror just went in for testing this morning," Draco said, feeling grave even as he spoke the words. "Granger – these are the two Aurors who originally went to Madame Moreau's manor to retrieve the figure."

"No!" she exclaimed, one hand gripped tightly to the edge of her desk.

"I should have clued in yesterday that they were the same two," Draco shook his head. "But my mind was everywhere but the case."

"Madame Moreau and Balthazar O'Connell showed no signs of illness," Granger reasoned, even as her voice remained breathy and tense. "So why these two Aurors?"

"Moreau and O'Connell handled the figure directly, remember?" Draco asked, carding a hand through his hair. "These Aurors were careful not to make contact with it."

"Which means –" Granger shook her head in disbelief; Draco watched as she came to the conclusion he had reached in the middle of a sleepless night. "They've been contaminated by the magic in the figure by exposure alone. Whatever was in the house before the containment team went in."

"Right." Draco sighed. "I've been trying to stay in touch with the Healers working on these two Aurors, but nothing's come back yet. The fact that they're still alive is good news – but at what speed does the magic operate? And will the intensity be great enough to kill them without direct contact?"

Granger released a heavy breath and Draco could practically hear the gears whirring in her brain.

"So," she began, in a soft tone, "what about everyone they've come into contact with?"

"It's a potential logistical nightmare," Draco said, frowning. "But we do know you don't show any trace of the magic, because Theo and Healer Randall tested your system when you all but imploded. Which means you didn't get it from me and I likely didn't get it from the sick Aurors. And provided that damn figure stays properly sealed, we're not going to be exposed."

Her gaze flickered to the figure – which had been placed in more secure packaging days before – where it sat on the bookshelf. She had retrieved it from safe artefact storage two days before.

"If it's strong enough to affect someone without contact," Granger said, her breathing slow and careful. "We need to figure out how to stop it."

"How do we stop the bloody magic when we don't even know a thing about it!" Draco exclaimed, rising from his seat. "I refuse to watch my colleagues wither and die when the power to stop this is in our hands."

Granger swallowed, but looked at a loss. Her voice cracked as she said, "We don't know how to stop it."

"We need to redouble our efforts." Draco ran his hands down his face, rubbing at his eyes. His brain felt sluggish; the lack of sleep was catching up with him and he took a long drink of his tea. "We'll do what you suggested yesterday – go through absolutely everything until we find something we missed and figure out how to stop this thing from killing anyone else or – Merlin forbid – spreading."

"Okay," Granger said, planting her hands on her desk. She arranged the two cups of Earl Grey in front of her, opening the first and allowing the steam to escape; she placed a stasis charm on the second to retain its heat. "Let's start at the beginning." She glanced at the figure again, insidious as ever.

"It's from the Indus Valley civilization," Draco began, "and was crafted over four thousand years ago."

"By who?" Granger asked, her tone sharp as she stared at him.

"We don't know," Draco scoffed, even as he shook his head. "Okay, some sort of crafter – or maybe a trader. It could have been used as a decoration, or a means of trade currency –"

"Why enchant it?" Granger asked, her hand flying across a sheet of parchment.

Draco hesitated for a moment. "A magical exchange? For a bountiful harvest, or a ritual of some sort – or protection."

"Protection," Granger murmured under her breath. "From what?"

"Enemies," Draco listed, "illness, drought, flooding." He shook his head. "There is so much we don't know."

"Because we can't read their language," she shook her head, frowning. "And as a result so much of this is guesswork. If we actually knew what they were up to –"

Draco shook his head and cast a spell on her quill so it would carry on of its own accord. Granger looked up at him with a sort of frazzled gratitude. "We don't. What else?"

"Okay," she said, "they were a peaceful, agricultural society, and they relied heavily on the Indus River to grow their crops because it flooded like clockwork. They lived in organized villages with plumbing and they interacted with other societies, like Mesopotamia."

"It was one of the largest, oldest known civilizations," Draco said, shaking his head. "Why were they casting magic on figures?"

"Is there a chance the spell was cast on the figurine later?" Granger asked, her gaze meeting his. "Maybe it was formed as a simple figure – it could have been cursed thousands of years later, for all we know."

"I feel like any form of modern magic would have registered in the testing." Draco shook his head. "Although it's possible. But if the magic in the figure was anything like what we are used to today, one of the tests would have picked up on it."

"Here's a thought," Granger said, her quill tapping an anxious cadence on her desk. "If there were practitioners of magic in those days would it not be safe to assume they would have been outnumbered by those who did not possess any magic?"

Draco pondered for a moment, meeting her gaze. "Most likely correct. Magic wielders have always been a minority."

"So one could think the magic would have been kept private," she said, her lips twisted.

"But why?" Draco asked, shaking his head. "What have we come across that was strange or referenced magic in any way?"

"The tunnels," Granger pointed out. "Below Harappa."

"The tunnels," Draco echoed, slamming a hand down on the desk. Granger jumped in her seat. "It's the only other evidence of magic we've seen. It has to be connected."

"Just because it's the only other evidence we've found, doesn't necessarily mean that," Granger said, worrying her lower lip. "Of course, it could be connected."

"Fine," Draco sighed. "It's a maybe, then. But how? We thought the tunnels were either strengthened with magic, or warded against something."

"Warded against strange, uncontrolled and lethal magic?" Granger asked.

The air between them was silent and tense; Draco forgot to breathe while he stared at her.

"Was there any indication in the research of unexplained death or illness?" He skimmed a few pages of notes, as if something was going to jump out at him.

"There was a lot of unexplained death and illness," Granger replied, though her brow furrowed all the same. "Their Healers and medicines were rudimentary and natural."

Draco waved a hand. "Not counting the general lack of healing knowledge in a civilization that existed four millennia ago. How do we find out if any of it was in some way related?"

"These are a lot of questions for which we have no answers," Granger grumbled, digging her hands into her curls. "If only we could understand their language."

"You could ask the Unspeakables to hit you with another unknown curse. Maybe you'll learn how to speak old Indus Valley," Draco snickered.

Granger's brows jumped as she stared at him. "Was that… a joke?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe. Never mind."

There was silence between them for an uncomfortable moment.

"I'll take a closer look through the notes to see if I can find anything along those lines," Granger said, her gaze flickering across the stacks of notes and books on her desk. "It's just so vague; I wish we knew more."

"You and me both, Granger," Draco said, releasing a sigh. "I suppose I'll check on the Aurors in St Mungo's."

"How unfortunate that the house wasn't immediately secured," Granger said, a sad frown on her face. "If those Aurors die…"

"I know," Draco bit out. "Worst is the fact that I didn't take Madame Moreau seriously at first."

Granger took a long sip of her tea, staring at him with an expression that made Draco uneasy. She set down the cup, tapping her quill again. "Don't blame yourself for that, Malfoy. It all sounded like a joke at the start. Even Unspeakable Burke and I didn't believe you."

Draco rolled his eyes, despite that her words made him feel a slight modicum better. "Even so."

"So you go to St Mungo's, and keep me posted," Granger said, distracted once more. "It's best to make sure no one else –"

With a small gasp, the quill fell from her hand, clattering on the surface of her desk. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted in what Draco surmised to be shock.

"What?" Draco asked, looking behind him.

"Malfoy," Granger said, pressing her fingertips to her temples, her breathing uneven. "Were those the only Aurors to enter Moreau's house before the containment team went in?"

Draco's heart fell like a stone to his stomach. "Those were the two who went in to retrieve the figure."

Granger's hand was over her mouth, her chest heaving. "And two went in to collect Moreau's body, didn't they?"

"Fuck!" Draco exclaimed, on his feet in an instant. "We've got to talk to Robards."

"Malfoy," Granger said, rising to stand, her hands gripping the edge of her desk. "Which Aurors went to pick up her body?"

Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before answering. "You aren't going to like this, Granger. It was Potter and Finnigan."

Draco felt a spasm of discomfort at the devastated look that flickered across Granger's face. But then she steeled her countenance and nodded, a deeper resolve settling in her eyes. "Let's go talk to Robards, then."

Hermione's mind swam, abuzz with terror and nerves and a million abstract thoughts that wouldn't settle long enough to form into a concrete idea.

Harry had been in worse situations – he would make it through this.

She stood by Malfoy's side while he and Robards discussed the situation, feeling just shy of catatonic. Her eyes ripped across the DMLE offices, not able to locate either Harry or Seamus.

Idly, the thought crossed her mind that it was a good thing Malfoy had kept such a level head, because her stomach was rolling as if it were about to reject her breakfast.

"I had wondered," Robards was saying when Hermione tuned back in. "I'd just sent for the reports on which Aurors entered the house prior to containment of the spell. I'll have Aurors Potter and Finnigan called back immediately and sent to St Mungo's for quarantine."

"It does not appear to spread from human to human," Malfoy said, gripping his paper cup with white knuckles. "When Granger was in the hospital there was no sign of the magical signature in her blood."

"Have you got the magic contained?" Robards asked, his gaze flickering between them.

Hermione snapped to awareness, nodding. "Yes, sir. We were able to extract the magic from the blood samples of Madame Moreau and Balthazar O'Connell."

"Good." Auror Robards nodded. "See if you can't separate some of it to give to the Healers. They might be able to create a compound to oppose it."

"Right," Hermione said; her tongue felt thick and dry in her mouth. "We can do that."

"What sort of a timeline are we looking at between when Cary and Milano made contact, to the point where Potter and Finnigan would have become infected?" Robards asked, turning back to Malfoy.

The blond hesitated for a moment. "It was four or five days from the time the figure was brought to the DMLE to the point where Moreau's body was discovered."

"Maybe the magic hasn't infiltrated deep enough into Harry and Seamus' systems yet," Hermione breathed, her gaze anxious as it swept between Malfoy and Robards.

"We won't know until they get to St Mungo's for testing," Robards said, but his eyes were gentle and his brow was furrowed.

Malfoy glanced at Hermione, his expression unreadable. "We'll deliver a sample of the magic to Healer Randall, and check on Cary and Milano while we're at St Mungo's."

"Take no risks," Robards said, pointing a finger at the two of them. "Whether you think this illness is contagious or not. Protection spells at all times, please."

"Affirmative, sir," Hermione said, shaking off the panic that had seized her. The only way she could help Harry would be by keeping a level head. Unspeakable Burke would be ashamed of her for losing her focus in a potential crisis. She met Malfoy's gaze, nodding.

His lips pressed into a thin line but he returned the gesture. "Let's go, Granger."

"Why do you care so much?" Granger asked from her seat on the edge of a bench in the stark white corridor of St Mungo's. "You and Harry aren't friends."

Draco looked up from where he leaned against the wall and realized his hands were clenched into fists. "Did you seriously just ask me that?"

She shrugged, looking at the floor.

"Just because we aren't friends, Granger, doesn't mean I want him to die. We are co-workers; all four of these Aurors are my colleagues. That means I have their back when they find themselves in a dangerous situation."

Granger glanced up again; her eyes met his for a moment before she looked away, picking at a spot on the bench. "I guess I thought it was because you don't want to lose your job. This isn't your fault, you know. Those Aurors were exposed to the magic of the figure before you had even heard of it."

"Of course I don't want to lose my job," Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "But that isn't the most important thing at stake here, not even close."

Granger finally nodded. "Good." She gazed down the length of the hallway, waiting for the Healer to return. "I'm glad they can rely on you, Malfoy."

Draco blinked, taken aback by the sentiment in her words.

"And for what it's worth," Granger continued, staring at the floor again, "I guess I'm sort of glad we're working on this together. Because I know you're committed to finding answers as much as I am and you're competent."

Draco stared at her for a long moment, but she didn't look up. "I'm going to take that as a compliment, Granger. And you can't take it back when your head is on straight again."

She sighed, her gaze landing on the white wall of the corridor. "Right."

A Healer in regulation lime green livery walked out of the room across the hall from where Granger sat on the bench, and she was instantly on her feet.

"We've completed the tests for now," the Healer said, his gaze flickering across his clipboard, "but we won't have results for a day or two. You may visit Mr Potter but only for ten minutes."

Draco nodded but Granger was already opening the door, and he followed her inside, feeling awkward as he did so. He and Potter were far from friends, but his colleague had recently become a person of interest in the case and Draco needed as much information as possible.

Potter looked weary but was grinning as Granger threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"How do you feel?" she asked as she drew away, catching him with a stern gaze.

"Fine," Potter said with a shrug, and his eyes flickered to Draco. "Malfoy."

"Potter."

"I honestly don't feel ill at all," Potter elaborated, "although I guess if Cary and Milano were ill from entering Madame Moreau's manor it makes sense for the tests. But Hermione, how serious is this?"

"We don't know," Granger said, fidgeting with the sleeve of her shirt. "There's a good chance we caught it in time and they can do something about it. And for all we know, exposure without contact won't do anything significant."

Draco's attention flickered to Granger for a moment but he didn't speak up. He didn't think it was a good sign that the other two Aurors were sick at all, and he thought if the illness meant to simply pass through they wouldn't have ended up in the hospital.

But he wasn't going to say so with Potter in St Mungo's, too. And he thought Granger was practical enough to realize as much, despite her assurances to him now.

Draco hovered while Granger and Potter made small talk, on the verge of turning and leaving the room but in solidarity he remained. He tucked his hands in his pockets when Potter turned to him.

"How are Cary and Milano doing?" he asked, his green eyes bright.

"Alright." Draco nodded. "Cary only came to St Mungo's because of the traces of the magic found in Milano's blood. It isn't as concentrated as what we found in Moreau's and O'Connell's blood streams. Healer Randall and her team are working to see if they can create a sort of anti-virus from the magical sample Granger and I were able to isolate."

Potter pressed his lips together but gave a sharp nod in return.

"They also might be able to extract the magic from your blood," Granger added, glancing at Draco. "Given they know it's there, this time."

Draco nodded, his brow furrowed. "We have options, and we have time."

"I appreciate it," Potter said, giving Draco another cautious glance. "Both of you."

Granger opened her mouth to say something more when the Healer returned and shooed them from the room. She began to protest but instead gave Potter a small wave and followed Draco from the room.

"Thanks," Granger said as the sunk back onto the bench in the corridor. "For helping to keep his spirits up."

"No need for anything otherwise," Draco said after a pause. "I'm not a monster."

"I know." Her gaze flickered to his for a brief moment then away again. "I think I'll head back to the Ministry now that everything's been taken care of for the moment. Take a look back through the notes for any signs of illness."

"I believe it has," Draco agreed. "The area of expertise we need now is the Healers'."

Granger nodded, though it was a bit stilted. "See you tomorrow, Malfoy."

Draco chewed the inside of his cheek, debating whether he would go back to the Ministry or call it a day. It was already past the time they would usually go home. "Tomorrow, Granger."

And she was gone.

Chapter Text

Draco found Granger back at St Mungo's the following day, sitting vigil upon the same bench she had waited on yesterday. She looked pale and bedraggled.

"Any updates?" Draco asked, handing her a cup of tea.

She accepted the tea with a grateful nod and Draco couldn't help but notice the dark bruises beneath her eyes. He suspected she had pursued the new lead well into the night.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "I'm waiting for the Healers to return with the results of Harry's blood test. And according to Healer Randall, the team is still working with the sample of the magic."

"They're being cautious not to expose themselves?" Draco asked, his tone sharper than intended.

"They're aware," Granger said, her words sounding tired. "Randall keeps trying to check my head to make sure nothing else is manifesting with that rogue spell. She thinks it's odd that nothing unusual has registered as a result yet."

"It is odd," Draco agreed. "It nearly killed you."

"Maybe it did nothing," Granger slurred, a slump to her shoulders that made Draco uneasy.

"Granger, go see Randall. I'll wait here for the results of the tests," Draco said, fixing her with a stare. "And while you're at it, have a bloody nap."

"I'm okay," she denied, shaking her head as she took a sip of the hot tea and burnt her tongue, cursing.

"Potter's fine," Draco said, almost unable to believe he was having this conversation. But there was an odd twinge to his stomach seeing her so disarmed. "But you won't be if you don't get some rest. And then you won't be any help to anyone; I need you to be functional."

She cast him a half-hearted glare but pressed her eyes shut. "I'll talk to Healer Randall. But you'll owl me if anything changes?"

Draco took up the seat on the bench beside her. "Yes of course. Now go."

Hermione winced as Healer Randall prodded with her wand, relentless, casting the cognition diagnostics with a frown.

"You're sure nothing odd has happened?" Randall asked.

"Beyond the storm of chaos this case has become?" Hermione asked with a raised brow. Healer Randall didn't seem to appreciate her dry attempt at humour. She blinked, her eyes irritated.

"You need to be getting adequate sleep," Randall said, tutting as she worked. "Whatever the spell has done is still active, so all the more reason to take better care of yourself."

"If it's active," Hermione protested, "then what is it doing?"

"I can't tell." Randall pursed her lips. "It might be lying dormant until it's triggered somehow."

"Well I'm afraid I can't worry about it when I have enough on my plate as it is," Hermione said, worrying her lip with her teeth. "With Aurors Cary and Milano ill, and now Harry and Seamus on the verge of growing ill as well."

"And we are working on that here," Randall clipped, her brow furrowed. "The results on Aurors Potter and Finnigan will be ready in a few hours."

"But we need –"

"Take this," Randall said, thrusting a vial into Hermione's hand.

She blinked, huffing at the interruption but swallowed the contents of the vial, trusting the Healer. Hermione growled when she recognized the after-taste of the Sleeping Draught she had been given, but her eyes fluttered shut before she could say another word.

Draco tapped on the open door of Robards' office when he returned to the DMLE several hours later. "Sir, do you have a few minutes?"

Auror Robards waved him in, scribbling the last lines of an interdepartmental memo.

Draco walked in, his eyes scanning the report once more, waving the sheet. "The results of Healer Randall's tests."

Robards sent the memo along, turning to Draco with his full attention. "And?"

"The concentration of the magic in Moreau and O'Connell's bloodstreams was very high in comparison, despite that it was miniscule to begin with," Draco began. "Probably to the point where it manifested so quickly there was no noticeable period of illness before it took over and killed them."

Robards frowned but nodded. Draco slipped into the seat across from his superior, gaze still fixed on the report.

"The amount found in testing Auror Milano and Auror Cary was a mere fraction." Draco's brows knitted as he glanced up. "And in Aurors Potter and Finnigan it's faint – almost nonexistent. But present nonetheless."

Robards released a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "That's what I was afraid of. So Since Cary and Milano were exposed several days sooner –"

"Right," Draco said. "They're several days further on."

"But will it kill them?"

The question hung, tense, between them in the office.

"If it continues to grow?" Draco finally said, grimacing as he met Robards' gaze.

"Where are the Healers at with the magical sample?" Auror Robards was a naturally calm and collected man but he began tapping on the desk with a quill and Draco recognized it to be a tell of his nerves.

"They are attempting to create an anti-virus with the sample, while also attempting to isolate and extract the magic from the blood." Draco glanced up. "So far they have been unsuccessful, but it's early."

"Right," Robards said, chest rising and falling with a heavy breath. "And how were you able to isolate the magic from the blood in the first place?"

Draco hesitated for a moment, recalling the intense and violent procedure he and Granger had undertaken with Burke. "I don't believe it would be feasible on a living human. But I can ask Unspeakable Burke."

"Where is Unspeakable Granger?" Robards asked, as if noticing she wasn't there.

"I believe she is still at St Mungo's," Draco said. "She will be anxious to hear the results when she returns."

Robards leaned back in his seat, gazing at the ceiling for a long moment. "It seems to be one thing after another, with this case."

"Yes," Draco agreed, huffing a breath through his nose. "It's certainly been a challenge."

Draco wondered whether this would be the point where Robards would finally pull him and Granger from the case and offer it to a more senior team. He wondered what sort of grunt work he would be left with instead.

"You've done well to keep on top of it as you have," Robards said, "you and Unspeakable Granger."

"We haven't figured anything out," Draco admitted, fixing his superior with a hesitant glance.

"On the contrary," Robards said, "you have learned a lot. And if the Healers can create an anti-virus using the magical sample, that will be a significant contribution." He glanced around again. "Where did you say that figure originated?"

"The Indus Valley civilization, sir," Draco said, sitting a little straighter in his seat. "It was crafted over four thousand years ago."

"Indus Valley." Robards drawled the words as if testing them out. "I confess I'm not altogether familiar with it. I imagine you've been looking into possible answers in your research of the society?"

Draco nodded. "There are a few things we've come across that speak to evidence of magic, in an otherwise Muggle society. Unspeakable Granger has been researching possible links to a strange illness, but it's difficult given we can't understand their language."

"I can't help but wonder," Auror Robards said, scratching the back of his neck, "whether the answers we seek in this case may not be so close to home."

"Sir?" Draco asked, feeling his entire body tense.

"Where was the Indus Valley?" Robards glanced at him, his brow furrowed.

"It was largely located in portions of what are now modern day Pakistan and India," Draco said, frowning. "The majority of the historical sites are only excavated ruins now, of course."

"Indeed." Robards steepled his fingers in consideration. "I wonder if it would be beneficial to have agents pursuing field research."

Draco felt the air chase out of his lungs with a sear of disappointment. "It's difficult to say."

His superior drew an interdepartmental memo forward and crafted a swift note. "We will wait to hear back from Healer Randall and her team." He sent the short missive out of the office; Draco watched as it fluttered away, his mind spinning. "Thank you for your report, Auror Malfoy."

"Right." Draco nodded and rose from his seat at the dismissal. "Thank you."

He swallowed as he returned to his desk, feeling as if a lump had accumulated in his throat. Of course, if Robards were to send Aurors to visit the old Indus Valley sites, they would be properly field-proven aurors. Draco hadn't qualified himself for such a mission, despite all the hard work he'd already done on the case. The unfairness of it was painful to accept.

He scowled, stung, at the thought that Granger would be a part of such an important team while Draco, who was lead on the investigation, would remain in London.

As it was, the case was in a state of chaos – and along with it, Draco's mind. Between the unexplained magic from the figure, the Aurors in the hospital, the team of Healers working to develop an antibody of sorts – and now this.

It was more than Draco could handle.

He stared at the piles of books and resources on his desk, his mind vacant and gaze unseeing, for ten minutes before rubbing at his eyes in frustration. He threw his quill down, slung his bag across his chest and left the Auror's office.

There had to be something he could be doing rather than staring at endless stacks of research. If nothing else, he could check in on Granger's status at St Mungo's. Maybe something had happened since he had left.

But he didn't even want to see Granger.

He didn't want to see the light in her eyes when she learned there might be a mission coordinated in which she would get to visit the ancient sites of the Indus Valley, when it was because of Draco that she was even involved at all.

He blew out a long breath as he made his way to the Atrium. He was getting too far ahead of himself; Robards had only said it was a possibility, and Healer Randall's competent team might yet find a solution for the sick Aurors.

Furthermore, if it would prove helpful, there would be no room in the equation for his envy or petulance.

But even so, there was something about the figure that still niggled at the back of Draco's mind. There were too many questions without answers – too many unresolved details.

Frowning at his own knee-jerk reaction, Draco ran a hand through his hair.

If nothing else, he needed to get out of the Ministry, and the only place he was authorized to go on work hours was St Mungo's.

He Apparated to St Mungo's.

Hermione scowled as she awoke in a treatment room at the hospital. She knew she wasn't sick or injured this time – Healer Randall had tricked her into sleeping.

She was mortified. She was on the clock! There was no way Unspeakable Burke would approve of her sleeping while she was meant to be working. Embarrassed, she collected her things and crept out of the room, hoping no one had seen her.

As she made her way to the room where Randall's team was working on the magic sample, Hermione nearly crashed into Malfoy.

He ducked around her with something like a nod and a grimace; he looked frazzled, his hair disheveled and a heavy tension in the set of his shoulders.

"Granger," he said.

"Malfoy. Have you found anything new?" Hermione asked.

"Not since Healer Randall gave us the initial report on the hospitalized Aurors," Malfoy clipped. "I've just been to brief Robards on the changes."

"Good," she said, wincing. She would need to obtain a copy of the file and catch up on said changes without alerting Malfoy to the fact that she had fallen asleep.

"At the least, it sounds like there's a bit of time," Malfoy said with a heavy exhale. "But if Healer Randall's team can't find a way to quell the magical blood contaminant, Robards is thinking about taking further steps into finding answers behind the magic of the figure."

He scowled even as he explained, and Hermione raised a brow. "That's good, isn't it? To have more support from the DMLE?"

"Of course," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Although we're already down four Aurors from the workforce as it is – which, it appears, is the reason Robards is increasing support. He wants to send a team of field researchers."

"To the Indus Valley?" she asked, feeling a breath of anticipation catch at the thought. A sneer flitted across Malfoy's face; Hermione understood his reticence in an instant. "You don't think you'll merit going along."

"Let's just check in with Randall," Malfoy said, pressing a hand to his temple. His gaze flickered to hers for a moment. "And no, I don't."

Hermione pressed her lips together as her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth to respond.

"Unspeakable Granger!"

She turned on the spot, wincing at the sight of Healer Randall coming down the corridor after them; the woman looked irritable. "You weren't discharged."

Hermione straightened her shoulders. "I had work to do. Something that may or may not be affecting my brain waves didn't take precedence."

She ignored Malfoy's glance – half amused, half annoyed.

Healer Randall huffed as she came to a stop in front of them. She snapped, "Well, perhaps it should have. Your brain waves happen to be operating at an extreme level." The woman's expression softened with curiosity. "Four times their usual level, in fact. Something is functioning in your brain that hasn't yet revealed itself."

Hermione shifted, uncomfortable. She wished Malfoy wasn't here for this. "So what do you suggest I do about it?"

"I would demand you stay in the hospital for monitoring if not for the fact that I know you'll refuse," Randall grumbled with a sharp stare. "You need to get adequate sleep and nutrition. Your brain is in such a state of overdrive it will easily overpower your physical capabilities if you aren't cautious."

Malfoy snickered as he scuffed a toe on the floor. "Always knew you had a huge brain, eh, Granger."

Hermione blinked at him, uncertain whether it was meant to be an insult or a compliment. She shook her head, turning back to the Healer.

"How I am to find out what's happening? If my brain is already doing something," she mused.

"I've never seen anything like it," Randall admitted. "Whatever those Unspeakables did to you was powerful. It could be that whatever is functioning at such a high level has yet to be accessed."

"Like it requires a trigger," Malfoy commented.

"Right," Randall agreed, waving a hand. "As if you need to make a conscious effort to reach it."

Hermione attempted to swallow back the uneasy feeling in her stomach as it swelled. "So I might never learn what it is?"

Healer Randall exchanged a glance with Malfoy. "The good news is, if it were causing harm to your magical core the tests would have picked up on that."

"Great," Hermione muttered under her breath. She took a deep breath, turning back to the Healer. "Any change in the conditions of the Aurors? Or progress with the magical sample?"

"Not in the three hours since you last asked," Randall said, raising a brow. "Creating a composition to combat a magical illness is complicated enough, but you're asking my team to do it with a small sample of some form of unknown magic. They are working as fast as they can, but if it's manageable, it will take time."

Healer Randall looked between Hermione and Malfoy with consternation. "I will let you know when something changes. For now, I recommend you both take a step back and go home."

With that, Healer Randall breezed past them and down the corridor.

Her shoulders sinking, Hermione turned to Malfoy. "What do we do now?"

He turned to face her with a mild shrug. "Honestly? Most of our leads are here. Robards is hedging his hopes on Randall's team, and our research has turned up nothing new. We're at a dead end, Granger."

"That can't be, though," Hermione said, tugging at a curl that had fallen loose of her messy bun during her reluctant sleep. "We still have the leads about the illness and the tunnels and –"

"And how much have we learned about any of that so far?" Malfoy drawled, interrupting. "Maybe Randall's right. You need to rest your overlarge, highly-functioning brain before it explodes. Our answers are in the Healers' hands for now."

Hermione groaned, pressing a hand to her temples. "As if I need another thing to worry about right now."

"Look at it this way, Granger," Malfoy said with a smirk, "maybe you can speak goat. Or you've become really good at gobstones. Maybe now you've developed a superpower of being less of a swot –"

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Hermione groaned.

"One day you'll just approach a goat and say, oh, hello," he said, his voice rising into a higher pitch, "and you'll have a fantastic conversation with the poor unsuspecting chap."

"I miss the days when you didn't have anything to say to me," she grumbled, scowling.

Malfoy snickered and shook his head. "Go home and get some sleep, Granger. We'll start fresh in the morning."

She cast him a wary glance. "I'm going to visit Harry before I go home. He's going batty in a room by himself all day."

"Daphne's here visiting him. I saw her before I came across you," Malfoy said with a hint of a sneer. "I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Oh," Hermione said, frowning. "Well, I'll go home then. Better that than spending any more time here with you."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag. "Whatever. Tomorrow, Granger."

He swept off down the corridor, leaving Hermione to shake her head.

Chapter Text

Granger nearly collided into Draco as she rounded the corner into the lift he was taking, brushing a wrinkle from her skirt and straightening her robes.

"Overslept?" Draco asked, feeling a smirk rise as she situated herself inside the lift, having failed to notice his presence.

She cast him a withering glare, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Healer Randall's given me a highly potent batch of sleeping draught, if you must know."

Draco flickered his brows and took a sip of his tea as he thrust a second cup towards her. "You'll want this, then."

Granger's eyes widened and the tension sank from her posture as she turned to him, with a hitched, "Thank you." She hesitated, opening the tab on the lid as the lift cruised past the second floor and on to the third. "You missed your floor."

"I am headed to the Department of Mysteries," Draco clipped. "I've received a memo – presumably you have one, too, only you're late to work."

"And what did the memo say?" Granger asked, her eyes narrowing.

Draco shrugged, slipping his free hand into the pocket of his trousers. "Just that I am to meet Auror Robards in –" he hesitated, drawing the memo out, "room nine-fourteen."

"Nine-fourteen is a board room." She whirled on him. "Why would you be meeting him down there?"

"We'll find out soon, won't we?" Draco rolled his eyes, although the conversation with Granger was distracting him from the heavy ball of unease that had settled in his stomach upon receiving the memo. Had Robards or Burke learned something new?

Granger huffed an irritated noise in her throat but took a sip of her tea.

Her hair was more frazzled than usual; Draco wondered whether she hadn't one day simply given up on trying to tame it. Her shirt was a little rumpled and her Unspeakable robes were snagged beneath the weight of her shoulder bag.

"You look a right mess today, Granger," he mentioned.

She exhaled a sharp breath through her nose and glanced up at the number on the lift. They were approaching the eighth floor. Her voice was softer than he expected when she said, "I've had a headache again – not like the day I went to St Mungo's, but… Healer Randall said it's to be expected, with the extra brain activity."

Draco pointed at her, his chin lowered. "If you go and die on me before this case ends, Granger –"

"How sweet," she mused, her voice dry, "that you care that much for my well-being."

He adjusted his tie, smoothing the silk down beneath the strap of his bag, where it had disturbed the fabric. "Obviously, I'm used to you now, aren't I?"

There was a curve to her lips as her gaze flickered to his. "I suppose I'll take it."

The lift arrived on the ninth floor and Draco followed Granger into the department; she stopped at the administrative desk to receive a memo similar to the one he had been sent by Auror Robards. With a faint grimace she led him towards room nine-fourteen.

As Granger had informed him, it was a small meeting room, with chairs for eight. Auror Robards and Unspeakable Burke were already seated near the far end, deep in conversation; the two men fell silent as Draco and Granger walked in.

"Thanks for joining us," Unspeakable Burke said, his tone weary and a furrow to his brow. "Please, take a seat."

Draco dropped into the seat nearest Auror Robards, while Granger circled the table to take the seat across from him.

A tense silence settled among the four of them; Draco was tempted to ask whether they were waiting on anyone else when Auror Robards spoke up.

"I know I don't need to explain the situation at hand to either of you," Robards said, his expression tight.

Draco felt his heart sink; they were about to trade off the case to a more experienced team. He could feel it.

But Robards continued. "I met with Healer Randall at St Mungo's last night to discuss our options. As you're both aware, it is a tenuous situation to have four strong Aurors incapacitated, and given the fact that Healer Randall's team may or may not be able to come up with any way to cure the illness, she and I have agreed it is in everyone's best interest to pursue other possible avenues."

"And the Department of Mysteries, while of course concerned for the infected Aurors," Burke cut in with a glance at Robards, "must also consider the implications of such magic if it were to be released into society. Or worse, if there were more of it – more of these figures – out there."

Draco caught Granger's wide eyes watching him. He reached for his tea but realized his hand was shaking and returned it to his lap instead.

"Our two departments will be coordinating a small team of field researchers to further investigate the ancient civilization from where this figure originated," Robards said. "And given that both the DMLE and the Department of Mysteries have a stake in this case, a small contingent of both Aurors and Unspeakables will be sent."

Draco felt himself offer a stiff nod; he tried to prepare for the fact that he would not be in the contingent of Aurors.

"Auror Malfoy," Unspeakable Burke said, leaning in. "Auror Robards and I have both seen and appreciate the solid efforts you've given to this case."

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes at one of the most powerful men in the Ministry – and in fact, Draco was starting to believe Granger's words that Burke might have been more important than even Shacklebolt.

"Thank you, sir," he clipped, his tone gruff. "I've appreciated the opportunity."

Draco could feel Robards' eyes on him, too, but kept his gaze fixed just ahead of him on the table. He felt the hot swell of shame; despite his commitment to the case, he wasn't ready to be sent out of the office – and certainly not out of the country.

Robards' voice was sharp as he said, "And I know we don't need to tell you what sort of opportunity you'll be looking at in leading the field research team."

"Sir?" Draco half-choked, his gaze flying to meet that of his superior. "Lead?"

His heart raced in his chest as all the words he wanted to say tripped and fell flat on the way to his mouth.

Robards chuckled; a rare smile lingered on Burke's lips.

In a moment, Draco felt insensitive for his negative feelings towards Granger the day before when he had been imagining he wouldn't be sent with the team.

"It has been signed off by Shacklebolt already," Burke added, "in case anyone gives you grief over the decision."

Draco nodded, his mouth dry. "Thank you."

"And Malfoy –" Robards glanced at him again. "Don't mess up the field protocol, yeah? I've got a whole team of Senior Aurors and administrators ready to jump down my throat if this goes badly."

"Understood, sir," he clipped. He took a long, steadying sip of his tea.

"Excellent!" Granger exclaimed. Draco glanced up, having almost forgotten she was present for the meeting as well. "When are we leaving?"

Draco watched as Burke and Robards exchanged a glance; a furrow came to the skin above the bridge of Granger's nose as her lips pressed together.

"Unfortunately, Unspeakable Granger," Burke began, "you haven't been medically cleared to leave England. Healer Randall has advised us that you need to stay back."

Something churned in the pit of Draco's stomach at the crestfallen look on Granger's face, even as she schooled it into something more neutral.

Her voice was soft as she asked, "I'm not going?"

"I'm afraid not," Burke said in a heavy tone. "Healer Randall is concerned about the extreme brainwaves you've been creating, and long-distance international travel. If something goes wrong, you'll be unable to simply Apparate to St Mungo's."

"I see," Granger gasped.

Draco's gaze flickered to her but her eyes were fixed on the table.

"We will be sending other Unspeakables for the trip, Auror Malfoy, and I can assure you of their competence –" Burke said.

"Wait," Draco said, holding up a hand. There was an anxious gnawing in his stomach at the thought that Granger wouldn't be coming along. Despite his feelings of the day prior, it didn't feel like a victory over her, not in the slightest. "As competent as the Unspeakables who hexed Granger in the first place?"

"Unspeakable Calisto and her team were disciplined for their breach of protocol –" Burke said, his brow heavy.

"Granger needs to come on this trip," Draco interrupted, his tone rising. Robards fired him a look but Draco continued. "With all due respect – she knows more about this civilization than I do – she's discovered more of the details, and she's worked just as hard on this case."

"Auror Malfoy," Robards said, his voice low and tinged with warning.

"Healer Randall will have to make an exception," Draco said, shaking his head. "Or send a Healer on the excursion, or –"

Granger kicked him, hard to the shin, beneath the table. Her eyes flashed when he glared at her, his lips parted.

"Auror Malfoy, that's enough," Robards snapped. "Shelf your insolence before we regret naming you lead on the case." His tone softened but Draco sunk into his seat all the same. "Unspeakable Burke and I wanted to send Unspeakable Granger as the co-lead investigator, but she is medically unfit for such travel. This is how it will have to be, and there will be other Unspeakables along to pursue the interests of the Department of Mysteries."

Draco clenched his jaw, pressing his hands flat against the surface of the table as he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Of course," he grit out. "I apologize for my outburst."

Unspeakable Burke's gaze was hard on him as the man stood from the table.

"We will be in touch when the team is assembled. Be sure you are prepared, Auror Malfoy. You'll leave within the week." Burke stepped away and Robards followed him with a nod.

There was a sharp tension remaining after the two men had left the room. Granger visibly sank in her seat and Draco hesitated. Her face dropped, her mouth twisted to the side, and her shoulders were low.

"Talk to Healer Randall, Granger," Draco said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Maybe there's something you can do."

Granger didn't look at him. "You don't need to act like you care if I'm there or not, Malfoy."

His jaw tightened. "We're in this together, Granger. You need to be on that team. You deserve to be there more than any other Unspeakables who won't have a bloody clue what's even going on –"

She took a slow, disheartened sip of her tea. "Just go. Please." She dropped her elbows to the table, pressing her hands to her temples.

Draco huffed a sigh. "Fine. Maybe I'll talk to Auror Robards, then."

"Don't," she snapped, scowling. "If you keep on them about it, they'll take you off the team, too. One of us needs to be there, don't you think?"

Draco glared at her. "You'd damn well better not be telling me you're giving up on this so easily."

"What do you expect me to do?" she hissed. "If I complain to Unspeakable Burke about it I'll lose my job. If I go and something happens, I could die. What other option do I have?"

"Use that inflated brain of yours and figure it out," Draco clipped. He strode to the door. "Send me a memo if you need anything."

Granger sagged on the table and didn't respond.

"Wait, Malfoy's running the excursion?" Harry asked, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

He had been released from St Mungo's for the time being, given the magic sample in his blood was stable enough that he didn't need to be hospitalized aside from the testing. He would need to check in daily, however, to ensure the magic wasn't strengthening.

"Yes," Hermione returned. "Kingsley's signed off on it and everything. And Unspeakable Burke, so there's no point in complaining to Robards, if that's what you're getting at."

"No," Harry shrugged, taking a swig of his Butterbeer. "It's just surprised me, is all."

"Honestly?" Hermione asked. "It doesn't surprise me. If the rest of the DMLE would let go of who he is for a minute, they'd see how invested he is in this case, and how efficient his work has been."

"He is highly intelligent, and intuitive," Daphne supplied, nudging Harry in the side.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, pressing a mocking hand to Hermione's forehead. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Well, that's the problem isn't it?" she said drily. "Whatever this spell is that's affecting my brain is severe enough that I can't go. I'd rather have Malfoy on the case than a bunch of Aurors and Unspeakables who don't know any of what's been going on."

"And Healer Randall won't let you?" Daphne asked, a deep frown marring her pretty features.

"She hasn't medically cleared me," Hermione grumbled. "Which means I can't leave England."

"That's rotten, Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry said. "I know how hard you've been working to find answers to this."

"It isn't just about the answers, Harry," she said, casting him a significant glance. "If we can't figure anything out about the magic…"

"Maybe Theo could talk to Randall," Daphne suggested. "There must be another way they can track you from a distance."

"You sound like Malfoy," Hermione sighed. "He was quite insistent I find a way around this."

"Malfoy was?" Harry asked, blinking. "You mean, he wasn't dancing around with joy that he gets to go and you don't?"

Hermione grimaced. "He raised his voice at Robards when they told us."

"Malfoy did." Harry gaped, shaking his head. "What is this, an alternate universe?"

"Oh good, you're here," said a familiar voice, and Hermione's eyes widened as Malfoy slid into the seat beside her, a tumbler of firewhiskey hanging between his fingers. Nott took the seat beside him at the round table, on Daphne's other side.

"You weren't invited to join us," Hermione deadpanned, even as there was no malice in her words. She waved a dismissive hand. "But by all means…"

"We're all friends here, aren't we?" Nott clipped. "At least, Draco and I are friends with Daph, who's shagging Potter, and –"

"Enough," Hermione said, pressing a hand to her head. The headache from earlier had faded to a dull throb but still lingered on.

"So you're still settled on the whole, not disputing this decision, thing," Malfoy said, his tone conversational as he took a long swig of his drink.

"There's nothing I can do," Hermione ground through her teeth.

"There are plenty of things you can do," he contradicted, waving his glass, "but most of them will get you fired."

"You'd love that," she grumbled under her breath, even though she knew his actions spoke otherwise.

"If I hated working with you that badly, Granger, I'd be celebrating the fact that you can't come, not trying to find a work-around," he said, staring hard at her.

Harry watched the exchange with wide eyes and a furrow to his brow.

"Look," Nott broke in, "since I've become an unwilling additional party to this whole debacle –"

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink.

"Healer Randall can be a right stick in the mud," Nott carried on, holding up his hands, "but she can be otherwise convinced to let you go."

"And I suppose you're going to offer your assistance in that matter," Hermione mused.

Nott held up a finger. "No. She's my boss and I don't want to get on her bad side."

"Then what are you even doing here?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. The situation was growing frustrating – she couldn't go, and she wished everyone else would stop talking about it.

"The Leaky is public domain, Granger," Nott said, raising a brow. "Draco and I are perfectly welcome here, just as you –"

"What he's saying," Malfoy interrupted, leaning in, "is that there are ways to get around Randall's assessment of you being medically unfit."

"And are any of them even remotely viable? Why are you so fixated on this?" she asked, fixing her gaze on Malfoy's. She wondered, not for the first time, why he seemed to care so much that she wasn't able to go. He had been cold and sneering the day before when he thought she'd be able to go and he wouldn't. She would have expected his biggest concern was that he had been offered to take the lead on the trip.

He stared at her for a moment, shaking a chunk of hair out of his eyes as he leaned closer. When he spoke, his voice was quiet enough that no one else could hear. "I told you, Granger. It won't be the same if we aren't both working this case. We need to figure this out and get some actual, concrete results, don't we?"

"Yes," she breathed, her tone low to match his.

There was conflict in his face as he said, "Then we need you there." He brought the tumbler of firewhiskey to his lips and took a sip. "And I want to solve this case badly enough to admit that I can't do it without you."

Hermione blinked at him, shock coursing through her system at his honesty. A tension had settled over the rest of the table, and when she glanced away, Harry and Daphne jumped into a forced conversation; Nott stared at them with a curve to his lips as he sipped his drink.

Hermione said, her voice soft and contrite, "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Malfoy."

He grimaced, leaning back in his seat. "Don't get used to it." He finished his drink and waved at the bartender for another. "We'll discuss it further tomorrow. I'll come by your office first thing."

"Sounds fine." She shifted in her seat, realizing she had been turned in to face him while they'd been talking.

Harry stared at her over the top of his glass, his emerald eyes questioning, even as his lips quirked with humour. She stomped his foot on the floor next to her. Feeling out of sorts, she realized Daphne's gaze was fixed on her as well, a knowing smile on her face.

Hermione felt a flush rise to her cheeks, and made a point of saying, "Good, then. I'll be in my office at the usual time," to ensure everyone knew they had been discussing work and nothing more.

Malfoy snickered, folding his free hand across his front. "I'll be there." He glanced at her again, a brief flicker of his grey eyes. "And it's your turn to buy the tea."

Nott guffawed as Daphne tittered; Harry stared at the two of them, his expression wary.

Hermione slunk into her seat, wishing the warmth in her face would go away; why Malfoy was playing along with the joke, she had no clue. And when she really thought about it, she wasn't certain what the joke was.

"I think I'll call it a night," she said, feeling uncomfortable.

"Nonsense, Granger," Nott clipped. "What's the rush?"

Even Harry was chuckling now. "You really ought to stay for just one more, Hermione." He gave a mocking pout. "Who knows when Randall will decide to lock me up in St Mungo's for good?"

Hermione released a heavy sigh. Malfoy's gaze lingered on her as he sipped from a fresh drink. "Fine. One more."

Chapter Text

Draco met Granger outside of her office the following morning. She handed him a cup of tea without sparing him a glance, preoccupied as she released the wards on her office door.

"Thanks," Draco said, opening the lid to release the trapped steam; the bright aroma of the tea caught in his senses and he inhaled a deep breath. It had been a later night than he'd intended – and more difficult to get out of bed.

He and Theo had stayed for another round or three after Granger, Potter and Daphne had left the Leaky; perhaps in hindsight it hadn't been the wisest course of action. But that was what Hangover Draughts were for and it had been too long since Draco and Theo had been able to let loose, even a little.

The case had taken over most every aspect of Draco's life. But he wasn't complaining; it had given his life, cast adrift since the war, a meaningful purpose.

It was the reason he had decided to become an Auror, after all.

Interrupted from his musings as Granger strode into her office, leaving him in the corridor, Draco followed her inside, slipping into his usual seat across from her.

"So," Granger hedged, her expression wary as she looked at him for the first time. "I know what you think we should discuss this morning –"

"Yes," he interrupted, "getting your rightful spot back in the field mission."

She looked exasperated; Draco could see dark circles beneath her eyes. Either she still wasn't sleeping well enough or the strain from whatever was going on in her head was more significant than she was letting on.

"While I understand and appreciate your interest in the matter, Malfoy," she began, averting her gaze, "it feels like a futile effort. What we should be discussing is your plan of action once you arrive. Has Robards told you anything about the mission yet?"

Draco scowled. "Once we arrive. Listen, Granger, I talked it through with Theo last night –" he cut himself off at the patronizing look on her face. "Why don't you care about whether or not you're going?"

"Believe me, I care," she scoffed, a heavy furrow to her brow. "But I'm sure as hell not going to argue with Unspeakable Burke about it. And talking to Healer Randall would be like negotiating with a brick wall." She hesitated, tapping the desk with the end of her quill. "What we need is a plan of action – places to go, people you might be able to talk to. It'll be helpful once you know who else is on the team."

"Robards will be contacting us at some point – likely today – about the team," Draco said with a flippant wave.

"Right," Granger said, catching the end of the quill between her teeth. Draco's eyes tracked the idle action for a moment until her lips closed around the end and he looked away, flustered. He realized it was another of her Sugar Quills. "I've sent owls to both the Indian and Pakistani Magical Consulates, so they will be aware of your activity in the region, as well as to request their assistance in arranging meetings, guides and experts, that sort of thing."

"Good." Draco nodded. He noticed she had skirted around his intentions and turned the meeting towards her agenda and he put a careful, mental pin into what he had wanted to tell her for the time being. "I thought we would go to Harappa first; if anything came up suspicious in our research, it's those tunnels. Robards and I spoke briefly this morning about arranging accommodations in Lahore, Pakistan."

"Right," Granger said, cracking the tip of the quill between her back molars. Draco winced at the sound.

"Aren't your parents teeth Healers?" he asked, without thinking.

She blinked at him, her mouth slightly open and a heavy furrow coming to her brow. For a startling moment, Draco thought she looked on the verge of tears. She set the quill down on the desk, blinking away whatever had passed through her expression.

"Yes," she said, and there was a flush of pink on her cheekbones. "It's... a nervous habit." She scowled, glancing away. "Anyways, so you'll be staying in Lahore, which is good. That's where the Pakistani Magical Consulate is."

"We," Draco clipped, his tone light and deceptive, as he took a sip of his tea.

Granger paused, a brow quirking; he could see the humour in her expression. "One might think you want me to come along, Malfoy."

"Haven't I made that apparent?" he asked, something in her quiet tone setting him on edge. "You and I have been working on this case since the beginning. You and I should be the ones to go on this field mission and find answers. Not some team of Aurors and Unspeakables who don't know a damn thing about it."

"Aurors who will judge you," Granger mused, "and refuse to listen to you."

He felt his blood flare with heat and glared at her, even as he felt the truth of her words in his soul. "I'm the lead on the case," he bit out. Granger responded with an absent flicker of her brows and Draco sighed. "And fine. It's a consideration."

Her face fell, even as her head tilted in thought. "You don't owe them a thing, Malfoy. You've earned the lead on this case. And if they refuse to listen to you – that's on them."

Draco stared at her for a moment; she held his gaze, a frown on her lips.

"You don't owe me anything either, Granger," he finally said, taking a sip of his tea. "I never asked for you to... I don't know, pretend to respect me in front of other people –"

"I don't pretend at respect," she said, her words sharp. Her voice softened as she continued. "And if we're talking about my respect, you've already earned it."

Her words struck him with a jolt and a deep knit came to his brow as he stared at her, feeling oddly disarmed. The tension of the moment was both unexpected and unsettling and he looked away, rifling through his bag for a quill.

She was still watching him when he straightened in his seat, her lips pursed.

His mouth felt dry. "Thanks, Granger. I guess it's mutual at this point." He pointed at her with the quill. "Which is why you need to come to Harappa."

She sighed, shaking her head, even as a smile tugged at her lips. "Fine. We'll continue the discussion of preparation after. Tell me what sort of nefarious scheme you and Nott cooked up."

"Nefarious," Draco scoffed. "Please."

Granger cocked a brow.

"It's simple," he said. "Randall's concerned with being able to track your brainwaves. Theo's suggested you wear that ridiculous summer hat again and just modify the spell so it tracks from a greater distance, although we can transfigure the hat into something less obtrusive."

Her head tilted and the Sugar Quill slipped between her lips again.

"Don't tell me Nott has invited himself on the excursion in case something happens," she deadpanned.

"Of course not," Draco said with a frown. "He doesn't have any sort of Ministry clearance at all. What I suggested was that we equip you with a customized international Portkey that you'll keep on you at all times. If something happens, it will bring you directly to St Mungo's."

"And if I become incapacitated and can't activate it?" she asked, catching the quill between her canines.

He stared at her. "I'll have a backup."

Granger hesitated while she took a long sip of her tea, her chocolate eyes fixed on the desk. "We'll have to convince not only Healer Randall but Burke and Robards as well... and the plans for the trip have already been put together."

"And?" Draco drawled, making a face. "Plans can be altered."

She gave a little shrug. "I'll talk to Healer Randall about it." Shuffling a stack of papers on her desk, she turned back to face Draco. "For now, let's make sure we have absolutely everything figured out. We need to find these answers."

Hermione frowned as a memo swept through the mail slot on her door; a scroll of parchment was attached, presumably by Gladys in administration. It was addressed to Malfoy and she handed it to him as her eyes flickered across the memo.

"We are to meet with the team Robards and Burke have assembled in the Auror's Office at one o'clock this afternoon," she explained, a furrow coming to her brow as she checked the projected time hovering about her desk. "It's a good thing we've spent all morning going over the details."

Malfoy waved the scroll he'd received. "Healer Randall wants to meet with us also, tomorrow morning."

Hermione inhaled a breath and caught her lower lip between her teeth in her nerves. "We'll ask her about the Portkeys and your plan then." The last thing she needed to do was to get her hopes up.

Malfoy nodded, his expression pensive.

She glanced at him. Some days she still found it hard to believe that she and Malfoy were able to work together in such a capacity, especially since it hadn't been all that long since they had completed their eighth year, and before that…

Before that, he'd fought on the other side of a war. She had nearly bled out on the floor of his home.

She tried to imagine the Malfoy of two years prior sitting in her office discussing a work project – tried to picture what might have happened if she so much as tried to talk to him without animosity.

She jumped in her seat, startled, as she noticed Unspeakable Burke in the room, standing by the door and speaking with another Unspeakable Hermione didn't recognize.

"What," she gasped, not having seen the door open. In fact, there was no logical explanation for why Burke was in the office in the first place, or why he hadn't greeted her. She rose from her seat. "Unspeakable Burke?"

Her superior didn't glance up; in fact, he kept conversing in hushed tones with the other man, whose brow was furrowed in dismay.

Malfoy's head swung backwards to face Burke, a brow quirked as his hands clung to the arms of his chair. Slowly, his head swivelled back around to face her, a curious look on his face and a tilt to his head.

Distracted, Hermione glanced at him, and when she turned back Burke and the other Unspeakable had vanished. She blinked at the empty space in her office several times, her mouth hanging open as she fell back into her seat.

"Granger?" Malfoy asked, his expression torn between the urge to run away or to ridicule her. "You've gone barmy, haven't you?"

"No?" she questioned, lifting a hand and then allowing it to drop. "You didn't –" She twisted up her face. "Unspeakable Burke was –"

"No," Malfoy said, cautious, as if dealing with a wild animal. "There's no one here beside you and I. Honestly, are you sure you're sleeping enough?"

"Yes." She continued to stare at the corner of the office, even as she felt a flush creep to her cheeks. Scowling, she turned back to face Malfoy. "Anyways – this afternoon, we'll focus on the details for the mission."

There was a dull throb beginning just behind her temples and she fought the urge to wince.

"Fine," Malfoy said, shaking his head as he stared at her. He looked uncomfortable and Hermione hoped he would let it go. "That's in an hour and I'm hungry."

"Same," Hermione agreed, relieved. "I'll have to get something from the cafeteria and then I'll meet you in the DMLE."

He rose to his feet, slinging the strap of his bag across his chest as he tossed his empty tea cup into the rubbish bin on the floor. "I'll walk you."

She blinked, her shoulders stiffening; she really just wanted to get away from him. Why had she thought Burke had been in the office? She rubbed at the back of her neck. "Alright."

Malfoy followed her from the office and walked alongside her to the lifts in silence, his expression stoic and his gaze fixed ahead. He gestured with a hand once the door of the lift opened and then stood beside her, adjusting the strap of his bag as the lift began to move.

The silence, which had been awkward as they walked, became intensified in the enclosed space of the lift.

Hermione glanced over; he was studying the panel of numbered buttons. Feeling her gaze, he looked over, his lips pressed into a thin line.

She averted her gaze. She dug in the pocket of her Unspeakable robes, ensuring she had enough coins for her lunch.

He drummed the tips of his fingers on the wall as the lift darted around the Ministry; Hermione fired him a glare at the insistent sound. He raised a pale brow.

As the lift was nearing the Atrium floor – thank Merlin – Hermione cleared her throat.

"Thanks, Malfoy," she said, shifting on her feet. "For your help. You know… even if it doesn't pan out with Healer Randall."

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're welcome, Granger."

He paced alongside her, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, as they made their way to the cafeteria. Hermione cast a suspicious glance around but no one was paying them any mind. Not that most of the Ministry didn't already know they were working together.

Malfoy stopped dead on the spot with a furrow to his brow, his grey eyes flickering. Hermione stuttered to a halt beside him, turning to look at him, but his attention was focused forward. And then she noticed why.

Narcissa Malfoy was floating towards them, all elegance and graceful, flowing robes. Hermione found herself tugging at the side of her Unspeakable robes, caught in the weight of her bag, as the woman approached with an appraising gaze.

"Draco," Narcissa said, with a tilt to her head. The woman's bright blue eyes met Hermione's and she found herself giving Malfoy a questioning look. But Narcissa Malfoy smiled. "Miss Granger! What a surprise."

Hermione was all too aware of the woman's stare grazing the length of her outfit and her less-than-flattering Ministry issue robes.

"Hello, Missus Malfoy," Hermione said with a nod, fighting the urge to fidget.

"Mother," Malfoy ground through his teeth as he stared at the woman. "What brings you to the Ministry?"

Narcissa's eyes lingered on Hermione for another moment before she turned to face her son. Her lips curved into a demure smile, her hands clasped delicately across her front. "Well you've just been so busy, I thought I would come by to see you!"

"Right," Malfoy said, uncertain. "I apologize, Mother, I haven't been by –"

Hermione's eyes widened; she felt as if she ought to back away from their conversation post-haste.

"Of course," Narcissa said, her gaze trailing between them again, "I don't mean to interrupt."

"No," Malfoy bit out. "You aren't. We were only – Granger and I were –"

"We were walking the same way, is all," Hermione hastened to say. "We weren't eating together or anything."

Narcissa's head tilted again; her blonde hair was pulled into a complicated twist that complemented the bone structure of her face and Hermione cringed at the likely state of her own hair. The Malfoy matriarch smiled. "I see."

Hermione hesitated, about to make her excuses and carry on to leave them to their lunch, when Narcissa spoke again.

"Unspeakable robes, are those, Miss Granger?"

There was a discernible stiffness to the set of Malfoy's shoulders, and a tension in the hard line of his jaw when her gaze flickered to him.

"Yes, Missus Malfoy," Hermione said. "I've completed my Unspeakable training not all that long ago."

"Fascinating work, I'm sure," Narcissa carried on. "They always said you would be capable of great magical pursuits."

Hermione blinked at the woman, wondering who they were. And furthermore – whether Narcissa Malfoy had just offered her a compliment.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "We shouldn't keep Granger from her lunch, Mother."

"Of course," Narcissa said with a soft shake of her head; her hair remained unmoved. "It was wonderful to see you, Miss Granger."

"The same to you, Missus Malfoy," Hermione clipped, taking an anxious step to the side. "Enjoy your lunch."

With one last smile, and swallowing a thick lump in her throat, Hermione turned into the cafeteria to order her lunch and took up a table at the far end by herself, doing her best to ignore the headache establishing a firm hold.

She could see Malfoy and his mother in conversation across the room – he was gesturing as he spoke – and Hermione wondered why Narcissa Malfoy's gaze kept flickering to her.

Draco made his way to the Auror's office after he had said goodbye to his mother; Robards was alone in the assigned board room, a frown on his face.

"Good afternoon, sir," he said with a stiff nod as he approached the large table.

"Auror Malfoy," Robards said, looking up with a tight smile. "I hope you're ready for this meeting. Unspeakable Burke and I have selected a competent team – we hope."

Granger rushed into the room, her hair piled into a messy bun atop her head, and her eyes squinted.

Robards smiled. "And Unspeakable Granger."

"Hello," she breathed, sinking into a seat. Draco was distracted, watching as she drew a swath of parchment sheets from her bag, along with quills, inkwells, notes, and books. A flush rose to her cheeks as she looked up, seeing both Draco and Robards watching her with amusement. "I like to be prepared."

Draco snickered and selected the seat beside her, not knowing how large the team was going to be. He had done his best, over lunch, to draw his thoughts from the fact that at least some, if not all, of the team members would be less than inclined to take direction from him.

But now, faced with the imminence of the meeting, the nerves he had attempted to push away swept back in with a vengeance.

In the span of the next ten minutes, an array of Aurors Draco recognized – and Unspeakables he didn't – trickled into the room.

The Aurors, for the most part, kept a safe distance from the Unspeakables in their dark robes, and Draco realized most of them had probably never worked or interacted with Unspeakables in any capacity.

It was unusual that he and Granger were working together at all. The Unspeakables kept to the other side, nearest Granger, and Draco was glad she had come for the meeting, despite not being on the team for the mission.

He glanced at her. Yet.

They had spent the bulk of the morning compiling the most relevant information about the case thus far, as well as the most vital details about the Indus Valley civilization. Draco released a tight breath as he distributed a stack of thick folders to each new member of the team.

He re-took his seat while they began rifling through the pages – three Aurors and three Unspeakables – and Robards rose to his feet, slipping a pair of glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

"Thank you for coming," Robards announced, in his easy tone that commanded attention nonetheless. The fidgeting and shifting of parchment silenced. "You have been assembled as a new task force for a field mission that will be conducted and led by Auror Malfoy."

There was a tense feel to the room and Draco's eyes slid to meet Granger's; her expression was impassive. A few people shot him stares.

"The lives of four Aurors are dependent on this team," Robards continued, either oblivious to the atmosphere or unwilling to pay it any notice. "Which means the sooner we find answers, the better. Auror Malfoy will present a brief rundown on the mission."

Robards took his seat with an expectant look at Draco.

"Right," Draco muttered, rising to his feet and pressing his hands against his slacks. Six sets of eyes were hard on him, and he could feel Robards and Granger watching him as well. He let out a breath; his chest felt tight.

"So as you can see in the files," he began, gesturing with a hand, "the figure that has been central to the case thus far has come from the Indus Valley civilization – a society that no longer exists but for archaeological ruins. Ancient, unknown magic from within the figure has been responsible for two deaths, and has put four Aurors in St Mungo's."

There was a hasty shifting through the files again as he went on.

"Our aim will be to visit the excavated sites of the Indus Valley – starting in Harappa, one of the largest – and investigate for strange occurrences of old magic. We will locate the source of the magic – and Merlin willing, we'll find a way to prevent its development any further here at home."

In his peripheral vision, Draco could see Granger nodding along. The faces of the three Unspeakables were stoic as they read through the briefs; two of the Aurors muttered between themselves.

"And how do we ensure the magic does not affect any of us as we hunt it down?" an Auror whose name Draco didn't know asked, one brow raised.

"We will be taking the appropriate precautions," Draco said, frowning.

"Page eight," Granger contributed, "has a list of the precautions necessary. Protective spells and the like."

The Auror flipped through his file and nodded, satisfied.

"Given Unspeakable Granger has been the alternate lead on this case from the standpoint of the Department of Mysteries," one of the Unspeakables asked, "but now Auror Malfoy is to be the lead on the case, what is the precedent for this? Will Unspeakable Granger not remain the alternate lead once in the field?"

Robards cut in. "Unspeakable Granger will be staying behind as a liaison in London, should you so need, and Auror Malfoy will have the ultimate say while on the field mission."

The Unspeakable opened his mouth to say something more, his brow furrowed in confusion, but then snapped his mouth shut. "Very well."

Draco took his seat beside Granger, arranging his sheets in the file.

"And why, exactly, is Auror Malfoy leading this case anyway?" another of the Aurors asked; the man was leaned back in his chair, looking displeased, as his gaze remained on Robards. "In my understanding, he has never been given a case outside of the DMLE, let alone outside of the continent."

Granger shifted in her seat; her lips were pressed into a line.

"Auror Malfoy has been the lead on this case since the figure first entered the Auror's Office," Robards clipped, his hands interlocked across his sternum as he adopted a relaxed stance. "He and Unspeakable Granger have been pursuing this case for weeks; it is because of them that we know what we already know. Auror Malfoy has proven himself to be more than competent."

The Auror scoffed. "Then Unspeakable Granger should be coming along as well."

Granger cleared her throat. "I am medically unfit to leave the country."

"What the hell does that mean?" the Auror sneered, his hands planted on the table. "So instead of an Auror who actually knows what they're doing, or at least an Unspeakable who's familiar with the case, we're to accept direction from a child none of us even trust?"

Draco felt his hands clench beneath the table, his jaw tight. Granger's hand nudged against his elbow and he sunk back into his seat; her eyes were narrowed as she stared at him.

"Auror Marshall, that is enough," Robards bit out. "If you cannot follow the direction of Auror Malfoy, you will not be a part of this mission. It's really that simple."

The Auror growled, a curl to his upper lip. Marshall stood, throwing his file onto the table. "Then no, I won't be a part of this mission."

He turned and strode from the room. Every eye swiveled to Auror Robards, who merely pressed his lips into a grim approximation of a smile.

"Very well, then," Robards said. "It seems we need a new Auror. Are there any other concerns with my personal judgment?"

There was a general murmur and Draco wasn't certain whether he was breathing. His teeth ground together in an effort to keep from saying anything.

"Excellent." Robards leaned back in his seat once more. "Any other questions?"

"When do we leave?" A studious-looking, bespectacled Unspeakable asked, quill poised over a sheet of notes he'd been taking. A stack of parchment was lined up neatly atop his folder of information.

Draco would have snickered at the male version of Granger if not for the gratitude he felt for the man's easy acquiescence to move on from the scene the Auror named Marshall had created.

"The day after tomorrow," Robards clipped, "first thing. Spend tomorrow finalizing your preparations. Auror Malfoy and Unspeakable Granger have been thorough with their drafts. It would do you all well to be sure you are adequately familiarized with the information package."

Another general murmur of consent.

"Very well. If you have any other concerns for the time being, do not hesitate to contact Auror Malfoy or myself," Robards clipped. "Otherwise, this meeting is dismissed."

Draco stood and waited while the room gathered their materials and began to disperse. To his surprise, the three Unspeakables – two men and a woman – walked over to introduce themselves on their way out, along with the two remaining Aurors.

Granger remained in her seat until Robards left, the heel of her palm pressed against her temple.

"That went well," she choked, her voice strained.

"All things considered. We knew the Aurors wouldn't all be pleased," Draco agreed, glancing at her. She was looking a little green and he frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Headache," she choked out. "Perhaps, a pain potion."

Draco rifled through his bag and handed her a small vial.

Her eyes widened in surprise as she said, "Thank you," in a thick voice.

"You should go see Randall," he advised. "If these headaches are continuing, Granger… there's a good chance I'll need you to keep an eye on things here, if you aren't cleared to leave tomorrow."

She nodded, the tightness in her expression easing as she drank the contents of the vial; Draco thought it said a lot about her trust in him that she didn't question the potion he'd given her. He thought the Granger of a few weeks ago would have been suspicious and refused anything from him. "I'll mention it in the morning when we go to St Mungo's."

Draco scowled. "Fine. We'll meet there first thing tomorrow."

Granger nodded, compiling her possessions back into her bag. With a tight, "Let me know if you need anything," she swept from the room.

Draco stared after her, alone in the empty room.

Chapter Text

It was still early when Hermione arrived at St Mungo's the following morning, but to her surprise, Malfoy was already waiting for her.

There were dark circles beneath his eyes and he offered her a grimace as he took a deep pull from his paper cup of tea. "You ready?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a shrug. "I have to say I'm curious as to what Randall owled about in the first place – and curious whether she'll consider your plan."

Malfoy only offered her a flicker of his brows as they began the walk to the research lab where Healer Randall kept her personal office. A few Healers from her team were already working when they arrived but paid them no mind, having grown so used to their presence.

The door to Randall's office was open and Malfoy tapped on the edge of the doorframe; she looked up and nodded them in.

"Thank you for meeting me," the woman said, gesturing to the door. Malfoy closed it behind him as he took a seat beside Hermione. She was scanning some reports, her eyes moving quickly across the parchment. "My reasons for inviting you here were two-fold – and as of last night, three-fold."

She placed the parchment down on her desk, turning her full attention on Hermione and Malfoy.

"My team has, as of yet, been unable to develop a reliable method of treatment for your sick Aurors; and unfortunately, the magical sample has been largely depleted through testing. My Healers are hesitant to keep running tests with such a limited sample remaining."

Hermione frowned, sharing a glance with Malfoy. "We don't have another way to extract any more of it. The samples were obtained from the bodies of the two deceased."

"And the magic within the blood samples we kept has dispersed," Randall continued. "We've checked." She frowned, tapping a quill on her desk. "Furthermore, the level of the magic within the bloodstream of Aurors Cary and Milano has increased – a small percentage, but noticeable. It is still minimal in comparison to the two original cases."

Hermione swallowed the thick, sudden lump in her throat.

"And in Potter and Finnigan as well, I'm afraid – their blood now contains the same amount as the initial samples we tested from the first two Aurors."

Malfoy saved her from having to speak. "So Aurors Potter and Finnigan are presenting noticeable symptoms of illness, as the first pair were?"

"They are beginning to, yes," Healer Randall nodded. She released a breath, staring between the two of them. "I am afraid things are not looking good on our end here at St Mungo's; these are such volatile and experimental procedures, it can be difficult to guarantee results. I can only hope you have a plan at the Ministry."

"We are dispatching a field team tomorrow morning, to the original site of the figure which released the magic," Malfoy explained. "We will be pursuing a number of leads."

"Good," Randall said, her tone gruff. "You have time, but I don't know how much of it."

"Noted," Malfoy said with a tight grimace. Hermione forced her breathing to level off – the thought of Harry growing sicker made her stomach twist.

"The next reason I wanted to speak to the two of you," Randall carried on, her brows high. "My lab received a significant, anonymous donation last night to carry on with our research. I don't suppose either of you know anything about that?"

Beside Hermione, Malfoy's countenance was rigid, his expression carefully blank.

"No," he bit out, "why would you think we would know about it?"

There was something in his tone that Hermione couldn't quite place. She cast him a furtive glance.

Randall shook her head. "It's probably nothing – but the anonymous donor inferred they would be pleased if Unspeakable Granger were medically cleared to travel."

Hermione froze, her fingers clenching the seat of her chair. "Why would an anonymous donor have any interest in that – or knowledge, for that matter?"

"It wasn't me, if that's what you're asking," Malfoy said, his jaw tight.

"It would make no sense beyond the context of what a small handful of people know," Randall said. "Which is why I thought one of you might know something about it."

Malfoy shook his head, even as he stared at Hermione. "While we're on the subject, however –"

Randall raised a hand, cutting him off. "Healer Nott has informed me of the plan you two have concocted."

Hermione tensed, feeling the breath rush from her lungs. Healer Randall turned to face her.

"It isn't a bad idea," Randall admitted. "Although I would have to ask that you leave a customized international Portkey with my team as well, in case something unusual comes up on the brainwave scans."

"I'll speak to Auror Robards," Malfoy said, hedging a glance at Hermione. "Does this mean you'll modify the assessment?"

"On one condition," Randall said. "I will need to update my test results on Unspeakable Granger. And I must ask – has anything unusual occurred since we last spoke?"

Hermione caught her lower lip between her teeth in a sudden rush of nerves. There had been the intense headache the day before – and the incident whereby she thought she had seen Unspeakable Burke –

"I need you to be honest," Randall urged, sensing her hesitation.

Malfoy huffed a heavy breath beside her.

"I had a headache yesterday," she admitted, "not like the time I was brought to the hospital, but nevertheless. It began shortly after I…" she trailed off, glancing at Malfoy. He shrugged, his expression blank. "I thought I'd seen Unspeakable Burke, talking to another man in my office. But… neither of them were there. Auror Malfoy didn't see them. And when I looked away, they were gone."

"You saw them," Randall echoed, her brows raised in surprise.

"Yes," Hermione whispered. "They just appeared, and I thought they were real –"

Malfoy scratched the back of his head and shifted in his seat – Hermione knew how it would likely sound, when they were trying to prove that she wasn't losing her mind.

Randall shook her head. "I don't know what to say about that. There might be a chance I can trace your brain activity back, up to twenty-four hours, but it'll be shaky."

"It was close to lunch," Hermione said, frowning.

"Then we ought to begin the testing now," Randall said, rising to her feet. "Auror Malfoy, please contact your superior about arranging provisional Portkeys – in the event that I find Unspeakable Granger suitable for travel after all – it sounds like you might need the extra help on your field mission."

"Will do," Malfoy said on a breath, nodding. "Granger – stay in touch."

"Bye," she muttered with a grimace, as he turned and left the room.

Draco looked up that afternoon to see Granger making her way across the Auror's office to his desk, and a knit came to his brow.

"And?" he prompted, organizing some paperwork.

She cast a quick glance around the office before slipping into the seat across from him. "Randall could see where my brain activity spiked yesterday; she said the movement of the brainwaves was similar to the ones I'd been exhibiting when I went to St Mungo's with that terrible headache."

"So what does that mean?" Draco asked, frowning.

She gave a little shrug. "That whatever happened yesterday was somehow connected to the surge in brain activity I've been experiencing. That I must have, somehow, accessed something."

"Which is only helpful if you're aware of what you did to access it, correct?" Draco asked, raising a brow. He kept his voice low to avoid being overhead – there was always someone listening in to his conversations, it seemed.

"Yes and no," Granger said, chewing on her lower lip. "It gives us a sense of what exactly it is that's happening – and it proves I'm not crazy for having seen Burke in the office."

"So you're coming, then?" he asked.

"Yes." Granger nodded, her lips tugging into a smile. "I have to wear the hat again – but Randall's transfigured it into something less alarming."

She brandished a blue Muggle sports cap with an embroidered bird from within her bag and Draco wrinkled his nose in distaste. "It's hardly better, but more reasonable to be wearing out in the sun, I suppose."

"At this point," Granger sighed, "I'd wear the damn summer hat again if that's what it took."

"Fine." Draco waved a hand at the paperwork on his desk. "Setting aside your mental precognitions for the time being, I've reached out to Francois Moreau, and he was able to dig up his mother's itinerary from her recent trip to Southeast Asia."

He handed a sheet of parchment to Granger; her eyes sped across the page. "This is helpful, isn't it?"

He gave her a shrug. "Potentially. It doesn't hurt to have as much information as possible. We'll be facing a lot of this blind."

"That's the part that makes me nervous." Granger hesitated, casting another glance around the office. "A lot of the planning for this trip will have to happen on the fly."

Draco grimaced and swept his fringe out of his eyes. "We can only plan so much when facing so many unknown components." Then he leaned back in his seat, catching her eye. "I also briefed the replacement Auror with the information for the case – and it's someone you know."

"Who?" Granger snapped, her eyes flying across the room. "The only other Auror I really know is –"

"Dean Thomas," Draco finished for her. "Apparently he practically begged Robards to put him on the case. Understandable, though."

"Given he's close with Seamus and Harry," Granger concluded, nodding. "Well, that will be good to have a familiar face. And obviously he has no problem taking command from you."

Draco blinked at her casual mention of the subject, eyeing her closely.

He was distracted as Robards approached, grinning. He held his hands out in surprise. "Looks like you're both going after all. Unspeakable Granger, you've been medically cleared. I'm on my way to meet with Kingsley and procure three customized Portkeys, so I'm told."

"Right," Draco said, flashing a tight smile. "It's good news."

Robards offered them a sharp nod. "I'm glad you're both going. You've worked well together so far, and we'll need efficiency in the field." He hesitated, the smile slipping from his face. "You have both reviewed and understand the relevant field protocol, I presume? Written reports every day, event-specific updates, proper handling of evidence?"

They both nodded and Robards' easy countenance returned. "And of course, be cautious as hell! We don't know where this magic originated, yeah?"

"Yes," Granger breathed, her eyes wide. Draco nodded again.

Robards clapped his hands together. "Perfect. I'll be here to see you off tomorrow morning. Your host from the Pakistani Magical Consulate has invited the two of you to join him for dinner tomorrow night."

Draco blinked, his brow knitting. "Alright."

Granger cast him a quick glance but remained silent. With another nod, Robards turned and left the room.

She slipped the hat back into her bag and her eyes swept the floor of the Auror's office, shifty in her seat and surreptitious. "I need to pack some things from my office." She drew a small purple satchel from her larger bookbag and held it out. "Would you like to come? I could use a hand figuring out what we should bring."

"Into there?" Draco asked, peering at the small bag. "What do you plan on fitting in there, the figure itself and nothing else?"

Granger shrugged, her eyes wide. "More than you think."

He frowned, meeting her gaze. "Is there an Undetectable Extension Charm on that bag, Granger?"

She shrugged, averting her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Granger, you know those are under strict Ministry control and you've just as good as confessed to an Auror?" Draco asked, shaking his head, even as he fought the urge to laugh. "I could literally arrest you right now."

"You wouldn't," she hissed, slipping the beaded bag away. "Not after going to all this effort to ensure I would be coming along on the mission."

Draco snickered. "If you ever irritate me enough, Granger –"

"Oh, shut up," she huffed. She rose from her seat and took a few steps away from his desk. "Are you coming or not?"

Draco chuckled and couldn't help a grin. "Yes, I'm coming."

There was a nervous sort of buzzing in Hermione's very being when she awoke the next day. She rose and prepared a cup of tea; she had packed a proper suitcase the night before, mostly because it would be suspicious if she left the country for an undetermined length of time with only a small purse, and because she would need to be streamlined on site. Double-checking its contents, she shrunk the bag and slipped it into her pocket. But also because she and Malfoy had filled her beaded bag with most of the contents of her office bookshelf, along with a significant load of potentially useful gadgets.

She had no idea what to expect, no idea how long they would stay in the former Indus Valley – and what they might possibly find.

Two weeks ago, the idea of working closely with Malfoy would have deterred her, but she found she was agreeable to the fact that he would be along. He had proven himself more than competent, and motivated enough to want to solve the case post-haste. They had also been granted a capable team, from what Hermione had surmised.

Taking a bite out of a muffin as she made a last sweep of her flat and collected her things, Hermione Flooed to the Ministry.

Malfoy approached as soon as she walked into the Auror's Office; the same combination of nervous trepidation and excitement that she knew she wore was evident in his face as well.

"The team is just meeting with Robards," he explained as he walked with her to his desk. "He will be dispatching them to the Pakistani Consulate in Lahore as soon as he's through."

"Good," Hermione nodded, sipping from her mug of tea.

"You need this," Malfoy went on, reaching out with what looked like a small pin. His hand grazed the collar of her shirt before he hesitated, frowning as he stepped back, his cheeks a flushed a dull pink. "I'll let you."

Hermione blinked, releasing a tight breath as she accepted the pin. In avoiding his gaze, she noticed he wore one attached to his own lapel.

"It's the customized Portkey," he explained. "If you touch it with the intention to use it, it will transport you to St Mungo's, no matter where you are. Mine works the same; if you can't access yours for some reason, I can use mine to transport you. And Randall has one that will work in reverse, if she needs to reach you."

"Perfect," Hermione breathed, attaching the small Portkey to her oxford.

Malfoy rummaged through a stack of parchment on his desk; his hair was disheveled and there were dark bruises beneath his eyes. He handed her a sheet, saying, "Here. Our contact at the Consulate is a man named Adnan Shah; he works in international relations. He will be coordinating any meetings we need to arrange while over there."

"Good," Hermione nodded.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Here's our hotel itinerary – we lose five hours between London and Lahore, so –"

"Malfoy," Hermione exclaimed. "Breathe?"

She hadn't seen him quite like this before – he was often a man of few words.

He blinked, sucking on his teeth, and idly fingered through his sheets. "I didn't sleep much."

"I can tell," she huffed. "Why don't we go through this in an efficient manner. Do we need to know any of this before we leave?"

Deflated, he stacked the sheets of parchment and slipped them into his bag. "Not really. Shah will be waiting for us."

Robards walked over, flanked by Burke, who flashed Hermione a grin.

"Unspeakable Granger," Burke clipped, "it's nice to see you in good health." There was something tongue-in-cheek to the statement and she smiled. "Are the two of you set to depart? The rest of your team is Portkeying into Lahore now."

Hermione glanced at Malfoy, whose fingers were drumming an anxious rhythm on the surface of his desk. "I think we're all set."

"Good," Robards said, giving Malfoy a glance. "So as you know, both Unspeakable Burke and I will be accessible at any time should you need us. Check-in daily with your findings; Ministry owls were dispatched for your convenience last night. Otherwise –" he grimaced, looking between them. "Do your best to find the answers we need before we lose four Aurors, yeah?"

Hermione swallowed a thick lump in her throat and nodded, unable to bring herself to speak at the thought of losing Harry. "Keep us updated on their status?"

"Of course," Robards responded, his tone softer. "We're trusting the two of you to lead this team – and we have every confidence you'll do well." His gaze landed on Malfoy in particular. "Auror Malfoy – I knew you had it in you."

Malfoy's drumming paused and he gave a tight nod, with a sharp, "Thank you, sir."

He rose to his feet and stood alongside Hermione as Burke placed a rusted kettle on the desk and activated the Portkey with a wave of his wand.

"Unspeakable Granger – Auror Malfoy – do your best." Burke gave them each a nod and stepped away.

Robards brows lifted high onto his forehead as he nodded at the Portkey. "Good luck."

Hermione met Malfoy's gaze, and with a last steadying breath, reached out to touch the kettle just as he did. She felt the familiar tug beneath her navel and they were gone.

Draco stared around the bustling hall of the Pakistani Magical Consulate, his heart beating somewhere in his throat. He had spent half the night awake, running through a list of things that could go wrong, and his mind was unsettled.

The only good thing – and he felt preposterous even for the thought – was that Granger was with him and he wasn't facing this alone. The rest of the team had already arrived in Lahore, and would be making their way to the hotel where they would all be staying. He and Granger had been invited to join their host, Adnan Shah, for dinner.

It would also be a chance for him and Granger to arrange any necessary guides or experts with whom they would need to meet – they would venture out to Harappa the following morning, since it was already into the afternoon in Pakistan.

Beside him, Granger had already spurred into action, her eyes searching the wide hall that appeared to be based strictly around travel – Floo grates, Portkey stations, regulated Apparition points – and she paced forward without him.

Following her trajectory, Draco saw a man above whose head floated his name – Malfoy.

With a few long strides, he caught up to Granger's shorter footfalls and huffed as he slipped his hands into his pockets where his shrunken trunk was stowed.

He hadn't known what to bring for such a trip, where the duration was as of yet unknown, and had packed and re-packed his bag three times over.

He so badly needed this mission to go well – his literal future at the Ministry depended on it – and he had felt the nerves grating on him.

The man turned to face them as they approached, a wide smile on his face. His outfit was a combination between wizarding robes and traditional Pakistani clothing. With a wave of the man's hand, Draco's surname vanished from the air, and Shah offered a hand.

"Auror Malfoy!" the man exclaimed as Draco gave his hand a firm shake.

"Mr Shah," Draco returned as he stepped back. "This is my colleague, Hermione Granger."

"Welcome to Lahore!" Shah said with another wide smile. His words carried a thick accent, but his English was crisp. "And please, call me Adnan."

Granger caught his eye as she shifted on the spot. Not for the first time, Draco wondered what sort of a culture shock it would be to spend time in a country whose cultural traditions were so far from his own.

"Very well," Draco clipped with a tight smile. "I am to understand you will be our liaison while here in Lahore."

"Exactly." Shah nodded as he began to walk toward the Floo grates along one wall. "Anything at all you need, do not hesitate to ask. We have made a board room available here at the Magical Consulate for you and your team, should you need a place to meet."

"Excellent," Draco said. "We will be heading to Harappa in the morning – and more than likely, we will

need to arrange a future trip to Mohenjo-Daro as well."

"Portkeys have already been prepared for both sites," Shah said as he stopped beside the grates and handed Draco a slip of parchment. "Here is the name of your hotel. And below is my address; please be sure to owl, if you find you need anything. I would invite you both to dine with my wife and I tonight, at six o'clock."

Granger smiled, glancing at the sheet of parchment. "We appreciate that very much."

Shah clapped his hands together with another broad smile. "Then I shall leave you to get settled into your accommodations." He nodded at them both and made his way back down to the other end of the hall.

Draco shared a look with Granger and they made their way through the Floo.

"What do you mean," Draco ground through clenched teeth, "you haven't got any more rooms?"

Granger's heel met his shin and he shot her a glare. "You're making a scene," she hissed.

Indeed, the young man at the front desk of the hotel looked frazzled as he searched through a stack of parchment. "I have just the one room reserved for Malfoy."

"There should be two," Draco clipped, forcing his breathing and temper to settle. "Malfoy – and Granger – one for each of us."

"The rest of your team is checked in already," the man said as he shook his head. "I have only one room left for the British Ministry of Magic."

"Can we reserve another," Draco intoned, raising a brow.

"I am sorry, we are completely full –"

"Would you excuse us for a moment?" Granger asked, flashing the man a smile, before turning a scowl on Draco as she paced across the entrance of the hotel. Huffing, Draco followed after her.

"Obviously the accommodations were booked before it was decided I would be coming along," she hissed, meeting his gaze. "Just check into your room, and we'll figure something out after. It isn't that man's fault."

"Like what?" Draco snapped. He knew he was being petulant, but he needed the whole team to stay at the same hotel. He knew he should have gone back through everything before they had left London.

Granger shrugged. "The rooms might have couches. I can stay with one of the other Unspeakables. Or maybe with Dean."

He recalled the Unspeakable who had reminded him of a male version of Granger and he felt his lip curl. "You'll have to come with me for now, and we'll figure something out when we see the rest of the team."

A flush appeared high on Granger's cheekbones. In a breathy clip, she said, "Fine."

Draco rolled his eyes and returned to the front desk to complete his check in; the young man offered him an apologetic smile and he forced a tight one in return. "Please let me know if another room becomes available."

"Of course," the young man nodded.

Feeling the start of a migraine coming on, Draco strode past Granger to catch the lift up to his – their – room.

Chapter Text

There was something unnerving about sharing a space with Granger, Draco had decided. It was one thing to work together in her office or at his desk, but it was another altogether to share an enclosed, private space. It was… personal.

But yet, there was some part of him that didn't want Granger to stay in a room with Unspeakable Male-Granger. She was friends with Dean Thomas, so he supposed she could stay there – but they hadn't even seen the rest of the team, and for the time being, he couldn't be bothered.

Granger had made herself at home – overbearingly so – as soon as she had settled into Draco's hotel room. Because make no mistake – it was his room, and she was only there until they could sort something else out.

She had hung her robes in the closet, her books lined the small shelf along one wall, and her personal effects dominated the loo.

Draco scowled while she shuffled through some paperwork and took a seat at the small wooden table by the window, a Sugar Quill caught between her teeth.

Finding a spare blanket in the closet, Draco tossed it onto the couch with a pointed look, but Granger ignored him.

Forget chivalry, Draco valued his sleep. It was his room – his bed.

His eyes stung and he had developed a bothersome headache; he had hardly slept the night before and decided to have a nap before they were to go for dinner at Shah's – but the thought of sleeping with Granger in the room was discomfiting.

Hell, the thought of disrobing into his sleep clothes around her was concerning enough.

Granger was lost in her research – despite that he knew she had been over the notes on Harappa countless times already – so Draco huffed and slipped off his outer robes, tucking himself into the far side of the bed and making a show of claiming the space.

Her quill tapped an absent rhythm on the table as she studied.

Activating an alarm on his wand, Draco pressed his eyes shut in his best effort to ignore her, hoping sleep would be quick.

Realistically, Draco had always known Granger wasn't unattractive.

In his fourth year, after seeing the way she cleaned up for the Yule Ball – and on Viktor Krum's arm, nonetheless – he had been forced to admit to himself that she was actually quite pretty.

He didn't think there was a bloke in the hall that hadn't noticed her that night.

And she wasn't a girl anymore; she was a young woman now.

But it had been easy to ignore the fact to this point in their working relationship, given he always saw her in her bulky and unflattering Ministry-issue Unspeakable robes, with her hair piled into a messy bun. Furthermore, Granger wasn't prone to calling attention to herself by wearing an excess of make-up on a daily basis like some of the witches Draco knew.

He could confess to himself she was pretty enough without it.

When he walked out of the loo with a towel around his waist and another drying his hair, however, he froze.

Granger had evidently showered while he had napped, and she now wore a sleek but modest set of dress robes in midnight purple that must have been tailored to fit her; Draco blinked several times and the hand towel-drying his hair halted.

He hadn't quite realized the full extent of her shape – but the robes clung to the modest curves of her hips and chest, accentuating her trim waist. Some of the wildness to her curls had been tamed and she had pinned most of them back, with the odd one still fallen loose. She had transfigured the brainwave tracking hat into some sort of sparkling headband.

Draco realized he was staring – with his mouth hanging half-open like an ape – when she glanced up with a sharp breath. Her eyes widened and Draco could see she had applied some make-up to her cheeks and eyelids; it set off the chocolate in her eyes.

She stared at him for a moment before averting her gaze, a light flush rising to her cheeks as she pulled something from her bag on the table.

"Do you mind," she hissed, waving a hand at his upper body.

He tore his gaze away from the way her gown clung to her assets long enough to notice he wore nothing but a towel. He had been gawking at Granger – half naked.

"Right," he muttered, his voice coming out low and he made to move past her through the tight space. His shoulder brushed against hers and he felt the tension in her body; he could smell her perfume.

Merlin, she needed to get her own room.

Avoiding her entirely, Draco collected a pair of shorts and fresh trousers and – brushing against her again – returned to the loo to dress while she shifted on her feet.

Granger had shaken off the awkwardness by the time Draco was dressed in a shirt and securing a set of cufflinks. She clipped, "We need to leave in fifteen minutes."

"I'll be ready," Draco returned.

She pursed her lips. "Of course you will."

Granger swept a tube of lipstick across her lips while Draco shrugged into his robes – his eyes followed the movement – and he found himself wondering what was wrong with him. In all the time he and Granger had been working on the case together, he had never seen fit to observe her body beneath the robes, or bloody stare at her lips.

He swallowed, taking several breaths and willing his body to forget about the way she looked in the robes. Granger offered him a tight smile to suggest she was ready.

After they returned from dinner, he would talk to the man at the front counter again. There was no way Granger was sleeping in his room tonight.

He scowled in return. "Let's go, then."

Adnan Shah lived in a nice house in a magical neighbourhood, if the whizzing contraptions in the front yard were anything to judge by.

Hermione had wondered, when they had begun planning the mission, how similar the magical culture in Pakistan would be to that of Great Britain. But Shah's neighbours all had the same contraptions, and Hermione didn't even recognize most of them.

"Advanced weather tracking systems," Shah said as he joined them in the yard. "It can grow very hot here during the day!"

A woman with sleek black hair, wearing pastel green wizarding robes, joined them in the yard. She clasped Hermione's hand in greeting, with a nod to Malfoy. "I am Azra Shah. Welcome."

"Thank you for having us," Hermione returned with a smile. Malfoy gave the woman a stiff nod and shook Adnan's hand as well.

He had been skittish and awkward since they had been getting ready in the hotel room and Hermione wondered if it was because he had emerged from the bathroom in only a towel; perhaps his sense of Pureblood propriety had been offended.

But even so, she hadn't been able to help sneaking a peek. She knew he was trim given the way he wore a suit, but he was quite fit as well, and for a brief moment she wondered what sort of athletic pursuits he indulged in, if any. She had felt the colour rising in her cheeks and hoped he hadn't noticed.

He had barely spoken to her since; frowning, Hermione had finished preparing for dinner.

Malfoy was asking Shah questions about the whizzing mechanisms; Azra tugged Hermione's hand with an apologetic smile.

"Would you care for tea?"

"Absolutely," Hermione said with a grateful nod. She followed the woman into the house, staring around. More contraptions whirled and spun; a strong, aromatic scent pervaded into the sitting room from the kitchen. "You have a beautiful house."

"Thank you!" Azra exclaimed, beaming as Hermione's eye caught on a bookshelf along one wall. "Perhaps a quick tour?"

Hermione grinned, feeling the academic interest within her rise to the surface. Aside from England and Australia, which were quite similar, she hadn't experienced any other magical cultures. "That would be wonderful."

Azra led Hermione through the modest but classy home; the decor was coordinated and well-suited, even as magical accents were mixed in at every turn. They were seated in the sitting room when Malfoy and Shah walked inside, still gesturing and discussing what Hermione surmised to be spell detection wards.

Malfoy had spent more time on his hair than usual – and given he had been largely disheveled and weary since they had started working together on the case, Hermione couldn't help but notice.

A flush crept to her cheeks once more at the mental image of him dressed only in a towel, slung low on his hips. His eyes swept to hers and Hermione averted her gaze, embarrassed.

This was Malfoy. She had no right to be ogling him, or pondering the dimensions of his bare chest, or observing the way he had styled his too-pale hair, or –

Taking a deep breath, she ignored Malfoy and returned to her conversation with Azra.

Dinner was uncomfortable, to say the least. Draco got along well with Shah, and Granger seemed to be hitting it off with the man's wife, which was good because it meant that Draco didn't have to deal with her.

But she had been seated beside him at the small table in the Shah's home and Granger's shoulder had brushed against his own a few times, causing him to scowl at her. Granger's narrowed eyes seethed at him in response.

The food was delicious – Shah's wife had prepared a wonderful meal and the four of them split a large bottle of elf-made wine – and the conversation flowed nicely. Shah and his wife asked about their mission, and Draco and Granger shared what little information they could.

And despite everything else, Draco couldn't help but to feel like he and Granger were on some sort of convoluted double date and he made certain to keep as much distance from her as he could, while also casting Granger a look of disdain when she spoke.

The fact that he could see the creamy, exposed column of her throat when he looked in her direction wasn't helping.

"How wonderful that the two of you work together," Shah's wife – Azra, he thought – said with a smile. Draco's attention snapped to the woman, who was staring at him.

"How do you mean?" Granger asked, a tilt to her head. Draco met her gaze and quickly looked away.

Azra waved a hand. "Simply that it must be nice to see one another so often."

Draco nearly choked on a bite of his vegetables. Swallowing with significant effort, he turned to Azra with a knitted brow. "We only see one another at work because we've been forced to work on this case together."

Granger shifted in her seat but nodded.

Azra exchanged a look with her husband, her eyes widening in horror as she clapped a hand over her mouth. "I apologize; I was under the impression you were involved with one another."

"No," Draco clipped, pressing his lips into a thin line. Azra looked taken aback and Draco's expression softened. "I only mean, Granger and I knew one another from school, but we aren't… together, or anything."

Granger hummed her acquiescence, her eyes wide. "Right," she agreed, "we're only working with one another for this case and then we'll go our separate ways."

Adnan chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. "I too thought the two of you were together." Draco's brows flickered in surprise. "It's just – you are very well suited, aren't you?"

Draco swallowed as he stared at his plate, his appetite having deserted him.

There was a bustle of activity in the lobby of the hotel when they returned; Draco had resolutely ignored Granger since they had left the Shah's house after an otherwise delightful meal and visit. He realized it was childish, but with the inferred sentiments from the Shahs, he didn't want anyone else to get any ideas.

He approached the front desk to inquire as to any available rooms and was disappointed to learn that nothing had changed in the last handful of hours.

Scowling, he found Granger with two of the Unspeakables on the team.

"... mistake with the accommodations," Granger was saying, "so I've been unable to get a room of my own."

Draco slipped his hands into his pockets as he sidled into the group with a nod to the two Unspeakables – the two men on the team. The third Unspeakable, a woman, wasn't with them.

One of the men scoffed and shook his head. "Where are you staying then?"

Granger cast him a sidelong glance. "On Auror Malfoy's couch, it would appear."

Draco pressed his lips together, daring either of the men to comment on the arrangement.

The Unspeakable Draco had likened to a male version of Granger looked up, adjusting wire-rimmed frames on his nose. His gaze lingered on a water fixture in the lobby for a moment before snapping to look at her. "You're welcome to stay in my room, if you'd prefer."

"Oh," Granger said, taken aback. She met Draco's eyes again before looking away. "That might be alright. Just until tomorrow – I realize it's horribly unprofessional, of course –"

"Excellent!" the man exclaimed, cutting her off. "There was something I've been meaning to ask you, anyway, in regards to the magical substance wards you were using –"

Draco felt his lip curl at the man's keenness – he really was a male version of Granger.

Against his volition, he found himself shaking his head. "Granger's staying in my room. Her things are already there."

Granger fired him a look. "They can be moved."

"Then move them tomorrow," he sneered, growing irritated by the entire exchange.

Unspeakable Male-Granger shrugged, a banal smile settled on his features. "Tomorrow, then."

"We Portkey to Harappa at half seven," Draco clipped. "The guide will be meeting us there at eight. Be prepared for a long day of work."

The two Unspeakables nodded, recognizing the shift in conversation, and turned to make their way to the lift. Granger stifled a yawn behind her hand and made to follow them; scowling, Draco walked just behind her, wondering – not for the first time – what the hell was the matter with him.

Granger drifted into the loo for ten minutes and returned, her hair tied up into a casual mess and dressed in a simple shirt and shorts.

His eyes slid to the exposed skin of her legs and he wished he had sent her off to stay with Male-Granger when the opportunity had presented itself. But there was some part of him that didn't want her staying with him either.

Either way, the whole thing felt too familiar – too intimate – and Draco hated the entire arrangement. He wanted to snap at her, for the entire night, even though he knew none of it was her fault.

Instead he took a deep breath and collected some sleep clothes, and went into the loo himself to prepare for sleep. When he returned Granger was arranging the spare blankets into a makeshift setup on the couch, a frown on her face as she adjusted the cushion. She had transfigured the hat back into a sports cap, and had somehow secured it onto her curls. Draco could only imagine how uncomfortable it would be to sleep in. He frowned as he watched, clipping the St Mungo's Portkey to the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck," Draco grit through his teeth, cursing himself. "Granger, take the fucking bed."

"It's fine," she said, her tone soft and dismissive. "It's your room – I recognize that I'm intruding, and I appreciate that you haven't made a bigger deal of the situation."

He couldn't quite tell if she was being facetious, given he had made it out to be a massive inconvenience all day, and he strode over, folding his arms across his chest.

Her eyes swept his outfit – plaid drawstring trousers and a plain grey shirt – and she released a tiny snicker of amusement. "I'm sorry," she gasped, "it's just that – you're always so formal, and I can't take you seriously like this."

"Shut up, Granger," Draco said, rolling his eyes, but the ire had drained from his tone. "You're the one with the stupid brain defect –"

"Not a defect –" she muttered.

" – and you need to get enough sleep or Randall will have my head."

Granger stared at him for a long moment, clearly attempting to hold back her amusement at his sleep attire – her eyes flickered to the bed behind him.

"I'm only offering once, Granger." He scowled down at her, his eyes lingering on the smooth skin of her thighs. "And before you even think about suggesting we share –"

"I wasn't going to suggest that," she said in an instant, and a flush rose to her cheeks. "I only – thanks, Malfoy."

He sighed, dropping his arms. "You're welcome, Granger."

He turned with significant disdain to the mess of pillows she had arranged on the couch and cast a cushioning spell in an attempt to make the makeshift bed more comfortable.

Granger tucked herself into the bed and watched his efforts while Draco scowled – since when he had become so self-sacrificing? And for Granger's sake, of all people. Maybe he was the one whose brain needed observation.

He finally situated himself beneath the blankets, and with a quick Nox the lights fell off. The moonlight shone through the sheer curtains, and his eyes adjusted to the dark as he stared at the ceiling, despite the fact that he knew he would need sleep for the next day.

Granger's quiet breathing settled across the room, and he couldn't help himself from glancing over. Her face was soft in sleep, a little furrow above the bridge of her nose, and her lips parted as her hat tilted to one side.

He could admit it to himself, alone and in the dark of night – Granger was quite pretty. And thanks to the gown she'd worn that night, he knew the body she'd grown into now that she wasn't a gangly youth any longer.

But that was it. There was certainly nothing between them, as Adnan and his wife had suggested, and they were most definitely not well-suited. They would complete the case, with as little effort and fanfare as possible, and they would return to London. They would go their separate ways and Merlin willing, Draco would never again have reason to venture down into the Department of Mysteries.

Granger would just be someone he worked with once, and nothing more.

With that unsettling thought on his brain, Draco slipped into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter Text

There was something in the air, swirling and twisting, and it clung to Hermione's magical core, taunting and teasing, even as the structures all around them sat, ancient and desolate.

She exchanged a quick glance with Malfoy as they walked through the archaeological ruins of what had once been one of the largest cities in the Indus Valley, and she could tell he felt it too.

Their guide, a man named Naveed, went on about the historical significance of the site – something Hermione already knew too well – while their team of Aurors and Unspeakables took notes and inspected certain features.

If they'd had a team this whole time, maybe they would have made more progress – but she also knew the Auror's office didn't have a lot of brainpower to spare at the moment.

She adjusted her hat, which was actually proving helpful in the blazing heat.

She and Malfoy had decided early that morning that they would wait and ask about the tunnels later, after they had familiarized themselves with the site.

"The city of Mohenjo-Daro was much larger, of course," Naveed was saying as she tuned in, "but Harappa was a significant civilization site as well. The rudimentary plumbing systems you see here were…"

"Hey," Malfoy hissed, interrupting as he sidled closer. "What do you figure that is?"

"The magic?" she asked with a sidelong glance. "Not a clue."

"It doesn't feel like the magic from the figure," he supplied. "It doesn't feel dark, but ancient."

"Earthly," Hermione agreed.

Malfoy had looked weary when they awoke that morning, as if he hadn't quite slept enough, and Hermione resolved to be as kind as possible that day. Not only because he had let her sleep in his bed, but because they needed to work together to find answers, and there was no need to be antagonistic, even if he had been acting like a prat the night before.

"I'd like to locate the source of it," Malfoy said, his gaze flickering ahead to where Naveed was explaining something to their team. "We'll split up after the tour, I think. Inspect as much of this site as we can – but I think we need to figure out the relevance of the magic."

"Right," Hermione said, casting a brief revealing spell. She blinked several times and exchanged a look with Malfoy when the spell remained in front of them, merely dissipating into a shimmer in the air. "What do you figure that means?"

"Aren't you the expert on unexplained magic?" Malfoy asked with a snicker but he shook his head all the same. "I wager it means the magic is all around us – that Harappa was more of a magical society than we were originally told. Which might mean, and this is an extrapolation, that all of the Indus Valley was more magical than the history books say."

"But Master Helmo said the use of magic in the Indus Valley was minimal – harvest rituals and the like," Hermione whispered, "and kept hidden away."

Malfoy hesitated, reaching his wand hand out before him, as if he could feel the brush of magic dancing across his own. A furrow came to his brow as he squinted up at the bright sun, rising high above them. He swallowed, his throat bobbing.

"It's…" he shook his head. "Can't you just feel it? Like it's all the magic there ever was. Like it's reaching for us."

Hermione whispered, "I can feel it."

"The question is," Malfoy said, dropping his hand. "Is it malignant? Is this another trick of the same ancient magic that claimed the lives of Madame Moreau and Balthazar O'Connell?"

She could only shake her head.

They, along with their entire team and Naveed, had been sure to cast all the proper protection charms on themselves before visiting the site. If the malicious magic was somehow in the air in Harappa, it would be unable to get through the intense myriad of wards and enchantments – they hoped.

Which made it all the more wondrous that the magic here was interacting in such a way with their own.

"I don't think it's the same," Hermione breathed as she stared around. "Maybe what we're feeling is the protective enchantments that held the tunnels together. But just to be safe, we'll need to exercise caution when we find the them."

"And then we need to hope we find something down there to explain why so many questions were left unanswered," Malfoy said, his expression pensive as he watched the group ahead. "I don't know, Granger, this just feels significant. Like we're right on the verge of something but I can't place it."

"How philosophical of you," Hermione teased, her lips turning into a smile.

He shot her a look. "I mean it. All this time the answers have been out of our grasp. And now that we're finally here…"

She slipped her hands into her pockets, voice quiet as she said, "I know what you mean. Like all our hard work might come to something here."

He sighed. "Yes."

There was something hopeful in his face when she caught his gaze and couldn't keep a smile from rising. After weeks of dead end after dead end – something here felt different.

The tour concluded and the group split into teams of two to begin investigating. The sun was high in the sky now and Hermione could feel the sweltering heat; she was grateful she hadn't worn her thick robes. She drew a pouch of mixed nuts and dried fruit from her bag and began picking through.

At a raised brow from Malfoy she offered the bag. The bridge of his nose wrinkled while he peered inside, but he held out his hand all the same. Chuckling, Hermione filled his hand.

"So," Malfoy began, splitting a cashew between his back teeth, "you haven't had any more strange visions – or whatever it was – right?"

"No," Hermione mused. "Not since the other day. I can't help but wonder what caused it – the trigger, Randall said."

"I've been thinking about it too." Malfoy plucked a chocolate chip from his handful with a smirk. "Have you considered what you were thinking about when you saw the vision in the first place? It might be the key to accessing the trigger."

"I just don't know the relevance of it," Hermione said, frowning. "Seeing things that aren't there? It's more likely to land me in the closed ward at St Mungo's than help solve the case. I've been trying not to worry myself over it too much while we've got more important things to figure out here."

Malfoy gave a shrug, his grey eyes squinted in the sunlight. "I guess you're probably right."

Hermione stared around at the excavated ruins, shaking her head. "It's hard to believe how advanced the civilization was here. Considering how long ago they lived."

"It is something," Malfoy admitted. He stepped forward to converse with Dean Thomas, who was working with Unspeakable Hikari – the man who had suggested Hermione sleep in his room the night before. She didn't know Hikari well at all but Malfoy had been acting so inconvenienced by the whole situation she had been ready to walk away from him.

But then when given the chance to pawn her off on someone else, Malfoy had changed his mind. He was indecipherable sometimes.

Her gaze scanned the two other pairs working – one Auror with one Unspeakable – and she smiled. She and Malfoy would approach Naveed about the tunnels once he returned from a lunch break.

Just breathing the air here, feeling the swirl of magic twist with her own – imagining how the people of the civilization had lived so long ago had Hermione feeling inspired.

That they had built their homes on this very land and farmed the soil, developed economy and trade and…

She blinked, seeing another group visiting in the distance she hadn't noticed before. Titling the beak of her cap so she could see better in the vibrant sunlight, she took a step forward. The group – tourists, they must be, although they were dressed in neither Magical nor traditional Muggle attire for the region – were walking the barren streets, deep in conversation.

Hermione smiled, encouraged to see other people valuing the rich history of the area. She had been quite disappointed when Burke and Robards said she wouldn't be going, if for no reason other than being able to see the ruins herself. Never mind the more obvious factor of helping with the case.

She watched while the tourists made their way into the distance across the large site until she could only make out a vague shadowy group, a smile lingering on her lips.

Malfoy returned, finishing the last of his handful of nuts.

"The teams are investigating for signs of localized magic," he explained, "although it's evident by the feel of the air here."

"Right," Hermione agreed.

"And when Naveed gets back we'll have him show us the tunnels." Malfoy swiped the bag of trail mix from her and helped himself to another handful. Hermione raised a brow and scowled. "It's a good thing they've secured the site from the public so no one else can venture around here and witness any of the magic we're performing."

"What do you mean?" she asked, whirling on him. She hadn't been privy to some of the final preparations while she'd been undergoing Healer Randall's testing.

"Tourists can't come near," he explained, brow furrowed. "We've cast Muggle-repellent wards, in case anyone comes too close while we're investigating."

Hermione frowned, pursing her lips. "Well that can't be right. I've just seen a pack of tourists over there." She waved a hand, towards where the last of the group still lingered.

Malfoy stared at the spot where she indicated before turning to her, his eyes narrowed. "Granger."

"They're just –" she waved again, her hand faltering. "There."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "There's no one there."

Her heart began to pound in her chest, even as she shook her head. "Just – maybe in the sunlight you can't see them."

Malfoy angled his head once more. "No. There are no tourists. Granger – what were you thinking of?"

Hermione shook her head, baffled. There had been such a large group of them, and they had lingered for so long. She blinked several times and looked again – but they were gone.

"They've walked by," she whispered.

"You only saw them," Malfoy said, and his tone was surprisingly gentle. "In the same way you thought you saw Burke the other day. I need you to think – what were you thinking of when you accessed the trigger?"

"I –" she gasped, realizing her hand was shaking. She pressed the heel of her palm to her temple, feeling a headache coming on. "I was thinking about the civilization – the people that lived here – and how phenomenal it was that they had built something so advanced."

"I see," he muttered, his brows knitted. "I think you need to owl Healer Randall, Granger. And mind that headache –" she scowled at him, "in case it gets worse and you need to transport yourself to St Mungo's."

She released a tight breath. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Malfoy grimaced. "Neither do I. But until we can figure it out, we'll have to just carry on."

Hermione frowned as she dug a toe into the packed earth beneath them. She felt frustration welling up inside her along with shame, twisting and building into an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I just wish I knew."

"You know," Malfoy said with a chuckle as he selected a dried blueberry from his hand. "As intriguing as it is to see you without the answers to everything – try not to let it bother you too much."

"Right," she bit out. Logically she knew there was nothing to be done for it at the moment – and if her brain was projecting something life-threatening, Randall would have already Portkeyed in or sent a Healer to check on her. She gave a wry smile. Maybe it was a good thing, then, that she had stayed in Malfoy's room. The last thing she needed was to be alone and for something to happen where she couldn't access her Portkey.

"Naveed's back," Malfoy clipped as he finished his second handful of trail mix. His gaze flickered to the snack left in Hermione's bag but he frowned. "Let's ask him how we can access the tunnels."

Hermione took a deep breath and slipped the remaining trail mix back into her beaded bag. "Good idea."

"Tunnels?" Naveed asked, scratching the back of his head when they approached and asked him about the topic. "I don't follow."

Malfoy frowned and gave Hermione a furtive glance. Her brow knit as she forced a smile. Maybe it was a communication error, but Naveed had shown a strong knowledge of English so far.

"Tunnels – a network of labyrinthine caves built underneath the ground," Hermione explained. "We met with a magical historian who suggested they had been built at the height of Indus civilization, beneath Harappa. And that they were abandoned, incomplete."

"But they were reinforced with magic," Malfoy continued, his tone low. "That they may have been… keeping something within them, by magic. Granger and I can feel the magic in the air here."

Naveed looked between the two of them, his expression torn between amusement and confusion. "The magic you feel here in Harappa emanates from the ground. The farmers who worked this land cast spells for bountiful harvest. Even now, the remnants linger."

"So then," Hermione began, frowning as she cut herself off. "Not the tunnels?"

Naveed shook his head with a bit of a laugh. "I have spent most of my life studying the history of the Indus Valley civilization – I can assure you both, never were there any such tunnels."

She felt Malfoy's answering grimace deep in her core.

"You know something strange?" Draco asked as he paused on a sheet of parchment in his notes. He leaned against a propped up pillow against the headboard of the bed back in the hotel room.

"What's that?" Granger glanced up from the letter she was writing to Healer Randall at the small table in the room. They had both already sent correspondence to the Ministry with their findings for the day.

After a long day at Harappa, the team had returned to the hotel for a quick meal and an early night. They had found enough to merit another day's investigation, but nothing that had jumped out at Draco as a definitive answer of any sort.

Draco tapped the parchment with a finger. "In going through Madame Moreau's itinerary from her trip here that Francois gave me," he said, his eyes darting across the words, "it doesn't say she even visited Harappa at all."

Granger frowned, her Sugar Quill slipping between her lips. Draco's eyes followed the movement. "That doesn't mean she didn't make alternate arrangements. You said she was the type to go off the trail, right?"

"Right," Draco agreed. "But why bother making an itinerary at all if she was just going to go around anywhere? Why not at least include it as an option?"

Her tongue darted out as she sucked on the end of the quill. Draco swallowed, glancing away.

"I don't even know where to begin with all the questions I've got from today, honestly," Granger admitted, waving her free hand, "but when we read about the tunnels… I don't know, I guess I thought Moreau had stumbled across the figure while in Harappa."

"So did I," Draco clipped. "It was the only overt sign of magic in all our research, and yet it turned up nothing."

"Nothing yet," Granger corrected. "It's a massive site – we'll carry on exploring it tomorrow. And if you ask me, just the fact that Naveed didn't know about the tunnels speaks of something… malicious."

Draco hesitated, staring at her. "You think something's suspicious."

"Interference," she mused. "Some sort of magic is in the tunnels, right? Maybe Naveed's been enchanted to forget about them?"

"Which means," Draco said with a sigh. "You and I need to dig deeper tomorrow."

She pointed at him with the quill. "Precisely." Her brow knitted with thought. "And it might be best if we keep a low profile about it."

"You mean they won't want us creeping about, attempting to deface a historical site?" Draco deadpanned.

To his surprise, Granger laughed, a smile lingering on her lips. Draco felt a stirring of warmth in the pit of his stomach, in the thought that he'd made her laugh – but he quickly shook it off.

She snickered, returning to her letter. "That's exactly what I mean." She tied up the scroll and handed it to the Ministry owl that had been waiting; it left through the open window. Idly, she continued. "I can't help but wonder at the experience of the excavators – someone must have originally discovered the tunnels."

He glanced up, considering the thought. "And the sites were excavated in… the 1920s?"

"Yes," she nodded, "around there. I just wonder whether they might have found something."

Something like dark, malicious magic – corrupted statues or other items. He grimaced. "I guess we won't know until we find them ourselves."

Draco turned back to scouring the itinerary, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that had crept through him at the thought. "She did visit Mohenjo-Daro, and a few of the smaller Indus Valley cities, including the port town of Lothal."

Granger crossed the room with her bag, a tension to her shoulders as she slipped onto the far end of the bed and leaned against the high footboard.

Draco raised a brow until she reached into the bag and tossed the remaining contents of her nuts and fruits snack mix from earlier. He grinned and poured a small portion onto a blank sheet of parchment.

"We're going to Mohenjo-Daro next, right? After we're done in Harappa?" she asked, picking through her own handful.

"It makes the most sense," Draco said with a shrug. "Although our schedule is, to a certain extent, flexible. If we need to stay longer in Harappa, we'll reach out to Robards and he can make the arrangements. Otherwise, we'll check in with Shah if we need anything." He pressed a hand to his temple, wincing. "It all feels so close, but so far."

"It does," Granger agreed, stretching her feet out along the other side of the bed, entwining her ankles. Draco rolled his eyes as he set his parchments down and shifted to make himself more comfortable, feeling fatigue settling in from a long day combined with inadequate sleep the night before.

They hadn't discussed the sleeping arrangements – and Draco had decided not to press the front desk to find another room for Granger. If anything happened and she needed to reach the hospital, it would be best if she weren't alone anyway.

But he didn't want her to think that since he had given up the bed the night before, he would be doing so every night for the duration of their stay in Harappa.

A thought flickered through his mind that perhaps they could simply share – but the thought of her being so close, after the way she had looked the night before, the way her perfume had smelled – Draco clenched his jaw and banished the idea.

He would only be asking for trouble. And trouble involving Granger was the sort he didn't need in his life.

She sighed, her eyes fluttering. "Suppose I'll turn in." She waved behind her to the couch. "I appreciate that you offered the bed last night – but I am intruding on your space."

Draco chewed the inside of his lip as he watched her arrange the pillows and blankets he had used the night before and couldn't decide how he felt about that. If she was irritated or disconcerted at all, she didn't say.

She darted into the loo to ready herself for sleep, and after Draco had done the same, Granger offered him a tight smile as she settled into her makeshift bed.

"Sleep well, Malfoy."

Draco frowned, feeling tension in his jaw as he waved the lights out. "Good night Granger."

Chapter Text

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked, approaching the blond, adjusting her hat in the bright glare of the sun.

"What?" he clipped, his brow furrowed as he stared at the whizzing instrument in his hand. "This feels like a massive waste of time, by the way."

"I agree," she said, a slump to her shoulders. "But none of the spells revealed any possible location for the tunnels."

They had resorted to using tools that measured the density of the earth in an effort to locate a void that might have signified the location of the tunnels. Without drawing too much attention from Naveed. Despite that he had told them there were no tunnels – Hermione frowned at the thought. They had been convinced the subterranean labyrinth would give them answers. Even Master Helmo had thought so.

"It feels like a lot of pacing," Malfoy sniffed. "Anyways – what did you want?"

"Right," Hermione nodded, as they began walking, the instruments held aloft before them. "What did you think about Healer Randall's anonymous donor? The one that gave a lot of money to the research lab while suggesting I ought to come along on the mission."

His expression was stoic as he stared forward. Finally he gave a noncommittal shrug. "Seemed strange. But I don't know."

Hermione glanced around, lowering her voice. "It wasn't… you, was it?"

"Of course not," he said, rolling his eyes. "I didn't need you along that badly."

Unconvinced, she frowned. "Your reaction was quite visceral when Randall told us," she continued, offering a tight smile when he scowled at her. "I just wondered what you thought of it."

"Fine," he clipped, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. "I suspected it might have been my mother."

Hermione stopped walking, turning to face him. He huffed an impatient breath and she could see the tense set of his shoulders. "Why on earth would your mother care if I were along or not?"

His grey eyes narrowed. "I don't know why my mother does everything she does," he sniped. "I told her I thought it would be for the best if we both went. At lunch, the other day when she came by the Ministry."

"But why would she care so much as to attempt to sway Randall's assessment?" she asked, frowning. Narcissa Malfoy had been friendly the other day – but she hardly knew the first thing about the Malfoy matriarch.

"I don't know, Granger, alright?" he snapped, lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe she felt like she owed you a debt of gratitude. You and Potter, likely."

"It seems a rather odd way to show gratitude," Hermione mused. "Especially in the form of an anonymous donation."

Malfoy glared at her, shaking his head. "I don't know. And we've got a lot of fucking ground to cover so if you don't mind."

Scoffing at his cold demeanour, Hermione returned the scowl and walked away. She wouldn't be sharing any of her trail mix with him today.

Draco fumed as he made his way through the ruins of Harappa, rolling his eyes at the silver instrument floating ahead of him. It could only measure a small area of ground and with the size of the numerous excavation sites, it felt like this could take days. And that was even if the tunnels were here, and if they were able to be discovered in such a way.

If they were concealed – with magic, likely – to the point where Naveed either didn't know, or had forgotten of their existence – Draco shook his head at the complicated train of thought.

But he couldn't approach Granger to discuss a different tactic, not after he'd blown up on her.

How was he to explain to her that his mother's undue interest in her had been because she thought, like Adnan Shah and his wife, that he and Granger were well-suited.

He scoffed, shaking his head at the very thought.

That ever since he had mentioned to his mother that he was working with a female Unspeakable, Narcissa Malfoy's interest had been piqued. And especially since she had learned the Unspeakable was Hermione Granger – he had received more than one owl suggesting he try and earn Granger's favour.

It was enough to deal with the idea that he found her attractive – that he couldn't help thinking about the gown she had worn the other night, and the way her Sugar Quills slipped between her lips as she thought.

The sparkle in her chocolate eyes when she made a discovery. Draco groaned, releasing a measured breath.

Whatever this was needed to come to an end, straight away. There would be nothing between him and Granger, and it would most definitely throw a wrench in the mission if he couldn't focus because he was thinking about her bloody mouth and her stupid eyes.

He stomped on into the next excavation site, a wave of irritation roiling within him – at himself, at Granger, at his own bloody mother –

"Auror Malfoy?"

Draco halted mid-step, snapping himself from the troubling thoughts. "Yes?" He turned to see Dean Thomas and Male-Granger – whose name he had learned to be Unspeakable Hikari – watching him. Stiffening his shoulders he faced them, attempting to steady his nerve. "What is it? Did you find something?"

"Maybe," Thomas said with a shrug. "But we aren't certain."

His brow furrowed as he stared between the two. "Why don't you show me?"

Thomas and Hikari led him to where they had been working and Thomas scratched the back of his neck as he gestured, with a muttered, "There."

Draco crouched down to inspect the ground, his fingers grazing the packed earth. For good measure he held out the density measuring instrument, but received nothing – which at least answered the question of whether they were wasting time relying on the devices.

There was a large, jagged hole, between the remains of what might have been two dwellings. But the edges of the hole went deep; Draco was forced to peer over the edge to see the bottom. It was too high to jump down, and it was wide enough for several people to stand across. The thought made him anxious.

"It was hidden beneath an enchantment," Hikari explained, adjusting his glasses on his nose, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Draco felt his lip curl as he eyed the man, who was beginning to remind him less of Granger, despite being a massive swot.

But he felt the words sink in and his heart stuttered in his chest. A massive hole in the earth, hidden by magic.

His immediate thought was to find Granger so they could inspect the hole together. But he knew after the way he had spoken to her, amiability would be unlikely. Carding his fingers through his hair, Draco shared a glance with Thomas and Hikari.

"Let's investigate it. I'd like to go down, if it isn't rigged," he commented, eyeing the pit with distrust. "And we'll remove a sample of the earth at the bottom for testing."

The three of them set about casting a series of spells to reveal any suspicious magic or traps, but nothing was forthcoming.

Draco hesitated, staring into the innocuous pit. The depth might have been three or four times Draco's height – he could transfigure a rope or a ladder, but if there was something insidious at the bottom, he would find trouble.

Granger approached alongside some time later as he was fixing a rope ladder to one side of the pit. She cast him a glance and cocked one brow.

"And what in the name of Merlin is this?" she asked, folding her arms.

"We revealed it from an enchantment," Hikari announced, striding forward. "Through a series of –"

"That's fine," Granger said, waving a hand as her stare remained on the pit. Draco felt a twinge of something akin to pride and snickered, even as she fired him another look. "You're going inside? Have you lost your mind?"

"It's clear," Draco said, wishing his voice sounded more certain.

"You don't know that," she snipped. "For all we know, it's emanating the same ancient magic as the figure. And remember all the tests you ran on that?"

Draco scowled, feeling her words hit home. He had run countless tests on the figure for magic, and had turned up nothing. "And have you got a better idea then?"

"I hate to be the one to say it, Hermione," Dean Thomas said, scratching the back of his neck, "but if the ancient magic from the figure was trapped in this pit and able to permeate the protective enchantments, we would have all been infected by now just in standing here."

Granger paused, her mouth twisting to one side. "The enchantments should inhibit the magic from taking hold in our bloodstreams via airborne particles."

"So?" Draco asked, gesturing to the rope ladder.

"Direct contact is a different thing," she said, scowling. Her eyes rolled as she released a long sigh. "We could extract a sample of the soil from the bottom of the pit and test it for the magic."

"That would only reveal anything if the magic is active," Draco reasoned. "Like the blood samples. But when it was dormant in the figure –"

"Right," Granger said, waving him off with another frown. "I know."

He sneered at her; clearly she was still irritable from their earlier spat. He turned to face Thomas and Hikari, who were edging away and looking uncomfortable. He didn't blame them. "Can you keep looking in this area to see if there are any more of these pits hidden beneath enchantments? If there was one, there might be others."

"Right," Thomas said with a nod, and the two shuffled off.

Granger fixed narrowed eyes on him, even as her shoulders sagged with the recognition that they needed to work together. "Why do you suppose it was hidden beneath an enchantment to begin with?"

Draco shrugged. "I can't help but wonder if it's connected to the tunnels – which, by the way, are growing increasingly suspect. The guide doesn't know about them – massive pits hidden with magic –" He shook his head and Granger hummed her agreement.

She waved her density measuring instrument at the pit and scoffed when it did nothing. "These won't be of any use here, apparently, if they can't notice the gaping maw in the earth."

"I could have told you that," Draco muttered under his breath, even as he approached the jagged edge of the hole again. "Fine. We'll try to test the soil. Happy?"

Granger's lips thinned as she stared away. "I'll only be happy if it turns up results."

He raised a brow but didn't respond. Instead he conjured a vial and hovered it down with his wand into the lowest point of the pit, extracting a small portion of the soil and sealing it with a stopper, before lifting it back out to inspect.

Despite herself, Granger took a step closer and leaned in, a furrow lifting her brow. "It doesn't look altogether pleasant, does it?"

Draco agreed as he stared at the dark, mottled soil, far removed from the dusty, sandy earth at the surface. She cast him an obvious I-told-you-so look and Draco huffed. "Fine. I'm glad I didn't go down. Have you got that testing box for it?"

She cast a surreptitious glance around and patted her beaded bag. "It's in here – but let's go somewhere more private."

"Right," Draco grimaced as he followed her to the small tent in which the group had set up a base of operations. While the members of the team had been given increased levels of clearance for the duration of the mission, there were still some things that were privy to Unspeakables, and others privy only to the Aurors.

Brows high on her face, Granger pulled the box from her bag with no small amount of effort, firing him a glare, and then withdrew the book of spells Burke had used to extract the magic from the blood samples of Moreau and O'Connell.

She placed the vial into the box, and meeting the trepidation in Draco's gaze, she began casting the spell.

With a disappointed sigh after half an hour, Hermione closed the book. She rolled out the tension in her shoulders as she faced down at the cover of the spellbook, pressing her eyes shut.

The sun was blazing outside, and the thin fabric of the tent was serving only to keep the heat trapped inside. Malfoy was all scowls and disheveled hair as he paced the other side of the tent, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up.

Hermione realized in that moment, despite the heat numbing her senses and the frustration of getting nowhere on the mission, that she had never seen Malfoy's arms, in all the time they'd been working together. Most often he wore robes, but even when he went without, his arms were covered.

It was a silly thought, given she had seen him in only a towel the day they had arrived in Lahore, but at the time she had been focused on not staring at his bare chest.

It was strange, to see his forearms. She had often wondered what had happened to the Dark Marks of the Death Eaters after Voldemort fell – Malfoy's was nothing more than a faded patch of silver scar tissue.

He cleared his throat, and Hermione realized she was staring; a flush came to her cheeks. Bracing herself for his anger, she glanced up to see him standing over her, his brows knitted as his eyes met hers.

"It took a while." His voice was so soft she had to strain to hear him, but he went on, louder. "After the battle. It took a while for it to fade. It wasn't noticeable, at first."

Hermione could only stare at him, at a loss for words. He ran a hand over the scarred area of skin, his fingers grazing where the Mark had once been, and her gaze fell down to land on it.

"Did it hurt?" she found herself asking, her eyes tracing the shape of it. When he didn't answer she found herself seeking out the grey of his stare again.

"When it faded?" he asked, swallowing. "Or when I… acquired it?"

She breathed, "Both."

There was a curl to his lip that Hermione knew wasn't directed at her. "When it faded, no. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. The discomfort was a welcome relief, knowing the source of it."

She couldn't avert her eyes – she pressed her lips together in a conscious effort to swallow.

"When I was given it…" he faded off, twisting his lips. "It was the worst sort of pain imaginable."

Her mouth felt too dry. "Worse than the Cruciatus?"

Malfoy wore something akin to pity in his gaze as he stared down at her. Empathy, perhaps. He whispered, "So much worse." Clearing his throat again, he glanced away. "Granger, it was… it was like the worst physical pain of the Cruciatus – but it was mental fucking agony. It swept through every nerve, every thought, every emotion, and twisted it all up."

Hermione shook her head, finding herself without words.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "I blacked out for three days."

"Merlin," she whispered, her eyes landing on the scarred flesh once more. She reached a hand out but let it drop. "May I?"

He snickered but offered his bared forearm.

She held the proffered arm in one hand, feeling the ridges of muscle in the anterior against her palm, as she traced her fingertips along the scar tissue, following the faint shape of what had once been a snake and a skull.

"Does it hurt anymore?" she asked, looking back up at him, her fingers idle against his pale skin.

He shook his head. "Not like it used to. Every now and then I'll feel a sort of spasm reminiscent of the magic that was once inside – like a phantom limb."

Hermione swallowed as she nodded. She knew enough from following the trials of the three Malfoys after the war that most of their actions had been under duress. But at the time she hadn't known him well enough to give it any further consideration.

"I get the impression," she said, taking a deep breath, "that you were happy to be rid of him."

There was a strain to his jaw and a tension in his shoulders, but Malfoy didn't extract his arm from her grasp. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips as he whispered, "You have no idea how much."

She offered him a teasing smile. She didn't even know how they had ended up on this path, but it was interesting, to see this side of him. "I have an idea."

"It was different, than just being on the other side, and wanting him defeated," he murmured, shaking his head. "Having him in my house – with that great bloody snake all the time. Knowing he was my master." The word was scathing, mocking. "That I was meant to do his bidding, but all the while I just wanted to see him fucking rot." He hesitated, his expression pained. "Knowing one wrong move would mean my death, or my mother's. Knowing what the rest of the world thought of my type."

"Malfoy," Hermione breathed, her mouth dry again. "No, I don't know how that would have felt."

She started, realizing she still held his forearm between her hands, her fingers tracing idle patterns across the pale skin. She let his arm fall to his side but he didn't move away, other than to card the fingers of his other hand through his hair.

"Sorry, Granger," he said, looking away. "I guess I haven't really talked about this with anyone."

"It's okay," she found herself saying. "I'm sure it would help – to talk about it. I spoke with a Healer a few times, after the war."

His eyes fixed on hers again. "Was it helpful?"

"To an extent," she said, shrugging. "A lot of it I just had to come to terms with on my own. The final battle, when Harry and I went to Godric's Hollow –" she cut herself off, not even knowing if he knew what she was talking about. "Harry, Ron and I faced all sorts of crazy things during that year."

Malfoy sighed, sliding his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Not least of all being my aunt."

"Right," Hermione agreed. "Bellatrix is a special type of nightmare, even now."

He gave her a grimace. "I hated what she did to you, Granger. Just for what it's worth." He released a tight breath. "But for all that, I still did nothing."

"Honestly," she whispered, looking away, "I don't know what you could have done."

She didn't know how they had gone from investigating dirt to baring their souls about the happenings of the war. But she could see in his eyes, he needed to unburden himself. And if he needed someone, if everything he was saying was true, who was she to deny him that?

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I spent a lot of time doing nothing."

Hermione felt her face twist with the sadness and despair which he radiated. "Malfoy," she hedged, staring at him. "I know we aren't really friends, and we don't get along all that often."

He snickered, shifting on his feet. "We get along better than I ever expected we would."

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks to hear him admit the words that had flitted through her mind, even as she was speaking the opposite. She stared at him, her gaze sweeping from his eyes down the strong line of his patrician nose, the sharp curve of his jaw… the upwards tug of his lips. Feeling a stir in her stomach, she glanced away.

"Anyways," she said, infusing her tone with as much flippancy as she could manage, "I just wanted to let you know you can talk to me, if you need someone."

She could feel his gaze on her, and the growing heat in her face. "Thanks, Granger. I appreciate that." He shrugged. "The sentiment goes both ways, I guess."

Hermione released a tight breath, forcing a smile. "Thanks Malfoy." She took a careful step back, picking up the vial of soil. "I'll owl this to Unspeakable Burke. See what he thinks."

"Good idea," Malfoy said, a heavy tension in his shoulders again. "I ought to catch up with Thomas and check whether they found any more pits."

"Good," Hermione said, her voice coming out breathy. "See you, then."

He nodded, a muttered, "See you," and ducked out of the tent.

Chapter Text

Draco frowned as he penned his daily update to Robards, his mind spinning in a thousand different directions. Thomas and Hikari had found two other pits, hidden beneath the same enchantments, and Draco couldn't wrap his head around their purpose – or why someone had gone to such lengths to keep them concealed. They had to be related to the tunnels, but how? Had something gouged them from the earth? Had magic?

He summarized the day the best he could, knowing Granger had already dispatched a sample of the soil to Burke, who had access to the full catalogue of the Department of Mysteries' equipment and knowledge. He could only hope they would find something.

Granger was lounged on the bed, flipping through her notes as usual. Draco wondered if she hadn't already memorized everything in them and was only doing it as per habit at this point.

He pressed the heel of his hand to his temple, trying to force the words to make sense as they slipped from his quill in a jumbled mess. This case was more trying than he would have expected – while the physical strain was evident, he was mentally exhausted after only two days in the field.

Two days in the intense heat, searching for answers just out of reach. Knowing his colleagues only grew sicker the longer they took.

He signed off on the letter with a sigh of frustration, coiling the parchment into a scroll and handing the missive to the owl waiting for him.

"Everything alright," Granger murmured, not looking up from her notes.

"Fine," Draco clipped, running a hand through his hair. He didn't want to look at her – didn't want to see the pity that had been in her eyes earlier that day, not when he hadn't ever done anything to deserve it.

And the way she had stared up at him, her lips parted and brows knitted; the way her fingers had skated across the surface of his arm. His skin still tingled where she had touched him; the loss of contact after he had walked away had felt altogether too profound.

He hadn't discussed the Mark with anyone, not the experience of getting it, nor the experience of losing it. So what had he been thinking babbling to Granger like a schoolchild? He certainly didn't need her help, and he didn't need to talk to her about it, of all people.

She'd been on the run fighting for the other side while Draco had been safe at Hogwarts, feeling his soul drain from his body with each passing day. She was best friends with Harry bleeding Potter – there was no way she would ever really understand what it had felt like to be pledged to a madman with no foreseeable exit.

Granger had been the hero – and he, nothing more than a coward. He'd been raised with the beliefs of pureblood supremacy, but by the time he had seen the real truth of it all, it had been too late.

He scowled at the worn wood of the table, rubbing at his fatigued eyes.

Without a word he collected his sleep clothes and went to the loo to brush his teeth. Granger glanced up when he returned, curiosity in her expression.

Shame, hot and overwhelming, roiled in his gut. There was no way she would ever see him for anything more than a failed Death Eater – a scared boy who had been swept away with his indoctrination until he had been locked in on the opposing side of a war. The side that wanted to see her and her kind dead.

"I'm going to sleep," he said, trying to quell the disappointment welling up inside of him. "You can have the bed tonight."

He switched off the lights, leaving only the lamp on the nightstand beside Granger lit.

He didn't want to see the look on her face – not when he only wanted to see her smile, with that sparkle in her eyes – and he knew he was doing and saying everything that would keep her from smiling at him.

A few minutes later he heard her shuffling about and when she returned she switched off the nightstand lamp.

"Malfoy?"

Draco debated pretending he was already asleep, but he sighed. "What is it?"

There was a long moment of tense silence. "It's okay, you know."

His words felt gruff. "What's okay?"

"Everything." Granger's voice was soft and small in the sudden blackness of the room. "What we talked about earlier. I'm not going to tell anyone, or anything."

"I didn't think you would." Draco pressed his eyes shut, wishing he had it in him to be nicer to her. "Granger, I shouldn't have said anything today. Try to forget about it."

He could hear her quiet breathing in the dark. "I meant what I said. You can talk to me, Malfoy. You can trust me."

He felt a blow to his chest, sucking in a breath. "Thanks. I appreciate that."

"And…" she carried on, letting the word hang in the space between them. "I know you're hurting. I can see it every time you open up and then try to push me away again. But I just wanted you to know… I trust you, too. I can see you, even if no one else does... and I regret that I didn't at first."

Draco stared up at the faint visage of the roof above him, feeling her words settle into the pit of his stomach. He took a shaky breath, his eyes stinging, and nodded into the darkness.

He cleared his throat, swiping in frustration at his eyes. His voice was thick as he said, "Thanks Granger."

She didn't say anything else after that.

Draco walked out of the loo with a backwards glance as he scrubbed a towel through his hair – and crashed into Granger.

She released a strangled sound of surprise as she lost her footing and stumbled to the side. Eyes wide in shock, Draco reached out to steady her shoulders and in his haste, he ended up with the fingers of one hand caught in her curls. His hand stuck, he tripped forward as she fell, crashing into the wall.

He met her wide, startled eyes, his brow furrowed in shock.

"Granger," Draco choked, making to untangle his fingers from her hair. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," she gasped, rubbing at her shoulder where it had slammed into the wall. "You caught me off guard."

Despite the situation, he felt a laugh welling up and quashed it. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

"Difficult to see someone if you aren't looking where you're going," she clipped, staring at him. Her eyes flickered to her other shoulder and Draco realized he still held her arm with his hand, the towel having fallen to the floor when he reached out.

He also realized he was still standing before her, keeping her trapped between him and the wall. Her large chocolate eyes met his; she pressed her lips together as she swallowed and Draco's eyes flickered down to follow the motion.

Granger was still in her sleep clothes; at such a close angle Draco could see a hint of the curve of her cleavage and he quickly averted his gaze, feeling a flush come to his cheeks.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. He let his hand slide down from her arm. "You're alright, then? Do you –" he rubbed the back of his neck. "Can I get you anything from the potions kit?"

"I'm not that breakable," she scoffed, but she hadn't stopped staring at him. Her complexion was flushed and she nodded in gesture at his bare chest. Her eyes lingered for a moment and Draco felt a surge of self-consciousness at the long scars that littered his skin. "Perhaps you ought to get dressed."

Draco's voice came out gruff as he said, "Good idea."

He took a step back as he turned, making for his trunk where he had laid out clothes for the day. He could feel Granger's gaze searing his back as he slipped on his shirt, and she was still staring sidelong at him when he turned back around.

"Some reason you're watching me dress?" he asked, cocking a brow.

Granger winced and looked away, her face still pinker than usual. "Are those – from Harry?"

"From the time Potter nearly killed me, do you mean?" he asked, running the silk of his tie between his fingers. "Yes."

She grimaced, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her top. Her lean legs were exposed beneath her sleep shorts and Draco had to tear his gaze away. "I'm sorry he did that. I tried to convince him that blasted book was bad news."

Draco snickered, even as he processed the news. "Potter's impulsive behaviour wasn't ever a surprise – although the fact that he used such a spell was unexpected."

Granger shook her head, her brow furrowed and lips twisted to one side in consternation. "He didn't know – which absolutely is not an excuse."

Draco swallowed and tried to dismiss the conversation. "I'm used to war scars."

She shrugged and took a seat on the corner of the bed, slipping one foot beneath her as the other hung over the edge. "We've all got them." She extended her arm, wiping her other hand across the bare skin – removing the glamour, Draco realized – and he felt a harsh stir in his gut. The word Mudblood, carved in his aunt's twisted script, showed plainly through angry scar tissue.

"Her blade was cursed," Draco said, shaking his head, despite the curiosity that had him looking closer. "I'm sorry."

She whispered, "It isn't your fault."

He clamped his mouth shut on the multitude of things he wanted to say.

"Anyway," Granger went on, restoring the glamour in place once more, "there are others, but I can't show you them all."

Draco swallowed, feeling his mouth go dry. "How did you get the others?"

"The worst was in fifth year, from Dolohov," she said, with a bit of a grin. "In the Department of Mysteries, ironically enough."

"Ah," Draco commented. "I remember hearing you'd been there. It was when my father went to Azkaban for the first time."

Granger fell silent, a curious tilt to her head. Draco wondered if she was thinking along the same lines as he was – that they were so different from one another. That their backgrounds were at such extreme odds.

He didn't know whether or not she shared the other thought – that she'd never give him a chance.

He swallowed down the bitter thought. It was one thing to think Granger was attractive – which, objectively, she was – but another to realize he had come to rely on her, the more time they spent working together. It was a dangerous thought.

That he – Merlin forbid – enjoyed spending time with her.

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke. "I suppose I don't have much to say about that, considering your father and his cohorts would have killed a group of students that night."

Draco pressed his lips together, his jaw tight as he nodded. "You're probably right."

Granger rose from her seat with a quick smile as she collected some clothes for the day – a worn pair of the Muggle denim trousers she seemed so fond of, and a top – and walked into the loo.

Draco was drawn from thoughts of her abrupt departure from the conversation at a tap on the window, and the Ministry owl they had been utilizing flew in with a letter.

He handed the scroll to Granger when she returned and began fixing her sports cap on her head, pulling her tied hair through a gap in the back. She accepted the scroll and she frowned as her eyes scanned the words.

"Unspeakable Burke couldn't find anything in the soil sample," she explained, her expression tight. "That's quite disappointing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Draco clipped, reading the letter when she handed it to him. He slipped a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "They think the pits were only enchanted so people wouldn't fall into them?"

"It's anticlimactic, but I suppose it's a reasonable guess," Granger offered.

"So why was the soil so different?" Draco asked. "And why were they made in the first place? Were they searching for something? Was it related to why they built the tunnels?"

She pressed her fingers to her temples, scowling. "None of it makes sense. I'm growing tired of dead ends in Harappa."

"Same," Draco agreed, sitting on the bed. "I'm starting to think we should move on and see if we can find anything in Mohenjo-Daro. Maybe we're just wasting time here."

"But the tunnels," Granger mused. "They must be somewhere."

"Well, here's a thought," Draco said, sharing a glance with her. "Let's spend today in Harappa, and if we still have nothing to go on, we'll go to Mohenjo-Daro tomorrow. We can always come back to Harappa if something changes, and maybe we'll have learned something that might help."

Granger hesitated for a moment and then nodded. "That sounds like a good plan."

Draco snickered, surprised at her easy acquiescence. "Granger, something must be wrong with you; you aren't disagreeing with everything I say."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, activating the Portkey. "I can't disagree with you when what you say makes sense."

Biting back a smile, he grabbed hold of the Portkey.

"So are we going into the pits, then?" Dean asked, squinting down into the darkness below. He and Hikari, along with Malfoy and Hermione, stood in a semi-circle around the first pit, from which the soil had been extracted.

"I suppose we should, just to see if there is something worth investigating at the bottom," Hermione said with a glance around. "But if there's nothing magical about them, it might not be worth the effort."

"I'll go," Dean said with a shrug. "It doesn't hurt to take a quick look around. And if there is something and we don't go –"

Hermione swallowed and nodded, knowing Dean was as worried about Seamus and Harry as she was. "Okay, but be careful. For all we know the ground isn't stable. The pits might have collapsed on their own."

"I'll go down, too," Malfoy offered, frowning. "If they are somehow connected to the tunnels, we need to know."

"Unspeakable Hikari and I will remain here in case you need something, or if something happens," Hermione said, worrying her lower lip as she stared at Malfoy. He scowled for a moment but then his expression went blank. "Be sure to check the walls. And if you find anything, send it up."

"Of course," he clipped, already preparing the rope ladder they had fashioned the day before for the descent. He fastened it to the jagged opening of the pit with a sticking charm and then checked the contents of his bag before slinging it onto his back. "Alright, Thomas?"

"Right," Dean said, giving the ladder a tug to ensure its strength, and began scaling down into the pit.

Malfoy glanced over, his brows flickering as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Be safe," Hermione said under her breath and he nodded.

Dean had made his way into the bottom and waved up; Malfoy approached the ladder and began the climb into the depths of the pit as well. From so high up it looked far deeper than it was and Hermione couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in her stomach that this was a bad idea.

She could see Malfoy and Dean inspecting the inside and the floor of the pit, activating various instruments and casting a battery of spells.

"They'll be fine," Hikari said as he walked over, adjusting his glasses. "I don't imagine we'll find anything if the pit showed no sign of magical activity."

Hermione offered him a tight smile. "The bull figure didn't show any sign of magical activity either. Until people starting dying."

The blood drained from Hikari's face as he turned to face into the pit. "Well then," he said, his tone low. "Let's keep our fingers crossed then, shall we?"

A half an hour passed while Dean and Malfoy carried on with their meticulous scouring of the pit and Hermione started to feel anxious in the glaring heat of the sun. Another pair of an Unspeakable and an Auror approached to inspect the operation but carried on after ten minutes to continue with their own search.

While Hermione was glad that it wasn't just her and Malfoy working on the case anymore, it made the whole thing more nerve-wracking, to think that so many people were relying on the two of them to figure out the answers – answers which, so far, had remained elusive.

Finally Malfoy called up, "Nothing!"

Clutching her elbows with her arms folded across her front as she paced, Hermione released a tight breath. "Come back up, then!"

Malfoy nodded, and he and Dean began to pack up the assortment of instruments they'd been using. There was a faint rumble beneath Hermione's feet and her eyes widened as she glanced at Hikari.

"Did you feel that?" she whispered; he began to shake his head, when the shake happened again. His eyes widened and he nodded.

She dropped to her knees to peer into the pit again. They were still organizing their tools, oblivious. "Hurry!" Hermione exclaimed, glancing around even as she felt another reverberation through her knees on the hard earth. There was a flash of blond far down as Malfoy looked up at her. "The ground – it's shaking!"

Dean and Malfoy began to move faster, throwing items into their bags and then Dean began his ascent from the base of the pit.

The walls of the pit rattled and Dean lost his footing as he climbed, swinging a hand up to grasp the next rung.

Malfoy stared around, his feet braced as yet another quake stirred through the ground. "I can feel it!" he exclaimed; his voice echoed as it bounced up from the pit.

Hermione rose to her feet and drew her wand as Dean continued to climb, feeling a swell of fear in her stomach. "Unspeakable Hikari," she breathed, "it might be a good idea to move away from the pit."

They shared a nervous glance and Hikari drew his wand as well. "Not unless you do as well."

Hermione shook her hand, steadying her grip. "I can't," she breathed.

Dean's hand swung up to grip the top of the edge, his fingers digging into the packed earth. Hikari stepped forward to hoist him up. Dean had a thin sheen of sweat on his face as he adjusted the straps of his bag.

At the bottom of the pit, Malfoy grabbed hold of the ladder and stumbled as the ground shook beneath him.

"Come on," Hermione whispered to herself, casting protective and shielding spells on the ladder, even as it shook and swayed against the sides. Her spells faded and died before they reached the target.

The greatest rumble yet tore through, causing Hermione, Dean and Hikari to lose their balance. Stabilizing herself with a growing sense of panic, Hermione cast more spells, focusing her shielding on Malfoy this time. Still nothing happened, and she felt the magic fizzle and die as soon as it left her wand.

"Something's wrong!" she shouted into the pit, dropping to her knees again. Malfoy was barely a quarter of the way back up, struggling with the unsteady movement of the rope ladder. He squinted up at her as he reached up to the next rung. "My wand isn't working!"

Malfoy grimaced and continued his ascent. Hermione shifted back from the opening as the earth gave another mighty quake and the edges of the pit started to crumble.

She could see his exertion as she watched, eyes wide with terror. In her peripheral vision she saw the floor of the pit begin to melt away as if into itself; the earth began to slip downwards, like the grains of sand through an hourglass.

"Dean," Hermione cried, and he came to crouch beside her, cursing foully.

"Hurry up, Malfoy!" Dean shouted, hovering above the ladder.

"Trying," he returned through clenched teeth, as the ropes swung and clashed against the walls of the pit. Hermione heard him curse as the wall against which the ladder had once laid began to collapse downwards, leaving him hanging in a void.

"Malfoy," she choked, reaching down with a hand but he was still too far down.

"Pull up the ladder," Dean hissed to Hikari, and the two of them each took hold of one side of the ladder, giving it a tug. It lifted and swayed unevenly, Malfoy clutching to it even as the floor continued to drop lower and lower. Hermione could no longer see the bottom of the pit.

She reached out again as Dean and Hikari pulled, with difficulty as if they were fighting against the very magic that had revealed itself in destroying Hermione's protective enchantments. As if the magic wanted to claim Malfoy for its own and had been biding its time.

"Get back," Dean hissed as the edges began to crumble again, and the earth to which the ladder was stuck fell away, leaving the ropes only in the hands of the two men.

A strangled sort of whimper escaped Hermione's throat as Malfoy's eyes locked onto her own and his hand reached to find hers. She pulled hard on his hand, feeling something strain as Dean and Hikari gave a final heave of the ladder, and it broke free from whatever enchantments was pulling it into the pit.

They fell back and Malfoy slipped forward into Hermione, his eyes wide, and his hand locked in her iron grip. She scrambled back further from the opening, dragging him with her.

The four of them panted as their chests heaved, adrenaline racing through their veins, while the pit fell silent and the earth stopped quaking. It was altogether insidious.

The ladder slipped from Dean's fingers as he leaned forward, hands resting on his knees as he stared at Malfoy. "What the bloody fuck was that?"

Malfoy only shook his head, staring at Hermione. He choked, "Thanks."

There was a general murmur of relief between the four of them as Hermione stared in return. Malfoy's hand was still clasped within hers but he made no effort to extract it.

"I guess," she breathed, "the magic wasn't in the soil after all."

"It was like it came from somewhere deeper," Hikari agreed. "You were both lucky it didn't activate sooner."

"Yes," Malfoy said, his voice gruff. He gestured to his hand. "There's something wrong with my wrist."

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized why Malfoy hadn't made a move to reclaim his hand; his wrist was turned at a strange angle as if dislocated. He grimaced as she released his hand and watched as it fell limply to the side, her eyes wide with horror.

"You'll need to see a Healer," she gasped. He nodded, his breathing a little strained.

"If you activate the Portkey," he said, gesturing to the pin she kept on her shirt, "and tap it with your wand – it'll let Randall know we need help. Something extra Robards added in."

Hermione nodded, sharing a quick glance with Dean and Hikari who were still looking stunned and worse for wear. "I'll get Malfoy to the tent. Will you both please secure this area so no one can get near this pit? And the other pits as well."

"Noted," Hikari said. "We'll take care of it."

"Thanks," Hermione said, rising to her feet. Malfoy followed, adjusting his bag with his good hand as he walked. She glanced over at him, feeling the tension in her shoulders from the ordeal. "So much for nothing interesting in Harappa."

"Right," Malfoy said with a bark of laughter. "Thanks, Granger." He swallowed, his brow furrowed. "The three of you really saved my arse."

She gave him a slow nod as they walked, activating the pin on her collar and tapping it with her wand to summon a Healer. "I'm just glad you're alright, Malfoy."

His shoulder nudged against hers.

Chapter Text

Despite himself, Draco found a grin spreading across his face when Theo Portkeyed into the tent a few minutes after he'd been hauled out of the pit by Granger, Thomas and Hikari. He decided he would try to have more grace with Hikari for helping him, despite that the man was still a Granger-level swot.

But even Granger wasn't so bad, he supposed.

Theo dropped his medical bag on the hard ground and cocked a brow. "What the fuck did you do?"

"It's classified," Draco said with a snicker. "But let's just say, Granger nearly ripped my hand from my arm trying to save me from an unknown magical force."

Granger scoffed, folding her arms across her chest.

"Right," Theo said, drawing the word out. He prodded at the dislocated joint of Draco's wrist and Draco winced. "That is what it looks like. But not to worry, it's a simple enough fix."

"You'll note he's alive, so at least we succeeded," she huffed.

Theo paused from rifling through his bag and looked between the two of them. "I must say, I am glad to see you both still alive, this long into your expedition. I'd expected one of you to have killed the other by now."

Draco released a tight bark of laughter even as Theo slathered some sort of numbing agent on his wrist. He waved a hand, sharing a glance with Granger. "She's been tolerable enough, I haven't needed to do away with her just yet."

Her eyes narrowed but the corners of her mouth twitched. Draco held her stare while she blinked at him, an infinitesimal shake to her head.

"That's what he'd like you to think," she finally said, glancing at Theo. "I'm just biding my time."

Theo paused what he was doing, his jaw dropping as he stared between them in mocking astonishment. "I let the two of you out of my sight for, what, four days and this is how you're speaking? Merlin save us all."

Draco fired him a glare at the moment Theo smacked his wrist with his wand, snapping the joint back into its correct alignment.

"Fuck," Draco bit through clenched teeth, drawing the syllable out. He pressed his lips together, forcing a tight breath out through his nose.

"All fixed," Theo said with a banal smile.

Draco scowled while Granger tittered, sinking into a chair in the tent. "Will I need to take care of him like a little baby?"

Theo raised his hands. "Whatever you two need to do behind closed doors –"

"Shut up, Nott," Draco hissed. A flush appeared high on Granger's cheeks and she clamped her jaw shut. He gave his wrist a tentative twist, flexing the hand. "It's tender but fine, Granger. Thanks for the offer, though." He shot her a crooked grin, ignoring Theo.

Theo leaned back in his seat, an amused look on his face as he observed the exchange. "So, when you say an unknown magical force –"

"It's classified, Nott," Granger deadpanned.

"Well I've been called here, so I obviously have clearance to act as your on-site Healer," he clipped, raising a brow.

"Technically, we called for Randall," Draco said, his lips curving into a smirk at the look on Theo's face.

"This is what I get for travelling halfway across the world to ensure my best mate is feeling well," Theo said, shaking his head in an exaggerated fashion.

"Honestly," Draco said, pressing at his temple with his good hand. "While you're here, the least you could do is to give us an update on the other Aurors."

Theo gave a flippant wave. "Fine. The first two – Cary and Milano – are at St Mungo's under constant observation now. The trace of the magic in their blood is advancing, but slowly. Potter's is advancing too, but he is still only stopping by for testing. Finnigan – we don't know why, but the magic in his blood is remaining consistent."

"It hasn't advanced in the same way?" Granger asked, her voice sharp.

"No," Theo said with a shrug.

"Well, what's different?" she asked, and Draco could see the cogs whirring in her brain. "Why is it not increasing? Has there been progress with a method to fight the magic off?"

"No progress on that front, I'm afraid," Theo said, shaking his head. "And we don't know about Finnigan. It could be anything, quite frankly, and since we haven't been keeping him under constant observation it's difficult to say. It could be activity level, sleep cycles, nutrition – hell, it could be his own natural magic."

"But none of the others have shown the same signs?" Granger went on; Draco felt his own brain spinning in an attempt to sort out the information

"No," Theo said again, shaking his head. "Randall is trying to bring Potter and Finnigan in for steady observation but they claim they need to work, what with you lot having so many Aurors out here, on top of the two in St Mungo's already."

Draco ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. "Thanks."

"You'll want to take it easy on that wrist for a couple days," Theo said as he began to pack things back into his bag, despite not having used half of them in the first place. "You know, switch to the other hand or maybe Granger can… help you…"

Theo trailed off at the look on Draco's face and rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks, Theo," Draco clipped, his jaw set.

"Yes, thanks for coming, Nott." Granger had either ignored or misunderstood Theo's last jab and for that Draco was thankful.

Theo gave an odd sort of salute. "Have fun out here." Then he activated the Portkey and left.

Draco sagged back in his seat, the weight of the day hitting him, and he realized he felt exhausted. He exchanged a look with Granger; her lips were pressed together in an uncertain sort of way.

"I guess," she began, playing with the quill that lay on the table. "We should send an owl about this."

By the time they arrived back to the hotel in Lahore, an owl with a response was waiting for them. Hermione accepted its missive while Malfoy hovered off to the side.

"Burke and Robards want to speak with us," she explained, her gaze flying across the parchment. "They're making arrangements to meet us at the Magical Consulate."

"Great," Malfoy grumbled. He rummaged through his bag for the Portkey that would take them back to the Consulate.

Hermione's gaze flickered to her watch and her eyes widened. "In ten minutes."

He sighed, rubbing at tired eyes. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than a meal and to sleep "Then let's go."

A few minutes after they arrived – Shah had provided them a small boardroom to use – Robards and Burke Flooed in, looking concerned.

"Tell us about this pit," Robards said by way of greeting. "We can only get so much information from your updates."

Between the two of them, Hermione and Malfoy were able to relay the entire story of what had happened since arriving in Pakistan, how Naveed had been convinced the tunnels didn't exist, and how Dean and Hikari had discovered the pits. They detailed the occurrences of that day, how Dean and Malfoy had nearly been swallowed up by the pit and had just escaped.

Robards frowned as he carded a hand through his hair, a heavy furrow to his brow. "It sounds like you were following proper safety protocol," he said. "It makes me wonder what sort of magic is truly at play here, as if we weren't already wary."

"When the pit collapsed," Burke said, his expression pensive, "where did it lead?"

"Nowhere," Hermione said, shaking her head. "It just dropped straight down."

"Not into the tunnels you're looking for?" her superior continued. Hermione hesitated for a moment, glancing at Malfoy.

"No," he shook his head. "From what I saw before Thomas and Hikari covered it back up, it just carried on deep – beyond our ability to see."

"I only ask," Burke said, "in the event that the tunnels are hidden in the same way as the pits. If the pits were some sort of magical offshoot of the tunnels."

"We wondered that too." Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck with his good hand; Hermione noticed he wasn't using the other at all. "Which is why we wanted to look into them to begin with. Because why would they be hidden, and why were they made in the first place?"

"I can't help but wonder why they were doing so much digging," Robards said, scratching the stubble on his jaw. He shook his head, his eyes tight. "Were they searching for something? Hiding something? Constructing something?"

"The pit was between the remains of two dwellings," Hermione explained. "Why would they have done that intentionally?"

"So a collapse, then," Malfoy inferred. "We've spent the entire time here so far trying to find evidence of the tunnels – this has been the first potential sign, and it obviously didn't go well."

"What a disaster," Robards grumbled. "And meanwhile I've got four Aurors growing sicker in the hospital." His gaze flickered between Hermione and Malfoy. "Not to say any of this is your fault."

Hermione shook her head. "We've been trying to decide if we should keep pushing this lead in Harappa or take a visit to Mohenjo-Daro – the largest city of the Indus Valley civilization – to see what we can find there."

Burke and Robards both considered the thought, sharing a glance. "Go to Mohenjo-Daro tomorrow," Burke said after a moment. "At the very least, you'll know what you're dealing with there. Maybe something will connect back to make sense of this whole mess. Sometimes it helps to take a look at the bigger picture."

Hermione nodded. Malfoy cast her a grimace and shrugged.

"Onwards to Mohenjo-Daro it is."

Following a quick meal in the hotel restaurant, Draco had returned to his room, Granger at his side. He hadn't checked back with the front desk with regards to any more rooms – and she had yet to mention it – so for the time being, Draco was content to carry on with the arrangements how they had been.

And the fact that he was able to see Granger in her sleep shorts each night had nothing – very little – to do with it.

Although the couch was uncomfortable, and sleeping at an awkward angle was bothering his neck. Perhaps Granger wouldn't complain if he took the bed tonight.

There was a tiny, niggling voice in the back of Draco's head, as he stared at her, her legs stretched out in front of her as she leaned against the wooden footboard at the opposite corner, that suggested the bed was more than big enough for the two of them.

They had been using the extra blankets on the couch, so it wasn't as if they would need to share. And they could always construct a magical barrier between them if Granger was concerned, or if – Merlin forbid – she kicked in her sleep.

The thought of her sleeping in the same bed, of waking up to her face on the pillow beside his, had Draco feeling a little warm around the collar. He slipped the top two buttons of his shirt, his mind running away with the thoughts.

"Malfoy," Granger snapped; he blinked to see her watching him, her brows high. "What is it?"

He'd been staring. At Granger. Blankly like an idiot, no doubt.

Draco cleared his throat. "I was just thinking."

Granger snorted, turning the page on her book. "Clearly. Anything important, or is the vacuous space between your ears running away with your brain?"

Draco scowled, dropping his chin. "Excuse you and your rudeness. Of course it was important."

"Fine." Granger marked her page and looked up at him. "What was so important that you were staring at me for three minutes without blinking?"

"It was not three minutes." He grimaced. "And I was not staring at you, I was thinking and I happened to be looking forward."

Not a chance he was going to tell her he was thinking about the way she might smell up close. The touch of her soft breath against his neck. What her skin would feel like beneath his hands. He would sooner renounce his family.

"Are you even hearing yourself?" Granger snickered, flashing him a grin. "Fine, Malfoy, keep your secrets."

He folded his arms. "Secrets. What am I, twelve?"

Granger raised a brow and returned to her book. "You sure act twelve some days."

Draco couldn't quite tell whether Granger was being facetious, or whether she was pestering him over something he'd done. She was impossible to read, sometimes, and this was one of them. There was no reason he could think of as to why Granger would be teasing him.

She cracked a smile and he swallowed. "I'll tell you what I was thinking about, because I'm not twelve and I don't keep secrets."

She was bloody teasing him. Draco glared at her. He ground out, "Go on, then."

"I was thinking we ought to use a severing charm to split the bed in two, that way neither of us have to sleep on that lumpy couch," she said.

Draco froze, checking to be sure his Occlumency shields were proper. There was no way Granger was an Legilimens – although there probably wasn't anything she couldn't figure out if she set her mind to it.

She shrugged and carried on. "We don't have to, of course, but I was only thinking about why we hadn't done it sooner. Then we can just seal the halves back together before we leave."

He choked out, "If that's what you want to do." If Granger split the bed he would have no excuse to sleep beside her – but he couldn't tell her not to do it without a better reason.

She gave an absent shrug before he could think of anything and waved her wand at the bed. Nothing happened.

"Odd," she said, her brows knitted. She cast the spell again. "I guess they've put protective enchantments on the furniture. It probably isn't worth the effort to dismantle the wards."

Draco pursed his lips with a dismissive flicker of his brows. "Well, you tried."

"Right," she sighed, swinging her feet off the edge of the bed and making to stand. "I can just ask again with the staff in the lobby. Surely someone's checked out by now. Then I'll get out of your space –"

"We can share," Draco blurted, his eyes wide. She tensed, her hands pressed into the bed at her sides. "I'm used to you being here."

There was a heavy pause in which Granger stared at the wall, Draco stared at his knees, and the air between them felt suffocating. He opened his mouth to say something else, anything to break the silence, but closed it again when she released a tight breath.

"Share," she repeated. Her eyes flickered to his and away again.

He raised his hands. "We don't have to. Merlin, Granger, it wasn't the most outlandish thing I've ever said to you."

"As in, you, Draco Malfoy, sharing a bed with me, Hermione Granger."

The sound of his given name on her tongue set a shiver chasing the length of his spine, even as he rolled his eyes. "Never mind."

Granger's head turned to face him, her eyes keen on him. "I'm just trying to be sure you know what you're saying."

"I know what I said," Draco said, his voice gruff. "But I take it back. If you want to get your own room, then go. I was just trying to think of a situation that worked for us both."

She continued to stare at him, her expression stoic. She breathed, "You're serious."

He shrugged, feeling his defensive hackles raise. If she didn't back down this was going to escalate and he was probably going to say something he'd regret. There was something about her tone that got under his skin, as it always had.

"I'm having a shower. If you're still here when I get back, I'll assume you're staying," he ground through his teeth, rising from the bed and storming away.

When he returned from his shower, clad in pyjama pants and a t-shirt, Granger was seated cross-legged on the bed in her sleep clothes. Something leapt in his stomach and he squashed it.

"Still no more rooms?" he snipped.

She fired him an irritated look. "I didn't ask."

"Look, Granger, obviously I shouldn't have said anything," he waved a hand. "Sleep on the couch if you prefer."

"You'll stay on your side, and I'll stay on mine." She gave him a half-hearted glare.

Draco froze, his eyes landing on hers.

Granger went on as a bright flush rose to her cheeks. "If you touch me, I reserve the right to smack you."

"I don't want to touch you," Draco lied.

"If you move too much, I'll put a barrier down the middle of the bed." She raised a brow.

"Put up the barrier now," he challenged. "This isn't to inconvenience you, Granger, despite how you're acting." He rubbed at his sore wrist and her eyes followed the motion; something in her harsh expression softened.

Her voice was quiet, almost apologetic, as she said, "I just didn't know whether you were playing at something."

"What would I be playing at?" he asked, swallowing the thick lump in his throat. He applied too much pressure to his wrist and winced as the tender joint flared up.

Granger only shook her head. "Nothing, I just… nothing."

Draco blinked at her. He would have given his Gringotts account to know what she was thinking in that moment. A wry grin quirked his lips. "Don't keep secrets like a twelve-year-old, Granger."

She fired him a withering stare. "Fine. I wasn't sure if you were meaning something by it."

"Something," Draco said, dropping his hands at his sides. "As in –"

She gave a sort of jerky, noncommittal flail. He caught his lower lip between his teeth to stop from laughing at the look of mortification on her face, despite that he felt the same.

"Ah," he clipped. "You thought I was trying to get you to share the bed with me so I could lay my filthy ex-Death Eater paws on your soft, heroic skin."

A flush came to her cheeks but Draco crooked a grin, allowing her to ease her humiliation. The sooner they could both get past this, the better, as far as he was concerned.

"No," she hissed, staring down at the bed. "Not how you've made it sound. Merlin, you know I don't think of you like –"

His voice was quiet, a tilt to his head. "I'm not like that, Granger."

"I didn't think… you were." Her expression was sheepish, and she opened her mouth to say something more, but nodded instead. And with no more excessive fanfare, she slipped beneath the blankets on the far side of the bed.

Draco waved the lights off with his wand before climbing into the other side.

In an instant, he knew it was a bad idea. The bed wasn't so large that he couldn't feel the heat from her body in the space between them. He could see the faint outline of her curls in the dark on the pillow beside him, and the scent of her danced around him. His eyes slid shut but the awareness of her was a singular, palpable thing.

Her voice hitched as she breathed, "Good night, Malfoy."

Draco swallowed a breath, wondering whether he would sleep at all. "Night, Granger."

Chapter Text

As Hermione stirred into consciousness the next morning, something felt strange. She blinked several times as her eyes settled ahead – and a breath hitched in her throat.

Malfoy laid in the bed beside her, still fast asleep – his pale hair was splayed out on the pillow, and he wore a peaceful expression that she didn't think she'd seen from him before. His eyelids were shut, his lips just parted.

She'd never been so close as to be able to just observe him, without them screaming or mocking one another. There was something intriguing in staring at him – the angles of his cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw had seemed pointed in his youth, but now they made him look chiseled.

A warmth rose to her cheeks to realize she was appreciating the way he looked even as he slept, which felt far too intimate.

As if feeling her gaze, Malfoy's grey eyes slid open to meet hers. He only stared back, one side of his face buried in the pillow. A sharp breath chased from Hermione's lungs and her heart began to race in such a tumultuous rhythm she was certain he would be able to hear it.

His voice was husky with sleep and it sent a shiver across her nerve endings. "What?"

"Nothing," she whispered, wanting nothing more than to touch the silky strands of blond in front of her face. To see whether it felt as soft as it looked.

His lips curved into a smirk. "You're staring."

Hermione swallowed a thickness in her throat and shook her head. "I was thinking," she breathed, "and happened to be looking forward."

"Nice try," he muttered under his breath. He shifted and a piece of hair fell into his eyes; he reached up to sweep it away and his gaze held hers. He whispered, "You're still staring."

"You look different when you sleep," Hermione admitted, chewing her lower lip. "It caught me off guard."

He blinked at her, shifting his face further into the pillow, his eyes sliding shut again with a sigh. "How am I supposed to look while I sleep? Should I look awake?"

"No." She hesitated, her gaze sweeping his face again. "It just felt odd that you weren't scowling or sneering at me, is all."

His eyes opened again. "I don't scowl and sneer at you all the time." He thought for a moment, then amended, "Not anymore."

Hermione shrugged. "No, not anymore." She glanced away, feeling a flush, hot across the surface of her face. "You should smile more. You have a nice smile."

He snickered, turning his face towards her. "So not only do I wake up to you checking me out, but now you think I have a nice smile. Did the world turn inside out while I slept?"

His words tugged at the corners of her lips. "I'm only being honest."

Malfoy stared at her, his lips parted and a knit to his brow. "I'm not really a smiling person, Granger. You ought to know that by now."

She glanced away. "No, I suppose you aren't. But that doesn't mean you can't be."

He huffed a breath and fumbled for his wand on the nightstand, casting a spell to check the time. "Can't I hole up in the hotel today? Almost dying yesterday was enough of an adventure to tide me over for a few days."

His words stirred something in Hermione's stomach and she frowned, thinking about the terror that had flooded her being when she realized the sort of peril he was in. That he could have died – if they hadn't been quick enough with the ladder, or if Hikari hadn't been there with her.

Her voice was tight when she responded. "We're to check out Mohenjo-Daro today. No climbing into pits."

"I don't intend to climb into any more pits," Malfoy agreed. "Until we find those blasted tunnels." He sighed, rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. "We just need to find something. It's like we've made no progress at all."

Hermione grimaced, realizing the truth in his words. "We can only hope we find something today."

She watched as he groaned and stood from the bed, stretching his arms above himself. He turned back to face her. "If I have to get up, you have to get up."

Biting back a smile, she got up.

Draco stared at Granger's messy hairdo, pulled through the back of Randall's brainwave-tracking hat. Naveed was guiding their group around Mohenjo-Daro, much as he had done in Harappa.

Draco's mind raced as he took in the larger Indus city; it was one thing to read about it in books, but to see the remains of the once thriving civilization was another thing altogether. To think of how many people had lived and contributed to the society was fascinating.

The omniscient feel of the magic that had shimmered in the air in Harappa was absent here – he wondered whether there was any relevance between the two, and couldn't help but feel that their answers were back in Harappa.

Or worse yet… they could lie elsewhere.

The entirety of the Indus Valley was massive, and Madame Moreau could have found the figure anywhere, despite what her itinerary told them.

With each step forward, Granger's hair bobbed from side to side. Draco squinted at her hat, wondering whether Randall had noticed anything abnormal. He supposed Granger would have heard about it – unless she had, and just hadn't told him.

She stopped on the spot and Draco nearly collided into her back. A brow raised as she waited for him to come up alongside her.

"Is there a reason you're walking behind me?" she asked, a pensive look on her face.

Draco shrugged. "Just taking it all in."

"Right," Granger said, her brows raising.

"Okay," Draco said, waving a hand. "I was wondering if you had any more of that nut mix."

"You were not," she snapped, rolling her eyes. "And no, I don't. You ate it all in Harappa."

He cast her a glance, dawdling to let the group get a bit ahead of them. Taking his cue, Granger slowed down alongside, staring at him. "Granger," he began, unsure. "I've been thinking a lot about your brain condition."

"It isn't –" she hissed.

"It is," he cut her off, giving her a pointed look. "As I said, I've been thinking about what triggers the visions, and what they mean. You haven't had any others?" She shook her head, frowning. Draco's fingers scratched the back of his neck as he thought. "So you saw Burke in your office – and you saw a group of people walking in Harappa. What's the connection?"

"Burke was talking to another Unspeakable," she clipped.

"Who?" he asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"I didn't recognize him."

"So someone you don't know? Or someone that no longer works in the Department of Mysteries?" Draco shook his head as he tried to make sense of it all.

"Maybe," Granger shrugged. "Burke looked different, too."

Draco stopped walking, his mind alight. She paused, staring at him as if he'd gone mad. "And the people you saw in Harappa – what did they look like?"

"They were far away," she said, eyes narrowed as if picturing them. "But – their clothing was unusual – ancient. They were traveling in a group, like they were going somewhere."

"Casually?" Draco asked, "or with purpose? Were they doing something else?"

She shook her head, pressing her fingers to her temples. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Because you said you thought they were tourists," he coaxed. "But what if they weren't?"

"Who else would have been in Harappa other than tourists or archaeologists?" she asked, throwing up her hands, even as her eyes widened. "Wait – are you suggesting the visions might be –" She swallowed, cutting herself off.

Draco released a tight breath. "Granger, are you seeing the past?"

They shared a long glance, laden with hope, intrigue, and trepidation. She dug a toe into the hard earth, her eyes distant. "Is it possible?"

He turned to face her. "Try it."

"I haven't been able to just access the trigger on command," she scoffed.

"Because you haven't known what you're reaching for," he urged, hesitating. "Try something small. See if you can find us walking back there a few minutes ago."

Granger's look was exasperated, even as she shook her head. Her eyes fixed in the direction they had come from, and they tightened as she focused. After a moment she shook her head. "Nothing."

Draco glanced ahead to see the group far away. "Try again."

"You're grasping," she admonished, but she stared behind them again; Draco could see her hands pressed against her sides, curled into fists. She released a heavy breath, shaking her head. "I can't see anything."

"Then how did you see Burke in the office? How did you see the group of people?"

"I was –" she choked, shaking her head. "I was just thinking about the past."

"Then that must be it," Draco exclaimed, meeting her cautious stare. "You're somehow seeing things that happened in the past."

She held his gaze, a heavy sort of significance passing through them, and he knew he didn't need to explain why it was important. "If I can see things that happened…" she gasped, "we can see where Madame Moreau went."

"Granger," Draco intoned, releasing a sharp breath. "You'll be able to look back and see the tunnels."

"Merlin," she breathed, swallowing. She averted her gaze into the packed earth beneath them, and Draco could practically hear her mind turning over. "We might be able to find some answers."

Her chocolate eyes lifted again, her gaze fixing on his. "I don't know how I accessed the trigger before."

"You'll get it." The group had stopped some distance away, outside of one of the largest structures in Mohenjo-Daro. A twinge of curiosity passed through him but he squashed the thought to focus on the topic at hand. "If you keep trying, you'll figure it out, Granger."

"Right." She nodded, her face mired in disbelief. She muttered to herself, "Focus, Hermione – you can do this –"

Draco's lips twitched.

Her eyes squinted so tight he might have laughed if the situation hadn't felt so heavy. She released a sharp breath, massaging her temple with the heel of a hand, even as her eyes remained focused on the ground in the direction from which they had come.

"Don't blow your brain up, Granger," he cautioned.

He glanced down to be sure he had his St Mungo's Portkey – just in case something went wrong.

Finally Granger huffed, catching her lower lip between her teeth; she folded her arms across her front. "I don't know."

She was looking rather pale and swaying. "Don't overdo it, or you could burn out your core."

She nodded, holding a hand out in front of her. "You're right. I just –" she pressed the heel of her hand into her eye. "I think I ought to sit down."

Eyes widening, he swallowed a breath. "I'll walk you to the tent."

She only nodded again, her eyelids fluttering shut. She began in the direction of the temporary work station they had constructed upon arriving, and nearly stumbled into Draco.

"Steady," he said, frowning at her condition, even as he felt a twinge in his stomach over forcing her to keep trying. Bracing himself, he slipped an arm around her back to guide her.

"Thanks," she breathed, her head dropping forward. "I'm not sure what's come over me."

They hadn't made it far from the tent, although the rest of the group had moved on without them. Draco was thankful the team was comprised of knowledgeable and well-equipped Aurors and Unspeakables.

"You pushed the magic too far," Draco said. "Do you want me to summon Randall?"

"I think I just need to rest for a minute," she said, her words slurring and feet slipping as she attempted to walk. She reached for him, her fingers catching the fabric of his shirt.

He released a long breath, trying not to think about the way she felt pressed into his side, his hand holding tight to her waist; the way the scent of her tickled his senses.

They made it back to the tent and Draco helped her into a seat; her face was pale and her eyelids were heavy as she gazed at him. "Thank you," she choked.

"Have you got any food in your bag?" Draco asked, unsure how to help her if she didn't want medical attention.

She gave a jerky sort of nod, waving at the beaded bag she always carried.

Draco reached into it, snickering as he recalled how much she had loaded into it before they'd left London. He drew his wand and cast a summoning spell, and handed her one of the sandwiches that flew into his hand from somewhere within.

He frowned, wondering when she had found time to make sandwiches. He peeled back the plastic film wrapped around it and shoved half of it into her hand with a gruff, "Eat this."

She hummed her agreement, raising the sandwich to her lips and taking a small bite.

Draco watched for several minutes while she ate the first half, and then the second, of the sandwich, his hand hovering over the Portkey in case he needed to reach out to St Mungo's.

A couple minutes later, Granger's eyes slid open and met his again; some of the colour had returned to her face and she sat straighter in the chair. She twisted her lips to the side, looking uncomfortable. "Sorry," she muttered. "And thank you."

Draco crouched down in front of her chair and gave her a cross between a grimace and a smile. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," she said, waving a hand, even as the flush remained in her cheeks. "Only – how will I manage to see into the past if I can't do so without over-exerting myself?"

"Don't worry about that right now," Draco said. "It might get easier once you figure out how to access the trigger. You're still dealing with dangerous and unknown magic, don't forget that part."

She glanced away. "And what if I can't figure it out?"

He didn't respond for a long breath, the air between them tense. "Then we'll find another way." She looked disheartened, chewing on her lower lip as her shoulders sank. "Granger, it isn't worth you killing yourself over it. When this thing first manifested you almost died." She glanced up and he repeated, "It isn't worth it."

Her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear when she next spoke. "You're being very nice."

His heart sank at the look on her face – and something unsettled hung about in his stomach. It was such a visceral response that he stared at her, startled, as an uneasy realization danced through his mind. He cared about Granger.

Seized with fear and indecision, he gave a jerky sort of shrug. "I'm only telling you what Randall would say."

Her eyes flashed and expression fell. "Well, thank you anyway."

She started to reach a hand out and dropped it partway, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his cuff. Draco swallowed, staring at her fingers as they settled back into her lap.

Before he could stop himself or think otherwise, he caught her fingers in his hand. Keeping his eyes away from hers, he only heard her intake of breath at the contact of their hands. He gave her hand a brief squeeze before withdrawing his own, nerves racing through him at the way her skin felt against his.

He rose to his feet with a tight, forced smile. He set a bottle of water on the table beside her.

"Drink some water," he said, his voice tight. "I'm going to see if I can find the group, and I'll check back in a bit. You can reach Randall through your Portkey if you need anything."

"Okay," she breathed, her eyes fixed on the water he'd given her. "Thanks again."

Draco made a strange noise in his throat and left the tent.

When Hermione found Malfoy later that day he was standing in the middle of a large rectangular depression that had been dug out of the earth and inlaid with a surface of stones; stairs led down on two sides. His hands were tucked into his pockets, the usual tension to his shoulders dissipated.

She approached, gazing at the structure in which he stood and she felt the breath chase from her lungs; she recognized the place where they now stood from so many history books.

Sensing her approach, his gaze flickered to her and then back out at nothing – or everything – he had been staring at before.

"Granger," he said, his voice soft. "You've joined me in the bath."

"It's empty," she said as she snickered.

Malfoy turned to face her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." Hermione nodded, feeling an odd sort of peace wash over her as she stood beside him. "Healer Randall Portkeyed in – she noticed the brain activity and came to run some tests. She said everything is good, and that I've definitely accessed the part of my brain that was modified by that spell."

"Good." His expression remained pensive.

"Were you just… standing in the bath?" she asked, giving him a cautious glance.

He nodded, the movement slow and lethargic. "I've just been thinking. Overwhelmed would be a good way to put it."

"By this all," Hermione inferred, waving a hand. He nodded again.

Harappa had been impressive in its own right, but there was something about the vastness and the extravagance of Mohenjo-Daro – especially knowing how long ago it had all been built.

"Think about it," Malfoy went on, carding one hand through his hair. "The baths… the sewers – each house or group of houses had its own sewage system. They were more advanced than some modern civilizations… and they lived thousands of years ago."

"And their sophisticated civic planning," Hermione went on, swallowing. "Multi-storied brick housing, the plumbing and drainage systems – most houses had their own wells –" she cut herself off, shaking her head.

He breathed, "What happened to them?"

She stared at him for a long moment; there was a furrow in his brow as he squinted against the brightness of the sun. There was a side to him she hadn't ever seen in London, that had come out here, so far away from home. Despite that they were in so far over their heads, and the situation was all so dire – it was a different Malfoy she was here with.

The thought caused something to stir deep inside her.

Finally she shook her head. "We might never know."

He dug the toe of his boot into the ground, his eyes falling to stare at the hard earth. "Or we might be the ones to figure it out. You could be the one, Granger."

A thrill chased through her and settled, heavy, in her stomach.

"I don't know that I'll be able to do that."

"Maybe not," he said with a shrug. "But imagine knowing? Imagine, after thousands of years, learning what really happened here. They were so far ahead of their time – but yet something ran them out. Was it political warfare? Drought and famine?"

His hand slipped into his bag, and he pulled out the enclosed figure. Hermione blinked, almost having forgotten what it looked like – what exactly it was that had drawn them there.

He stared at the figure for a long moment, deep in thought. "Was it something else?"

The discomfort in her stomach churned at the thought – had the civilization been driven out, their numbers depleted, by the same magic that now plagued the two of them?

Where had the magic come from – and if it had originated in the Indus Valley, what was its purpose? Had it once been benevolent and transformed into something ugly, bringing death upon the people that had lived here in such a peaceful and complicated society?

"The more we learn, the more questions reveal themselves," Hermione said. "I'd like to think we'll find the answers – but right now, it just feels like so much."

"Like I said," Malfoy said, toeing the ground again. "Overwhelmed."

Chapter Text

It took a few days of exploring Mohenjo-Daro for Hermione to gain her bearings in the large civilization. The team had been working, searching for any potential signs of magic for several days, but the scale of the city was so large, it wasn't surprising that they hadn't turned up anything yet. But still they toiled in the heat, day by day.

If she was honest, it was preferable to the inherent magic that had seemed to shimmer in the air of Harappa – and had attempted to pull Dean and Malfoy into the bowels of the earth.

But no new findings meant no answers.

Every chance she found, she had tried to access the trigger to see occurrences that happened in the past, but had been unable to do so. She had tried to recall the exact thoughts she'd had when she had seen the first two visions – but to no avail.

Malfoy wasn't pressing, but they both knew how significant it would be if she were able to see what had actually happened in Mohenjo-Daro or Harappa.

Unfortunately, Madame Moreau had visited other cities in the Indus Valley civilization, according to the itinerary her son had procured. If they found nothing in Mohenjo-Daro, they would travel to the port town of Lothal, which would take them southeast into India.

The more Hermione learned and the more she witnessed exploring, the greater the conviction welling up inside her that she needed to find the answers – if for no reason other than closure.

But the priority, of course, was to discover a way to combat the magic that was slowly eating away at the lives of four Aurors, including one of her best friends and another old classmate.

She could see the stress building in Malfoy as each day passed without progress, and she knew he was questioning his leadership, even if he didn't say it in so many words.

They had been in constant communication with both Auror Robards and Unspeakable Burke, and each day when they had nothing to report, they had shared a grimace and penned the updates. Hermione could sense the tension, too, in the responding missives.

And for as much as Hermione tried to remain positive, she too had started to wonder whether Burke and Robards might have begun to regret sending the two of them to lead the team – even though the rest of the team had been selected for their competence – junior as they both were.

Malfoy was seated on the bed one night, dark bruises beneath his eyes as they flew back and forth across a report the Aurors had given him that day. He rose with a heavy sigh and vanished into the loo for a shower.

Hermione returned to her correspondence with Randall – they had decided it might be helpful if she gave the Healer daily updates on her efforts to access the trigger, knowing how much of a role being able to use the newfound ability could play.

If only it were just as simple as looking up and picturing something that had happened once – and then seeing it.

For several minutes she stared at the door, frowning when nothing appeared.

She heard the water switch off and decided she ought to shower as well and get ready for sleep – it would be another exhausting day in the blazing heat tomorrow – and she rose from the small table.

Moving to collect her sleep clothes from her bag, Hermione froze when Malfoy came through the main door into the room.

"Where did you –" she said, rubbing her eyes. She could have sworn he had just been in the shower; he must have slipped around her when she hadn't been looking.

But Malfoy ignored her, running a hand through his hair and collecting his notes from the table; with a huff he took up a spot on the bed and began flipping through.

"Wait," Hermione gasped. "You're wearing –" She pressed a hand to her mouth, shaking her head. "Malfoy!"

"What?" he asked, sticking his head out from inside the loo; his hair was wet and he had changed into his pajamas.

"Malfoy," she breathed again, waving her hands in front of her. Her gaze fixed on the Malfoy lounging on the bed, her heart thudding in her chest at the fully clothed version of him. "You're – you're just there. On the bed, reading your notes."

"What the fuck, Granger?" he asked, scrunching up his face. "I've just had a shower."

"No," she hissed, waving at the bed. "You're there."

"No," he breathed, comprehension dawning in an instant. "Where?"

"Just here," Hermione said, approaching the bed with intense focus. She pressed a hand to her temple, willing the past Malfoy to stay. The blond came to her side, staring at the wrong spot on the bed; his breathing was light. The Malfoy on the bed huffed after a short while, rising to make his way to the loo. "You're just going for a shower now. It's only gone back a few minutes."

"Granger," Malfoy breathed at her side, his grey eyes wide. "I can't believe this – you aren't making this up, are you?"

"No," she clipped, scowling. "I wouldn't make this up."

Past-Malfoy strode through Present-Malfoy and Hermione flinched, imagining them colliding. "You didn't feel that?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Did I walk into myself?"

Hermione nodded, making to follow the Past Malfoy to the loo when she realized where he was headed and stopped herself, a flush rising to her cheeks. "You've gone into the loo."

"Which means I've disrobed," he said with a snicker. "You can follow if you really want to –"

She fired him a glare, shaking his head. "I'll not intrude on your privacy like that, as I would expect the same courtesy from you."

"It's an irrelevant point," Malfoy said, "given I'll never be able to see your past versions walking around, taking showers."

Too distracted by the experience to respond to the jab, Hermione could only shake her head. "I can't believe I actually accessed it. It obviously wasn't thousands of years back, but –"

"But you did it," he interrupted. "And if you've done it once, you'll be able to do it again. It'll probably take time to look back further with intent."

A sort of glowing elation was building inside her and she felt her lips pulling into a smile and then a wide grin as she turned to stare at Malfoy. He returned her stare with a smirk, shaking his head. "You've fucking done it, Granger."

His grey eyes sparkled at hers.

When Draco awoke the following morning, there was a vague pressure against his shoulder. The scent of Granger's hair was hovering in the air around him and he opened his eyes, steadying his nerves. The side of her temple was pressed against him, half of her face buried in his upper arm.

He clenched his jaw and made to shift away, not wanting to deal with the fallout of the situation if she were to awaken. But she stirred and Draco could feel the soft huff of her breath against his arm. He scowled and flinched when her hand reached out to land on his arm, her fingers gentle as they grazed the side of his stomach.

Her lips were parted with a slight downturn, and there was a soft furrow to her brow. She released a sound in her sleep and rolled her entire body towards him, shifting closer. He could feel the heat from her; the soft nudge of her knee against his leg.

Cursing under his breath, Draco made to extract himself before she could cross any more of the physical boundaries they had imposed with regards to the situation. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his. Draco stopped breathing, staring at her as she blinked into focus.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice groggy with sleep.

"I'm trying to escape your vice-like claws," he snipped, wanting to make it clear none of this had been his doing so she wouldn't get upset with him.

She glanced down, recoiling as she noticed her proximity, and the way her hand laid across his arm, the way she was pressed against him. As if only just realizing how obtrusive she had been whilst asleep, she scrambled back, her eyes widening.

"Sorry," she gasped, wrapping her hands around herself.

"It's fine," Draco said, trying to force his racing heart to steady. The feel of her breath on his skin, the way her fingers had brushed against him – he took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling.

"I didn't mean –" she whispered, looking horrified. Her brown eyes swept across his face.

Draco averted his gaze; it hadn't been that terrible of an experience that she needed to act as if waking up beside him was the worst thing that had ever happened to her.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, grounding out again, "It's fine."

Granger caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and Draco remained in bed and kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall until she rose to change in the loo. His body, half asleep, had definitely been aware of her presence – and there was no way he was letting her on to that fact.

Draco scowled as he dressed and prepared for the day. As if this thing he had developed for her wasn't ill-advised enough, she continued to do and say things that made it clear how repulsed she was by him.

He just needed to focus on the case.

The sooner they found answers, the sooner they could solve this mission, and the sooner they could return to London. Then he could fully distance himself and do his best to push Granger from his mind.

Hermione paced the thin scrub inside what had once been an old dwelling in Mohenjo-Daro, but most of the structure had collapsed.

The sweltering sun beamed down, bringing a thin sheen to her forehead, even beneath the hat she was forced to wear. She swiped at her brow, digging in her beaded bag for a bottle of water.

She hadn't seen Malfoy in over an hour – she had fumbled out an excuse about wanting to focus on procuring a vision and he had simply raised his brows with a muttered, "Sure, Granger," and walked off.

Scowling at the ground, she allowed herself to be distracted.

He didn't need to act so scandalized over the fact that she had crossed into his side of the bed – she had been asleep, and she had a tendency to move in her sleep.

She was still embarrassed over the situation, and his reaction hadn't made it any easier to stomach. It wasn't enough that she had made a fool of herself, subconsciously, but then Malfoy had refused to even look at her.

Hermione thought they'd been actually getting along rather well, and if she was honest with herself, she was enjoying his company more and more. He had become a welcome constant in her life, in dealing with a case where everything was anything but.

And she couldn't help the fact that his reaction had stung.

Was the thought of waking up beside her so terrible that he needed to be short and rude in his responses?

If he felt so strongly about it, she would just go back to sleeping on the couch. Or better yet, she would just go down and ask about another room. He would be relieved to have his own space.

There was a part of her that had allowed a small hope to kindle that – just maybe – Malfoy truly had moved past his blood status superiority complex. She found him to be intelligent and interesting, and quite witty. And there was a small voice – that grew louder by the day – that proclaimed he was certainly attractive.

She had been wondering if maybe he could see it – what other people saw when they said the two of them were well-suited.

Hermione hadn't seen it at first, but the more time they spent together…

Irritated, she cut off the absent train of thought, her feet dragging through the scrub as she dawdled.

She was here for a reason, and a mission – to save Harry and the other Aurors who were in St Mungo's because of the magic from the figure. That was it.

She absolutely wasn't in the Indus Valley to pine and moon over someone who had made her childhood years miserable, and had only just become a decent person.

And at any rate, his mixed signals were enough to drive her up the wall.

The sooner they could figure out the answers to this case, the sooner they could return home to London, and Hermione wouldn't have to deal with Malfoy anymore. This would all just fade away into an experience she had once.

Narrowing her eyes, she doubled her efforts.

Draco lounged on the bed that evening after owling his correspondence to Auror Robards. The team had gathered for a nice meal in the hotel restaurant and he was looking forward to an early sleep. It had been another day of minimal excitement in Mohenjo-Daro, and he was considering the fact that they ought to go to Lothal soon, in case there were any clues there.

Granger had stayed in the restaurant with the other Unspeakables and Draco had returned to the room without her, interested in a shower to wash away the thin layer of dust that always seemed to settle on his skin and in his hair after a day in the field.

She breezed into the room, a letter in her hand, and walked straight through to the bathroom without looking at him.

Draco looked up, setting his book aside.

"Granger," he said, marking his page, "I was considering we ought to bump up our visit to Lothal if we can't find anything in Mohenjo tomorrow."

Her face popped out from the doorway of the loo. "Sure."

She vanished again, and a few minutes later she walked out with her toiletries case. Draco raised a brow as she tucked it into her bag, frowning as he watched while she folded some clothes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, crossing his legs on the bed.

Granger looked up, her face blank. "I'm leaving. I've got my own room."

Something twinged in Draco's stomach at the flippant way in which she announced the words and he scrunched his face up. "What do you mean, leaving?"

"I mean," she said, as if explaining something to a small child, "I have my own room, so you don't have to share your space with me anymore. You won't have to worry about waking up too close to me any more."

He could only stare.

She organized her bag, tucking the rest of her books and clothing away from shelves and cupboards in the room.

"You're actually going." He blinked at her, confusion whirling through his brain. He thought they'd been getting along well enough – he'd started to think there might have been something else between them.

His stomach plummeted at the memory of the way she had recoiled from him that morning, her expression that of horror. As if she hadn't been able to stomach the idea of existing so close to him.

He felt his lip curl as he watched her, rising from his spot on the bed.

"This is about this morning," he clipped, folding his arms.

Granger didn't look at him, but he could see the pink in her cheeks. "This is about the fact that I've overstayed my welcome in sharing your room. I should have gone days ago."

He scowled, feeling ire rise in his veins. "You didn't overstay anything. If I wanted you gone, I'd have spoken to the front desk."

She halted, her hands frozen; she stared at the contents of her bag. "Then maybe it's about this morning."

Draco glared at her, fuming. He couldn't believe he had been so wrong about her – about them.

"Because you can't stand the thought of sleeping in the same fucking bed with me," he snapped, grinding his teeth. "Because how could you lower yourself to –"

"It was a mistake!" she exclaimed, cutting him off. "I was bloody asleep, wasn't I? It isn't as if I moved onto your side on purpose, and the way you'd been acting –"

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. "The way I was acting!" he snapped, stomping forward. "You looked like I'd murdered your bloody cat, and I didn't even do anything!"

"You didn't do anything," she echoed in retort, her cheeks flushed. "And you made it very clear you never will!"

"The fuck are you talking about!" Draco shouted, running a hand through his hair.

"You were rude, you wouldn't even look at me," Granger seethed, her eyes shimmering, "as if my mere presence had soiled your royal blood –"

"My royal –" he sputtered, stopping himself mid-sentence, his chest heaving a little. Granger glared at him, swiping at her eyes as she turned to continue stuffing things in her case with none of the finesse she'd had before.

"Right, well," she snapped, slamming the lid of her case shut. "If that's about it, then. I'll see you on the site tomorrow."

"Granger," Draco clipped, scowling at her. "What the fuck do you mean, 'never will'?"

"Nothing, obviously," she fumed, slinging her bag over her shoulder without casting any of the appropriate weightless charms, and stumbled under the weight.

His stomach was in his throat, his heart racing in overdrive – if she left, she wouldn't come back. And where had this argument even come from? He couldn't make sense of a bloody word she'd said. In his recollection of the things that had happened that morning, Granger had been horrified at the thought of waking up so close.

"Put the bag down," Draco snarled, stepping forward so he towered over her. She flinched but didn't move. "You don't get to say things that make no sense and then storm off!"

"Well, you've made it abundantly clear you don't want me around you!" she cried, throwing her case down on the bed. "I'm making it easier on both of us!"

"Where the fuck did you get the idea that I don't want you around!" Draco hollered, seething down at her. "I've been spending every damn day with you!"

"This morning!" she returned, folding her arms across her chest. "When you made a big deal about not wanting to be anywhere near me! When you wouldn't even look at me!"

She pawed at her eyes again, the action awkward and gruff, and Draco glared at her as her words raced around his brain, making no sense.

"Just forget it!" she exclaimed, making to pick up her case again. "Obviously, I misread the situation."

He stared at her, her fingers struggling with the strap until she grew frustrated and slammed the bag with the heel of her hand instead. He swallowed as her words clicked.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," Draco breathed, staring at her.

Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing in anger as she opened her mouth to say something – Draco didn't know – he didn't care –

He caught her wrist in his hand where it struggled with the strap of her bag and she froze, her eyes on his and Draco shook his head as he stared at her, blood coursing through his veins and pounding in his ears.

"You didn't misread a fucking thing," he whispered and tugged her closer, pressing his lips against hers.

The kiss was hard but hesitant, uncertain, and the initial jolt of energy that raced through Draco's spine was both unexpected and exhilarating as he pressed his lips to hers again, bringing his other hand up to slip in her curls as his eyes fell shut.

He could feel the soft puff of her breath when he drew back, his mind spinning and heart on a rampage, wondering if he had been the one to misread her – when she grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again, her lips firm on his.

Draco returned the kiss, tasting her lips as he pulled her against him, and her tongue met his with a small whimper from somewhere in her throat. He kissed her deeper, burying his hand further into her hair, his other coming up to her waist.

Granger's hands reached up to card through his hair, her curves pressing against him as her tongue swept his, and Draco's blood roared in his ears as he backed her against the wall, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. His other hand came to her face, the pad of his thumb grazing her cheek as he pulled back.

He could feel Granger's rapid breaths against his lips and he opened his eyes to meet hers; she was staring at him, her lips parted and brow furrowed.

"What was that?" she whispered, one hand sliding across the smooth fabric of his shirt.

"That," Draco breathed, imploring her with his eyes, "was me telling you not to leave."

"Okay," she choked, a smile curving her lips as her eyes lit up. "I won't leave."

He felt a grin tugging at his own features. He muttered, "Good," and pulled her in again.

Chapter Text

Draco opened his eyes to a mass of wild curls. Remembering what had happened the night before, he felt a smile tug at his lips. It was difficult to imagine how much his world had changed in the span of just twenty-four hours.

Because he had kissed Granger – and she had kissed him in return. The passion that had thrummed between them still coursed vibrant through his bloodstream.

She had slipped into bed alongside him, hesitant but with a hint of a smile, and his fingers had trailed the length of her spine as she fell asleep.

He wasn't an idiot – he didn't know what this meant for the two of them, and knew it wouldn't solve anything on the case – but knowing that she felt, in some sort of capacity, at least a part of what he felt, was reassuring.

Draco shifted on his pillow, moving his face closer to the back of her head, as he snaked a hand around to her stomach. His body was more than a little aware of her presence and he didn't want to frighten her so he kept his distance – but he was a heterosexual male and Granger was a beautiful female. It was no surprise.

And the way she had kissed him the night before… he swallowed, burying his face in her hair to take a deep inhale.

Granger startled awake and turned to face him; his hand lingered on her waist as she blinked at him. "Good morning," she whispered, a coy smile on her lips.

"Morning," Draco returned, meeting her gaze. He leaned in to press a light kiss to her mouth, drawing back after a moment.

She continued to stare at him, something heavy in her expression. "So last night –"

"Yes." Draco swallowed, bracing himself for whatever she might say.

Her gaze fell to her hands, where they fidgeted with the edge of her blankets. There was a pink tinge to her cheeks as she opened her mouth to say something and closed it again, huffing a breath through her nose.

"I had fun," she admitted, the tension between them thick; Draco wondered if she could feel it, palpable as it was.

Draco's lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded, rolling onto his back. He was certain that wasn't what she had meant to say, but didn't want to push the matter. He said, "So did I."

Granger nodded, forcing a tight smile. "So, not a mistake then."

His gaze flickered to hers. "Not a mistake."

"Good." She shifted closer, pressing up on her elbows so she could look down at him. She dropped a soft kiss to his lips, her own curving into a smile when she drew back.

Draco cracked a smirk as he stared up at her. "Good."

Hermione paced Mohenjo-Daro with her wand held aloft, searching for hidden enchantments like the ones they'd found in Harappa. Malfoy was at her side, walking closer than usual. His fingers had brushed against hers a few times, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth to bite back a smile.

She glanced up, dropping her wand upon seeing Dean and Hikari approach; Malfoy's hand vanished into his pocket, a furrow on his brow as he stared at the two of them.

"Hermione," Dean greeted with a nod, "and Malfoy."

Malfoy eyed the two of them, his expression wary. "Don't tell me you've found another death trap."

"Not quite," Hikari clipped, his glasses low on the bridge of his nose as he scanned a sheet of parchment. "In fact, we continue to find nothing of any significance."

"As impressive as Mohenjo-Daro is," Dean continued, "and we've spent many days exploring – it doesn't vibrate with magic in the way Harappa does."

"Agreed," Malfoy responded with a grimace. He glanced at Hermione. "We'll be leaving Mohenjo tomorrow if we don't find anything. There is a third Indus Valley site in India, Lothal, that Madame Moreau visited. She may have found the figure there. And if not… maybe something we find will tie back to the sites we've already visited."

"Very well," Hikari said, slipping his frames into his chest pocket. "We will carry on for the rest of today."

"Thank you," Hermione said, offering the two of them a smile. "We'll discuss the relocation this evening at supper."

After Dean and Hikari had walked away, Malfoy turned to stare at her. "Mohenjo does feel futile. We'd be better off pursuing other leads for the time being."

Hermione nodded, her mind whirling in an attempt to process the thought that one of their most likely leads had turned up nothing at all. "Perhaps we should pack up the tent."

His lips turned up into a smirk.

He nudged her with his shoulder as they walked, his grey eyes scintillating as he stared at her. Her fingers trailed the inside of his wrist before taking his hand in hers, tugging him closer.

Her stomach twisted and whirled at the contact, butterflies chasing through her as she stared at him, a curve playing at her mouth. His eyelids were heavy, a crooked smile on his lips as he all but dragged her into the tent, pulling her against him and kissing her with an intensity he hadn't done the night before.

She dragged her hands through his hair, a whimper escaping her throat as his teeth grazed the curve of her jaw, his hands grasping tight to her back. Her own hands skated his shoulders, her eyes fluttering at the feel of him as his lips met the column of her neck.

Through the haze, Hermione could hear the faint but distinct whirring of an incoming Portkey and she wrenched away, her chest heaving as she stared at him. Malfoy pouted even as he snickered, until he heard the Portkey as well, just in time for Theo Nott to arrive in the tent, dusting himself off.

"Nott?" Malfoy asked, raising a brow.

Nott stared between the two of them, his jaw dropped, and he cocked a brow in return. "Well I feel like I've interrupted something private."

"Nothing," Hermione clipped, busying herself with some scrolls of parchment on the desk. "We're packing up the tent in preparation for moving to a new site tomorrow."

Nott hadn't moved, his gaze fixed on her as he drawled, "Right."

Malfoy looked flustered, and Hermione realized with a twist in her gut that his hair was mussed by her hands. She probably didn't look much better.

"By all means," Nott said with a grin, "don't let me stop you."

"What do you want?" Malfoy snapped. "Did Randall send you?"

Nott still just shook his head, looking as if Christmas had come early. "I fucking knew it, by the way."

"Nott," Hermione clipped, folding her arms across her chest. She fired Malfoy a look and he only rolled his eyes. "Why have you come?"

"Pair of sticks in the mud," Nott grumbled. "I have to give you your standard tests. Randall's been watching you closer since your brain activity has spiked, and she wants to be sure there haven't been any adverse side effects."

Malfoy frowned, slipping his hands into his pockets. "What sort of side effects?"

"Hopefully nothing." Nott drew his wand and a pad of parchment from inside his bag, beginning to cast the standard battery of tests that Hermione knew by heart already. "Have you been able to access the trigger, Granger?"

Hermione swallowed as the buzz of Nott's spells swept the surface of her skin, teasing at her core magic. "A few nights ago. For a couple of minutes."

"And nothing since?" Nott glanced up, his expression pensive. Hermione wondered how he could go from being a right arse to a professional Healer in just moments.

"Not since," Hermione acquiesced. "But I haven't been as focused on it."

"Understandable," Nott said with a nod. "You've obviously been distracted by Draco's –"

"Nott," Malfoy snapped, seething. Hermione felt a hot flush colour her cheeks and kept her gaze on the floor ahead of her.

"And did you experience a headache?" Nott carried on, as if nothing had happened. Hermione wondered for a brief moment whether he was a sociopath, or perhaps in possession of multiple personalities.

"Yes," Hermione admitted. "Although it wasn't as bad as when I first tried to reach the trigger.

"Good," Nott said, making a few notes in his pad of parchment. "Your mental capacity is adjusting to the hold of the magic. It's what Healer Randall has been hoping for."

"So that's good then, right?" Malfoy asked, his tone gruff.

"It's good," Nott clipped. "Your concern is endearing, by the way."

"Shut up," Malfoy ground out.

Nott rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's been obvious the two of you were just passing time until the inevitable happened – and you were the only ones who didn't see it."

Her face still stung with heat as Hermione glanced at Malfoy; he looked as if he couldn't decide whether he was irritated or not. But the look fell from his face as he caught her gaze.

"Have you got an update on the Aurors?" he asked, turning back to face Nott.

"Potter and Finnigan are in St Mungo's for round-the-clock observation now," Nott clipped, tucking his parchment away into his bag. Hermione felt a cold dread seize her heart but Nott raised a hand. "It isn't near the level of the magic we found in Moreau or O'Connell yet – Randall just thought it was for the best."

"That explains why Robards has been so tense," Malfoy muttered to himself, frowning.

"Cary and Milano are exhibiting consistent signs of the illness," Nott went on, waving a hand. "Nausea, dizziness, head and body aches, fatigue. They aren't getting any better, let's put it that way."

Hermione forced herself to nod, the information spinning around her brain and taking hold of her heart. "And what about Seamus? He hadn't progressed the last time we spoke to you."

Nott shrugged. "His measure has increased since being admitted, but it still remains lower than Potter's."

"But why?" Malfoy exclaimed, waving his hands in frustration. "What has Finnigan done that none of the others have? And how does it relate back to this investigation?"

Hermione frowned, shaking her head.

"You're the Auror, mate," Nott said with a shrug of one shoulder. "Granger, everything looks good. Carry on accessing the trigger, but don't overdo it. And all that."

"Thanks, Nott," she said, her mind everywhere but on her own condition at the moment.

"Draco," Nott said, turning to face Malfoy's wary stare. "Make sure Granger's eating enough, getting enough fluids and make sure she's getting enough rest."

"He isn't my keeper," Hermione scoffed. Malfoy only stared at her, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Noted," he said to Nott, uncertain.

"You heard me –" Nott said, cocking his brows, "enough rest."

"I fucking heard you," Malfoy snapped, and despite her embarrassment, Hermione couldn't help but snicker at the admonition, earning her a scowl.

"Well then," Nott said, collecting his bag. "As you were."

He activated his Portkey and was gone.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Malfoy once they were alone again. He shook his head, unimpressed. "Please just ignore him. He has no shame."

"Ignore who?" Hermione quipped, giving him a wry smile. "Shall we actually deconstruct the tent now?"

Draco wrung his hands, pacing the short length of the hotel room, while Granger eyed him with raised brows. "It just can't be nothing," he proclaimed, stopping to face her. "We can't have spent all this time in Pakistan and come up with bloody nothing."

"We don't have nothing," Granger responded, her tone measured. "We have the magic in Harappa, the concealed shafts, the hidden or potentially forgotten tunnels – we have the lack of magic in Mohenjo-Daro, and we have another lead, upon which we will embark tomorrow."

Draco lifted his hands. "But none of it makes any sense. None of it connects to the figure or the magic, or any of the rest of it."

"Sit down," Granger clipped, folding her legs beneath her. Scowling, Draco slid onto the bed beside her, allowing her to take hold of his hands. "We will make sense of it. We're going to get the answers we seek, we're going to find a cure to the magic, and we're going to heal those Aurors."

"You don't know that," Draco scoffed.

Granger shook her head with a small shrug. "No, I don't. But I'm choosing to believe it." Then she added, as an aside, "And we aren't going home until something gives, so it might as well be good news, right?"

Draco stared at her for a long moment. "Right." He frowned, bitterness encroaching. "I just can't help but feel we'd be further along if someone more experienced were leading the mission."

"I know you do," she said, her tone light. "But Robards chose you. Your team looks to you. I look to you. Please don't doubt your strength as a leader, Malfoy."

He stared at her, releasing a tight breath. He grazed the backs of her hands with his thumbs. "Thanks, Granger."

Draco stared at Granger, his heart racing in his chest. She stared back, her brows high on her forehead. He lifted his hands in question, and she simply shrugged in return, shaking her head. Sighing, Draco turned to the receptionist at the hotel in Surat, India.

"Just one room, please," he said.

Granger smiled when he turned back to face her.

They had left Lahore early that morning, and the rest of the team had already checked into the hotel in Surat. Draco and Granger had met with their liaison at the Indian Consulate, a man of few words and facial expressions, despite that his English was crisp.

Naveed would be meeting them at the port city of Lothal later that afternoon to offer them a tour, but for now they would be getting settled into the hotel rooms. And Draco hadn't known whether Granger would prefer her own room, despite that they had grown closer than before.

Her hand slipped into his as they stepped into the lift, her fingers entwining with his own. Draco glanced over, giving her a wry smile.

She whispered, "Good call."

Draco smirked, dropping a lingering kiss to her temple.

Malfoy pressed his fingers to his forehead as he shifted through pages upon pages of notes. "So Lothal is the port town."

"Right," Hermione agreed, seated cross-legged on the bed. They had settled into their new room and would be meeting Naveed at Lothal soon. "In fact, it might have been one of the first dockyards ever built."

His brow furrowed. "You know, the more I learn about this civilization the more impressed I am. The more I wonder at their decline."

"Same." Her brows flickered. "They must have had a thorough understanding of the movement of the rivers in order to create the channels and systems they had. Their engineering and urban planning was impressive for their time, to say the least."

"And there are so many sites," Malfoy expounded. "What if Moreau found the figure in one of the lesser known excavations?"

Hermione grimaced. "We have to hope she didn't. We could drive ourselves crazy with 'what ifs'."

"Well, according to her itinerary, she visited Lothal." Malfoy set his stack of notes aside, his lips twitching as he glanced at her. "I'll have to believe we'll find something of value here."

She grinned at him. "Good choice."

An hour later, Hermione found herself staring in awe at the port town of Lothal, her eyes wide as she listened to Naveed explain the main features of the town.

Lothal had been prone to flooding, and so the ancient architects had built the city on a series of raised blocks to allow for drainage and flood channels between them. The dock was located on the eastern side of the town, away from the main flow of the river, in an effort to keep silt build-up out of the massive basin that served as the dockyard when the tide was high.

"There are some historians," Naveed was saying, "who believe the dock was actually just an irrigation tank; a means to collect water during an unreliable flood season."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Malfoy, whose narrowed gaze was fixed on the guide.

"And what do you believe?" Malfoy asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Naveed paused for a moment, looking between the members of their team. He shrugged, smiling. "Lothal was prosperous. I believe it was a hub for maritime trade."

Naveed carried on, pointing out a great structure near the dock that had once been a warehouse, and Hermione followed, wonder gripping at her heart.

Lothal didn't feel like Harappa, but it didn't feel like Mohenjo-Daro, either. There was a sort of deep, omniscient magic pulsing in the earth, but it didn't whirl and dance in the air like Harappa.

Hermione held back as the group moved on; Malfoy glanced over and dropped back alongside her.

"It feels like Harappa's stern uncle," he said, and she nodded at the sentiment, snickering.

"That's one way to put it," she agreed, staring around beneath the brim of her hat. She still hadn't figured out the details of the trigger, but she focused on the dockyard anyway, attempting to see if she could find anything. After several minutes she shook her head, offering Malfoy a tight smile.

"You'll get it," was all he said, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

"The dock must have been significant in some way," she said, a knit to her brow as she stared back at it.

"Of course it was, in the context of the civilization," Malfoy said, gesturing with a hand. "This was a hub of trade for the Indus Valley, but they were obviously dependent on the movement of the river. You can tell just by looking around they were prone to flooding – and at the mercy of it."

Hermione nodded, following his gaze, even as she glanced back at a stout pillar of baked clay bricks that stood at the entrance of the dockyard tank.

"Malfoy," she hissed, crouching down as she approached. Her fingers traced a carving in the side of the pillar. "Look at this."

He joined her, his face scrunched up. "It could be nothing. It was a common symbol on their seals; the fact that this was the shape of the figure could be coincidental."

But still, his gaze remained on the imprint of a bull, so similar to the carving Madame Moreau had found. He waved his wand a few times, glancing around to be sure Naveed wasn't watching, and frowned when nothing happened.

"We can spend more time on this tomorrow," Malfoy said, a tension in his shoulders as he rose to stand. He reached down to help her to her feet, as if the movement was natural after being raised in a house of propriety and etiquette.

Her eyes caught his when she stood, and he cast a furtive glance around before leaning in to drop a kiss on her lips. She smiled up at him, her fingers trailing along the side of his waist.

"Perhaps we should find the group," she said, her words soft. "And then we'll set up the tent and be ready to begin tomorrow."

With another glance back at the brick pillar, Malfoy nodded.

Chapter Text

Hermione awoke with an uncharacteristic abruptness, her eyes wide and a thin sheen of cold sweat on her temple as she stared up at the ceiling. Her heart was pounding in her chest, images still clinging to her mind's eye as she forced her breathing to steady.

Malfoy rolled over, blinking at her, still half asleep. He ran a hand down his face, grumbling, "Everything okay?"

She swallowed as she nodded, unable to force a smile. "Just a dream."

He stared at her through one eye, the other slipping shut again. "Okay."

"I think," she whispered as an afterthought, rolling onto her side as she tried to chase the images away. Malfoy shifted up behind her, slipping an arm around her waist and tugging her close.

Hermione could feel the warmth of his steady breathing lulling her back to sleep, but still she couldn't shake the idea that it had been more than a dream.

She had seen the same group of people from the vision she had seen the first day in Harappa – the people she'd first thought to be tourists but later learned had been actual Indus Valley citizens. They had been walking across the plains in the distance, only Hermione could see them closer up and clearer this time – they had been congregating somewhere, for some reason.

There had been an urgency to their movements, a seriousness to their expressions. Magic had swirled around, even thousands of years prior.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder why none of the magical history books mentioned the prevalence of magic in Harappa. And what had the group of citizens been doing? Where had they been going with such an intensity?

"You aren't okay," Malfoy muttered in her ear, nudging her back around to face him again. "What was your dream about?"

His grey eyes were wide and awake now. Hermione gave him a grimace. "I think I'm dreaming the past."

Draco stared at Granger, spreading marmalade on a slice of toast that had been delivered to their room. "So you couldn't see where they were going."

"No," she said, shaking her head as she sipped from a mug of tea. "That was when I woke up."

"But they were on the same trajectory as they were the first day in Harappa?" She nodded, her expression that of deep thought. "Then if we go back to Harappa, you'll be able to work out where they were going."

"Maybe by the time we go back to Harappa, I'll be able to manage the visions," Granger said, and Draco could hear the frustration in her voice.

Draco knew how much she was struggling with being unable to access the trigger with any sort of consistency or reliability. "You've accessed it on purpose once already," he shrugged. "I have faith you'll be able to do it again."

"Do you think it was just a dream?" she asked, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she stared at him.

"Might have been," Draco said with a shrug. "But your brain has been dealing with this spell in strange ways. It isn't improbable for the visions to affect your subconscious; I wouldn't be so quick to discount this new vision in that way."

"Maybe you're right," she admitted, her eyes fixed in the wall.

He took a bite of his toast, chewing as he thought. "Perhaps it's worth an owl to Healer Randall. Your brainwaves might suggest something."

Granger nodded, her hands shaking a little as she set her cup of tea on the table to draft a letter.

Draco spent the morning exploring Lothal, keeping a keen eye open for any more carvings of the bull; he paid special attention to the various brick pillars and constructs around the port town. Granger had gone with Thomas and Hikari to investigate for any evidence of the protective enchantments they'd found concealing the pits in Harappa.

He found himself lingering by the dockyard again, his gaze sweeping the bull carved into the pillar there, and assessed the other pillars on the dock for any signs of more.

Granger found him sitting by the dock, deep in thought. She slipped a sandwich into his hand and took up a seat beside him.

"Thank you," he said, unwrapping the offering. He took a bite, staring out over the dockyard as he chewed. "I don't understand why someone would have bothered carving this here."

"Neither do I," she said, eating a sandwich of her own. "But it was such a common symbol. You saw how often they popped up in the history books. In carved figures like this one, on their seals, painted on jars, everywhere."

"Right," Draco agreed, not entirely convinced. He took a bite and rose from the dock, glancing at Granger. "But look – this one's different." He gestured to the pillar on the opposite side of the channel and she walked closer to peer at the pillar.

"There's an extra protrusion here," she said, running her hands along the brick of the pillar.

And there was – where the other pillar was flattened on the top, the second one had a small raised portion, with what appeared to be a crescent carved into it.

"What's the significance of this?" he asked, tracing the shape with a finger.

Granger walked back to the first pillar, taking a closer look. "There was one here too. It must have eroded or been damaged over time. You can see where the top surface isn't entirely flat."

Draco walked over, raising his brows. "Why the crescent, then? And what relation does it have to the bull?"

Granger gave him a look, her fingers drifting across the fabric of his sleeve. "I want this all to make sense, too, but there just might not be a connection."

He carded his free hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I know." He glanced away across the massive basin. "I just can't help but try to piece some of this together. It feels like the first clue we've found."

She took a seat on the edge of the dock again, folding her legs beneath her. "I'm not trying to say there isn't anything at all, but… this is our first full day in Lothal. We have a lot of ground to explore."

"So stop wasting time sitting here?" Draco teased, cracking a wry smile. He sat down as well, nudging her in the shoulder.

Granger turned to face him with a smile, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight, even despite her hat. "I've been wasting just as much trying to access the trigger. I just can't, for the life of me, figure out what I'm missing."

Draco stared at her for a moment, chewing his lower lip in thought. "You're trying too hard."

"Excuse me?" she asked, raising her brows.

"The first two times it happened – when you weren't reaching for the trigger at all – the visions just happened," Draco explained, folding the wrapping from his sandwich and tucking it in a pocket. "The third time, in the hotel room –"

"I was actively trying," Granger said with a sigh. She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "But… I was only imagining myself seeing something, not forcing it."

"So don't force it," Draco breathed. "Just think about it and let it happen."

She stared out at the dockyard for a long moment and he fell silent, allowing her to focus. Finally she shook her head, a disappointed curve to her lips. "Nothing."

"Maybe what you're missing, Granger," Draco said, eyeing the way she fidgeted her hands together, "is belief."

"Belief," she echoed, shifting so her side pressed against his. "I've done it before – I believe it can happen."

"You don't believe you'll do it again," he said, meeting her stare. "Stop thinking about it, and just feel it." He looked away when she quirked a smile, waving out at the ruins all around them. "Just look at what was accomplished here, and thousands of years ago, at that. In all of these sites that we've visited – the feats of engineering, the plumbing and drainage systems, their city design and development… they were so far ahead of their time. Just think of the people that built this empire – how they must have lived and worked and organized themselves –"

Granger nodded, releasing a tight breath.

"Their trade networks expanded as far away as Mesopotamia…" Draco continued, feeling something build within himself at the thought of what they were truly experiencing. "And through all that they were peaceful – within the largest, most widespread civilization of their time."

"I can see them," she whispered, swiping at her eyes.

Draco turned to her, tension in his shoulders, but she was gazing out beyond anything he could see, her eyes brimming with moisture. He swallowed, exhaling a breath. "What are they doing?"

She shook her head, a small laugh breaking from her throat. "They're walking around… the kids are running and playing." She turned on the ground, a grin splitting her face. "They're carrying baskets of – copper, I think – into the warehouse – Merlin, I can't believe this. It was beautiful."

Draco smiled, allowing his gaze to linger on the pillars again as he took in her words. He just couldn't shake the thought that they were significant in some way. He slipped his hand into Granger's and breathed, "I wish I could see them."

Another minute later, Granger relaxed beside him again. "They're gone," she said, her fingers sliding between his. She winced, rubbing at the beginnings of a headache in her temple. "If we can find a Pensieve you'll be able to see them too."

He nodded, chewing on his tongue. "I'm glad you were able to access the trigger, Granger." He cast her a sidelong glance, lips curved into a smirk. "Didn't I say you would?"

"You were right," she said, rolling her eyes.

It was such a tremendous, tumultuous thought – that Granger could see the occurrences of the past. A shiver chased Draco's spine at the possibilities that would be opened if she could reach it with any measure of reliability.

They might be able to find some answers at last. He took a deep breath in and released it. "I didn't need to be right," he snickered, "but it's nice to hear from your mouth."

Granger opened her mouth to retort and he cut her off with a kiss.

Hermione stared at Malfoy as he wrote his daily update to Auror Robards; she had already penned letters to both Burke and Randall on the occurrences of the day. There was a furrow to his brow as he stared down at the parchment; he hadn't been shaving his face every day, and a thin layer of stubble had built up along the curve of his jaw and cheeks.

Feeling her gaze, his grey eyes shifted up to meet hers across the room. His lips pulled into a smirk upon seeing her stare at him. He swallowed, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips as he breathed, "What?"

Hermione shrugged, giving him a private smile. "You're quite handsome."

He blinked, cocking a brow. Amusement shone in his eyes. "Thank you," he clipped. "And you're lovely."

"Thanks," she whispered, feeling her heart race in her chest at the words.

He turned back to his letter, and Hermione watched as his hand flew across the page; she knew his penmanship to be of the tidiest script and it was interesting to watch, when her own letters were often rushed and messy.

"You're still staring," he clipped, his eyes hot as he signed off on his letter and glanced up at her again.

A flush rising to her cheeks, Hermione looked away, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. "I guess I'm trying to figure out what changed – and when."

Malfoy froze, his brows high as he considered her words. "I don't think it was one specific thing. I just started to realize you weren't so bad," he finally said. "Although that dress you wore to Shah's house didn't hurt anything."

She forced a tight smile. "So it's… it's just physical, then. For you."

His brow furrowed and he rose from the table to seat himself beside her on the bed. He leaned back against the headboard, his legs bent and knees up. "Granger," he sighed, shaking his head. He waved a hand between them. "This isn't just physical. Just to be honest… I don't think we could have moved past our old animosity if there wasn't something more."

She swallowed, her heart jumping again at his words.

"Unless," he said, running a hand through his hair, "that's all it is for you."

"No," Hermione said, relief coursing through her. They hadn't exactly discussed what this was between them, but she had wondered at his expectations. "You could have been the most handsome git on the planet and I wouldn't have kissed you," she teased.

Malfoy chuckled and stretched his legs out in front of him. "I'm not going to take offense to that."

"Good," Hermione breathed, smiling as she blinked at him. "Because you haven't been anymore – a git."

Laughing, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer to him. A breath hitched in her lungs, and she dropped her head to his chest, her hand snaking around his side, playing with the soft fabric of his shirt.

He dropped a kiss into her hair, and said, "Good."

Her eyes fluttered shut at the easy comfort of the moment with him, another long day catching up with her. She could feel the rhythmic pulse of his heart, breathing to the steady beat of it.

Malfoy pressed his lips against her brow, a soft, lingering contact, and her lips tugged into a smile as she opened her eyes to meet his. Pushing up against his chest, Hermione caught his lips with her own, her tongue grazing his, slow and languid.

His fingers gripped her waist as his teeth tugged at her lower lip, shifting her to straddle his waist. The feel of him pressed against her set her heart racing as she kissed him again, snaking her hands into his hair.

The kiss was patient and thorough, and set every nerve in her body alight, his hands grazing her sides and skimming her face. When his fingers snagged in her curls they both snickered, drawing back to stare at each other as Hermione freed his fingers from a rogue knot.

"Sorry," she breathed, her lips brushing against his as she spoke.

He chuckled, leaning back against the headboard. "I should have known better." He cocked a grin, his grey eyes sparkling. In a lower tone he added, "Perhaps a sign we ought to go to sleep."

Hermione ducked her head and nodded, grateful for the lack of presumption, and shifted from his lap.

She hopped up to prepare for sleep, and Malfoy was yawning by the time he crawled in beside her. There was a genuine curl to his lips as he stared at her, pressing a last, firm kiss to her lips. "Night, Granger."

Her eyes fell shut, an absent smile on her face. "Goodnight."

Malfoy grinned, waving a hand in her direction. "That is absolutely not correct."

"It is, too!" Hermione exclaimed, gaping at him. He shook his head, eyes narrowed. "Revelio can certainly be targeted towards specific inanimate objects with enough focus and intent."

"You're making this up," he said, exasperated. "Granger, I get that you're highly intelligent, but that doesn't mean I'm going to believe the crock of nonsense coming out of your mouth all the time."

Hermione laughed and shoved into his shoulder, causing him to knock a stack of books over on the table in the tent he'd been organizing. He raised a formidable brow, his lips pursed.

"It isn't nonsense!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Why would I make something like this up?"

"Okay," he said, rolling his eyes, "have you ever done it?"

He began to re-stack the books, his fingers deft and idle as he stared at her.

Hermione paused, sucking her teeth. "Well I haven't done it, but according to Theoretical Spellwork –"

"Theoretical!" Malfoy exclaimed, pointing a finger. "Exactly my point. They can put all sorts of things into a book and call them theoretical, but that doesn't mean the circumstance is ever going to arise in which the specific conditions occur –"

Hermione swatted his hand away and gave him another light shove to the side. "It's possible – and I'll prove it to you."

He snorted, shaking his head. "I'll look forward to it. And will you stop bashing into me."

She swatted his arm again, her eyes narrowed, even as her lips twitched.

He caught her hand around the wrist, turning to face her with a smirk on his face. His grey eyes were hot and teasing as they met hers.

Hermione held his gaze, with a snipped, "I will look forward to proving you wrong."

Malfoy shook his head again, his lips parted into a scintillating smile. His hand slipped along her wrist, his fingers entwining into hers. His gaze flickered to her mouth as he breathed, "I'll wait for that."

She returned the smile, her other hand grazing his side, and opened her mouth to retort when someone cleared their throat on the other side of the tent.

Malfoy released her hand, stepping back and rubbing at his neck, his gaze averted. Wide-eyed, Hermione turned to see Dean Thomas standing in the entrance, looking uncomfortable.

"Sorry to interrupt," he hedged, taking a step in and keeping his gaze on the wall. "Hikari and I discovered something – we thought you might like to see."

"Right," Malfoy said, his voice dry as he swept a hand through his hair. He gave Hermione a tight grimace as he swept from the tent. She made to follow, catching Dean's eye on her way out.

"Hermione," Dean said, his head cocked at a strange angle. "Really?"

She shrugged, feeling a heat in her cheeks. "Really." She owed it to Malfoy not to discount what they had been through together – the way she was beginning to feel about him.

Her old classmate gave her a strained smile and clapped her on the shoulder. "Alright. I get it – we've all come to know Malfoy out here. But just – perhaps you ought to tell Harry before he finds out elsewhere. He'd rather hear it from you, I'm sure."

Hermione released a tight breath and returned the smile. She whispered, "That's probably a good call."

Malfoy was standing beyond the tent when they joined him, a pair of dark glasses perched on his nose in the sunlight and his hands tucked into his pockets. "So, what did you find?"

Draco peered at the ragged edge of a hole in the earth, crouching down to take a closer look. "I'm not entering it this time."

"Neither," Thomas said with a laugh, holding his hands up. "But here's what's strange about it – this wasn't concealed by magic at all. We found a thin grate covering the opening, buried under centuries of dust and earth."

"How did you find it?" Granger asked, folding her arms and wincing as a swirl of dust kicked up.

Hikari cracked a grin. "With those density scanners that couldn't detect anything in Harappa."

Draco frowned into the hole. It was barely wide enough to contain one person, and appeared to lead to a narrow, steep staircase. He lit his wandtip, reaching it into the space, even as he shook his head. "I can't tell how far it goes. But it's definitely different from the pits in Harappa, isn't it?"

"It doesn't appear to have any magic," Thomas confirmed. "It was hidden by Muggle means – and was probably only concealed due to the effects of time. It could have been as simple as a storage cell – but without exploring it, we have no way of knowing."

Draco grimaced, exchanging a quick look with Granger. She shrugged, her brows darting up. "Is there something we can send into it? The pits in Harappa also didn't display magic until they tried to swallow the two of you up."

"The pits were concealed with magic," Hikari pointed out. He rested his hands on his hips. "But all the same, we shouldn't go down until we know what we're dealing with."

Draco frowned again, noxing his wand. He rose to his feet, carding his fingers through his hair. His gaze flickered to Granger again, but she was focused on the ground at their feet.

He was uncomfortable following the run-in with Thomas in the tent, and didn't know how Granger felt about her friends knowing about the two of them. It was easy, here on the site, and in the hotel room, to forget how entirely different their lives were. To forget that she was a hero – and he nothing more than a man trying to erase his past.

He glanced away, releasing a breath. "We'll have to find out. But we're going to formulate a better plan than last time."

Chapter Text

Draco stood alongside Thomas and Hikari; the three of them watched with bated breath while Granger stared, a wrinkle to her brow, at the entrance of the staircase. From what Draco could see, the stairs were made of a simple packed earth as they led into the earth; the top few that were visible showed heavy evidence of wear as they dipped in the centre.

Thomas gave Draco a surreptitious glance, leaning in. "What is she –"

Draco raised a hand, his gaze fixed on Granger; Thomas fell silent, a knit in his brow. She wiped her palms on her denim trousers, blinking several times as she glanced back at him. He gave her a nod, encouraging.

Granger released a sharp breath and turned back to the entrance.

Draco glanced over at the curious pair standing alongside. He whispered, "She is trying to see the people who used this staircase."

"See them," Hikari hissed, his eyes wide. Draco gave him a sharp nod and fell silent once more.

Granger released a huff of irritation, pressing her hands to her temples; he frowned and stepped towards her.

"Will it help if we leave?" he asked, his voice low. He couldn't imagine three people staring at her made it any easier.

She hesitated and gave him a sort of apologetic nod. "I'll try."

"Just remember," Draco said, "don't force it."

He stepped away, gesturing with a jerk of his head in the direction of the tent, and Thomas and Hikari followed, confusion etched on their features.

"It's the spell Granger was hit with in the Department of Mysteries," Draco explained with a sigh; the entire team had clearance for vital information relating to the case. "The one that nearly killed her – she can see things that happened in the past if she focuses on a spot in the present."

"That's why she didn't have medical clearance to come on the trip at first?" Hikari asked, his eyes large.

"Yes," Draco nodded. "But to think – when she might be the one to find the answers in the end."

Hermione sighed as she glanced around, feeling the pressure rise in the racing of her heart. Her head was beginning to throb, a sign she was pushing too far – but she needed to see this. The team needed to know whether the staircase was safe.

She wiped the perspiration from her palms and forced herself to take several deep breaths.

In an attempt to steady her nerves, she pictured the moment yesterday on the docks, when Malfoy had helped her to access the trigger and see the vision of the people of the Indus Valley.

She dug into the way she had felt, the way he had coaxed the vision from her; he had told her to believe and let it happen.

Allowing her eyes to slide shut, Hermione cleared her mind. Taking several more deep breaths, she pictured the people that had utilized the staircase, what they might have used it for, how they would have felt when they stood here in this exact spot, the heat of a bright sun blazing down on them; ships flowing in and out of the dockyard.

Steady breaths, inhaled and exhaled.

A sense of otherworldly calm washed over her and Hermione blinked her eyes open, a curve to her lips as she watched a woman, a basket cradled close to her chest.

The woman approached from the side, casting a nervous glance around. She moved the thin grate covering aside and began the descent into the darkness. A muffled torch hung on the wall, casting dim, dancing shadows into the darkness. Hermione slipped through in time for the woman to return the grate to its position, uncertain how the movement between their dimensions would orient itself.

Hermione caught her lower lip between her teeth – the woman carried down deeper, beyond her line of sight; a surge of anticipation roared through her and she took the first step down into the stairwell.

The woman wasn't afraid – and neither was she. Reinforcing the protective enchantments she wore in the event of encountering any signs of malevolent magic, she took the next step.

She followed as the woman descended deeper into the earth, until the only light remaining was the dull cast of torches from the vision. Hermione kept her fingers on the walls of the narrow passage, skimming the packed earth of the sides, dirt catching beneath her fingernails.

At the bottom of the passageway, the woman cast another glance around and ducked through an opening. Hermione followed, her gaze fixed on the woman, bathed in a rich orange light.

A breath hitched in her throat as the woman took a sharp left, into another narrow channel, the basket clutched tight to her bosom.

Another sharp right, and Hermione recorded the turns she'd taken, lest she find herself lost beneath Lothal.

After a few minutes the woman arrived at a rounded chamber, dim torches hanging on each of the four curved walls. Hermione could hear her own anxious breathing, ragged and discordant, as she slipped inside.

There were a series of shelves carved into one wall, and the woman approached the empty-looking slats. She tucked the prized basket onto a shelf, and Hermione watched, her eyes wide in apprehension as the woman began a low chant, waving a hand before her.

It was unlike anything Hermione had experienced, and she didn't recognize any facet of the spell or the language – but she felt the stir of magic – the ominous sort of magic that hung in the air in Lothal. It rose and swirled in the air and Hermione began to wish she hadn't followed so blindly – but then the spell came to an abrupt end and the basket had vanished into the shelf.

Satisfied, the woman brushed her fingers across where the basket had been. She turned, an upwards curve to her lips, and walked from the chamber; Hermione could see the brilliant green of her eyes as she walked past.

With a wave of the woman's hand, the torches fell dark, leaving Hermione in the musty blackness of the cavern. Her back pressed against the wall, and she sank to the earthen floor, her mind spinning in an attempt to process the scene.

The Indus woman had taken pains to hide whatever was in the basket. So this cavern – these tunnels below Lothal were to serve as a vault of sorts. Clearly the woman possessed some of the ancient magic with which the port town buzzed.

Once she had steadied her breathing, Hermione pushed from the ground and lit her wandtip, following the reverse of the paths she had taken. She placed a tracking spell on herself so she would be able to reach the cavern again, and made her way back to the surface.

Draco paced the hard earth, his hands slipped into his pockets. He had left Thomas and Hikari in the tent to begin a report on the discovery, and returned to check on Granger's progress.

But when he arrived back at the stairwell, she was nowhere to be found. Unless he had missed her between the passage and the tent, he didn't know where she could have gone. She certainly wasn't stupid enough to descend the staircase alone, without knowing what was down there.

For all they knew, it was the pits of Harappa all over again.

His jaw clenched as he checked the watch at his wrist. Maybe she had grown frustrated and gone a different direction. In which case, he would have to meet up with her later to find out whether she had learned anything or not. He only hoped she hadn't pushed too hard and burnt out her core.

He froze, another wave of anxiety crashing over him at the thought that he had left her alone. What if something had gone wrong and she had been unable to access her St Mungo's Portkey? What if she had needed to go to the hospital?

He lifted a hand, hovering it over his own Portkey, ready to access it.

If Granger had needed someone to help her and he hadn't been there… he fumed to himself. He should have just sent Thomas and Hikari away so Granger could focus. He knew she could conjure the visions with him there.

He took a deep breath, letting his hand fall. If she had gone to St Mungo's, she had obviously been aware enough to activate her own Portkey, and she would be in the capable hands of Healers for now. He would assess the situation and determine whether he needed to go find her.

If Granger had felt the need to push her own personal safety to its limits just to learn more about the staircase… he frowned, swallowing back a hot sting of shame.

Draco continued to pace, pausing when he heard a small sound behind him.

"Malfoy."

He whirled on the spot, relief seizing his chest at the sound of Granger's voice. There was a wide, vibrant grin on her face and despite everything he smiled in return. She hadn't gone to St Mungo's, she was still here with him in Lothal –

"Hey," he said, tilting his head. "Where did you go?"

Granger caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she stared at him for a long moment. "I went down."

"Down," Draco echoed, confusion pulling at his brow. "The staircase? Granger –"

"I know," she said, her voice a rapid flutter of excitement as she waved off his concern. "There was a –"

"Granger, you could have been killed," he snapped, feeling the anxiety rising in his chest once more. "You should have told me you were going, or we could have organized something –"

"You weren't here," she whispered, shaking her head to dismiss his words. "There wasn't time. There was this woman – "

Draco froze, taking in the expression of wonder on her face. "A woman."

"Yes," she said, "and I watched her go down and I had to follow her, to see where she was going, of course –"

"An Indus woman," Draco repeated. "A vision. You went down an unsecured, potentially life-threatening staircase, with magic that could kill you, because a vision from thousands of years ago went down."

"Yes!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

Draco huffed a breath through his nose, shaking his head. "Bloody Gryffindors." He folded his arms, even as his lips twitched at the exuberance rolling from her countenance. "Very well, then. What did the woman do?"

"She had this basket," Granger breathed, "and she was looking about, as if to be sure no one was watching her –"

Draco watched as she told him of her experience, suspended between irritation that she had dove headfirst into a dangerous situation on her own, and fascination to hear about this latest, most signficant vision.

And there was a third part of him – a smaller part – that smiled at her accomplishment and the pride with which she was filled. The way she shone, and how her words thrummed with excitement.

He felt his lips crack into a wry smile as he watched her, shaking his head in astonishment.

"So she left the basket down there," Draco surmised once she had finished. "But she made it invisible? Do you suppose the entire shelf was actually full?"

"It was difficult to say," Granger said, fidgeting with her sleeve. "She turned off the torches with magic and it was challenging to find my way back out with only my wandlight. But I've tracked the route now so we can return –"

"Granger," Draco sighed. "Just because the tunnels down there were safe thousands of years ago, it doesn't mean the magic hasn't somehow spread like the malevolent magic of the figurine. You could have infected yourself."

Even as he said the words, he felt a spasm of fear tug at his heart. The last thing he needed was for Granger to fall ill as well.

"I don't think so," she said, shaking her head. "The magic didn't feel dangerous – not like the pits in Harappa."

"So there are tunnels in Lothal," Draco said, dragging a hand down his face, the discovery both jarring and unsettling. "But they're… just used for storage?"

"The woman was protective of whatever she was storing," Granger noted.

"Okay." He pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to make sense of it all. "So more like a vault, then. And they hid their prized possessions with magic. But then… if the tunnels in Harappa were built for a similar purpose, why have they been so thoroughly concealed?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

Draco dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to make sense of a discombobulated puzzle. "And the ones in Harappa – remember they were reinforced with magic. Do you suppose the ones here are too?"

"Without going back to Harappa…" she trailed off, shrugging. "It's hard to say."

Draco shook his head, his face pulled into a grimace. "I wish we knew more about the magic. Why it acts the way it does, and how it came to be that way. I can't imagine why the people of the Indus Valley would have been practicing such malevolent magic, not when they were so interested in improving their circumstances."

"I agree," Granger said, her gaze fixed on the top of the stairwell. She dragged the thin grate back over top and Draco moved to help her. She looked up, her gaze meeting his. "If Lothal was such a vibrant centre of trade, what was the aim? They weren't even farming here."

Draco wiped dusty hands on his trousers. "You know what's been bothering me? Finnigan. How has the magic in his blood been progressing at a different rate than the other three Aurors?"

Granger stared at him, her lips twisting to one side. "I've been wondering about that as well. I've half a mind to ask Burke whether we might go to St Mungo's and ask him a few questions."

Draco paused, his head cocked to the side. "We have the Portkey."

"And," she released a tight breath as she stepped towards him, her hand toying with the buttons at his cuff. "It would be nice to check on Harry."

He swallowed as he appraised her expression. "And would that be a visit you'd like to make alone?"

Granger gave a jerky sort of shrug, blinking up at him. "If you wanted to come… it appears I might have some news to share with him."

Even as his heart leapt in his chest, Draco brought the inside of her wrist to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there. His mind was abuzz with information as he considered what she was saying – what she was offering. "And you think you want to tell Potter? About… this?"

Her chocolate eyes were shy as they met his. "If you think it's a good idea. I'd sooner he hear it from me."

Draco knew her words were almost certainly inspired by the run-in they'd had with Dean Thomas earlier in the day.

He dragged his thumb across the back of her hand, keeping his expression stoic. He hoped she couldn't hear the racing of his heart. "I think it's a good idea."

If she wanted to tell Potter about him – it meant she was interested enough to keep him around. He fought the urge to scowl at the twisted emotions that welled up inside of him at the sentiment.

"Good," Granger said, her voice breathy. "I'll owl Unspeakable Burke to request permission to visit Mungo's tomorrow."

Nodding and offering her a tight smile, Draco turned his stare back to the grate covering the staircase. "So they were hiding their valuables, then."

Granger followed his line of sight, slipping her hand into his. "At least some of them. The practitioners of magic."

"Hard to say how many of them there would have been," Draco acknowledged, his voice quiet. He cast her a sidelong glance. "I'm still irritated that you went down the staircase without at least telling me."

Her lips curved into a smile. "I suppose if I get sick, it's just another reason for us to find these answers."

He scowled. "That isn't funny."

"And are you irritated as the leader of the team?" she asked, her voice soft. "Or are you irritated because I made the discovery and you didn't?"

"None of the above," Draco clipped.

She turned to face him, a thoughtful smile on her face. "Then you're irritated because I didn't report in to you."

He shook his head, brows high on his forehead.

"Because I put myself at unnecessary risk," she mused.

Draco nodded once. "You're getting closer."

The smile widened and she flashed him her teeth. "You're irritated, Draco Malfoy, because you need me to solve this mystery, and if I get sick and die, you'll be left trying to figure it all out on your own."

"Shove off," he grumbled, pulling her closer to him. Something flopped in his stomach hearing his given name roll off her tongue.

The way her eyes sparkled suggested she knew exactly why he was irritated.

Draco looked up from his book as Granger came into the hotel room, brandishing a letter.

"Unspeakable Burke has granted his permission for the two of us to go back to London tomorrow to visit Seamus and Harry in St Mungo's," she announced, settling on the bed beside him. "Provided the rest of the team continues the search in Lothal."

"Good," Draco nodded. He cast her a sidelong glance, focusing on the way her hands fidgeted with the covers. "Are you nervous? About seeing Potter in the hospital?"

She gave a sort of flippant shrug, but then her eyes met his. "I suppose I am." Pressing her hands flat on the bed, she released a sigh, tension settled in her shoulders. "What if we don't figure this out? Or what if we do, but it isn't in time?"

"Don't think like that," Draco said, staring at her. "You're brilliant. We've got a great team working on this. And…" he glanced away, tracing patterns on the back of her hand with his fingers. "I happen to think you and I work well together."

She gave him a wry smile. "It took us long enough, but yes. I think we do, too."

Granger tucked herself into his side, her eyes fluttering. He set his book aside, tugging at one of her wild curls.

"And just think," he muttered into her hair, "now that you're able to manage the visions a little better, when we go back to Harappa you'll be able to see things you couldn't before." He stared at the wall for a long moment. "I'm still convinced the tunnels beneath Harappa are the key to everything – otherwise why else have they been erased from memory?"

"Most memory," Granger corrected, even as she yawned into his chest. "Master Helmo knew about them."

"That's curious, too," Draco agreed. "But yet Naveed didn't know of them. Just another thing to figure out." He stared down at her. "And we will, Granger. Figure this all out."

She nodded, pressing her lips together. She gave him a smile and Draco could tell it was forced. "You're right. I'm sure we will."

Chapter Text

It was unnerving, Draco thought, to see Finnigan sequestered in a hospital room. The Irishman was one of the most jovial and carefree Aurors in the office, and he wasn't looking particularly well.

In fact, Draco wondered whether Theo's updates had been optimistic for their sake.

Finnigan was pale, the usual smile fallen from his face, replaced with heavy bags beneath his closed eyes. Draco wasn't certain he wanted to know how Cary and Milano – who had been several days further on – looked.

He chanced a look in Granger's direction; the blood had drained from her face as she approached the bed.

"Seamus," she breathed, slipping into the seat beside the bed.

Finnigan's eyes blinked open as he took in first Granger, and then Draco, hovering back away from the bed. He and Finnigan had never gotten on, even as Aurors.

"Hermione," Finnigan slurred, his Irish accent thick. "Malfoy. What are you doing here?"

"We've come to check on you," Granger said, a tilt to her head. "You and the others."

The man dragged a hand down the length of his face. "Have you found some answers, then?"

A warm smile came to her face as she adjusted Finnigan's pillow; Draco swallowed. He hadn't quite considered how hard it must be for her to have not one, but two friends in the hospital.

"We're really close, Seamus," she said. "We've found lots of trails, now it's just a matter of piecing them together."

Finnigan cracked a wry smile. "That's good news." His gaze shifted to land on Draco. "We really appreciate your hard work. Both of you."

Draco pressed his lips together into a grimace. "We meant to ask you a few questions, Finnigan."

He leaned back in the bed, waving a hand. "You want to know why the magic in my blood isn't as far along as Harry's."

Draco met Granger's gaze and nodded. "Have the Healers already asked you about it?"

"Of course," Finnigan said, but his expression was good-natured. "I can only tell you the same things I told them. And that's the same things I always do when I feel a sickness coming on – ate me soup, drank me tea and fluids, lots of sleep. Fat lot of good it did then, eh. Still ended up here."

He gave a facetious laugh that turned into a sharp cough.

"There wasn't anything else you can think of?" Draco asked, frowning.

"Nah," Finnigan said with a shrug. "Sorry I can't be of more help."

"Don't apologize," Granger said with a shake of her head. "I'm sorry this has happened to you. All of you."

"Wasn't your fault," he replied. "Shoulda been more careful, I guess."

"No one knew about the magic then," Draco said, wishing there was more he could do – wishing there was some way they could just find the damn answers.

"Right," Finnigan said, staring at his quilt. "But it's a comfort knowing there's a team out there working on a cure."

"Of course," Draco clipped, forcing a nod. "We're doing everything we can."

"Come back and visit anytime," Finnigan said, waving at the white sterility of the room. "Quiet place around here all day. Not many visitors – Neville and Parvati a few times, but..." He trailed off with a shrug.

"We'll be back as soon as we have some answers," Granger promised, leaning forward. "We've got to visit Harry as well."

An absent smile came to Finnigan's face. "I reckon Harry'll be glad to see you. He's had Daphne, at least."

She rose to her feet and stepped back alongside Draco. "It was good to see you, Seamus. Stay strong."

Finnigan shot them a crooked grin. "Of course. Bye, Hermione. Malfoy."

Draco gave him a stiff nod as they turned to leave the room, sharing a grim look once they reached the hallway. He turned to Granger, carding a hand through his hair. "Soup and tea? You've got to be kidding me."

"Not what we were hoping to hear," she agreed, shaking her head. Her eyes were wide as she caught his gaze. "I had no idea they would be so ill already."

"Neither did I," Draco said, fighting back a surge of frustration. "While we're here, we really should check in on Cary and Milano – just so we know."

They exchanged a tight look. Draco continued, "And when we get back, we'll just have to… work harder."

Granger stared at the ceiling for a long moment, before shaking her head and forcing a tight smile. "Of course. Just work harder."

The hall was empty but for the two of them so Draco caught her hand in his. "I know this feels impossible at the moment. But we will get there – we have to, right?"

"Right," she choked, taking a deep breath to steel herself for what they both knew was coming, Granger stood a little taller. "Let's go see Harry, then."

Hermione edged into Harry's room, feeling the tight crush of nerves seizing at her chest. Daphne was already seated at his bedside, and the two of them appeared to be playing cards. Her eyes widened as she noticed Hermione and Malfoy walk into the room.

Harry gaped at her, an incredulous grin crossing his face. "Hermione," he exclaimed, trying to rise from bed, but she stepped forward to discourage him from standing.

"Harry," she breathed, wrapping her arms around her neck the best she could manage. "How are you feeling?"

Harry shrugged; his hair was messy and green eyes were vibrant, despite that he also looked quite pale and under the weather. "I've been worse, as you well know."

Daphne tsked and shifted her seat over as Malfoy brought two more chairs over to the bedside. Hermione smiled and took a seat, taking Harry's hand within her own as Malfoy slid into the other chair beside her.

"We've been doing our best, Harry," she breathed, feeling the hot sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. "It's been a struggle – but we're confident we're going to figure this out."

"Hermione," Harry said with a low chuckle. "I've never had a single doubt."

She forced a smile, even as the same terror clutched at her heart, the fear that they might not be able to find the answers they sought with such desperation in time.

"And Malfoy." Harry turned to face the blond, his chin dropping. "Have you been taking care of our Hermione?"

Malfoy blinked, his eyes widening. "I –" he began, ending with a grimace.

"I'm only kidding," Harry said, waving a hand. "I know she doesn't need taking care of."

On Hermione's other side, Daphne giggled at the joke, and Hermione was suddenly beyond glad that Harry had Daphne to sit at his bedside and spend time with him while Hermione was out of the country. She couldn't imagine leaving Harry alone, not after having seen him today.

But then Harry's words sunk in, and Hermione was reminded of the other reason they had come to visit Harry. She could feel the thick tension radiating from Malfoy as he clutched the arms of his chair.

"Actually, Harry," she said, staring with intense focus on the pattern of Harry's quilt, "there is something I need to share with you."

She could feel Harry's sharp eyes boring a hole in her skull and she looked up to meet his gaze, swallowing the thick lump in her throat. Malfoy was staring at the far wall.

Harry rose a brow, glancing between the two of them as he shook his head. Daphne let out a sort of confused laugh, pressing her hand to her mouth.

"Don't tell me –" Harry scoffed, "the two of you –"

Hermione gave him a quick nod, her hands clenched in her lap. She breathed a small, "Yes."

Harry released a long breath. "I knew this was coming." He looked at Daphne, shaking his head. "Daph, didn't I say this was coming?"

Daphne only exclaimed, "Finally!" with a wide grin on her face.

Malfoy spoke up, his brow tight. "You too?"

"Everyone saw it, mate," Harry said, fixing Malfoy with a stern glare. "But that doesn't mean I don't expect you to treat her like the treasure she is."

"Harry," Hermione muttered, a flush rising in her face.

"You should expect no less," Malfoy responded, his expression stoic.

The two men stared at one another for a long beat, until Harry nodded. "Then good. Hermione deserves someone who will make her happy."

"It's still early," Malfoy hedged, his grey eyes catching hers as his mouth twitched. "But I'll do my best."

Hermione beamed at him, and then back at Harry. Daphne clapped her hands together with a cheerful 'ha!'.

"I imagine you aren't here for long," Harry said, his gaze roving his three visitors. Hermione frowned and shook her head.

"Unfortunately, we've got to get back soon," she said, "and we still need to check on Cary and Milano."

Harry hesitated, then nodded. "Daph – Malfoy – do you suppose I could have a minute alone with Hermione?"

"Of course," Malfoy said, rising to his feet and leaving the room with his old classmate.

Harry's stern gaze fixed itself on Hermione, and she felt another fluttering of nerves, even as he cracked a smile. He shook his head. "Malfoy, Hermione?"

"Yes," she breathed. "He's not how he was in school anymore."

"I know," Harry said, like it was just that simple. "I've seen his work in the Auror's Office. I've seen the way he works and how the two of you have come to rely on one another. And Hermione – I think it's great. I only want you to be happy."

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "You have no idea how much that means to me. I'm quite relieved."

"Funny," Harry mused, "that we've both found ourselves a Slytherin." He chuckled, shaking his head again. "I'm happy for you, Hermione. And I meant it – everyone saw it coming, even Robards. Except Ron, of course. He won't understand."

She gave him a tight smile. "He doesn't need to."

"No," Harry agreed, "but the look on his face will be something else."

Hermione laughed at the thought, taking Harry's hand in her own again; her mood sobered as she stared at him. "I need you to hang in there a bit longer, Harry. I promise we're going to get you out of here soon."

His lips quirked into a smile. "I believe you."

They fell silent, and Hermione let the comfortable atmosphere between them wash over her. It had been too long since she had spent time with just Harry. Then she snorted. "Robards? Truly?"

Harry nodded, flashing her a boyish grin. "He mentioned something about it in the office before Randall brought me in here permanently – how he hoped the two of you weren't distracting each other too much." At Hermione's wide eyes and flushed cheeks, Harry laughed. "He said it in jest, of course."

Hermione returned the smile, glancing away. "Thank you, Harry."

He nodded, his hand giving hers a squeeze. "Anytime."

By the time the two of them had finished their visits at St Mungo's and returned to Lothal, the day was nearing an end. They located two of the Auror-Unspeakable teams to receive an update – ground had been covered but nothing new had been discovered – and then they came across Dean Thomas.

Thomas was prowling an excavated building on his own, a stern furrow in his forehead as he crouched down to peer at something on the ground. He rose to his feet, dusting his hands off with a clap as they approached.

"Hi Dean," Granger commented, "anything new?"

Draco frowned, looking around. "What did you do with Hikari?"

Thomas dug a toe into the ground, sliding his dusty hands into his pockets. "He wasn't feeling well - claimed he was getting a touch of heat stroke. He sat in the tent for a while but I suggested he go back to the hotel early."

"It is incredibly hot," Granger agreed, even as she gave Draco a cautious glance.

"Heat stroke," Draco repeated, feeling a whir in his brain. "Are you sure?"

Thomas shrugged. "No, we weren't certain, but it seemed the most likely. It wouldn't be the first time someone from the team has felt under the weather out here in this heat all day."

His heart pounded in his chest and Draco pressed a hand to the side of his face, fixing his gaze on Granger. His voice was careful as he asked, "The protective enchantments have all held, right?"

"They should have," she breathed, a tension in her shoulders. "You don't think –"

"The illness," Thomas inferred, swallowing. His dark skin had lightened a shade. "Is there some way the magic has affected Hikari?"

Draco clenched his jaw. "I have no idea. We've used every possible protection spell we know of, but we're still dealing with unknown magic, aren't we."

The question was rhetorical and the three of them stared at one another, wide-eyed, as an uneasy tension settled between them. It was Thomas who broke the silence. "If Hikari's somehow become sick, wouldn't we all be sick by now? Especially the two of us, after that incident with the pits in Harappa?"

"I don't know," Draco said, pressing a hand to his temple.

"It might just be heat stroke." Granger's hands were clenched against the sides of her legs, even as she stared at Draco, unblinking. "Let's… let's just not jump to any conclusions, alright?"

He huffed a sharp breath. "We need to consider every contingency. Because the more I'm thinking about it, there is a chance all the magical fucking enchantments in the world are incompatible with this magic."

"Burke and Robards both authorized the protective measures," Granger cautioned, holding out a hand and then letting it fall.

Thomas grimaced even as he nodded at her words. "But they don't know everything about it either, do they?"

"No one does," Draco said, shaking his head. "We knew coming into this was there was no way to prepare for absolutely everything. But the spells have been so extensive –"

He paused, forcing himself to take a deep, steadying breath. He fingered the St Mungo's Portkey at his lapel. "We need to know."

"Do we see if he's feeling any better tomorrow first?" Granger asked, her stare uncertain as it fixed on the hard earth.

Draco stared at Thomas, and could see the concern in the other man's gaze. Thomas' voice was low as he said, "You're the lead here."

Swallowing, he unattached the Portkey from his collar. "Do you know which hotel room is Hikari's?" Thomas nodded, sharing a quick glance with Granger. "Then let's go. This will take him to St Mungo's and Randall's team can determine whether he has any of the magical signature in his blood." He swallowed, turning to Granger, whose expression was anxious.

"Do you want me to come as well?" she asked, her brows knitted together.

Draco pursed his lips and shook his head. "Can you find the other two teams? See if anyone else has been feeling unwell. Even the slightest thing." He ran a hand through his hair. "Fuck. This is the last thing we need to be dealing with right now."

"It might be nothing," Thomas hedged. "But I agree – if the malevolent form of this magic has somehow permeated our spells, we need to know. And there would be a good chance all eight of us have been infected."

"Fuck!" Draco exclaimed, louder this time. Granger's fingers grazed his and he clenched her hand for a brief moment as he released a frustrated breath, turning to face her. "I'll meet you back at the hotel."

She nodded, her expression forlorn. "I'll see you later." She turned and walked back towards the other two teams.

Draco grimaced as he rummaged through his bag for the hotel Portkey, proffering it to Thomas, who took hold of it without hesitation.

Thomas led Draco to Hikari's hotel room, and the two of them waited for the other man to answer a rather aggressive knocking at the door. Hikari was pale but on his feet as he opened the door. His stance was a little unsteady as his gaze flickered between them.

"Are you feeling any better?" Draco asked, scowling despite himself.

"A bit," Hikari said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. "Is something the matter?"

"We hope not," Draco grimaced. "But I need you to go to St Mungo's to get checked – just to be safe."

He brandished the Portkey and watched as what little colour was left in Hikari's face drained from it. "You think I'm sick from the magic?"

"We don't know," Thomas jumped in. "But we need to."

Hikari grimaced but nodded. "Understandable. I wondered for a moment, but the protective spells have been so comprehensive…" Even as the man spoke, his lips pressed together in a dire acceptance. "But we don't know what sort of magic we're actually dealing with."

"Right," Draco drawled. He held out a hand, brandishing the Portkey. "It's probably nothing – but for everyone's peace of mind. And if you are –" He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. "If you are somehow sick with the magical illness… well, at least we'll know we probably all are."

Hikari nodded again; he was taking it better than Draco had expected, but the man was a consummate professional. Not for the first time, Draco berated himself for his initial impression of the man – Hikari had proven himself time and again to be a great asset to the team.

Frowning, Draco clapped Thomas on the back. "Go with him. Report back to me once you've got results."

"Got it," Thomas agreed, glancing at him. "Thanks, Malfoy."

Hikari drew his wand, tapping at the Portkey. "How do you activate this?"

"Touch and intent," Draco explained, slipping his hands into his pockets. "It's customized by Shacklebolt."

"Right," Hikari said, holding it out in his palm towards Thomas. "Thanks, Malfoy. I'll hope for the best – but if the worst comes up, you'd better be damn quick with those answers."

The man cracked a smile, even as his jaw tightened.

Draco let out a tense laugh. "Of course."

He watched as the two activated the Portkey and vanished; running a shaky hand through his hair, Draco released a foul string of curses and made his way back to his own hotel room, intent on a long, hot shower, and wishing he had a bottle of Firewhiskey.

When Hermione arrived back at the hotel room, having conferred with the other two teams, she found Malfoy sitting on the couch, his hair wet as he stared at the bed; his expression was distraught and borderline catatonic.

"Malfoy," she said, taking the seat beside him. His shoulders were tense and brow tight; he offered something unintelligible below his breath. Forcing a tight smile, Hermione dropped her hand on his and gave it a squeeze. "None of the others are feeling sick at all."

He nodded, the only evidence to suggest he had heard her.

"Did you hear anything back from St Mungo's yet?"

Malfoy shook his head, clearing his throat. "No," he said, his voice soft. "Thomas just got back – Randall's team are running the tests now."

Hermione gave a tentative nod, drawing in a tense breath. "So we won't know for a while yet."

"Tomorrow," he said, grimacing. "We won't know until tomorrow."

Hermione frowned to see him so distraught, even as her own nerves felt frazzled. She frowned, threading her fingers through his. "This isn't your fault."

He swallowed, his lips parting. "But what if it is?" His gaze remained fixed on the bed as he continued. "What if we're all sick – I'm sick, you're sick – and it's my fault because we haven't found the answers yet."

"Malfoy." She scowled, staring at him. He didn't look up. "Malfoy –" A brief flicker of grey eyes to hers. "This isn't your fault."

He sighed, leaning back against the couch and pulling their joined hands into his lap. "I'm the leader of this team, and if my team grows sick because I wasn't able to figure things out any faster –"

"Stop it," she hissed, shifting closer to him. "Have you eaten?" He shook his head with a gruff sound of dissent. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," he clipped.

"Neither am I, particularly," Hermione confessed, "but you need to take care of yourself. You won't know about Hikari until tomorrow, and we still need you functioning." She stared at him, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Please."

His grey eyes flickered to her again. "I can't handle you getting sick, Granger."

Her heart leapt into her throat at his soft words. "I'm not going to get sick."

"You don't know that," he snipped, his words toned with a hint of his old petulance. "You could already be sick, for all we know."

Hermione sucked in a long breath, turning to face him. His eyes met hers with reluctance. "We're going to order something to eat, and then we're going to have an early night. Nothing can be gained from this – as much as I want to panic and break down, we just can't, Malfoy."

His lips pursed as he stared at her. "Fine," he breathed, shaking his head. "I just can't help but feel –"

"It isn't your fault," Hermione repeated, leaning closer to press her lips against his once. "You're doing a great job – you haven't failed as our leader."

His fingers traced her cheekbone as he drew her face closer, his lips soft as they grazed hers again. Then he drew back, pressing a kiss to her temple as he dropped an arm around her shoulders, threading a hand through her curls. He muttered, "Thanks, Granger," against her hair, and Hermione allowed her eyes to fall shut for a moment in his embrace.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and it wasn't entirely with worry.

Chapter Text

Hermione jumped awake with a sharp breath, images racing and flashing beneath her eyelids and she tried to cling to them, keeping the dream fresh in her mind for as long as she could.

She sat up in bed, heart racing as her breath expelled in short bursts. She glanced to the side to see Malfoy seated upright, his back against the headboard and his legs bent before him. His light blond hair hung in his eyes as he stared down, his fingers picking at the comforter. In the light of the moonlight through the curtain, he seemed to glow a pale translucence.

His grey eyes slid to her. "You alright?"

"I think so," Hermione said, massaging her temples. "You were awake?"

"Yeah," he breathed with an absent shrug. "Couldn't sleep. Thinking about tomorrow."

Hermione moved alongside him and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his side. "You need some sleep."

He shook his head, his eyes dull as they fell to the comforter again. "I'll be fine." Hermione frowned, knowing he was still beating himself up over the possibility that Hikari had come down with the magical illness. "Did you have another strange dream?"

"Yes." She nodded, trying to cling to the images as they faded away. "It was Lothal – the crescent shaped carving on the pillar near the docks –"

Malfoy's eyes widened as he turned his attention to her. He prompted her to continue with a gesture of his hand.

Hermione squinted, trying to remember the last of the vision. "The moon was out – we were in Lothal at nighttime. That's it… that's all I can recall."

He blew his cheeks out with an exhalation. "It must be significant. The crescent, the moon…"

"You've been focused on the crescent," Hermione said, shaking her head. "What if it really is a clue?" She pressed her fingertips to the side of her head, leaning into her hand. "The people of Lothal were great engineers, and they studied the tidal movements extensively in constructing the dockyards –"

"The turning of the tide is controlled by the pull of the moon," Malfoy said quickly, his hand tightening around her. "Merlin, Granger – we need to go."

They stared at one another for a tense moment, and Hermione could almost see the thoughts flying through his mind as her own encompassed her brain. Her gaze flickered out the window to see the moon high in the sky. "Now."

They leapt from bed and dressed, stumbling around and tripping over one another – Hermione laughed as she caught her foot on his and he grabbed her before she could fall, stealing a quick kiss.

Then they were ready to go, both a little disheveled, and took the Portkey to Lothal in the dead of night.

Draco frowned as he paced the dock in Lothal, glancing across the way at Granger as she scoured the pillar with the crescent. He ran his fingers across the bull on the pillar nearest him – the vision had seemed so significant, but they had been in Lothal for nearly an hour now and hadn't found anything other than what they saw every day.

Granger approached, shaking her head as she collapsed at the base of the pillar, folding her legs beneath her. "I wonder what the vision was meant to show me."

"You can't see anything now?" Draco asked, taking up a seat on the ground beside her.

"No," she sighed. "I've been trying to access the trigger in all the ways it's worked in the past, but nothing. It's as if they're being withheld – as if there's something different I need to see instead."

Draco blinked at her, his eyes stinging. "So this ability is sentient now?"

"I don't know what to think," she said, shaking her head. She released a sound of frustration. "Why is it so impossible to figure anything out?"

"You saw the crescent in the vision," Draco stated, waving a hand. "So there must be something to that."

"Yes," she agreed, "but there's nothing here that isn't here during the day. Maybe the vision wasn't about it being night at all."

He shook his head, feeling a swell of disappointment wash over him. He had been so sure it was an important clue – the last time Granger had awoken from a vision, it had actually been connected to something she had already seen, and they knew it had been legitimate.

This one could have been something else.

Drao tilted his head back, pressing it against the stone of the pillar, and stared up at the clear moon overhead. He breathed, "Should we just go, then?"

Granger followed his gaze, tucking into his side. "Let's wait for a while – I feel like we should wait."

Even as she spoke the words she yawned, her eyes pressing shut as she brought a hand to her mouth. Draco snickered and slung an arm around her in the chill air of the night. "Or we could go back to the hotel and get some sleep."

"You weren't even sleeping," Granger said, jabbing him in the chest with a finger.

"But you were," Draco returned in a breath, feeling his lips tug into a smile. "And I'm starting to feel tired."

She shook her head, her eyes flickering to meet his. "I just feel like we need to wait."

Draco shrugged, even as his eyes seared and he forced them to stay open. He stared up at the brightness of the moon for another long moment; it was a full moon, and a chill crept down his spine. "Then we'll wait."

As if reading his thoughts, Granger asked, "Do you think I had a dream about the crescent because the moon is full tonight?"

"Might have done," Draco said, pensive. "If they were so fixated on the tides, you're right – they were probably fixated on the phases of the moon as well. At this point, I'm not ready to discount anything that might lead us somewhere."

He didn't say the last thought that passed his mind as surely as it twisted and tugged at the nerves already dancing in his stomach. Especially if the team were falling ill.

She dropped her face to his chest, and her curls tickled Draco's jaw as he swept them to one side, staring down at her.

The time in Pakistan – and now India – had been a whirlwind of a couple of weeks. He couldn't quite wrap his head around how everything had come to pass, between he and Granger, and with the case in general.

Weeks of struggle and no answers, but somehow he wasn't alone anymore. And he didn't know what that would mean for their return home – wasn't sure he wanted to know yet.

But Granger had been the one who wanted to tell Potter about him. Draco wasn't entirely sure how that all played in either. Whether things would change once they were no longer working on a case together.

He didn't think Granger was that type of girl, but he didn't know her that well yet on a personal level, and outside of a professional capacity. The girl he thought he had known at Hogwarts had been so deeply affected by the occurrences of the war, that he didn't recognize the child she had once been anymore.

But that was probably the case with most people who had fought in the war, and who had been forced to grow up too soon.

"What are you thinking about?" Granger murmured against his shirt, her words thick with fatigue.

His lips tugged into a smirk. "Breakfast."

"You weren't," she scoffed, shoving into him with her side. Her sleepy eyes turned to him, narrowed. "Be honest."

The smile fell from his face, a jolt of uncertainty chasing through him. "I was thinking about you – about us."

"Oh," she whispered, her lips parted. "And what about us?"

Draco's mouth felt dry and he swallowed, his throat bobbing. He gave his best attempt at a flippant shrug, even as his heart raced, and he was sure Granger could feel it. "Just about what's going to come of all this when we go back home."

His stomach twisted when she sighed. "I'm not sure yet."

"Right," he grit out, his hand flexing on her shoulder.

She was blinking up at him, and Draco glanced away. She whispered, "I'm not good at this."

Despite himself, Draco snickered. "Hermione Granger – not good at something. It must be a first."

"Flying," she breathed, settling against him again. "I wasn't any good at flying. And I'm not really good at these sorts of things – with boys."

He laughed. "I remember you in first year flying class. Swotty Granger couldn't fly." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Honestly? I'm not very good at these things either."

She withdrew from his chest, tugging his hand between hers as she sat against the pillar alongside him. "I wanted to tell Harry for a reason. Because I didn't want this to be a secret."

There was a tension hovering in the air between them, and Draco curled his fingers around her hand. "So maybe you want to see where this goes, once we go back home."

"I think so," she admitted. "I guess I haven't dated anyone since eighth year, and that was a bit of a disaster from the start, to be honest."

Draco nodded, his eyes flickering to hers. "I remember."

He couldn't be certain in the pale light of the moon, but Draco thought he saw her cheeks flush. "Even you saw that mess of a break-up?" She released an irritated breath, shaking her head. "It was terrible, truly. The more time passes, the more I wonder whether I wasn't only with Ron because it felt safe, after everything we had been through. But I don't think I ever really… felt about him like that, do you know?"

"I know what you mean." He released a tight breath, wondering how they had come to be having this discussion. "I've never felt that way about anyone, either."

"Not Parkinson," Granger mused, drawing on the back of his hand with her fingertips.

Draco scoffed, cracking a grin. "Definitely not Pansy. She always wanted to date me, but I think it was more about my family name than anything else for her." He shrugged. "I wasn't in a very good space, mentally, during the later years at school. Dating wasn't exactly top of my mind. And then eighth year… I was just there to get my NEWTs and get out."

"You didn't date at all?" Granger asked, her voice quiet.

He swallowed, shifting on the hard ground. "I had a bit of a thing with a seventh year when I was in sixth. But it didn't last long. We didn't have much of an emotional connection – or maybe I just wasn't prepared to let her in at the time. We went our separate ways without any hard feelings."

Granger sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I can understand that. I thought I had that connection with Ron – but obviously not. And I think if we had stayed together, it only would have grown worse."

He turned towards her, dropping his face into her hair. He asked, "Why did you break up?"

He didn't think he was imagining that Granger's face flushed pink that time. "It was a ridiculous reason, really."

Draco hummed, feeling his lips twitch with amusement while he waited.

"Ron got upset," Granger said, and he had to strain to hear her, "because he thought I had been saving myself for him."

Draco blinked, resisting the urge to laugh at Weasley's presumption, even as his nose turned up at the thought of Granger being intimate with Weasley.

"And you hadn't," Draco hedged, his breathing shallow.

It was a topic he had wondered at numerous times, but hadn't seen fit to ask.

She gave a minute shake of the head. "No, I hadn't. But it was before he even showed any interest in me, and it was hypocritical of him, given he'd slept with Lavender Brown in sixth year." She released a long breath, even as she snickered. "I told him I wasn't in a rush with him, even though I wasn't a virgin. And he thought –"

Draco swallowed a tight lump in his throat. "He thought you'd sleep with him anyway."

"He'd been hoping, I suppose," she said with a shrug. "He didn't push, but I could tell. And I guess I probably would have, eventually." She laughed, a soft, tinkling sound. "Maybe. Or maybe I would have realized anyway that there was a deeper reason I'd wanted to wait."

"You're smart," he teased, "I think you would have figured it out."

She scoffed, jabbing at his ribs with a finger. Draco grinned in return. He didn't want to say as much, but he liked the thought that she had never slept with Weasley, although it begged a different question.

"Who?"

She blinked at him, her brow furrowed. "Who what?"

"Who was it," Draco asked, his lips twitching.

"Oh," she said, glancing away, blushing once more. She gave that small, nervous laugh again. "It was Viktor."

He gaped at her, his eyes widening. "Krum. You slept with Krum."

Granger nodded, giving a little shrug. "He was nice. He was quite interested in the things I was studying, usually. He invited me to visit him the following summer and…" she broke off, glancing at him. "It never went anywhere, although it was fun while it lasted. I guess he made me feel less of a bookworm and more of a girl."

"Fascinating," Draco drawled, nudging her in the side. "And I'm not going to say I'm not a tad impressed."

Letting out a bright laugh, she turned to face him. "And you? Your seventh year girl?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "A few times, but that was it." He grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. "And there was a girl in a pub, the night I found out my father was going to Azkaban. But I honestly don't even remember her name."

Something like pity or hesitation flashed through Granger's expression, and Draco caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth.

"That isn't something I'm proud of," he admitted. "But it happened all the same."

Granger sighed, giving his hand a squeeze. "I can understand that. I think we all faced things during the war – and in the aftermath. No matter the side we were on."

There was an honesty in her gaze that caused Draco to take a deep breath. He didn't know whether he would ever deserve someone like her. A silence fell over them until he said, "You're something else, Granger."

She brought the back of his hand to her mouth, pressing her lips to his skin. "And you're not as bad as you think you are."

A breath caught in his throat as he threaded his free hand into the base of her hair, dropping a lingering kiss to her lips. She pitched forward, deepening the kiss and carding a hand through his hair; Draco's eyes fell shut while his stomach roiled with something unspoken between them as he kissed her.

He tugged away after a moment, taking her face in his hands, staring at her. He opened his mouth to say something, and then sealed it shut again. Swallowing a breath, he said, "Maybe we should just go back to the hotel and get some sleep."

Something chased across her face and she looked up at the moon, shifted in the sky. She let out a breath of disappointment. "I suppose you're right, although I can't help but wonder what the dream was about then."

Draco shook his head. "It's hard to say." He rose to his feet and dusted himself off, reaching a hand down to help Granger to her feet. He tugged her up and brought her close to his chest; she melted into him, her lips finding his again as her hands grazed his chest.

Feeling a jolt in his core, he pulled her closer, his heart fueled by the feel of her pressed against him as her tongue teased his own.

It was as if the conversation about intimacy had opened some sort of floodgate between them, and Granger was kissing him with an intensity she never had before, her hands gliding through his hair, and Draco backed her up into the pillar, one hand meeting the bare skin beneath the hem of her jumper.

She released a whimper against his mouth, pressing herself tighter against him, and Draco wondered whether she might not want to go back to the hotel to sleep as his stomach twisted at the friction. He snaked his hand higher, his fingers grazing up along her side when she wrenched away. His eyes flew open to meet her darkened ones, and every nerve ending was singing with the awareness of her as he caught a breath.

But Granger's eyes averted, wide in shock, and stared beyond him. She whispered, "Draco."

Swallowing his surprise at her usage of his given name, he followed her gaze, and nearly leapt from his skin.

"Merlin," he breathed, reaching to run his fingers along the inside of the crescent carving. "Granger."

The moon was hanging high above them, and a beam of moonlight caught in the angle of the crescent, projecting forward into the open, excavated space of what had once been the warehouse along the docks.

Beside him Granger released a tight breath, her mouth parted in wonder as she followed the beam of light, her steps careful and soft, as if not to disturb it.

"How," Draco choked as he caught up to her, turning back to the crescent, and from the angle at which he now stood, the beam projected perfectly through the curve of the carved moon phase. She only shook her head, her gaze falling on the crescent-shaped light dancing on the floor of the warehouse.

"I don't know," she gasped, shaking her head. "But I think we need to go down."

Her eyes fluttered shut as if in concentration, and Draco knew she was trying to look into the past. Her fingers bumped into his arm, and he clutched her hand, threading their fingers. Her breathing was soft for several moments before her eyes opened again.

Frowning, Granger approached the light on the ground, bending down to touch where the light met the earth, her fingers brushing at the dust and dirt atop the old foundation.

"There are shaped stones embedded here," she whispered, picking the dirt out of the cracks with a fingernail. There were a series of stones pressed together in mortar. "But what are they for?"

Draco glanced at her and breathed, "Maybe it was an ancient version of the entrance into Diagon."

"Yes," she hissed, drawing her wand to tap on the stones. The dust quaked and jumped atop the stones but nothing happened. "Maybe it's a pattern."

Draco folded his arms, turning back to face the pillar. "The moon is moving quickly. The projection won't last long."

"And it must only work with the full moon," Granger whispered, her eyes wide. She clenched her free hand by her side. "The curve of the light encircles this stone… but what else?"

His gaze shifted to follow the opposite pillar. "Granger," he clipped, darting back to investigate. She caught up as he was running a hand along the broken surface of the other pillar. "Remember, this one was broken? Do you suppose it had a similar carving?"

Granger was silent as she stared between the far pillar and the floor of the warehouse, her hands tapping her sides in contemplation. "But it's been broken. Do you suppose it would have projected to the same spot?"

"It can't have," Draco said, "it would have faced the full moon from a different angle."

"So then where?" she choked. Her gaze flew to the angle of the moon again. "Already we're losing the correct spot."

His brain flying and attempting to process too much information at once, Draco paced to the broken pillar. "Go back to the warehouse. I'll see if I can simulate where the light would have shone from the other side."

She nodded with a tight breath and walked back into the warehouse; Draco could scarcely make out the shape of her. Staring at the height of the crescent carving, he shone a beam of light with his wand towards the floor of the warehouse.

A moment later, Granger's voice shouted, "No!"

Cursing under his breath, he reassessed the angle of the first pillar and tried to replicate it, again with no results.

He was too far, and the task too inexact to know which stone would have been encircled by the second crescent, but they didn't have time to come up with anything better. Striding back over with her gaze fixed on the pillar, Granger approached with caution, her eyes fluttering closed.

"I had a feeling," she whispered, her lips tugging into a smile, "that I'd be able to see this part." She snickered, reaching for his hand again. "I know – I sound crazy."

"This reminds me of a conversation we once had," Draco observed with a teasing grin, "wherein you refused to believe that seers were real."

One of her eyes snapped open and fixed him with a glare. "This is not the same thing."

He gave her a crooked grin with a facetious flicker of his brows.

"Yes!" Granger exclaimed, after another moment of silence. "I can see it."

Glancing back behind him at the angle of the moon, Draco breathed, "You'd better hurry." Granger raced back across the dockyard to the warehouse, dropping to her knees again. Whatever she could see remained elusive to him, as Draco could still only see the one beam of light, which was drifting and about to vanish, by his estimation.

"They intersect," she whispered, dropping down lower to remove the earth between two more stone tiles, her eyes squinting in the faint light of Draco's wand. She brushed the last of the dust away, turning to him. "These two are encircled," she said, gesturing to the first stone, and one a few spaces to the left of it. "And this one is illuminated in the light of both."

The moon dropped and the beam of light was gone, having lost the angle with the crescent it needed to project forward. Draco swallowed, staring at her. "Is it too late?"

"I don't know," she whispered, her free hand clutching at the stones. "I'm afraid to try it."

He crouched down beside her. "Before you forget." There was fear in her eyes as she stared back at him. "And whatever it is… at least we'll know."

"Right," she said, releasing a long exhale. Her hand shook as she tapped the stone to the left, then the one on the right, followed by the third that had been illuminated, between the first two and slightly above.

Granger released a sound of surprise and Draco leapt to his feet, pulling her with him, as the ground began to shake, the stones grinding against one another as they shifted and fell away. He took a careful step back, Granger wide-eyed beside him, and it took him a moment to realize a circular staircase was forming, leading into the ground below the warehouse.

They exchanged a cautious glance. The sudden silence felt insidious as the stones stopped moving, leaving only the curling stairwell down. Draco peered down inside, and there was only gaping darkness.

Chapter Text

Draco brandished his lit wandtip over the opening of the stairway into the earth, and he couldn't see anything but for the first initial steps. Granger's wand joined his as she dried her other palm on her jeans. They fired a few cursory spells down but nothing returned.

"Should we go inside?" she breathed, her chocolate eyes wide.

"What else do we do?" Draco asked with a shrug. "We might not be able to access it another time."

Her eyes caught his. "You go first."

He snipped, "You're the Gryffindor."

"This is your operation," she hissed, her lips twitching.

"Fuck," he cussed, shaking his head. He grumbled as he took the first step into the circular staircase, glancing behind him. "Then you ought to wait up here until I find out what it is. No need for both of us being eaten by some pit-monster."

"There aren't pit-monsters," Granger whispered.

"There could be," he bit out.

"If you get eaten by the pit-monster, I promise I won't follow you down." She flashed him a grin as he shook his head, descending another few steps until the only light was from his own wandtip.

Draco clenched his jaw as he walked, checking the staircase before each step to be sure he wasn't stepping off into nothingness. Finally he reached the bottom, and was enveloped in darkness but for the small light flickering from his wand.

Conjuring a small torch that danced and flared, Draco could see he was in a cavern of sorts. In the orange light of the flames, he could just make out something on the walls, and he walked closer to peer at what appeared to be drawings. He affixed the torch to the wall nearest the staircase.

A breath chased from his lungs as he took in the intricacies painted on the walls – human figures and animals, agricultural fields and ships in the dockyard – and he shook his head, lighting several more torches to properly illuminate the cavern.

On the other side of the large room, there was a circle of ancient looking chairs that might have been used the day before – obviously preserved with magic, and between them a copper slab of a table. The chair at the head of the table was more ornate than the rest, detailed with fine embroidery.

Gaping, Draco shook his head as he returned to the base of the stairwell. "Granger! No pit-monsters!"

He returned to his perusal of the room until she joined him at the bottom with a sharp gasp, blinking in the light of the many flames.

"Look at these paintings," she whispered reaching out a hand and letting it fall. "They tell the story of Lothal."

"Not just Lothal," Draco breathed, staring at a magnificent mural that covered the far wall – a river and people working in the fields. Swirls danced in the air and Draco knew it to be the magic they sometimes felt. "All of the Indus Valley."

Granger approached the seating area, her hands grazing the rich fabric of the chairs. "So this was, what – a council chamber?"

"Something like that?" Draco said. "I have no idea."

"A magical council," she inferred. "Maybe they needed to hide."

"It wouldn't surprise me," he admitted. "Interesting to think that the prosperity across the Indus Valley was attributed to a group of magical sorcerers who worked below ground. Do you think this is where they practiced their magic? Rituals, or what have you."

"Maybe," Granger said, catching her lip between her teeth. "Although you might expect altars and statues of deities, that sort of thing."

Draco stared at an inset alcove along the last wall, a massive carved statue of a human-like figure tucked inside of it – a deity that he recognized from their research. "Like this," he deadpanned.

Granger approached, her brow tight as she stared up at the statue. "Yes. Like that one." She took a step away, her fingers touching the wall. "And look at these."

The section of wall was painted with a series – a herd – of the bull-like animals like the magical figure.

"So, do you suppose they were casting spells on these figures and releasing them?" Draco asked, his stare lingering on the vibrant pigments of the bulls.

"Why?" Granger asked with a shrug. "Were they tired of keeping secret? Maybe they resented the rest of the Indus Valley citizens for not realizing how much benefit the magic provided?"

"I don't know about that," Draco said, shaking his head. "Because it was suspected that there were practitioners of magic, wasn't it? In magical accounts, at least, according to Helmo. If they were helping the Indus Valley prosper, why send magic after its people?"

Granger sat down on one of the lavish chairs and Draco snickered as he joined her.

"Here's a thought," she began, tapping on the copper slab. "The Indus Valley magical council, for lack of a better word, was utilizing all this magic without regard, and without wielding devices like a wand or a staff."

"That we know of," Draco reminded her.

"Right," she said, waving a hand. "But what if no one actively cursed the bull figure – what if they began to deplete the magic and it took on a sentience of its own?" She fixed him with a sharp gaze. "Is that even possible?"

Draco swallowed, holding her gaze. "They were pulling ancient magic from the earth. If you're asking whether the magic could have become corrupted – through overuse or misuse…" he grimaced. "I think the answer is absolutely."

Hermione looked around at the bustle of activity that had overtaken Lothal as soon as the team had arrived on site that morning. Aurors and Unspeakables were investigating the pillar with the crescent form carved into it, the hidden entrance and stairway, and the cavernous chamber itself.

Malfoy was in the chamber with Dean, and another pair – Unspeakable Young and Auror Elias – and Hermione made her way down to convene with them.

By the time they had made it back to the hotel the night before, it had been morning already, and she was straining to keep her eyes open. The burning heat glaring down at them already wasn't helping matters; she was attempting to access the trigger to see anything that might have happened in the chamber, but her brain felt too fatigued.

"How is it going in here?" she asked, approaching the group. Malfoy's gaze flickered to her, his lips twitching.

"Fine," he said. "We've been chronicling all the features down here, including the murals on the walls. Searching for lingering evidence of magic."

"After so long?" Hermione asked, her eyes squinted.

Unspeakable Young shrugged, exchanging a glance with her partner. "It depends on the source."

Auror Elias broke in. "Do you suppose there are chambers like this in Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa? If the entrance was so secretive, we could have easily missed them."

Hermione fidgeted with her beaded bag, staring at the floor. "If we go back, I might be able to see something along those lines. The only reason we found this one was because of the full moon interacting with the crescent carving."

"So the crescent carving in Mohenjo-Daro – that could be significant too?" Young stared around at the group, looking somewhat abashed.

Malfoy huffed a harsh breath beside her. "There was a crescent in Mohenjo?"

"It was in the reports," Elias commented, "but there was a lot of irrelevant information in the reports. It didn't strike us as important until we heard about the carving here this morning."

"Yes," Malfoy choked, his grey eyes wide, "that might be important."

Hermione felt her breath quicken as a thick tension hung over the group. "We'll have to go back to Mohenjo-Daro, then. Was there anything like that in Harappa?"

"Not that we saw," Young said with a shrug. "But it wouldn't hurt to scour back through the reports. One of the other teams might have filed something along those lines. There are so many small details in these excavations – it would have been easy to miss something like that."

"And covering such a large area in a short time," Hermione said, her mind abuzz with thought. Had they missed something so vital in Harappa?

Malfoy tugged her aside as the other three continued their investigation in the cavern, ducking in. "I haven't heard anything from Randall or Hikari yet. I'm going to Portkey to St Mungo's and check in."

"Okay," Hermione breathed, tense with nerves. "Do you want me to come?"

Through her peripheral vision, she could see Dean watching them, and he gave her a knowing smile when she looked his way, before turning back to his work.

"If you want to," Malfoy said, and there was a stiffness to his shoulders belying the flippancy of his words. "Or you can stay here and lead the investigation. I just – need to know. Whether Hikari's been infected."

"Of course," she said, a tilt to her head as she observed him. "I'll come. It sounds like we'll be going back to Mohenjo-Daro tomorrow, or at least in the next couple days."

"The trail seems to suggest as much," he said, plucking his Portkey from his lapel. "I'll let Thomas know."

He walked back to the other three, who were scanning the large statue for signs of enchantments, and then returned to Hermione a few minutes later. Wearing a tight grimace, he offered her the Portkey and they were gone.

It was still early in London, and St Mungo's wasn't the hub of energy they were used to. Draco slid his hands into his pockets, slowing his deliberate gait to keep up with Granger's shorter legs.

He could see the trepidation in her posture, though she stowed it carefully beneath a stoic facade. He wondered at what point he had learned to see through her so well. He trailed his fingers along the length of her lower spine, to ground himself as much as anything.

Even after they had returned to the hotel from Harappa early in the morning, he had been unable to find much sleep, and he felt the strain behind his eyelids, especially given they would still have a long day of research ahead of them with the new discovery in Lothal – and the subsequent knowledge of a similar carving in Mohenjo-Daro.

Perhaps the magical councils were more ubiquitous than they had first thought.

"We could visit the Ministry while we're here," Granger mused. "Inform Burke and Robards of what we've learned."

"Good idea," Draco nodded. "Although they might not be at the Ministry yet."

"Burke will be," she snickered. "Sometimes I wonder if he even leaves at night or whether he just sleeps in his office."

"Sometimes I wonder the same about you," he teased, nudging her in the shoulder.

"I have a flat, thank you," she sniped. "With a cat. Although he is staying with my neighbour right now."

"I don't have a cat," Draco returned, shaking his head. "But I do have a flat."

Her gaze snapped to stare at him. "You don't live at the Manor?"

Draco stopped mid-step in the hallway, turning to her. "No. Didn't you know that?"

Her brow was furrowed as she took in the thought. "There are a lot of things I don't know about your life." Her gaze met his with a sort of heavy significance. "I guess I thought you would stay in the ancestral home."

He dropped his chin. "I chose to leave, after eighth year. Too many bad memories there."

"And your mother?" Granger asked, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "Has she moved as well?"

Draco shook his head. "No. She's chosen to stay – but she spends a lot of time with Andromeda and Teddy. They've been… attempting to make amends."

A tight breath chased from Granger's mouth and she clapped a hand over her lips, shaking her head. "That's good. I forget, sometimes – that you and Tonks..."

He clenched his jaw, averting his gaze. "I guess you knew my cousin better than I did. I was never allowed to meet her."

There was something in Granger's expression – a deep well of despair and loss. Her voice was no more than a whisper as she said, "Tonks was lovely. You'd have liked her – it was impossible not to." She swallowed, steadying herself. "I'm relieved to hear your mother has been spending time with Andromeda. We've worried about her, after losing Ted and Dora –"

"Right," Draco agreed, feeling at odds with the conversation. He'd never known either of them, and he still didn't know Andromeda that well, either. He gave a sort of uncomfortable shrug. "I like spending time with Teddy."

"Harry visits with him too," she breathed, and her eyes were glossy as they flickered up to fix on the ceiling. "I'm sorry – it's just…"

"I know," Draco said, swallowing a thick lump in his throat. She nodded, pressing a hand to her mouth again. "I know, Granger." Cognizant of the empty hallway, he tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Her hands clung to the planes of his back like a lifeline, her face buried in his chest. He breathed into her hair, "He took so much."

"So much," Granger echoed, her voice muffled against his clothes. She drew back, blinking, and her cheeks were tinged a dull pink. "I apologize for –"

He shook his head, cutting her off. "Don't apologize. None of it was your fault."

A breath hitched as she stared at him, her eyes shining again with anguish and tears. "Some of it was." She took a deeper breath, her gaze dropping to the floor. "My parents – that was my fault. Harry says it wasn't, but –"

Draco blinked at her, scanning the recesses of his mind, through the occurrences he tried to keep buried. "Your parents?"

He couldn't remember hearing anything about her parents during or after the war.

She nodded, sliding her pointer finger beneath the curve of her eye. "Yes," she whispered, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. "That was my fault."

When she wasn't forthcoming with any further information, Draco blinked, feeling a frisson of foreboding chase through him. There was a bench in the hallway and he tugged her towards it, taking a hesitant seat beside her.

An emotionally vulnerable Hermione Granger wasn't something he was altogether familiar or comfortable with.

"What happened to your parents?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm afraid I didn't hear anything about that."

"You wouldn't have," she finally said, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. "They're in Australia. They'll never remember I exist."

Draco swallowed, feeling a tightness clutch at his chest. "You altered their memories?"

She nodded, staring at the bench as she dragged a finger between the wooden slats. "I didn't want anyone to go after them for information about where I'd gone, when we went on the run." She fell silent, drawing patterns on the bench. "I didn't know whether I'd be able to reverse the spell after, but – I couldn't see them die because of me. And they had no way of defending themselves against all that…"

He felt cold, staring at her. The war was over but the battle was still going on, within everyone who had had the misfortune of being involved.

"Granger," he breathed, shaking his head. A horrific sense of despair choked his words; she was forlorn – she had lost her parents – and he had been a part of the cause. He managed to whisper, "I'm so sorry."

Her fingers closed around his own. "It wasn't your fault. It was a decision I made, and one I'll live with for the rest of my life."

Draco didn't even have words as he gaped at her. "I can't believe you –"

"I couldn't see them die," she said, looking up at him. "Do you know what I mean? I can see them living a different existence – it hurts, but they're alive. I couldn't have lived with myself if the Death Eaters went after them."

He'd made bloody jokes about her Sugar Quills. He had poked fun at her parents being teeth Healers. He felt hot and cold at once, but all he could think of was the way she still held his hand, even as she told him these world-shattering truths that had been weighing her down for so long.

He had been one of the Death Eaters she'd feared.

"Granger," he whispered again, his words sounding hollow and empty. He had nothing he could offer her.

But she shook her head, her eyes shining with moisture. "It's okay." She glanced away again, taking a tight breath. "Thank you for listening. I just… thought you should know. I don't have any parents to introduce you to."

"Fuck," he gasped, clutching her hand tighter. "I have a father in Azkaban and a mother in denial."

She let out a watery laugh. "We're quite the pair, then."

He could only stare at her and marvel at her strength. To wonder at the thought that he had been so wrong about her. His face twisted as he shook his head, his eyes fixed on hers. "I think you might be the best person I know."

Even as she snickered, she gave him a sad smile. "I know that isn't true." She smacked him in the arm. "I'm just Granger." Her head tilted as she stared at him; there must have been something in his face because her smile dropped. "Merlin, Malfoy, make fun of my hair or something."

"I can't." He swallowed, a deep furrow in his brow. "You've gone through all this – why in the name of Merlin would you ever want me?"

Her hand squeezed his again. "Because you're more than you think you are." Her voice was soft as she carried on. "And it took me a while to see it – but I'm sorry for how I treated you, when you first showed up in my doorway."

Despite himself, he released an incredulous laugh. "I cussed you out – you don't have to apologize for that. We didn't know each other at all then."

She laughed, a smile on her face when she looked at him again. "Look at us – we were here for a reason and I've gone all sappy. I appreciate you listening."

He frowned. "Of course, Granger."

Her smile was genuine as she said, "Good." Tugging his hand with her, she rose from the bench, swiping at her eyes with her free hand. "Let's go find Hikari."

Hikari, as it turned out, was irritable and ready to get to work when they found his room.

"They haven't concluded the testing yet," he informed the two of them when they arrived, a wrinkle to the bridge of his nose. "Despite that I've told them numerous times I'm feeling better."

Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who raised a brow. "You're feeling fine?"

Malfoy clicked his tongue, settling into a chair at Hikari's bedside. "The Aurors felt fine too when the first signs of the magic showed up. When did they say they would have the results?"

"Soon," Hikari said with a shrug. "What am I missing in Lothal?"

Hermione blinked, and she would have been surprised at his rational attitude if it weren't for the fact that he was an Unspeakable, and therefore trained in dealing with strange and malicious magic.

She tucked herself into the chair beside Malfoy, folding her feet beneath her. Together they explained the discovery of the chamber beneath the warehouse, and Hikari listened with rapt attention and wide eyes.

"And Young and Elias thought they saw a similar carving in Mohenjo-Daro?" he asked, scratching at the fresh stubble on his jaw. "Auror Thomas and I saw so many carvings in random places… it's easy to see how one could have been overlooked."

"Right," Malfoy said, exhaling a long breath. "So we'll be heading to Mohenjo-Daro once our avenues in Lothal are exhausted. Although with this new discovery, it's hard to say whether we'll ever have found absolutely everything that might offer some value. It was by luck and timing we found this cavern in the first place."

The three of them glanced up as two Healers filed into the room, their faces grim but unreadable, followed by Healer Randall, who looked surprised to see her and Malfoy there.

"Unspeakable Granger," Randall said, "and Auror Malfoy." She nodded, approaching with a clipboard, and fixed her gaze on Hikari. "I have good news – you don't show any signs of the magical signature we've found relating to the illness."

Hermione released a tight breath. Malfoy's hand grasped her wrist on instinct. Hikari held his hands up, letting out an exaggerated exhale.

"So I can return to the investigation, right?" Hikari asked, peering over his glasses at the Healer.

But Randall raised a hand. "Just because we haven't found the magic doesn't mean you haven't somehow exposed yourself, and it's yet to manifest strong enough to be measurable."

"But surely he wouldn't have felt any physical symptoms yet if the magic was so low," Malfoy reasoned, letting go of Hermione's wrist.

Randall nodded in acquiescence. "It's most likely nothing. Or as you suspected, Unspeakable Hikari, a case of heat stroke."

Malfoy flashed her a grin, and she could see the relief in his expression. "So we aren't all going to drop dead."

"I don't imagine so," Randall said, her lips twitching with humour. "And if you do, it won't be because of this magic. But do keep in mind, we don't know enough about it to say that you won't still expose yourselves – the deeper you dig."

"Noted," Hermione said, sharing a quick glance with Malfoy and Hikari.

She couldn't help but wonder whether, the more they delved into the earth, and the more they explored and pushed forward, the more they chanced angering the ancient magic that existed in the Indus Valley.

But Malfoy clapped his hands together. "Are we good, then?"

"Yes," Randall admitted, a smile rising on her lips. "I am glad to finally have some good news for you."

"Believe me," he returned, with a grimace, "so am I."

"Excellent!" Hikari exclaimed, already rising from the hospital bed in which he had been sequestered. The two Healers approached to begin the process of his discharging.

"There is one more thing," Randall said, turning to Hermione. "If you'd allow me to run some tests while you're here – there has been a lot of unusual brain activity since you've begun activating the trigger of the memories, and I'd like to take a look."

She glanced at Malfoy, who shrugged. "Yes, that would be fine." Turning to the blond, she added, "Then we can go to the Ministry?"

He gave her a tight smile. "Sounds like a plan, Granger."

Chapter Text

By the time they returned to Lothal, it was well into the afternoon. Draco had spent a while catching Robards up on the most recent developments, including Granger's newfound and developing ability to see past occurrences by focusing on a given location, and that a vision had appeared in her dreams.

"Fascinating," Robards had said, shaking his head. "The literal chances of that happening – and that Healer Randall almost kept her back from the mission."

"Right," Draco said, with a flicker of his brows. "That's what I thought."

Then Granger and Burke had ventured up from level nine to join them, and the four of them had discussed their next steps in the Indus Valley – which lead back to Mohenjo-Daro to inspect the other crescent carving.

"Malfoy," Burke had said, before they left. "And Granger. Good work. We know it hasn't been easy out there, but you've both done well."

"Especially for your first field missions," Robards contributed with a brief smile. "We look forward to having the team back home."

Draco had felt a tightness in his chest as he accepted the compliment, and it occurred to him for the first time since before they left for South Asia, that he might have opportunities at other cases if they resolved this one – when they resolved it.

"Thank you," Granger had said, ducking her head with a smile in his direction.

And Draco wasn't sure whether Granger had seen, but he was sure he'd caught a knowing grin shared between Burke and Robards. He'd caught his tongue between his teeth and nodded a goodbye, not trusting himself to speak.

In Lothal, there was a general sense of relief and excitement to see Hikari back on the excavation site – and not hospitalized with malevolent and unknown magic coursing through his veins.

With an actual goal to pursue, the team made good time exploring the rest of the cavern and chronicling their findings.

Draco made his way to the tent to search through some of the old reports from Mohenjo-Daro – which had been filed in a cabinet inside the tent – and began to search for information on the crescent shape that Young and Elias had seen in Mohenjo-Daro the week before.

If they couldn't find anything more in the immediate future with regards to the cavern in Lothal or the magic users who had built it, there would at least be a route forward elsewhere.

For the first time, they had another lead on top of the one they were already pursuing, and while Draco knew there was likely still a long road ahead of them, he couldn't help but feel as if they were finally making some progress.

Partway through his search, Granger appeared in the doorway of the tent; catching on to what he was doing, she pulled up the seat next to him and took the next report from the stack.

Draco's lips twitched as he met her gaze.

"What did you think about what Healer Randall said today?" Hermione asked, a Sugar Quill pressed to her lips as she browsed the reports from Mohenjo-Daro. "About… digging too deep."

"Hmm?" Malfoy asked, looking up from his own research. "I guess I didn't give it all that much thought. We know we're dealing with dangerous magic here."

"Right," Hermione conceded, catching the quill between her molars, "but… I can't help but wonder. Especially what we considered the other night – if the magic is somehow aware."

He hesitated, his eyes fixed on her. "What are you saying? The magic is… what, pulling us into a trap? Giving us a false sense of security? Questionable things have happened, and I don't think anyone's being complacent."

Hermione shook her head, unsure how to phrase her concern. "I guess – the further down we go – the closer we get to the answers…"

"I get what you're saying," Malfoy said, his tone quiet and cautious, "but what else can we do? Just give up? Stop carrying on with the investigation?"

"No," she breathed. If they were to go home now… it wasn't an option. "I just can't help but wonder whether we're being careful enough. Whether the magic might still reach us."

He interlocked his fingers, staring at her. "I don't know what else we can do."

She gave a shaky laugh and a flippant shrug. "Neither do I. I guess it's just… something to think about. The closer we get, the more we find." She shook her head, offering him a smile. "Did you find anything about the carving in Mohenjo?"

"Actually, I think I might have," he said, turning back to the report he had been reading. "'A small eroded carving – similar in shape to a crescent moon – at the top of a stone pillar.'"

Her heart hammered in anticipation as he read, his brows high. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a tug of a smirk. "Where?"

Malfoy clicked his tongue as he scanned the report again, freezing still when he found the information he'd been looking for. "Nearby to the Great Bath."

"Merlin," she breathed, recalling their first day in Mohenjo-Daro. "We stood right atop it."

"I think," he clipped, setting down his quill, "we'll be going to Mohenjo again tomorrow."

Draco watched while Granger fixed her gaze on the floor of what had been the Great Baths of Mohenjo-Daro – one of the largest and most significant structures in the entire city.

It was tongue in cheek, Draco thought, if the wielders of magic in the city had thought to create their council chamber beneath the baths – especially given the way it would have taken magic to stasis the water in the baths in order to even access the chamber.

They were lucky the magic wielded through their wands was similar enough that it could access the pattern on the stones.

The problem, they had soon learned upon arriving back in Mohenjo-Daro, was that there was no evidence of a second pillar by which to create a frame of reference for the pattern here. That was, if the access method was even the same.

The entire thought that they might find a similar chamber in Mohenjo-Daro was based on the premise that the people here might have been in contact, and acted in concordance, with the people of Lothal.

The first pillar was also so eroded that the crescent was scarcely recognizable as such.

Granger paced to inspect the column again, running her fingers along the void in the stone.

"Presumably it would require a full moon again," she said, breaking the silence that had grown, significant and heavy, between them. "But if I focus –"

Draco could hear the frustration in her voice as she tugged at the beak of her hat. He slid his hands into his pockets. "You're overthinking it again."

"I know," Granger huffed, her voice rising. "I can't help it – this is important."

"Take a deep breath," Draco suggested, walking up alongside her. "Think about how you've been able to access the trigger before. There might be nothing – it might be less important than you're thinking."

She shot him a glare. "This needs to be important."

He shrugged, casting a gaze at the bricks of the bath floor. "For as much as the chamber in Lothal was a significant discovery, we've yet to find any real relevance to the statue or the magic."

The team had split up – Draco and Granger, along with Thomas and Hikari, had come to Mohenjo, while the remaining two teams had stayed in Lothal to continue scouring the chamber there for anything unusual.

"Then why are we even here," Granger said, throwing up her hands in frustration.

"We're following the trail." His lips twitched. "And it's better than nothing, isn't it?"

She nodded, her lips pursed. "Which means I need to see what happened here. For everyone's sake."

Draco stepped closer, running his hands up the length of her arms, forcing her to meet his stare. "If you keep telling yourself that, you'll never see it. Just – I don't know, Granger, let it happen like you did in Lothal. Like the woman and the staircase, and the moonlight on the docks."

"I'm trying," she whispered, the fight gone from her expression. "I just can't help it. I need this to work."

He caught her hands, threading his fingers between hers. "Breathe, Granger." He took a step closer, tugging her hands towards him as she took a shaky breath. "Again." She inhaled a longer breath, releasing it, her eyes fluttering shut.

Draco stood before her, holding her hands still, while she steadied her breathing. There was an adorable knit to her brow as he stared at her.

"Just think, Granger," he murmured, looking down at her. He felt the depth of the moment wash over himself. "Right here, in this very spot, the citizens of one of the oldest civilizations in history pulled their magic from the earth. And they lived, fully integrated, with the rest of society." He released a sharp breath, swallowing. "Isn't that an interesting thought. Maybe they just co-existed… magical and non-magical."

He allowed a curve to his lips as he considered the idea before going on. "Do you think the magic-wielders offered their rituals as a service to the non-magical? As a trade – magic for a bountiful harvest, in exchange for crops, maybe copper or cloth."

Her eyes snapped open. "It's possible." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Imagine the cohesion, the synergy… a sort of yin and yang."

"No need to fear or hate one another," Draco muttered, staring at her. "They were a peaceful society, after all."

"Maybe they were relying on those with magic," Granger breathed. But then her expression fell. "But why hide?"

Draco shrugged, running his thumbs across the backs of her hands. "They needed a sacred space for their rituals. A magical space, only accessed by magic. The ancient magic of the earth isn't like that which comes from inside of us."

She nodded, her gaze sliding from his to the crescent once more – and she released a sharp gasp.

Following her gaze, Draco nearly recoiled, his eyes blown wide. "Granger," he choked, his grip on her hands stilling.

"I can see it," she said, a demure curve to her lips. "I can see the light from the crescent – and I can see the other pillar that once existed, just there."

She made to withdraw her hand from his but Draco held firm.

At her questioning glance, he whispered, "I can see it too."

There was a feel of magic all around him, hovering in the sky and dancing through his fingertips where they made contact with her. He could see Mohenjo-Daro whole, as it once was – and he lost his breath.

Her lips fell open in surprise, her gaze falling to their conjoined hands. "You can see the moonlight?"

"I can see the night sky, mixed and swirling with the brightness of day," he clarified. "I can see where the light lands on the stones." He swallowed, feeling a constriction in his chest. "I can see them."

The people of Mohenjo-Daro, milling about, overlapping with one another, because some of them existed only at night, while some were walking the streets, participating in trade, throwing their heads back with laughter. They dressed in bright cloth and wore jewels and copper – the children played with small, terracotta dolls – and all at once, the soft peace of night fell upon the streets.

Granger released a bright laugh, her stare incredulous. "It's projecting." She shook her head. "I see only night. If you can see both..."

"It's in between," he said, meeting her brilliant smile.

Tentative, Draco released one of her hands, grinning as he tugged her towards the Great Bath, to where the moonlight landed on the clay bricks.

She breathed, "I can't believe this. Can you see the pattern on the bricks?"

Draco glanced down. "Yes, I think so." But he looked back up, transfixed by the people that had once lived and roamed in this city of such technology, such culture, and so far ahead of their time.

Granger kneeled to the ground, tugging his hand within hers, and he tore his gaze away, forcing himself to consider their goal.

She drew her wand, and Draco watched as she tapped the three bricks, in the same order as she had done in Lothal – and he wasn't surprised as the earth beneath them began to move and shift, the bricks quaking and dust motes bouncing about.

"Just like Lothal," she whispered, as a circular staircase descended into the ground beneath the baths.

Draco pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers. When he pulled back, she blinked at him, even as day and night swirled together all around him. "You did it, Granger."

"And we've discovered something new, yet again," she returned.

Nerves chased through his chest as he stared at the gaping hole into the ground. "Let's go see what we can find."

Hermione fixed a smile on her face as they stared around the cavern, so remarkable in its similarities to the one they'd found in Lothal.

"So if nothing else," she hedged, her voice dancing across the space between where she stood and where Malfoy was inspecting a statue like the one in the port town, "we know they were in connection with one another, despite the vast geographic distances."

Malfoy looked up, his expression tense. "We did already know about the fact that they were trading with Egypt and Mesopotamia." He hesitated, waving his wand the length of the statue. "You can't see what they did in here, can you?"

Hermione took a deep breath and focused on the copper slab of a table, surrounded by ornate cloth seats. She allowed her thoughts to drift and her eyes to flutter – but nothing.

"No," she clipped. "Nothing yet."

He sighed, walking over.

Dean and Hikari were working along the opposite wall, investigating the painted murals. It was one of the only significant differences – where the paintings in Lothal had featured ships and the dockyard, the ones in Mohenjo-Daro were largely focused on the agriculture of the region. Which made sense, given Mohenjo had been more of a farming community, along the banks of the Indus River.

Her gaze fell on a vibrant field, golds and greens, rich and prosperous, waiting for its harvest. Grains and herbs and other plants that would have served the Indus Valley for sustenance and trading.

A tall clay vase in one corner also featured many of the same images.

"I can't help but feel," Malfoy said in a low voice, a wrinkle in his brow, "that this isn't advancing our search. It's been a great find, and interesting to realize the depth to which magic was integrated into Indus culture…"

"But there isn't anything here about the corrupted magic," Hermione finished for him with a sigh. "It's early, of course, and we could still find something…"

His lips were pressed into a thin line as he stared at her.

Her head fell to one side. "You still think the answers we're seeking are in Harappa."

"It's the only place we've come up against altered magic. Everything here feels natural – as if the ancient magic was in order – but in Harappa, it all felt twisted. The pits, the way the magic tried to pull Thomas and I down…" he trailed off, shrugging. "What if there was a cavern in Harappa, too?"

Hermione grimaced. "I don't want to spread the team too thin. We're already split in two places as it is… and what if we leave Lothal and Mohenjo-Daro too soon? We've already seen how quickly things can shift, and how much is hidden beneath the surface."

"So you and I," he breathed, and something about the way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. "Tomorrow. We'll take a look around, and maybe you'll experience a vision while we're there, now that your ability is a bit more honed. If we can find the source of the corrupted magic – I just can't shake this feeling."

She stared at him for a long moment, her toe digging into the hard floor. "It's unsafe," she said. "What if we run into that magic from the pits again?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes flickering to the ceiling. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and soft. "We're running out of time. I'm at a loss as far as what to tell Robards anymore, and each day when I send him an update, I can just picture it." He caught his lip between his teeth. "Why send the rookie? He isn't finding anything – and meanwhile Aurors are wasting away in St Mungo's."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but closed it again, frowning as she stared at him.

"I just –" he carded a hand through his hair. "Granger, I need to figure this out."

She could hear, all too loud, the words he wasn't saying. That it was his chance to show everyone else he wasn't incapable, and he was worthy of the Auror robes.

"Okay," she breathed, meeting his stare. "I'm with you – I trust you."

There was something in his grey eyes, something overwhelmed and heartbreaking. With a glance across the cavern, he stepped closer, intertwining their fingers. His chin fell as he stared at her.

"You have no idea how much that means," he said, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. "Thanks, Granger." His mouth turned up into a crooked grin. "And for what it's worth, I trust you, too. For all the bloody headaches this case has given me – I don't regret where it's brought me. I'm glad you're here – I'm glad we're in this together."

A breath hitched in her throat. "So am I."

Her heart chased and skipped a furious rhythm at his responding smile.

"Tomorrow, then."

By the time they arrived back at the hotel – they had checked back in to the hotel in Lahore upon their return to Pakistan – there was an owl waiting for them in the room.

Draco took the letter and scanned it, a thick lump hovering in his throat and a painful twisting sensation in his gut. With a grimace, he handed the letter to Granger, who read it with wide eyes.

He said, "We need those answers in Harappa."

Releasing a breath, she nodded, the sheet of parchment hanging loose from her fingers as Draco reclaimed it and read through it again.

Malfoy,

Cary and Milano aren't doing well. Now would be the time.

Robards

Chapter Text

The magic in Harappa felt different than Hermione remembered, especially in comparison to the absence of it they had found in Mohenjo-Daro, and the cold, somber feel in Lothal.

Malfoy walked alongside her, his hands tucked into his pockets – it was just the two of them, the rest of the team still researching the two magical chambers – and he frowned as he glanced at her.

Echoing her thoughts, he said, "It's like the magic here is just pretending. Like it's… I don't know, trying to be something it isn't."

Hermione nodded, pausing to look around. "The magic in Lothal was unapologetic – stern, ancient, powerful. But here in Harappa… it's trying to draw us in."

His voice was soft in return. "Seductive."

"Right," she agreed. And that's exactly how it felt – like it was doing its best to appeal to them, even though it was all a lie. A shiver crept down the length of her spine, despite the blazing heat of the sun high above them. "So where do we begin?"

Malfoy raised a hand, hesitating for a long moment. "There was nothing in the notes from Harappa about a crescent or anything carved into a pillar – I wonder if you can use the trigger to locate the source of the magic here."

Hermione frowned with an absent shrug as she grazed her fingers along a crumbled wall. "You figure the source of the magic will lead us to a chamber?" She grimaced as she met his gaze. "That may not be the case – not given the other two chambers had no more lingering remnants than the rest of the ruins."

He walked up beside her, squinting at the sky. "Harappa isn't like the other ruins."

"I'll try," she whispered, entwining their fingers. He clasped her hand between his, giving a subdued nod.

Hermione let her eyes slide shut, focusing on accessing the trigger, and using it to locate the source of the bizarre magic in Harappa. She felt a twinge in her temple at the strain of her magical core and opened her eyes with a sigh.

"Granger," he muttered, his eyes flickering to hers.

"I know," she huffed, "I'm overthinking it."

"Don't think about the magic, then," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Just see if you can find anything at all."

Hermione took several deep breaths, fixing her gaze on the far-off horizon as she attempted again to access the trigger. All she could think of was Harry and Seamus and the other sick Aurors in St Mungo's – she had spent half the night awake following the short and urgent letter Robards had sent. Malfoy hadn't fared much better, given he had spent half the night on the balcony.

It was now or never, and she needed it to be now.

Distraught and exhausted, she turned away, extracting her hand from his.

Malfoy pressed his lips into an attempt at a smile but he stepped away, giving her the space she needed. He ambled down the street in which they stood and a cloud of dust kicked up, all but obscuring him from her vision as he grew faint.

She couldn't help the frustration, not knowing they were still so far away from the answers they needed, and time was running out.

The urgency pressed at her heart; she knew he felt it too – if not more so – and she hated to let him down. But she had learned many times over now, that there was no point in forcing it. Not unless she wanted to give herself a splitting headache.

Hermione kicked a foot into the ground, a whirl of dust kicking up, and cursed as she stubbed her toe into the hard earth beneath. She was tired of working, and tired of searching and finding nothing. Even the leads they thought they'd found hadn't been enough to give them a worthwhile path forward.

She reached into her bag to withdraw the blasted figurine that had caused this whole mess in the first place. For everything they learned, a million more questions arose and it had all become a strained, convoluted jumble of information without answers.

What was the figure doing in a place that Madame Moreau could find it? Who had left it there? How had it become cursed in the first place? Were there others?

And how, in the name of Merlin, were they going to get past all this?

The figure, despite its protective packaging, warmed in her hands, as if the magic wanted to escape. She realized she had barely handled it since arriving in the Indus Valley, and ran her hands along the crude carving.

There was a small inscription of sorts on the belly of the animal, and Hermione had stared at it countless times before – but she turned the bull over to inspect it once more. The figure was pushing her – encouraging her – to release it from its packaging. To let the full reign of its magic disperse.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Hermione looked ahead. Malfoy was nothing more than a dusty speck in the distance, and she peered closer at the inscription, casting a spell to magnify the shape carved into it.

A breath caught in her throat and her heart began to hammer in her chest.

Staring at the inscription in a new light, knowing what they had already learned, brought a sort of clarity she wasn't expecting. There was a small curve in the centre of the stomach – like a crescent – and a simple, angular arrow – just two lines connected at a point – above and to the left of it.

If she oriented the figure so that the crescent was set in the same way as the ones that had been carved into the pillars, the arrow was pointing northwest. In the general direction of the pits that had been covered with enchantments. The same direction in which Malfoy had vanished.

A flash of a memory coursed through her brain, with such urgency and ferocity that she cried out and stumbled, and a violence that flooded her with a wave of nausea. A woman, holding up the very same figure that Hermione now held in her hand, a triumphant smile on her face. The woman tore and shattered into a wisp of light, but magic roiled and twisted about, like a haze in a subterranean cavern.

The cavern flickered, and Hermione fell to her knees, gasping a breath.

She hadn't been reaching for the trigger, but the vision had felt altogether different than the ones she'd seen so far. It had felt volatile – angry.

There was a corruption tinging the image, a darkness to make it appear soiled. She choked on a breath, her body shaking of its own volition.

Crying out again, Hermione clutched her temples as a fierce agony swept through her head, angry and forceful, and she pressed her eyes shut, reaching a trembling hand for her Portkey.

She fumbled the small pin as another bone-chilling image approached and lingered. Malfoy, sickly pale, with heavy bags beneath his eyes and noticeably ill, before her. His hand was weak as it reached for her, a cold sweat pouring down his face as the hand fell, grasping for nothing as it faded and dissolved away.

"No!" she screamed, clutching her pounding head as she fell to her side, and her fingers were useless as they reached for the pin she couldn't see. The bagged figure slipped from her hand to the ground, and the last thing she knew was a flash of blond as the world went dark.

Draco tore his hands through his hair as he paced, frantic and fixated, through the stark white corridors of St Mungo's. His mind had been racing since he had managed to Portkey Granger back to the hospital in London, limp and pale in his arms.

He couldn't shake the image from his mind – how he had returned to check on her, only to see her lying in the dirt, crying out in pain and clutching her head, before she passed out, her fingers useless beside her own Portkey. His heart had all but stopped.

If she wasn't alright, and he had walked away while she had been struggling with the visions… Draco wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

And the bustling Healers who had been in and out of her room had refused to tell him anything. He had yet to see Theo or Healer Randall – the only two who might have been willing to stop and update him – and hadn't been able to stop thinking of the situation.

Not to mention, they had probably breached some obscure protocol measure by returning to Harappa and attempting to track dangerous magic without back-up.

The bagged figure had been laying at Granger's side, and Draco had frowned at the thought that it had had something to do with her episode. He'd grabbed it as he activated the Portkey, and had tucked it into his bag as a team of Healers had swarmed Granger and taken her into an emergency room.

Draco had only been able to gape, and to rasp out Randall's surname, before she was gone.

And now, almost two hours later, he was beside himself with worry.

Exhaustion began to mingle with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and Draco collapsed to a bench in the hallway, his head in his hands.

He glanced up sharply at two sets of heavy footfalls coming down the corridor, and felt the blood drain from his face at the sight of Burke and Robards pacing towards him. He leapt to his feet, his mouth dry.

"What happened?" Robards clipped, folding his arms, although there was a furrow in his brow to signify his concern.

"I don't know," Draco gasped, shaking his head. "We were in Harappa – she was trying to access a vision and I stepped away for a minute – sometimes she needs space – and –" he choked, taking a steadying breath. Burke raised a brow, his gaze fixed on the door of Granger's room. "When I came back, the figure was laying beside her, and she was… I don't know – in pain, crying out something."

Robards took a breath, pressing his lips together. "And where was the rest of the team?"

Draco blew out a breath. "They were investigating leads in Lothal and Mohenjo."

Burke's gaze snapped to him. "You weren't together?"

"We needed to find the answers," Draco muttered, hating how weak he sounded. He caught Robards' gaze, but his superior's expression was stoic. "Have you heard anything from Randall?"

"Only that Granger's been admitted," Burke said, his tone short and dismissive. The man's expression was dark, like thinly veiled fury, as he stopped a passing Healer, and after a moment of brief conversation, the Healer allowed Burke to enter the room, casting Draco a furtive glance.

Draco huffed an irritated breath and made to follow, until Robards caught his arm.

"Burke will find out her condition," the man said, staring at Draco from over top of his lenses. "What were you thinking, Malfoy? Undertaking a dangerous operation without back-up – in the very location that nearly killed you last time?"

Draco swallowed, wondering if his day might possibly get worse – if Robards was about to relieve him of his duties right there in the hallway.

"I apologize, sir," Draco clipped, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Granger and I were hoping to find something that might help."

Robards was silent for a long moment, and Draco could feel the disapproval rolling from his superior. If anything, his shame compounded – Robards had always been the only one with faith in him, when no one else had bothered. And to think that he had broken that faith –

"I understand, Malfoy," Robards finally said. "I know you realize how dire things have become. And you'll have to excuse us, Burke and I have felt the strain from here as well. I appreciate that you have members of the team investigating different leads."

"Right," Draco choked, his stare landing on the door of Granger's room again. He wondered what it meant that Burke hadn't yet emerged.

Following his gaze, Robards shifted on the spot. "I wouldn't have denied Burke either."

Draco snickered, feeling the worst wave of something other than panic or shame wash over him, since he had arrived at the hospital with Granger's prone form.

"Some spell she was hit with, eh," Robards muttered.

"I wondered whether it had something to do with the figure," Draco said, glancing at Robards. At his superior's alarmed expression, he quickly amended, "It was still in its packaging. But she hasn't touched it since the visions started to manifest. It was almost as if… she was seeing something."

"From the magic of the figure," Robards concluded.

Draco shrugged. "Could have been." He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "So much of this has just been wild guesswork. Obviously we were hoping to be further on by now."

Robards was silent for a long moment. "We will see if Granger is fit to return. It might just be you."

Draco felt a tightness in his chest at the thought that she might not be well enough to carry on the investigation with him. He had grown to rely on her to such an extent that now the thought made him feel lost. He could feel Robards' gaze on him as he nodded.

"You've come to care for her."

It was an acknowledgement more than a question and Draco felt a flush in his cheeks as he dragged a hand along the back of his neck. "Sir, I –"

"Please," Robards snorted. "Watching the two of you since this all started has been like one of those Muggle entertainment pictures."

Draco swallowed, rolling out his shoulders. "I suppose I have, then."

His boss clapped him on the arm. "I'm sure she will be fine. Randall's team is one of the best."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the door of Granger's room flew open and a grim-faced Burke emerged. Before Draco could react, a flurry of activity commenced, and several Healers followed after. Burke stepped towards Robards to say something in a low voice that Draco couldn't hear as Theo caught him by the arm, all but dragging him down the hallway.

"Come on," Theo said, his voice gruff and his face unreadable. "I need to take a look at you."

Draco felt a cold fear seize his heart and he stared back at Granger's room as the door closed again. "Theo, what –"

"Just come," Theo snapped, his gaze fixed ahead. Draco wrenched his arm back, glaring at his best mate.

"What the fuck?" he exclaimed. "What's wrong with Granger?"

Theo huffed with irritation, staring around the corridor. Three Healers were conferring with Burke and Robards, whose gaze met Draco's.

"She's being held for observation," Theo said, his tone dark and frustrated. He swung open the door of another room and tried to usher Draco inside.

"What's wrong with her?" Draco bit out as he stood his ground, his face creased with a rising sense of anger and panic. "Is her head alright?"

Theo scowled, folding his arms. "Her head will be fine."

"Then what!" Draco exclaimed, throwing his arms up. There was something in Theo's face that he didn't recognize and didn't know what to do about – until he noticed the weary fatigue was coupled with something else – fear. His heart slammed in his chest as realization dawned, and he gasped, "She's sick."

Theo gave him a look and a nudge into the room, and Draco's head spun as he stumbled forward, unable to comprehend or believe anything.

"How?" he choked. "We were fine – the enchantments –"

"We don't fucking know, do we?" Theo clipped, flipping switches on various equipment. "Sit down and don't make this harder than it needs to be. I need to run some tests on you."

Draco forced himself to take a steadying breath and sat on the examination bench as Theo began the tests, and two other Healers entered the room to assist. "How bad is it?"

Theo frowned as he withdrew a blood sample from Draco's arm. "It isn't good, Draco."

A breath caught in his throat as he nodded. When they'd had Hikari tested, just days before, he had been clear of the illness. His heart sank as he recalled the way Granger had been reacting when he'd found her, and the way the figure had been lying at her feet. But it had been sealed –

Draco had picked up the figure to stow in his bag, and there had been something ominous about it as he'd handled it as well –

"It's still in my bag," Draco hissed. "I need to talk to Robards!"

Theo swallowed, and nodded at one of the other Healers, who left the room. A minute later, Burke and Robards filed into the room, looking both hassled and troubled.

"If the magic of the figure has somehow activated in such a way as to break through its protective packaging, everyone in the vicinity of this room has already been contaminated," Burke clipped without preamble. He stepped forward, eyeing Draco's bag where it sat on the floor and released a heavy breath. "I've sent an owl to Unspeakable Hikari to inform him and the rest of your team of the situation here. If Unspeakable Granger contaminated herself through direct contact –"

"I'll be sick, too," Draco gasped.

Burke cast a spell on Draco's bag, which caused it to emit a faint glow. "It'll be as simple as running the diagnostic spells on someone else who has been here since you and Granger arrived."

The Healers nodded and one of them darted from the room again, presumably to speak with Randall.

"But yes, Malfoy," Burke said, turning back to Draco. "You'll likely be sick as well."

Draco swallowed and did his best to avoid the look of devastation he could see in Theo's eyes, even as his expression remained blank and professional. He forced himself to cast Robards a wry grin.

"Then all the more reason to figure this out," he clipped. "And if I'm already sick, there's nothing else to lose."

Burke and Robards shared a glance, and Robards released a sigh. "We don't know yet for certain. We will have to see how far along the magic is in its course. Granger hasn't begun exhibiting symptoms yet, but the concentration of the magic in her blood is… significant."

Draco wasn't sure he wanted to know what that meant. He couldn't stomach the thought that he could be responsible for her death – but they had been handling the figure in its packaging for weeks. How were they to know it would suddenly react in such a way?

"So," he began, clearing his throat. "The magic held dormant in the figure was released somehow when Granger touched it – when it interacted with the corrupted magic in Harappa."

"It's as good a suggestion as any," Burke said with a shrug. Only a tightness in his jaw demonstrated his own concern. "It must have been able to seep through the protection of its packaging."

Draco sighed and ruffled his hair, wincing when one of the Healers prodded him with a wand. He rubbed his bleary eyes, wishing he could go to sleep – and maybe wake up from the nightmare in which he now found himself.

"As soon as these tests are over, I'm going back," he ground through a tight jaw, glancing at Robards.

"You might not be sick," Robards pointed out, even as Burke stepped closer to mutter something to him.

"Granger is." Draco waved a hand. "And four other Aurors have – what, a few days?"

"Given the concentration in Moreau's and O'Connell's blood at the time of their death," Burke affirmed, "and the rate of increase in Cary and Milano – that is our estimate, yes. Potter and Finnigan might have a week."

He blew out a long breath. "And Granger?"

Burke cleared his throat and stared out the window for a moment, before turning back to Draco. "The Healers estimate Unspeakable Granger is as sick as Cary and Milano, she just hasn't begun exhibiting symptoms yet."

A panic like ice seized Draco's heart at the thought of Granger having just a few days to live – all because he had stepped away from her.

"Moreau and O'Connell didn't exhibit symptoms," Draco recalled absently. Theo and the other Healers were processing his blood sample, and he didn't like the looks on their faces. He was already certain how the results would come back.

"Right," Robards agreed. "That we knew of. So she might not. Until..."

None of them needed him to finish the sentence.

"Well then," he clipped, averting his gaze from the Healers. "Sick or not, I need to see this through." There was something in Robards' gaze when Draco looked at him. "But I'm going to need to talk to Granger before I go."

Author's Note: I hope you're all hanging on. Let me know what you thought please!

Chapter Text

Hermione stirred awake, a cold chill roiling in the pit of her stomach as she looked around the examination room at St Mungo's, with which she had become all too familiar.

A team of somber-looking Healers bustled around her, which only worsened the premonitory feeling.

There was a dull throb behind her temples to remind her of the agonizing headache that had seized her when she held the cursed figure in Harappa – but she didn't remember anything else that had happened, beyond the frightening visions of the woman.

And Malfoy. Sick and dying.

Her eyes widened in fright as she stared around the room. Why had the figure showed her those things, and how? It had never acted in that way before, and the only thing she could surmise was that the corruption in the air of Harappa had released something that had been latent within.

The uneasy feeling escalated further.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse as she turned to the nearest Healer.

The Healer froze, staring at her with a blank expression. "You've had an episode."

She mouthed the word to herself while the Healer returned to his tests, frowning. Why wasn't Malfoy around? She remembered seeing him before she passed out, so presumably he had been the one to bring her back to London, but where was he now?

Nothing was adding up.

Hermione cleared her throat and turned back to the Healer. "I'd like to dispatch a message to Unspeakable Burke, please."

The young man waved a hand. "He was in the room a few minutes ago – he left with Auror Robards."

Her heart leapt into her throat and she breathed, "He's here. I need to speak with him."

The Healer's expression was hesitant as he glanced at his colleague. Hermione felt herself tense at the way the air in the room thickened inexplicably.

"He's gone to check on Auror Malfoy," the second Healer finally said, after too prolonged a pause to appear natural.

Her hands tensed in the sheets, her gaze flickering between the two of them. "Malfoy. And what's wrong with him?" Releasing a frustrated huff after no more answers were forthcoming, she exclaimed, "What is no one telling me?"

The first Healer shrugged, busying himself with his tests again. "Something about a statue. That's all I heard."

Her stomach was tossing in a terrible manner, making her nauseous and out of sorts. "The statue," she whispered, a breath catching in her throat as her hand clamped over her mouth in a gasp. "It wasn't – the magic hadn't been –"

Tears sprang to her eyes on impulse. It explained why the Healers weren't telling her anything.

Hermione whispered, "Have I been infected?"

The grim look shared between the two Healers was answer enough and her breath chased from her lungs in a choked huff. Her mind chased and spun, and she tried and failed to comprehend what exactly had happened.

When the magic from the figure had shown her the visions – when it had emanated from the statue in such a visceral way –

"Malfoy," she gasped again, her eyes wide. "Is he sick too?"

The first Healer pressed his lips together and glanced at the second.

"Is he sick too," Hermione repeated, the words ground through her teeth. If she had somehow released the magic and contaminated the two of them – the nausea twisting and pulling at her grew tenfold. Her heart slammed with a fierce cadence against her chest.

"He's in testing now," the second Healer clipped, snapping back to her professional manner. "Unspeakable Granger, you need to do your best to keep calm. We are still assessing the level of impact –"

"No," she grit, shaking her head. "I need to see him – I need to know he hasn't been –"

"There is nothing you can do about it right now," the first Healer said, tensing as if to prepare to keep her in the room. "Your own tests are incomplete, and we don't know about Auror Malfoy yet."

"You need to let me go," she said, her tone soft and breathy and on the verge of begging.

The Healers stepped to the side and conversed in low tones that Hermione couldn't hear and she opened her mouth to say something more, when the door to her room opened. She blinked, hot, frustrated moisture tugging at the backs of her eyes.

It was Malfoy – standing of his own volition, and not pale and sickly like the vision. Her heart chased still faster at the sight of him.

"I need a minute with Granger," he said to the two Healers, his eyes meeting hers briefly. "It's classified – Healer Randall has agreed to it."

With a brief conference over some of the instruments whirring at the bedside, the Healers filed from the room, leaving Hermione alone with Malfoy – and she suddenly found she couldn't look at him for fear that she had activated the magic and made him sick as well.

But he stepped forward, his eyes guarded and cautious. "Are you alright?"

She forced a nod, a sharp breath hitching. "Yes," she whispered, and cleared her throat. "And you?"

Malfoy stared at her for a long moment – his jaw was tight and his blond hair disheveled. Then he stepped closer, settling on the edge of the bed. "You aren't," he breathed, shaking his head. "Granger, I should never have stepped away from you. I can't – this is my fault."

"No," she gasped, vehemence claiming the space where fear had been. "Whatever I did to the figure – are you sick too?"

"The tests aren't back in yet," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "But it doesn't matter, either way – I'm going back to Harappa."

"Me too," she rushed in an instant, catching his hand. At the flicker in his stare, Hermione frowned. "The Healers haven't told me anything. How bad is it?"

He glanced away, swallowing. "You're on the same level of Cary and Milano, Granger." He looked back at her, steeling his expression. "A few days. I need you to stay here and rest."

A cold sense of dread seized at her heart, and she wasn't sure whether it was from the prognosis or the thought of him returning alone. "No," she said, swallowing. "If you're sick too, we'll be at the same point. And if you're going back to Harappa, I'm going back to Harappa. Our only chance is to solve this case before…"

She trailed off, knowing full well he understood what she was saying.

If they were already dying, there was nothing left to lose. The only way forward would be to keep going.

There was something in the grey depths of Malfoy's eyes as he stared at her and Hermione wasn't willing to unpack that just yet. He didn't answer, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

"The Healers said Robards and Burke were here?" she asked, releasing a tight breath.

"They took the bag to seal the figure away," he said, and there was a forced flippancy to his tone that Hermione didn't believe. He went on, "You know, in case I accidentally contaminated everyone in this hospital by bringing it with me."

A sharp intake of breath tore through her lungs at the thought that she hadn't considered. "If the magic has emanated?" She shook her head. "But wasn't it still in its packaging?"

"Yes," he said with a sigh. "So it's the hope that you and I were contaminated through contact alone. The Healers are testing another Healer, which should give them the answer about that."

"Merlin," she choked, burying her head in her hands. "We need to get back there straight away."

Malfoy shifted, staring at the comforter. His voice was low when he spoke. "When I found you, Granger, you were having some sort of… episode. Did you see something?"

She nodded, with a clipped, "Yes."

He nodded in return, his gaze still fixed downward. "I'm going to need to know everything you saw. We have just days left to figure this out – and Merlin be damned if I'm going to watch you die, Granger."

When his eyes finally shifted up to meet hers, the breath chased from her lungs again.

Healer Randall scowled between the two of them, her posture hostile as she folded her arms across her chest.

"I need you both to know I don't approve of this," she said, frowning. "You should both be bedridden, not traipsing about on an adventure."

"It's the only option," Draco ground through his teeth. "If you want to save the lives of those four Aurors –" his gaze flickered to Granger, tense at his side "– then we need to go. The figure showed Granger something before she was contaminated, and it's a lead that we need to follow up on."

Robards and Burke stood in Randall's office, having returned Draco's bag with the figure.

The Healers hadn't been contaminated by the figure, so it was only through contact that the long-dormant magic had fought its way out. As terrible as the situation was, it could have been worse.

If Draco had brought a figure emitting fatal magic into a hospital ward…

He turned to Robards, raising a brow. "Your thoughts on the matter, sir?"

Robards pressed his lips together, staring at Draco over the top of his lenses. "There is still a team of competent Aurors and Unspeakables working on the case as we speak."

"With all due respect," Draco began, holding out his hands, "the rest of the team are healthy. And the magic in Harappa is volatile, as we've seen today. If we can keep anyone else from getting sick…"

Granger's shoulders were back as she nodded, affirming his words. He felt a flicker of gratitude for her support. Even knowing she was quite literally running out of time, she was brave and brilliant and willing to see this through. He didn't deserve her.

"We have at least three days left to solve the case," her words were sharp and directed at Burke. Draco thought he saw something like pride mingled with the concern in Burke's face.

"Keep in mind," Randall clipped, still scowling, "that we aren't certain how the magic will react in this case, having been released from the figure. There is a significant chance you will be incapacitated well before the three days are up."

Draco could see the weariness in Granger's face, even as she set her jaw. "Then I will go until I can go no more." She pressed her eyes shut for a moment, opening them with a deeper resolve. "If we can't find these answers, I'll be dead regardless."

His heart stuttered at her words, the very thought of losing Granger festering deep within him.

Randall released a loud huff, looking to Robards and Burke.

"I approve of this mission," Burke announced, his stern gaze flickering between Granger and himself. "These two have done nothing but prove they are both trustworthy." Draco swallowed, a tightness in his chest. "And if this goes poorly… they'll both know Robards and I have the utmost respect for their efforts."

"Thank you, sir," Granger clipped, her voice wavering. Draco gave her arm a subtle squeeze.

"I approve as well," Robards said, nodding. "And echo the sentiments of Unspeakable Burke. I have faith that this lead you have… that it will take you where you need to go."

"Make sure you have your Portkeys," Randall said, deflated. "And for Merlin's sake, find those answers we all need."

Granger started, grasping at her collar. Draco followed the movement, frowning.

"You dropped yours in Harappa," he reminded her, "and I didn't stop to grab it. It should still be there."

"Good," she breathed, her lips tugged into a facsimile of a smile.

Draco could only imagine what was going through her head at the moment. "Shall we go, then?"

Robards stared at him with a sharp nod. "Good luck, Malfoy. Granger." Burke forced a nod as well, and the two men turned to leave, following Randall from the office.

Draco turned to Granger, and the resolve had all but fallen from her face, to be replaced with indecision and – if he wasn't wrong – fear.

"Granger," he whispered, tugging her closer. "We've got this. You know that, right?"

"Right," she returned, her tone soft and she shook her head, her eyes bright as she stared at him. "We have to."

"For what it's worth," he said, grazing her cheekbone with his thumb. "I wouldn't want to be in this situation with anyone else."

"Dying, and desperate to find the cure before the sickness shuts down your entire system and kills you," she said, her voice trembling even as she snickered.

He stared at her, his chin lowered. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Exactly that. Come on – we've got magic to chase down."

He offered her the Portkey, and they were gone.

"This is where it was," Hermione said, locating the spot where they'd been standing when everything had gone out of control. Her Portkey still laid in the dust and she picked it up, clipping it to the collar of her shirt.

"And what did you see?" Malfoy asked, cocking a brow. "The visions."

"A woman," she breathed, toeing the ground, "holding the figure. Must have been Madame Moreau, when she found it."

Malfoy was silent, tension hanging in the space between them. "And where was she?"

"It was hard to say," Hermione said, her gaze fixed on the line of the horizon, as if she might see the image again. "But there was a dark haze to the scene, as if she were underground."

"Do you think she'd discovered the tunnels?" he asked, following the line of her sight. "But why – what purpose would she have had for going so far off the path?"

"We don't know," Hermione said, her gaze dropping. "Aside from sheer curiosity? I've been thinking about it lately, and there were a lot of holes between what we actually know of the story with Madame Moreau and Balthazar O'Connell."

"Right," he said, surprise on his face. "I've forgotten about that – like why he was still at her house looking at her figurines if he'd been sacked."

"Well," Hermione said with a wry smile, "my thought behind that was that they were simply involved in some way. But it's speculation, of course."

There was a look of distaste on Malfoy's face as he frowned.

"Anyways," she went on, "the other thing the figure showed me was you – sick and pale and dying." She swallowed a tight breath. "But I guess now that we're sick –"

"And we're going to find the answers before anything gets any worse," he clipped, failing to meet her gaze as he cut her off. "Maybe the figure was telling you something."

She took a step forward, towards the northwest quadrant of the ruins. Burke had sequestered the figure into a miniature clear box, made in the same way as the containment box they'd utilized in testing. He claimed it should prevent the figure from releasing any more of its magic – but they'd all thought that about its previous packaging.

Hermione frowned – there was no point in crying over it now.

"Did you remember the carving on the underside of the figure?" she asked as he fell into step beside her. Malfoy's gaze fell on her, his face furrowed with consternation. She gestured, elaborating. "When I looked closer, right before the visions took over and I collapsed, there was a small crescent – and two lines forming a basic arrow above it."

His mouth fell open, faltering in a step as he turned to her. "A crescent!" he exclaimed. "It never made any sense – and then it slipped my mind when we started finding the chambers." He released a sigh of frustration as he shook his head. "I can't believe I forgot about that part."

"My thought was," Hermione carried on, "the figure didn't want me to learn anything – and so it released the magic and the visions. I'm only sorry you ended up being caught in the crossfire."

She glanced sidelong at him, even as his stare remained on the ruins ahead of them. He didn't respond.

Hermione caught her lip between her teeth, unease falling into her step. Perhaps Malfoy was more upset than he was letting on. It was ultimately her fault he'd ended up sick, after all.

"Draco," she breathed, and his eyes flickered to hers in surprise. Whether at her usage of his given name or otherwise, she couldn't be certain. "I am sorry, you know – for all of this. And that you're sick because of it." She swallowed a tight breath, her heart chasing in her chest. "And – you know, just in case we don't find anything in time – I'm sorry for the way I treated you when you first came to my office. And early on – and even –"

"We aren't going to fail," he interrupted, looking uncomfortable. "You don't need to say all this. We both treated each other poorly at first – and you aren't going to die."

There was something awkward lingering between them that Hermione couldn't place, and the thought that he was upset with her for releasing the magic seemed to be the only thought that could stick with her, even though rationally she knew he couldn't be blaming her for that.

She stopped in the middle of the path, between two ruined structures that were probably houses. "This is where the pits were, right?"

"Right," he affirmed, pacing away a few more steps. He waved a hand ahead of him. "The one Thomas and I almost fell into was just here."

Hermione watched as he took a tentative step closer to the space where the magic concealed the pit, but he was careful to avoid where the gap would have been. "Do you suppose maybe they weren't enchanted by people, but hidden by the corrupted magic itself?" Her voice fell softer. "Were there any limits to its sentience?"

"I doubt it," he said, with a shrug. "And you might be right – the magic could have hidden the pits – as traps, maybe, or to lure people into a false sense of security."

The air was dry and dusty, the sun hot even as it began to set ahead of them. In the distance a crumbling stone pillar caught her eye and she reached out, catching the edge of his sleeve as her gaze remained fixed ahead.

He turned to her, his eyes squinting as he followed her line of sight in the failing light. He choked, "Is that –"

Hermione rushed forward, casting a spell to magnify the distant pillar. She stopped several steps away, heart slamming in her chest, a caustic rush of blood in her ears.

"It's been destroyed," she whispered, peering closer to the remains of the pillar. "Like it's been bludgeoned, or –"

Malfoy grimaced, running his hand on the jagged surface of the stone. "Like someone didn't want it to be used." He glanced around, pointing. "There was the other one."

Indeed, another mutilated stack of stone stood some distance away.

"They wouldn't have jumped out in our initial survey of the site," Hermione said, feeling her heart sink like a stone in her chest. "But maybe I can still look back and see if we can access the chamber they might have hidden."

Distracted as his gaze scanned the nearby for any site of prominence that might have concealed the chamber, he offered his hand.

Hermione reached for him, seeking to fortify her nerves and the strength of her magic, and her fingers neared his as a flicker of dropping sunlight caught in the blond of his hair, a flash of brightness causing her to blink.

She took another step forward, and her hand brushed against his as the world dropped out from beneath her feet.

Chapter Text

Draco came to in a heap of rubble and crushed stone, blinking in the dusty atmosphere and a heavy throb reverberating through his brain. There was a faint ringing in his ears and he blinked several times, trying to recall what had happened.

An explosion – or some sort of a collapse.

Granger had been beside him.

His eyes flying open wide, he made to stand and winced as a tender ankle gave beneath his weight, dropping him back into the jagged stone. His head spun as he dropped his hands out to impede his fall, feeling the torn skin where his palms had been scraped raw.

"Granger," he choked out through the haze, his voice hoarse.

He looked around in an attempt to collect his bearings, but he could scarcely see beyond his own limbs in the choking dust. He was underground – that much was certain, even if it hadn't been obvious by the way the earth had given out beneath them. The only light came from the faint sky above him, even with the warm hues of a setting sun. He would soon be in darkness.

Draco fumbled for his wand, grateful to find it still in tact in his pocket. He lit the end, which cast a hazy trail ahead of him where the thick powder of the rubble was illuminated.

"Granger!" he tried again, his throat dry and raw.

He appeared to be in some sort of passageway – not as wide as the magical council chambers, but not so narrow he couldn't make it through.

He gripped the worn surface of the wall, clay and dirt catching in his fingernails, and made a second attempt to stand. Using the wall as leverage, he dropped his bad ankle and placed a hint of pressure on it, grimacing despite that he was able to stand if he favoured the other foot.

It wasn't broken, then, which was good news.

His gaze fell to the collar of his shirt and his heart dropped into his stomach. His St Mungo's Portkey was gone. He must have lost it in the collapse, and it could be anywhere beneath the rocks. It could be crushed to dust.

Draco took a tentative step with his good left leg, hedging in the direction Granger might have ended up. But it was difficult to orient himself with how they had been standing above ground, especially as the sun dipped lower above him and the light in the passageway dimmed.

He cleared his throat, thick with the dust that hung stagnant in the air.

"Granger!"

The exclamation bounced off the walls and died in the rubble.

But he heard a soft sound to his right and dragged himself over, his heart racing in his chest. His pulse skipped and jumped when he noticed her arm, and then her hair.

She winced at him, rubbing at her head as she groaned. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Draco said, dropping to his knees alongside her with some effort to favour his good foot. "Are you okay?"

"I think so." She pressed a hesitant hand to the rocks behind her, making to shift with a grimace at the rubble surrounding her. "It appears as if we were lucky."

Draco let the sentiment hang between them, surreal and haunting. Judging by their surroundings, he wasn't quite ready to agree with her.

With significant effort, Granger rose to her feet and leaned against the wall, her chest heaving a bit. Her hair was caked with debris and dirt, her face smudged and a gash in one arm that had left a long line of blood mingled with the dust. "I was sure one of those rocks was going to crush me – but what happened?"

"As far as I could tell," Draco hedged, rubbing the back of his neck, "the ground just… gave out."

Her voice was soft. "I don't think it was accidental, do you?" Her gaze dropped to Draco's feet and her eyes widened as they swept back to meet his. "You aren't alright."

"It isn't broken," he said, "I don't think, anyway. But I lost my Mungo's Portkey somewhere in the rubble back there."

Startled, Granger reached for her collar, and released an exhale. "I've got mine – we can get your ankle looked at –"

"Let's figure out what's going on first," Draco said, keen to find out what sort of area they had fallen into – and then to get out.

Granger's gaze slid to the ground high above them; the gaping hole through which they'd fallen displayed the fading vestiges of sunlight. "We'll take a quick look around – before it gets too dark."

"Then back to the hotel," Draco said, feeling a shiver creep down his spine for a reason he couldn't quite place, although was most certainly to do with the new situation at hand.

"And you can call for Nott," she said with a sidelong glance, as she paced a few steps forward into the passage.

The further away from the hole they moved, and the feebler the light from the surface became, the more the light from their wandtips danced and cast grotesque shadows on the walls of the subterranean channel.

"Just to be clear," Draco said with a frown, "I'm sure these are the tunnels."

Granger gave a weak laugh, the light from her wand trembling. "We found them."

He released a long sigh, his gaze sweeping the area ahead of them. "But why? Did the magic sense that we were looking? Has something new gone awry?"

She whispered, "I don't know."

The light from the surface was completely gone now, and Draco glanced behind him as the path wound along a bend to be sure he knew the way back. To be safe, he cast a tracking spell on the two of them, their footsteps illuminating behind them.

As he took another step forward, there was a rumbling and a quake as a large chunk of earth hit the ground behind them. Draco felt the blood drain from his face and cast Granger a sidelong glance.

"What do you want to bet the structural integrity of this passage has been compromised by the collapse?" he drawled, his lips twitching. "Do we go on or do we return tomorrow – prepared."

She hesitated, her hand reaching out for his; Draco caught her fingers. His heart clenched at the thought of wasting any time when she was so sick.

He couldn't imagine sleeping anyway.

"We should go on," he affirmed, before she could reply. "If this is where the answers are – we need to go on."

"Draco," she breathed, her voice hitched, and he swallowed, a miserable pit in his stomach lingering at the thought of being unable to find what they needed. "We should be smart about this."

"Unfortunately, we don't have the time," he said, his voice soft as he added, "Hermione."

He could feel her eyes on him as they walked and her hand tightened, her fingers slipping between his. "You don't have to do this."

"I do," he clipped, holding his wand a bit higher as he carried on, and she followed by extension. His ankle twinged with every second step.

Her gaze was still burning a hole in the side of his head, and Draco kept his eyes forward, scouring the darkness of the passage as they walked. Finally she sighed, and the feeling in Draco's stomach roiled and twisted.

Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her. "You never told me the results of your tests."

They reached a fork in the tunnel and Draco peered one direction with his wand out, and then the other. Both channels were equally dark. He swallowed a breath. "It's irrelevant. Left?"

Granger held firm to the spot as he made to veer down the left channel, rooting him to the spot by her hand in his. Something in her tone shattered the torn and racing remains of his heart.

"You aren't sick, are you?"

He paused, his gaze fixed on the dark wall ahead of him as he clenched his jaw. "No. I'm not."

"Then I'm not letting you carry on down here," she breathed, gaping at him. "How could you keep this from me?"

"Because," Draco ground out, "I knew you would try to stop me. Whether or not I'm sick doesn't matter – this case still needs solving, four Aurors need saving, and your life, Granger, matters to me. I'm not going to let you face this alone – I'm not going to let you die."

She clapped her other hand to her face, shaking her head as the light in her wand went out. Draco thought he heard her sniffle in the darkness. He extracted his hand from hers and turned to face her, catching the side of her face in one hand as he held his wand up with the other.

"Granger – whether or not I was sick wouldn't have made a difference with what I chose to do." He met her eyes, glossy with unshed moisture. His voice was feeble as he continued. "The only thing that matters right now is finding out what it'll take to keep you here with me."

She ran the tips of her fingers across his cheek bone, a tear slipping from her eye as she held his gaze in the soft light. "Draco Malfoy," she breathed. "In what universe did I ever believe you hadn't changed?"

She swiped at the corners of her eyes, her brows knitted as she stared at him.

Draco swallowed, his throat feeling thick and tight.

"In the one where we didn't even know one another," he responded with a grimace. "Maybe I just know better, now."

"I guess we both do," she whispered with a tight breath.

Then her lips were on his, and she stole his next breath with the intensity of her kiss; Draco buried a hand in her thick curls as he returned the kiss, feeling her emotion pouring through.

He stumbled as she maneuvered him backwards in the darkness, and his ankle caught on the ground, forcing a sharp hiss from his lips. Granger pulled back, her face lit only with his wand, wrapped around the back of her head and casting a heavy shadow across the panes of her skin.

She blinked several times, the exhalations of her breaths soft against his mouth. She gave a small, stuttering nod and turned back to the path. "Left, then."

They rounded the bend and her hand slipped into his again; the darkness tinged with magic pulsated around them, as if it were drawing breath.

As they walked, the walls of the tunnel narrowed so that they had to pass through single-file. Draco couldn't quite fight back the thought that the tunnels were leading them somewhere – and they were being passively led.

In the tense darkness around the next bend, Granger released a sharp cough and Draco's eyes snapped to her face, sweeping the tightness in her expression.

"The dust," she said, in response to his urgent stare. "Just a tickle in my throat."

He huffed a sigh but bit back a response – if Granger began to present symptoms of the illness he didn't know what he would do. If she, Merlin forbid, grew too sick to carry on. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat and tightened his grip around her fingers.

Her wand held aloft, Granger's eyes scanned the tunnel ahead of them, a frown on her lips. "How do we know we're even going the right way?"

"We don't." Draco grimaced, slowing his steps. "We don't know anything about where we are, or what we're doing – we don't even know how extensive the network of tunnels truly was. We could spend days lost down here."

She hesitated, her eyes sweeping to his as she toed the ground. "Maybe we should have a better plan than this. I'll try to see if I can catch a vision."

Draco fell silent and waited alongside while Granger's eyes dropped shut and she took several deep breaths. Her expression was grim when she shook her head. "Nothing – yet."

"Keep trying," Draco encouraged, "but don't overdo it. We can carry on this way – or we can always double back to where the cave-in occurred."

She sighed, her shoulders dropping. "The passage is so narrow here. I fear we're heading towards a dead-end."

He nodded with a sharp exhale, trusting her instinct more than the enclosing darkness. "Then let's go back."

There was a great rumble and Draco tensed, pulling Granger closer into his side as the floor quaked beneath his feet. Wand held aloft, his stance shifted, wary of further cave-ins.

The quake was followed by a cacophonous clattering of rock and earth, and Granger dashed back along the path they'd been following, her eyes wide as she returned to the fork they'd taken.

It was inherently nerve-wracking, to be trapped below ground and surrounded by dangerous magic. Draco felt a shudder chase his spine as he rounded the corner behind Granger, and his heart sunk at the sight before them.

The passage back to their point of entry was blocked, a thick, hazy cloud of dust and debris floating ahead of them once more. He coughed, covering his mouth with his dirty sleeve, and veered back, blinking away the air-borne particles.

Granger wore a stern furrow to her brow as she threw spell after spell at the mound of rock ahead of them, frowning as each Impedimenta did nothing. Her chest was heaving a little with the exertion and nerves as she threw him a look. "Nothing's working."

Draco raised his own wand and attempted to knock the stones loose, out of curiosity as much as anything. But the rocks held firm. Walking towards the cave-in, Draco leaned against several boulders that looked as if they could have given way, and it was like pressing against a solid brick wall.

"Granger," he choked, his voice thick.

"It isn't natural," she hissed, her eyes flying across the dark passage. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the curls in frustration. Releasing an aggravated sigh, she retreated to the fork and raised her wand. "You ought to move back."

Catching her meaning, Draco darted away from the cave-in, pressing back against the wall into the passage from which they had retreated.

Granger muttered to herself, waving her wand with a flourish Draco didn't recognize; her eyes fluttered shut as she channeled some sort of magic – and a blast of icy blue magic, like a hot flame without oxygen, flew forth from her wand.

The pale blue light careened into the roof of the tunnel, and he felt the recoil from such a powerful blast.

Her spell faded into the earthen ceiling, and there was a bitter taste in Draco's mouth as he watched the magic absorb into nothingness, as if it never existed. The ensuing silence was both tense and eerie.

Granger released a tight huff of breath, and there was a shine of moisture in her eyes as Draco turned to face her again. She gave a slow, resigned nod, and he felt the cold seize of fear clutch at his heart.

"Our wands are still lit," Draco supplied in a soft breath.

Granger shook her head slowly, looking exhausted. "It must be such a small amount of magic. Or maybe such a basic spell is just drawing on our own natural reserves without any effort."

Draco considered her words, his jaw clenched.

"So we're stuck down here."

She clasped his hand, pressing against the Portkey at her collar. It was an exercise in futility, and both hands fell back to her sides.

"Yes," she clipped, her voice pitched, "it appears so."

It was almost impossible to calculate how long they'd spent below ground, but Draco figured it might have been a couple hours that they'd been following the tunnels to the right of the fork. Their steps were illuminated like faint clouds behind them as they walked, and Granger's expression was stoic as she peered ahead; her impassiveness was belied by the way she clutched his hand.

Despite living in the Hogwarts dungeons for the better part of eight years, Draco wasn't fond of being underground, especially with the way the earth above them seemed keen to collapse.

His heart was racing in his chest, and blood was pounding through his skull. A gryffindor he was not – and bravery had never been his thing, so he was all the more relieved to have Granger at his side. They had no idea where they were or where they were going – they didn't even know the true breadth of the tunnels, or how long it might take them to find anything. If there was even anything worth finding.

He couldn't help but wonder if Harappa had a magical chamber, too.

The narrow tunnel widened into a swell twice its width, and he heard a sharp breath chase from Granger's lungs. She stepped from his side, inspecting the walls, and Draco rolled out some of the tightness from his shoulders.

"We ought to take an inventory," Granger said. "Given we're stuck down here, we'll need to know what sort of supplies we've brought. Thankfully we collected more water from St Mungo's before returning."

"Right," Draco choked, carding a hand through his hair. He stopped when he realized how much dirt and dust were caked to his hands. "Yes – that's a good idea."

Granger dropped to the ground, digging through her beaded bag. Mindful of his ankle, which had been throbbing almost insistently as they'd walked, he took a seat beside her. His foot needed a rest, anyway, but he hadn't wanted to mention it, when Granger was literally going to die if they didn't figure this out.

She handed him an apple from her bag, and Draco took a slow bite as he dug through the contents of his bag. Stacks of their research, several books, a few gadgets and instruments – none of which seemed as if they'd be particularly helpful down here – and a bit of food and water. He grimaced, less than appeased with his supplies.

Granger's own collection was significantly better; she had a large collection of non-perishable snacks and a few more apples, and a wide variety of magical instruments and tools. Her eyes were scanning a page of notes on the tunnels they now found themselves trapped in.

She placed the notes on the floor in front of her, dropping her hands to her crossed knees.

Absently, she began to tear a strip from a shirt in her bag, holding it out to him. Draco accepted the fabric, recognizing her intentions, and did his best to fashion a makeshift binding for his ankle. Rising to his feet, he tested the foot with pressure – it was imperfect but helped nonetheless. He retook his seat beside her.

"Here is what we know," she began, turning to him. "Harappa must have had a hidden magical chamber, because they had the same access pillars as both Lothal and Mohenjo. So we've either been skirting around it, or travelling away from it. If we are going to learn something about the magic here, that might be our best hope."

"Even though the other chambers didn't turn up anything," Draco reminded her.

"That we know of." The sentiment hung between them – it had seemed like so long ago, but the rest of the team had still been working in the other two chambers earlier that day. He wondered whether Robards and Burke had reached out to Hikari.

Whether the rest of the team would have arrived back at the hotel to find the two of them missing. Whether someone might have thought something had gone wrong and sounded an alarm.

He didn't bring the idea up, in case there was nothing for it. They were far removed from the entrance of the tunnels now, and it was caved in anyway. Anyone who came looking for them would have faced the same fate.

"Hard to say if anyone will come looking for us down here," Granger said, voicing his own thoughts. "Or even if they'd be able to track us at all. Hopefully Burke and Robards will be informed."

"Right," Draco returned, his voice sounding falsely optimistic. "Someone could find us – and for the time being we'll carry on with our search. So when we get out of here, we'll know what to do."

Granger was silent, and he knew she could see through his words. He could see the shimmer to her eyes as she began packing things back into her bag, but opted not to press her.

She rose to her feet, dusting off her hands. Reluctant, Draco followed her, taking care with his bad ankle. Her gaze followed the movement. "Are you alright to carry on?"

He gave her a look. "Of course."

A faint smile flitted across her features as she raised her wand, gazing ahead into the unknown darkness. "Then let's go."

Chapter Text

Draco couldn't be certain how long they had walked, only that they paced through the tunnels of Harappa until his eyes were hot and stinging from the dust and the fatigue. His ankle was throbbing to the point that he didn't want to look at it for the inflammation he knew he would find.

And Granger looked to be growing weaker before his eyes. His heart clenched and seized at the sight of her, pale in the faint light of their wands, her skin clammy and sallow.

She wore a strained sort of look of determination on her face and every time Draco turned to suggest she take a break, something within him broke a little further at the knowledge that they needed to persist.

It had to have been at least an hour or two – and for all Draco knew, they'd been winding in circles, given the maze of tunnels – when he faltered. He turned to Granger; her breathing was louder, as if she'd been struggling to carry on.

"You need to sleep," he said, wincing at her expression. "Even just a few hours – please, Granger. I'll keep an eye out."

Her voice was hoarse as she breathed, "I can't."

There was a thin sheen of dust to her, hair curls tangled and matted as she swept them into a messy bun atop her crown. If Draco's hands and clothes were any indication, he looked much the same.

"Granger," he said, shaking his head, "I need you to keep your strength."

She shifted on her feet, grimacing. "Only a couple hours. But you need to sleep as well. And rest that ankle."

"Never mind my ankle," Draco scoffed, even as he shrunk at the look of concern on her face. Even sick and dying, she was worried for him.

Granger selected a spot on the floor and drew a blanket from her bag, ignoring the way it picked up the layers of grime on the floor. She blinked at him as he settled against the wall, propping his knees up. "Will you lay with me?"

"Of course," Draco returned, unable to deny her anything. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

She caught her lip between her teeth. "It feels strange, when… well, we both ought to try."

Next she pulled an instrument from her beaded bag, setting an alarm on it for two hours. Draco knew he would be pushing it to try and get her to sleep any longer, recognizing that it was better than nothing. There was a solemn look to her that twisted at his gut.

He took up the spot beside her on her blanket, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. He hummed into her dusty hair, dropping his lips to the back of her neck. "Sleep, my Granger."

Granger tucked further back into his arms, and within minutes he felt the soft evenness of her breathing.

Hermione startled awake at the ring of her alarm, blinking weary eyes as she stared at her surroundings, lighting her wandtip. It all came back to her like a bad dream, only it was all true.

The figure, the visions, the tunnels and the way their magic had ceased to work, shot down by the magic in the tunnels.

She could feel Malfoy's arms around her and clasped his hand with her own, before turning to face him. His breathing was shallow, but he stirred under her gaze, his eyes fluttering as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, a wrinkle in his brow as he drew away.

Hermione nodded, staring at him. "Better, I think." She rolled onto her back, gazing at the ceiling of the tunnels. "My brain felt so clouded before, I didn't even think of it – but we ought to mark our trail in a non-magical way, since the tracking spell failed when our magic cut out."

"Right," he said, swallowing. "Do you remember in our research? The tunnels weren't actually that extensive. We were probably circling the same area earlier."

"Not extensive, but confusing," Granger agreed. "Like a maze. It's good news, at least, because if there's something down here we'll find it."

"Something like a magical cavern," he nodded, rising to his feet and dusting himself off.

"Or remember," Granger said, feeling more alert as she rose as well. "The tunnels below Lothal had a vault. Maybe there's something like that here."

"It would be helpful if we could manage a brighter light source than our wands," Malfoy said, his eyes narrowed in thought. "We could have gone past something significant but been unable to see it."

She folded up her blankets, and with some effort and assistance, she managed to stow them back in the beaded bag. Her face tightened in concentration as she went back through the contents of the bag, before releasing a sharp breath and drawing something from deep within.

"I'd forgotten about this earlier," she said, shaking her head. "Merlin, I'd been fatigued. It's a Muggle flashlight, powered by batteries."

"I don't know what batteries are," Malfoy breathed, as she flicked the rubber button on the handle and a bright white light projected. "But have I told you you're brilliant?"

"I'm sure you have," Hermione teased, pressing against his side, "but it doesn't hurt to hear it again."

He grinned, but the expression softened moments later. "What would I do without you, Granger?"

She felt the sentiment deep within her, innate and significant, and she recognized what he was actually saying. She forced a smile. "You aren't through with me just yet, Malfoy. We have a couple days to figure this all out – and we will."

"We will," he affirmed, dropping a kiss to her temple. "Now we know the general idea of things down here. Now come – let's try again, but systematic this time."

Granger chewed her bottom lip with an intense sort of focus as she ran her fingers along the wall, embedded in a rough groove that spread from the floor to the ceiling. "What do you suppose it does?"

Draco shrugged, holding the flashlight aloft to project the white light on the surface she was studying. Despite knowing it wouldn't likely work, they had already attempted every spell they knew of in a weak effort to reveal anything. A door, or a passageway – but nothing had worked. Their magic had remained quiet in their veins.

"If we could access it somehow," he muttered to himself. He pressed a hand flat to the wall, feeling a rough curve inward. He swerved the flashlight towards his other hand, distracted from Granger's sound of irritation. His fingers traced the indentation as he huffed an incredulous breath. "You've got to be kidding me."

"What is it?" Granger breathed, stepping in closer. The brightness of the flashlight cast one side of her face into a pale relief. Her fingers met his, tracing the outline. "Is that – what I think it is?"

He shook his head, reaching into his bag and withdrawing the bull, careful to keep his fingers on the packaging and not the figure itself.

She whispered, "Do not tell me it's a bloody key." Eyeing his struggle to hold the bull, she gave him a gentle smile and took hold of the figure, pressing it against the indentation, maneuvering the protective packaging out of the way.

Draco released a breath as the wall began to shift to the side. He snickered, eyeing Granger. "I won't tell you, then."

"Unbelievable!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands as she tucked the bull back into her own bag. "So this underground magical society was using these bulls as a means to access – what exactly?"

"A blank wall," Draco returned, his brows flickering as he stepped forward into the chamber that had been revealed. "Anti-climactic, really."

They both jumped, startled, as the makeshift door rolled back into place. But Draco could see an indentation on the side facing them as well.

"Another door," Granger corrected, running her fingers along an similar outline in the next wall. "It's a double seal. What do you suppose lies beyond this one?"

"A triple seal?" Draco snickered, feeling lightness at the discovery despite the persistent direness of the situation. "Or a magical chamber? A vault?"

"My guess is a vault," Granger hedged, drawing the bull from her bag once more. As she pressed the bull into the wall, she said, "It almost feels too easy, doesn't it?"

He loosed a laugh in return. "Granger, nothing about any of this has been easy. We're just not used to anything actually working anymore."

She tittered, a tilt to her head as the wall began to rumble and shift. "Maybe you're right."

He caught her stare before whatever lay beyond was revealed, his hand taking hold of hers. "Whatever it is, Granger – we're here together."

She released a tight breath. "Together."

And a gasp chased from her throat at the illuminated sight before them.

Draco turned, swallowing a lump in his throat. The air here felt different, cold and treacherous, thick and stifling. Intimidating magic danced across his skin, toying and teasing at his own vulnerable and neutered core.

"Malfoy," Granger whispered, squeezing his hand. "I'm glad you're with me."

He knew she could feel it too. This – whatever this was – would be where their journey would end, for better or worse.

It was a cavern of sorts, similar to the ones they had found in Lothal and Mohenjo-Daro. An elaborate bronze table stood to one side, chairs overturned and laying on their sides on the floor. An enormous statue of the deity they had seen elsewhere stood against the far wall, its face tense and unforgiving. Paintings were slathered along the walls in bright pigments, although the ones here weren't of a joyful and celebratory nature.

"The paintings," Granger murmured at his side, her hand tight and clammy within his.

He swallowed once more, finding the strength only to nod.

The paintings here depicted not dockyards or agriculture, but monstrous beasts, flaming flashes of red pigment smeared across the walls. People who looked inherently ill. The skies overhead were dark and ominous.

"What happened here?" he whispered, easing a careful step into the chamber.

To his left and right, shelves had been carved into the walls, deep slab-like indents; baskets and crates littered the shelves and were strewn about, their contents spilled across the shelves and onto the floor.

"The shelves," Granger hissed, "they're like the vaults in Lothal. Only… nothing is hidden, here."

"It looks as if it's been ransacked," Draco said, drawing in a long breath for courage as he paced forward another step. "Like someone was looking for something."

"Madame Moreau?" Granger asked, shaking her head. "Someone else?"

"If Moreau had the figure before she found the tunnels," Draco said with a grimace. "Which means someone must have left it elsewhere. This could have been someone else entirely."

He gestured to a basket laying on the floor, several bull figures spilled out. Granger gave a sharp inhale.

"More keys," she whispered.

"The keys, it seems, were corrupted," Draco agreed. "So Moreau could have found it, thinking it was just a carving."

"Maybe she never made it to the tunnels after all," Granger said, shaking her head as she peered down at the bull figures. "If the magical practitioners here were using the bulls to access the chamber, and the magic of Harappa grew sentient and angry…"

He frowned, feeling a bitter tug at his lips. "The magic had a dark sense of humour."

"So if all of the keys became contaminated with the magic," she extrapolated, venturing further into the room, "the practitioners in Harappa could have unknowingly exposed themselves, and everyone." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Is that what happened to this magnificent society? They reached too far, bleeding the earth of its magic…"

Draco shook his head, coming up alongside her. "Maybe they left, not knowing why the magic turned against them. They left and got out – before it grew too bad."

He could feel the magic encroaching, twisting and wrapping around him, a chill coming to his very bones. There wasn't a doubt in Draco's mind he had become contaminated. He pulled Granger closer, his eyes falling shut. There was no way of telling how long the magic had been sealed away, building up in here – and they had just released it into the outer chamber.

There would be no way of escaping without releasing it into the tunnels in general – and into Harappa above.

And with such a great concentration of it…

Even if they somehow managed to find a way to fight off the magic, before it claimed them both, there was no way of knowing how far the corruption could spread. There were villages and cities in all directions, and if they released the magic, every case of illness or death would be on them. It would mean there would be no way of getting help back home.

And no way of ever returning back home, themselves.

The realization struck him with shattering force.

Her gaze flickered to meet his and Granger sunk closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her voice was soft and feeble, nothing more than an exhalation. "I don't think we can leave here."

He swallowed back the bitter sting of disappointment, mingled and dancing with fear so deep in his soul it caused a shake in his hands. "I think you're right."

She sniffled beside him, wiping a grimy hand at her eyes. "After all this, to come so far and end up so close…"

"I know," Draco whispered, his own eyes stinging as he pressed a kiss to her curls. "I know, Granger."

Ever the scholar, Granger lingered another moment by his side before venturing out, her fingers shifting through the baskets thrown from the shelves. She lifted a stack of paper, a gasp chasing from her lungs. Draco followed her, eyes widened as he saw the Indus symbols drawn on the parchment.

"Magically preserved, then," Draco inferred. "All of it. Like the chambers."

"I don't imagine I'll be able to see anything down here," Granger whispered, "but I'll try."

Her eyes fluttered shut, her hand finding his on instinct. She released a long breath, and her eyes opened again a moment later, staring but unseeing. She gave an ironic sort of chuckle, shaking her head. "Can you see them?"

Draco blinked into focus, tightening his grip on her, as he stared ahead with a weak, "Yes."

He could see the council of practitioners, dressed in bright and elaborate garb, seated around the table, its chairs straight and elegant. A collection of bull statues stood in the centre of the table – the magical keys – as some sort of meeting was held.

A man was seated at the head of the table and they all laughed and smiled, speaking rough syllables out of which Draco couldn't make sense.

Granger sniffled beside him, pulling him down to sit alongside her on the floor. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she watched on. The practitioners threw sparks and laughed, casting some sort of spell. The paintings on the wall hadn't always been so terrifying; in the memory of the past, they were cheerful and bright, like the adornments in Mohenjo-Daro.

Draco recognized the same herbs and crops painted in smudged pigments, because he had drawn them himself, lingering in the cavern before returning to the hotel just days ago. The drawings he had all but forgotten about, which now lingered in the endless stacks of his notes.

At some point in time, after this had all happened, the drawings had been painted over.

The council cast another spell, chanting in the direction of the deity. Sparks flew through the room, and the practitioners grinned and conversed amongst themselves again.

Tears were flowing down Granger's cheeks, even as her gaze remained fixed on the table, his hand tight within her iron grip.

A few of the assorted baskets were visible on the shelves of time long past, organized and tidy.

"They were so cheerful," Granger whispered, her voice thick as she continued to stare, unblinking. "Merlin, I hope they figured it out in time."

"They might have," Draco hedged. "They might have warned the others, in Mohenjo-Daro and Lothal, and everywhere. Maybe they left the bulls in here because they knew."

"Maybe," she whispered, shaking her head. "Draco, I can't believe this."

They fell into silence, watching the council of practitioners until their magical spells died away, their conversation ended, and one by one, they rose with their bull statues and left the chamber, releasing the two sealed doors.

Draco blinked, his eyes stinging, until only he and Granger remained.

His gaze fell on the crates strewn across the floor, and he made to release Granger's hand when she clenched harder than before.

A different group of people materialized in the room – they weren't of the Indus Valley and Draco blinked in confusion, retaking his position at her side.

The contrast couldn't have been more severe – while the magical practitioners of Harappa had been joyous and merry, the men who now filled the chamber were in a panic, throwing things from the shelves in growing desperation. The drawings on the wall depicted the same horrors as they did now.

Draco could hear the escalation of Granger's breath beside him as she rose to her feet, walking closer to peer at the men. He trailed along, watching in mounting fear – there were five men in total, tearing the chamber apart.

They wrenched at their hair, hands shaking and faces pale, coated with a sheen of sweat. He gave a sharp intake of breath to hear one of them speaking English.

"We'll never find it," the man exclaimed to his cohorts, releasing a sharp wail. "We'll never find the damn cure!"

Granger stepped back, startled, and released his hand as she stumbled over a crate. Her head was shaking as she still gazed ahead, blinking rapidly. "It's gone," she whispered.

Draco swallowed, his heart racing in his chest. "Who were they?"

She shook her head, at a loss for words. "Someone who found the tunnels long before we did." A hand covered her mouth as she gazed at the wreckage of the cavern in horror. "But what happened – they were looking for a cure."

"They'd been infected," Draco inferred, poking through one of the baskets on the floor.

He blinked down at the collection of bull figures. "There were eight practitioners. There are seven bulls here."

Granger pressed her lips together, nodding in acknowledgment. "Yours makes eight. They're all accounted for."

Draco sighed, running a filthy hand through his hair. "Thank Merlin for one small mercy, at the very least. The corruption will die here."

He didn't add the last, horrifying words. With them.

As Granger turned baleful eyes on him, he didn't need to.

Hermione sighed, shaking her head. The fatigue was back, pressing at her with insistence.

It was crazy to think that just hours ago they had harboured hope – hope for rescue or escape, hope for a cure, hope at a life after all of this.

And it had all been taken in the blink of an eye. She would never be free of the sickness, and she could only imagine Draco had contracted it as well, the way the magic hung heavy in the air like a haze.

They had found stacks of parchment with old Indus characters, baskets of bronze and jewels, a mixture of the mundane and the extravagant. But nothing that could offer them any solace in the situation.

No way to reach out to home – and no way to escape without exposing the dense magic in the second chamber to the ruins of Harappa above.

She righted one of the fallen chairs, sinking into it and dropping her head into her hands. Without the hope of hours earlier, the fatigue had swept in faster, pulling at her strength and her muscles, leaving her brain murky and tired. Her mouth felt thick and she was unable to speak, dropping her face to the cool surface of the table.

Malfoy pulled up a seat beside her, looking as exhausted as she felt. His brows were knitted as he stared at her, his grey eyes dull. "I'm so sorry, Granger."

Hermione sat up, taking his hand into hers. "I'm sorry – that it's all come to this."

His seat wobbled and he frowned in irritation, glancing down. Hermione might have laughed at the banality of it if her heart hadn't felt so bereft.

But he reached down and lifted something out from beneath the leg of his chair. It was a small leather-bound book, and he tossed it to the table in front of them.

Hermione looked up, toying with the thin book. "It must have been left by that crew of men we saw." She flipped through the first few pages, interest piqued despite herself. "It's a journal."

Malfoy shifted closer, leaning in to read over her shoulder. "They were part of the excavation crew?"

Hermione nodded, her fingers easing across the words. "They were here in 1924. They must have been the ones to discover the tunnels. Wizards, then."

She stared, fascinated, as they read through the small book. Malfoy swallowed as well, reading aloud. "The team is now ill. The figure we stumbled across in the northwest of Harappa has exposed a chamber of fell magic. We have yet to find any cure."

Several pages on, the tale continued. Hermione whispered the words to herself, her eyes widening as her heart raced. "We have determined a means to seal the magic within the chamber. The magic has done well to keep its source location hidden from all knowledge. It is vastly corrupt. Three of our team are now immobile, and I fear the same creeps into my own heart. Time is nearly out."

They exchanged a grim look. On the next page, Malfoy carried on.

"I am the last one yet alive," he read, a breath catching. "Only seven of the cursed figures lie here in this chamber, when eight chairs exist. I hope the last figure is buried deep, so this magic cannot ever be released, even as wisps of it linger in the ruins above, chasing down all memory of its continued existence."

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he continued to the last written page. "I have burned the bones of my comrades, in hopes it cleanse the cursed magic from their spirits. If my book remains in this chamber, I shall hope no one ever finds it, as it will mean I never discovered a cure or a means of escape. I shall seal the magic inside, and with it, myself. I pray it is never again exposed."

The rest of the pages were blank and silence fell over them like an insidious cloud.

Hermione choked on a sob, looking up at the chamber in which they were effectively entombed.

In a deep recess across the room, she could make out the faint outline of a skeleton and her hands began to tremble as she shook her head, harsh breaths chasing from her lungs as she clapped her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream.

"Shh," Malfoy breathed, pulling her closer, his forehead meeting the side of her temple. She could feel the moisture from his silent tears on her face. He murmured, "I've got you, Granger."

But she could only whisper in horror, "What have we done?"

Chapter Text

Draco stared, unseeing, into the floor. Likely, it had been hours since they had discovered the chamber and the truth behind the bulls. Since they had read the last words of a dying man.

It was strange, how the passing of time felt the same, even knowing he had days or maybe hours to live.

Granger had wept, lost of composure and hope, until she had fallen asleep, face buried in her arms on the council table. And Draco hadn't known what to say to her – not when he felt so devoid of hope himself.

He had moved her to her blankets on the floor and taken up vigil at her side, his back pressed against the hard stone wall. His ankle throbbed a dull rhythm, but he could scarcely feel it anymore in the light of what they had learned.

His mind churned and spun.

To think that they had finally found some answers, after everything. But now it was too late.

The man whose journal they found claimed he had managed to seal the magic inside the chamber, which might have been promising if not for the fact that he had needed to seal himself inside along with it. He'd claimed the corrupt magic itself fought to keep knowledge of its existence hidden.

Draco thumbed through the pages of the book, squinting at the tight script along the margin.

For sealing, the copy said. His heart jumped as he read through the incantation – but it was only to seal the second door so the magic would never escape of its own volition. There was no way to force the magic from the outer chamber to the inner. No way in which they could escape. And besides that, they couldn't make their wands work anyway.

He thought of Granger's words, when they had still been in London, quoted from Healer Randall. That they might one day dig too deep; that the magic may retaliate against them.

A bitter sort of irony tugged at his heart. This qualified.

Somehow, in all of their searching of the Indus sites, all their research in London and Harappa and in the weeks since Draco had approached Granger – they had reached too deep. They had angered the ancient magic simmering in Harappa. The same magic that had turned on its practitioners and forced them from their homes.

Granger stirred on the floor, her fingers constricting. Draco took hold of her hand, pressing his lips into a thin line.

The thought that he had almost allowed himself to consider a future with her felt like a cruel joke. That he might find true happiness, despite everything he had done in the past.

A thick lump settled in Draco's throat and he took a sip of his water, cognizant of the fact that there would be no way to collect more. Setting aside the skein, he dug through his bag with his free hand, drawing out the endless stacks of notes.

He leafed through the pages, settling at last on a drawing he had captured in the caverns in Mohenjo-Daro. The practitioners there had painted murals of crops, beneath a bright sky, much like the original paintings here in Harappa, before they had been painted over with the dire images of death and destruction.

He could only imagine how the practitioners had felt, when the magic turned against them. Their sheer terror.

His fingers trailed across the drawing and he remembered the time he and Granger had discussed their hobbies – the day when she had been in St Mungo's after her accident, looking forlorn and anxious.

She had said she liked to paint and asked whether he would show her one of his drawings.

A smile tugged Draco's lips at the memory of it. He stared down at the assortment of plants, crops of tall sheaves and shorter healing herbs.

Granger blinked awake and took up the seat beside him, rubbing at her eyes as her face dropped to his shoulder. "You drew this?"

"Yes," Draco agreed, nodding. "In Mohenjo – these same crops were painted here, in the past."

"I remember," she breathed. The softness of her voice stirred something anxious in Draco's soul. "They're lovely. I regret I never had a chance to show you any of my paintings."

He forced a smile, dropping a kiss into her hair. "I would have liked that." His eyes fluttered and he attempted to stifle a yawn behind his hand, feeling fatigue encroach. He wondered if it was the same feeling Granger had spoken of, now affecting him as well.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered, her brown eyes alert.

"Tired," Draco admitted. "I can't even imagine what the magic in the chamber is doing to us… whether we'll even have as much time as Randall said when you became sick."

Granger released a long breath. "I doubt it."

He nodded, wondering at the frantic rhythm of his heart. "It's… a strange feeling, isn't it?"

"Yes." Tears sprung from her eyes again and her gaze remained fixed ahead. "I guess I still believed, somewhere deep down, that we were going to figure this out. I didn't think..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I just thought we were working so hard, right? Eventually our efforts would come to something. And to think, now we're to sit here and wait… until the end."

"If this has to be our end, Granger," Draco breathed, his mouth dry. "I'm glad to be here with you." He swallowed, his own eyes stinging. "I'm so bloody glad you gave me a chance, and we were able to put everything behind us…" He stared ahead, thumbing absently through the journal. "You've made me happy, Hermione, in a life when I didn't imagine I'd ever feel that way again."

She was silent for a long moment, her hand grasping his. Her rattling breaths were punctuated with sniffles and she breathed, "I love you."

Draco's eyes snapped to her, dumbstruck, as he blinked.

"I know," she muttered, swiping at an eye, "it feels contrived and false and like I'm just saying it… but I'm not and I just need you to know… you've made me so happy."

She paused, silent tears pouring down her cheeks. "And Draco – I will die here with you, if this is the end we've been given. And I will do so with pride, at the side of a man who has traded in the poor cards he was dealt to make his own path. I will only regret the whole world didn't get to see it."

She sniffled again, eyes falling shut as she steadied her breathing.

"Hermione," Draco choked, swallowing as moisture stung at his own eyes. He shook his head, a swelling of emotion in his chest. "I love you. I don't even deserve you, but –"

Her lips found his, catching him off guard, but she pushed herself up to his chest until she was in his lap, kissing him with a fierce sort of delirium. Her fingers buried in his hair; she pressed herself against him until he could feel moisture on his cheeks and he wasn't certain the tears were hers.

Draco kissed her in return, hands skimming her sides and her chest, even as something deep within him broke at the desperation between them. Her trembling fingers pulled at his collar, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until she drew away, releasing a sharp breath.

He kissed her again, slower, his heart racing in his chest. When she returned her efforts to his shirt, Draco murmured against her lips, "What are you doing?"

Granger leaned back, her bloodshot eyes meeting his. "I thought, if we're both going to die, maybe…"

He smiled, his heart breaking at the sight of her. "You're so bloody beautiful, Granger." She blinked at him, her fingers trailing patterns across his abdomen. "I want to," he whispered, "but you're crying. We're in an ancient cavern full of corrupt magic. There's an actual skeleton in the corner… and I need you to keep your strength."

Her hands dropped away, and she offered him a watery snicker. "I want to have sex with you, Draco Malfoy, because then at least we'll die smiling."

He laughed aloud despite himself, sweeping away a tear from beneath her eye. "Believe me, I want to have sex with you too, but I don't know how much energy we have left… and…"

He trailed off, shaking his head. She was magnificent, even crying and filthy, and everything he would ever want – and she was about to die. In every fibre of his being rose a wild vehemence and a bold defiance of their circumstances. He couldn't sit by and watch that happen.

"And Merlin, Granger," he went on, pressing his lips to hers again with insistence, "but I'm not going to just sit here and lose you."

A wrinkle came to her brow as she shifted from his lap, watching as Draco rose to his feet and walked to the door. He flipped through the journal again, landing on the page with the incantation. Granger paced to his side, peering at the page he was reading.

"Even if we could somehow pull the magic from the outer chamber," she whispered, her words rolling fast, "our wands won't channel our magic. We only had enough for a simple lumos, remember?"

Draco's gaze swept the chamber, searching for anything they could possibly use. "There is magic down here, we just can't use our wands. The bulls had magic in them – if we can somehow wield them…"

Granger shook her head, consternation on her brow. "The magic had been released from the bulls and confined in the chamber. I don't imagine they'd have enough of the corrupt magic to sequester the rest of it."

Draco kicked his bag. "Moreau's figure – it's been sealed since it was brought into the Auror's Office."

At the way her eyes brightened, his heart rate sped up, pounding a desperate beat against his chest. "Do you think it's possible? Can we use the bull as a wielding device?"

"I don't know," Granger whispered, a quick shake to her head. "We would have to release it from its protective packaging, and make the attempt fast, before its magic abates. It would probably take our combined power. But I'm certainly no expert on wandlore."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "How would we clear the magic from the outer chamber?"

Her eyes narrowed and fixed on the wall. "I don't know. Evanesco, confringo… aguamenti? Could we drown the magic?"

"Not without drowning ourselves," Draco quipped.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, blinking several times. "We could try to –" Granger cut herself off as she lost her balance and stumbled, her hand landing hard on the jagged wall before Draco could catch her, his eyes wide in fear.

"Granger," he hissed, taking her hand; blood seeped from several scrapes on her palm. She blinked weary eyes at him, her vision unfocused. "Granger! Are you alright?"

"Think so," she said, "just a bit dizzy."

"Fuck," Draco cursed as he paced the chamber, mentally cataloguing every spell he could think of that could pull the magic from the outer chamber and somehow trap it inside while they escaped into the outer – it would be their only chance to seal the magic without trapping themselves as well. He cringed as he ran a hand through his dirty hair, realizing, "I don't know of any spells strong enough."

Granger paced to the next wall, sinking down to the ground. "Just going to sit for a minute," she mumbled, her words slurring; it set Draco's every nerve on edge to think that the magic was impacting her so intensely so soon. It had taken the Aurors weeks to progress, but they hadn't been exposed to a chamber full of it. She continued, "Air feels a bit nicer over here."

He pressed his lips into an approximation of a smile, pacing the chamber. "Just hold tight, Granger."

Draco fixed a stare on the wall beside Granger's head, frowning to see there was a shimmer in the fabric of the lingering magic. He stepped into the space beside her, blinking.

"It is fresher," he said, surprised. "I wonder why that is?"

Granger's breathing was shallow, her eyelids fluttering as she stared at him. There were several overturned crates in the corner and she shifted through them with one hand, keeping the other firmly planted on the stone beside her.

His eyes landed on a small artefact with a smudge of Granger's blood on it and Draco started. "Let me bandage your hand, please," he requested.

But she shook her head. "It's fine." Her eyes shuttered again before she blinked at him, offering a smile. "Let's find out what's affecting the magic in this corner."

Nodding, Draco released a tight breath. His mind spun with the smallest of hopes that they might be able to use the magic from the bull to channel the sealing incantation – it was uncharted territory being so ancient, and he didn't know if it was even possible. Provided they could figure out a way to ward away the magic.

He rifled through the crates, a desperate sort of panic rising in his chest which he attempted to quell with little success. On the floor beside him, Granger's breathing rose in volume, growing erratic as she took deep breaths.

"Hold on," Draco ground through his teeth, "just fucking hold on."

He carded his fingers through his hair in frustration, and his eyes fell on the artefact with Granger's blood on it. Beside it lay a small container made of woven fibres, and most assuredly preserved with magic like the rest of it. It was more banal than most of the other objects but something about it held Draco's gaze. He might have overlooked it entirely if not for her blood.

He took the small woven package into his hands, peeling the weave open with care. Like everything else in the chamber, its contents were preserved. It was a small stack of dried leaves – some sort of herb – wide with feathered edges.

Draco held up one of the leaves to take a closer look in the dim light of Granger's flashlight, and he noticed her staring as well.

"It's…" she began, swallowing, "from your drawings."

His gaze met hers, his heart pulsing wild in his chest. He darted back to his bag and found the drawing of the herbs from Mohenjo-Daro once more. His fingers grazed the drawing and he breathed, "You're right. Why would they have gone to the efforts to preserve these down here? Do you recognize the leaves?"

Granger squinted, holding out a hand. Draco passed her the leaf and she cradled it in her palm, peering closer and inhaling its fragrance. "I think I do… but I can't place it offhand."

"There are others," Draco went on, digging through the rest of the basket. More woven packages of dried herbs – all the same leaves, some fragile and broken and in varying stages of disintegration. "If they painted this plant on their walls –"

"They valued it," Granger inferred, still staring at the leaf in her palm. "Perhaps their healers utilized…" she trailed off, her lips parted as her eyes snapped to him. Her voice dropped to a whisper when she went on. "It's called tulsi."

"Tulsi," Draco went on, frowning. "It sounds vaguely familiar. Why preserve it here?"

"Also known as Holy Basil," Granger recited, her voice breathy; Draco could have cried to hear her sound so scholarly in so tense a moment. "Tulsi is regarded as a sacred plant in Hindu culture, considered a physical manifestation of the goddess Tulsi."

His breath chased from his lungs. Granger rubbed at her eyes and went on.

"It's known for its restorative and spiritual properties… for anti-inflammation, rejuvenation, detoxification," she went on, shaking her head. "I don't remember."

"So if it was so highly prized in Hinduism," Draco inferred, "the people of the Indus Valley might have valued it for the same reasons. If it had healing properties."

She gave a shrug. "It sounds likely."

They held one another's gaze for a long moment, Draco hardly daring to breathe. He began, his tone delicate, "Do you suppose it might…"

Her lips thinned. "It's… possible."

She took the stem of her leaf between two fingers and waved it in the air; the dense magic twisted and repulsed from the herb. The breath chased from Draco's lungs.

"It's…" she said, shaking her head, eyes shimmering with moisture. "It's repelling the magic."

Draco held the woven package in his hand and swept it through a cloud of the magic; it dispersed, chasing away from the herbs. "I can't believe this. We can… take the tulsi." His heart felt fit to burst at the thought of it.

"We can try." Granger's eyes widened as the haze of disorientation faded from her stare. "We need to get out of here – we need to reach St Mungo's and –"

She mashed at the Portkey on her collar with fury, catching Draco's hand with her other. But nothing happened and her face deflated.

The quiet realization settled across Draco. "Even if this herb is a way to prevent the illness from spreading, or Merlin willing, a cure… we still have no way to reach the Ministry."

"Even if," Granger elaborated, gesturing with a hand, "we can somehow break out of this cavern, if we can somehow seal the magic inside and utilize Moreau's bull… we're still trapped below Harappa. We won't be able to get through that cave-in without magic."

Draco released a noise of frustration, setting the woven package atop the nearest crate and fisting his hands in his hair. "We can't be this close and have no way out!" His heart was racing, chest heaving with his breath. His voice dropped. "We just can't."

"They still have a day or two," Granger hedged, "back in London… I think. I'm afraid I've lost track of time."

"So have I," Draco admitted. "But how are we meant to let them know?"

The rising frustration in his chest built to a breaking point and he shook his head, a bitter sort of disappointment settling in his heart.

"I have an idea," Granger whispered, stumbling to her feet. Her balance was weak as she reached a hand out to steady herself, and she paced slowly to her bag with the woven packets of herbs in her other hand. She tucked the journal into the beaded satchel and collected the sealed bull figure, as well as a few of the pages of Indus characters.

Draco grabbed his bag and slung it over one shoulder, following her lead and grabbing the last of their things.

She met his gaze, her eyes fluttering, as she pressed the sealed figure to the first door. "We're going to get out of here, Draco – somehow."

He swallowed, wishing they had a way. With so many of the answers at their fingertips but no way to pass them back to London…

The door to the cavern rolled away with a great rumble; Granger slipped one of the extra bulls into the seal on the cavern side, to ensure the door stayed open from within.

The air in the outer chamber was as hazy with the magic as they had feared, thick and noxious; it set Draco's pulse racing to think that only one wall remained between the magic and the ruins above.

Using one hand to steady herself, Granger peeled open one of the woven packages and began to disperse the leaves through the second chamber. To Draco's astonishment, the haze of the magic began to retreat into the main cavern, the air in the second chamber clearing.

"You're brilliant," he whispered, eyes wide as he followed suit with the remaining leaves.

"We will need to keep Moreau's figure with us," Granger breathed; Draco could see the pallor to her skin, and the way a thin sheen of sweat had broken out on her temples. "But it will remain sealed in the secondary chamber, with no way to access it."

"Granger, take the tulsi," Draco urged, pressing a few of the leaves into her hands. "Please."

"We need to repel as much of the magic as possible," she whispered, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Once we seal the magic inside… we can take the tulsi. If it works… great. And if it doesn't..."

Draco swallowed, not needing her to finish the sentiment. If it didn't work, they wouldn't need to find a way out. They would never get a cure back to London. And everyone affected by the illness wouldn't survive the week.

He gave her a shuddering nod.

"And if we can't repel all of the magic back into the cavern," Draco began, carding a hand through his tangled hair. "It will only disperse as far as it can saturate. And remember, the magical dispersion in Moreau's house didn't make it that far."

"So if a small measure of it gets free," Granger breathed, sinking back against the wall, "it might be okay."

"Right." Draco felt exhaustion tugging at the recesses of his mind, the illness affecting him as well. "Let's release the door then – and we'll attempt to seal the magic inside with Moreau's bull."

He paced back into the main cavern, and with one last look around, he knocked the bull loose from where it was inserted, tossing it back into the heap with the rest of them. He made his way back into the secondary chamber with Granger as they watched the door slide shut.

"Do you suppose it needs the seal?" Granger asked, eyeing the figure in its protective packaging.

"Would it hurt?" Draco returned with a shrug. "If the excavators thought it was necessary, we ought to try."

"But we will leave Moreau's bull inside this chamber," she pointed out. Draco caught her gaze, sighing, even as she shook her head. "No – let's at least try… just in case."

She offered the bull that Draco had toiled over for what felt like far longer than it had truly been. The sleepless nights, the hours upon hours of researching and struggle –

He gave Granger a tight smile. She held the journal in her hands, open to the page with the incantation. "This is it, then. Time to see if we can wield repressed magic through an ancient, cursed doll." He caught her eye with a smirk. "Just any other… Tuesday?"

"Is it Tuesday?" she asked, her face twisting with thought. "Wednesday?"

Draco hesitated. "I think it's… you know what – never mind."

Granger released a soft giggle and Draco grinned despite himself, taking her hand and sliding his fingers between hers. He cast her a sidelong look, pressing a kiss to her temple. He felt the significance of the situation in her returning stare as she handed him a sharp instrument imbued with damaging magic from her bag.

Draco released a long exhale as he sliced through the packaging, taking the bull figure bare into his hand. Granger's eyes fell shut as he brandished the bull towards the wall ahead of them, reciting the incantation from the excavator's journal.

The cursed magic of the figure coursed through him, drawing from his own magical core and Draco could feel Granger's magic flowing through him as well. It would have felt incredibly intimate if not for the intensity of the situation.

The magic pulled, ripping at him, and Draco ground his teeth against the corruption in the figure as he fought off the intrusion with the remaining vestiges of his strength. He pushed against the magic, forcing the incantation to take hold, until at last he felt his own magic cleansing the corruption and chasing through the bull like a conduit.

The seal around the cavern lit with a brilliant blue light, before fading away.

Draco panted, his heart racing and chest heaving as the bull fell to the floor with a clatter, its power spent.

"Did it work, do you think?" he breathed, one hand hand dropping to his knee in his fatigue.

Granger's fingers slipped from his as she collapsed back against the wall and Draco's heart plummeted into his stomach. Her breathing was shallow, sweat collected on her pale face as her eyes fell shut.

"Granger," he whispered, dropping to her side. "Hermione."

Panic racing through his soul at her lack of response, Draco gathered up as much of the tulsi as he could manage, thrusting a handful of it into his bag. He lifted Granger's prone form against him; her beaded satchel hung from her shoulder.

Then he seized the bull from the floor and thrust it against the door of the second seal, impatience and terror coursing through him as the door rolled open.

Draco laid Granger on the ground, her back propped against the wall, unwilling to look at her blank expression. He threw the bull back into the second chamber just as the door came to a close, sealing the cursed figurine inside forever.

His heart pounded as he returned to his bag, forcing open Granger's mouth and shoving several of the dried tulsi leaves onto the back of her tongue, having broken them up into pieces. He massaged her throat as he poured the last of her water into her mouth, feeling a jolt to his heart as she swallowed of her own volition.

Next Draco consumed some of the tulsi leaves himself, hoping against everything that the herb would help.

His heart throbbed in his chest at the thought that he still had no way out of the tunnels and no way to get a report back to London. In desperation, Draco threw the contents of his bag onto the floor of the tunnel, leafing through notes and instruments with abandon, wishing there was anything at all that could help.

Granger's breathing was laboured beside him, her head lolling to the side to rest on her shoulder. Unable to steady his breathing, Draco pulled her closer to his side. Panic and fear chasing through his veins, he dropped a kiss to her hair.

"I don't know what to do, Granger," he whispered, feeling his hopelessness manifest as moisture in his eyes. "I don't know how to get us out of here."

She released a sigh, her body trembling in his arms. He couldn't lose her, not after everything they'd been through.

Startled, he looked down to realize the tremble was a twitch in her hand. Her hand was curled into a loose fist but for her pointer finger. Following the movement, Draco realized she was reaching for the distinctive pale purple of an interdepartmental memo stuck between a few sheets of parchment.

"It's okay, Granger," he breathed, pulling her closer against him.

But she was insistent, her fingers curling towards the memo. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Draco's mind raced as he tried to follow her thought processes. The fatigue pulled at his hazy brain, tugging at his own eyelids. His head rolled and he started, eyes flying open. And at once, it clicked.

"The memo," he hissed; Granger's fingers curled around his and her head dropped to his shoulder.

He had almost forgotten because it had been such a new development, but with the increase in lost interdepartmental memos in recent months, Minister Shacklebolt had strengthened the charm on all memos.

The innocuous sheets of parchment were now spelled to reach their destination in the Ministry, no matter the circumstances.

Heart racing, Draco rifled through his bag for a self-inking quill. He scrawled a hasty message, his hand shaking so hard the words were barely legible.

Trapped in tunnels beneath Harappa.

GIVE THEM TULSI.

DM

The quill fell from his fingers with a rattle to the hard earthen floor; he blinked several times, eyelids thick with exhaustion as he watched the memo fold into shape and take flight.

Then his head fell back and everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Draco jolted awake, eyes wide and startled. He was soaked in a cold sweat, his heart racing with abandon in his chest as if it would never cease. As if it would drive him to his death.

He gasped, choking for fresh air, panic pushing through his veins and fueling his heart. Darkness lay all around him and he could feel, only on instinct, the presence of another at his side. Hermione. She lay against the wall beside him and he could feel that her head was rolled to the side. Her breathing was shallow in the silence that hovered around and enclosed in upon them.

There was a strange and unfamiliar taste in his mouth and his stomach rolled with the stabbing pain across his skin. He lifted a hand to his middle, his fingers thick and unmanageable.

Draco clutched at his chest, crying out at the agony pouring through his every nerve. He was going to die here – he didn't even know where here was – and as sweat poured from his temples, his eyes rolled back into his skull and he slipped into blessed darkness.

There were voices as Draco's eyes fluttered open. Anxious, urgent voices, paired with anxious, urgent faces. Lights flickered in and out of his periphery, and in the distance, a roaring quake.

Someone was shouting something, their voice vague and muffled. Draco groaned, his head falling to the side as he blinked, lifting a leaden hand to his forehead. His heart throbbed a dull pace to match the slow rhythm of his breathing.

"Hermione," he mumbled, his head dropping forward into his chest. He felt sticky and miserable; how long had it been since he had showered? When had he last eaten?

The ground beneath him was hard, the walls dark and crudely carved. He blinked, awareness floating in and out like the rise and fall of the tide. His skin felt detached from his body, crawling with a life of its own and still people lingered, shouting words he couldn't comprehend as spots of light hovered before him.

Someone was prying Draco's bag from his grip and he clung to the strap, his vision hazy and unseeing as the faces around him grew blurred and indistinct. "No," he cried, shaking his head.

He felt fingers coil around his wrist and thrashed; all he could hear was the steady pound of his blood in his ears. He choked a breath, struggling to draw oxygen and another hand grabbed hold of his other wrist.

Draco pulled at his arms, moisture blocking his vision as he exerted the last of his strength and fell into nothing.

Heat. Nothing but stifling, unbearable heat. Draco came to with a sharp cry, a terrible searing in his skin and bones, boiling his brain in his skull.

Bright flashes of light shot fire through his entire being and Draco twisted to the side, his tongue dry and throat hoarse from the white hot flames ripping through it. Tears broke from his eyes, tracing paths of agony across his cheeks.

He gasped, fingers reaching out, blind. He heard a low keen and it took long seconds to realize it came from somewhere within him.

He wasn't alone, and he knew there was someone who was meant to be with him – but she wasn't. He choked on a name, the word feeling at once a part of him and unfamiliar. His head rolled to the other side, but through the blur nothing made any sense.

Someone exclaimed, "We're losing him!"

The words danced around Draco's skull from within like the hammer crushing it from the outside. His fingers closed around something, he couldn't tell what, before he felt a sharp sting brush across his skin.

With another strangled cry, the heat took him.

There were certain things she remembered and large blocks of time she couldn't. Some parts, she couldn't reconcile with whether or not they were a dream.

She thought she could remember faces – Hikari, Dean, Burke, and maybe Robards – although they were all discordant and out of order, like she'd emerged from a delirious fever state.

But when Hermione opened her eyes to the stark whiteness of a St Mungo's examination room, she couldn't keep the swelling of emotion from her chest. She blinked several times, meeting the startled hazel eyes of Theodore Nott.

"Granger," he bit out. "You're awake."

Hermione stared up, registering the feel of her body between the sheets. The heaviness of her head on the pillow. "I think so."

She lifted a hand; her skin looked pale and bruised and her palm was pink and slathered with paste, as if healing.

"Good," Nott said, consternation in his brow. "Randall will be back shortly."

"How long have I been here?" Her throat felt raw and hoarse, her mouth dry.

"You've been here in St Mungo's for around twelve hours," Nott said, busying himself with a few vials at her bedside. "But you and Draco returned to Harappa somewhere around three days ago."

"Three days," she whispered; her brain felt thick and clunky. Her eyes shot open and she caught Nott's wrist in urgency. "Where is Draco?"

"Draco is next door," Nott said, eyeing an instrument as he gently extracted his wrist from her fingers. "You've both been through physical and magical hell, Granger. Let me be the first to say, it's a wonder you've survived."

"The cavern," she whispered, rubbing a hand at her temple. It was the last thing she remembered: her magic being pulled from her core and funneling through Draco; she shuddered at the memory of the way the corrupted magic in the bull figure had coiled and twisted with their own. She wondered how close she had been to her magic burning out entirely. "Is he alright?"

"He's fine," Nott said, and she could hear the relief colouring his tone. She felt awash in the same. "He will be very happy to know you're awake."

Something else pulled at her brain, even as the pieces of the last few days still struggled to come together in a jumbled state.

"Furthermore," he went on, "you will be happy to know the last traces of the magical illness have left your system. It's difficult to say whether there will be any long term effects... but you're out of any immediate danger."

"Really," she whispered, remembering how they had discovered the tulsi – but she couldn't remember having taken any of it. She swallowed, realizing Draco must have been responsible – that he had acted to save her life. A breath chased from her lungs. "Harry! And Seamus – and the other Aurors –"

Nott's face set in a grim line and he stared at her for a long moment; Hermione felt her heart crash in her chest. "We had to drop Aurors Cary and Milano into a stasis to allow the tulsi to take hold in their bloodstream. Cary is still out… and Milano awoke this morning." He fiddled with another device, as if his words hadn't just kick-started something deep within her. "Potter and Finnigan are responding well. You and Draco certainly pushed it to the eleventh hour. But you did it, Granger. They're all going to be fine as far as we can tell."

"Fine," she choked, tears springing to her eyes. She swiped at the moisture, not wanting to cry in front of Nott. But she just shook her head, whispering, "They're fine."

Something significant and understanding was in Nott's gaze as he clapped her on the shoulder, his fingers reassuring. "Just fine," he repeated. "It wasn't looking good; we didn't think…" He trailed off, giving her a tight smile. "Those Aurors were lucky to have you and Draco in their corner."

Hermione nodded, clapping a hand over her mouth as the implication settled in. Harry and Seamus were okay. Draco was okay and they were back in London.

"How did we even get back here?" she asked. Last she could remember, they had been trapped in the tunnels below Harappa, unable to access their magic and a cave-in blocking their entrance.

"That is a question for your boss," Nott said with a shrug. "Your Unspeakables won't tell me anything, of course, never mind that I virtually brought you back to –"

He cut himself off as the door opened and a jolt chased through her. Healer Randall walked in, speaking with Unspeakable Burke, and Hermione couldn't keep a smile from her face when they both paused, eyes wide in surprise.

"Granger," Burke said with a nod, taking up the seat at her bedside. He cast a glance towards Randall, who nodded and took her Healers from the room. Then Burke turned back to face her. "Thank Merlin you're awake."

"Unspeakable Burke." Hermione pressed her lips together, feeling another swelling of emotion. "Healer Nott's informed me of the recent developments… he said the Aurors are all okay?"

"They will be," Burke said, his voice thick. "You and Auror Malfoy really pulled it off, Granger."

"And how did we get here?" she asked, rubbing her head. "I don't remember much past sealing the magic in the chamber – Auror Malfoy must have given me the tulsi."

"Malfoy sent a Ministry memo. Quite a stroke of brilliance if I'm honest – those buggers will survive anything," he said with a bit of a chuckle. "Hikari and Auror Thomas were able to locate where the two of you must have entered the tunnels and correctly inferred you had lost control of your magic upon entering – so they brought in a Muggle excavation crew to clear the rubble with their equipment. They've since been Obliviated, of course."

"Of course," Hermione murmured, distracted as she attempted to process everything. "Sir, the bulls were keys to access a magical chamber. The magic in Harappa was –"

Burke held up a hand, even as his brows flickered in surprise. "Robards and I will confer with both you and Auror Malfoy to report everything that happened since we last saw you here in London. But it can wait until you've left the hospital. I daresay it will be a riveting tale."

Her lips twitched. "You won't even believe it."

Barking a laugh, Burke shook his head. "I've seen a lot, Unspeakable Granger – but I think you might be right." He rose to his feet. "Get some rest and we will talk more when you're back in the office."

"Can I see Auror Malfoy?" she asked, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "Is he well enough?"

Burke hesitated before shaking his head. "I'm not sure. I think he is speaking with Robards."

Something leapt in Hermione's chest at the thought that he was healthy and they were back in London, together, and they had achieved their mission. Even at the thought, she hesitated. They didn't know what life would be like together, now that they were back home.

She didn't know how he would feel about the idea. With his friends, his mother, his father, who was in Azkaban…

She shook off the thoughts, smiling at her superior. "Thank you."

With a nod, Burke took his leave.

While Hermione waited for the Healers to return so she could ask them about Draco, her eyes drifted shut and she fell once more into sleep.

Draco adjusted his tie as he paced the hallway, nerves prickling his skin. He didn't remember having seen Hermione since she had been halfway dead in his arms, deep in the tunnels of Harappa.

He still couldn't believe it – that the tulsi had actually worked to eradicate the magical sickness from their blood, that the memo had arrived at Robards' desk in time, that Hikari had led the team involved in their rescue. According to the Healers, it had been a harrowing process to bring the two of them around and he was grateful he couldn't remember it.

He pressed his lips tight at the emotion roiling within him.

He and Granger had said a lot of things to one another, in those final hours before they'd sealed the cavern, when they had been convinced they were going to die.

But now, Draco found he was hesitant. A life together in London was new territory and it was strange to think that it had been less than two months since he had knocked on her door with a cursed figure. Strange to think of how entirely his life had shifted since then.

While he had been recovering, Robards had been by his hospital room to speak with him. The man was composed by nature, but there had been something disconcerting in his eyes as he had clapped Draco on the shoulder and thanked him for his dedication.

He adjusted his tie again, feeling warm around the throat.

Draco supposed he might be given more cases, now. Maybe the other Aurors wouldn't treat him so poorly.

But ultimately, the thought that he had been a part of the mission that had saved the lives of four of his colleagues, as well as Granger, was enough.

He only hoped she hadn't come to regret her words, induced by sickness and a fear of imminent death.

He tapped on the door before turning the handle, slipping inside. To his surprise, Granger was dressed and seated cross-legged on the bed, a book in her hands. She looked up at his entrance; something in the pull of her brow jolted Draco square in the chest. Then her lips turned into a smile as she marked her page and set the book aside.

"Hi," she said, lifting a hand towards him – and then she let it fall to the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," Draco said with a nod as he paced closer. He took up a seat on the edge of her bed. "And you? Theo says you're about ready to be discharged."

She released a tight huff and nodded. "Just about. Hikari and Dean were just by to drop off my things from the hotel in Lahore."

Draco swallowed, noting the hesitation in her gaze as she stared at him. "Same."

Granger worried her lip for a moment before her fingers reached out to graze his. "Look, I know we both said some things in the cavern… and I just want you to know, I don't expect you to…" she trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "It was a tense situation, you know?"

"Right," Draco said, retracting his fingers, feeling a sharp sting beneath his ribcage. "Of course."

"You know," she went on, a bright flush to her cheeks. "If you didn't mean it… I understand."

"I meant it," Draco blurted before he could stop himself. Her chocolate eyes met his. "I meant all of it, Granger."

Her brows curved up as she exhaled, a smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, good! Merlin. I've been so..."

He grinned, elation pulsing through his veins. "Me too," he admitted. "I didn't know, once we got back to London, whether you would even still want any of this."

Her head tilted and she shook her head, staring at him with watery eyes. "I want all of this, Draco."

His heart was racing and Draco felt like he couldn't breathe as he stared at her, taking his hand in his; he never wanted to let go. "You've got it, Granger."

She leaned forward on the bed, her lips pressing to his in a soft kiss. She smiled as she slipped the book into her bag and rose to her feet. "Than shall we finally leave this blasted hospital?"

"That sounds like a great idea." He gave her a slow grin, standing to follow her from the room. "Granger?"

She paused, turning back to face him. "What is it?"

Draco stepped closer, a hand lingering at her waist. "I'm so relieved you're alright. In that tunnel, when I thought you were going to die…" He swallowed, eyes tight. "Well, I'm glad to have you in my life. I'm glad of this experience, despite everything else, because it brought you to me. You know?"

Her face softened as she stared at him; his heart throbbed in his chest. "I know," she whispered, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I feel the same. But we're both okay. And now…" she trailed off, offering him a breathtaking smile. "Now we get another chance, together. And I'm looking so forward to it."

A slow smirk tugged at his mouth as he pulled her closer, lips meeting hers.

Burke exchanged a glance with Robards, rubbing at the back of his neck. A heavy furrow was settled in his brow. He set his quill down on top of the report.

Robards opened his mouth and closed it again. He leafed through the excavator's journal, shaking his head and running his other hand through his hair. He grimaced and adjusted his glasses.

Draco caught Hermione's hand beneath the table.

"That's..." Burke began, brows flickering. "Really?"

"Really," Draco affirmed. Hermione's lips quirked into a musing smile. "That's what happened."

"Keys," Robards repeated. "So you think the people of the Indus Valley were driven out by this magic." He stared between the two of them.

"It's our suspicion," Hermione returned, "but of course, we can't know for certain. I… wasn't able to see anything more before everything happened and we left Harappa."

"And this magic," Burke said, waving a hand. "The corrupted bulls and everything… it was the ancient magic of the earth, grown sentient and retaliating."

Draco nodded, even as he gave a shrug. "Again, our best guess, based on everything we learned while we were over there."

"Fascinating," Robards said, shaking his head. "And of course, based on our reports from the other Aurors and Unspeakables on the case, this all lines up."

"So," Burke said, setting his hands down on the table. "I suppose you're both eager to take on another case." Then he cracked a grin, exchanging a laugh with Robards.

Hermione swallowed and gave her superior a brief nod. "Of course, sir."

Robards waved a hand. "Take the rest of the week, I think. With pay, of course. You both nearly died and burnt out your magical cores all at once."

Draco exchanged a private glance with Hermione before turning back to Robards. "Thank you."

"And then, Auror Malfoy," Robards continued, sitting up straighter in his seat. "I'll have to see about finding you a new case to lead." His voice dropped, and he added, "You've more than earned it."

Draco huffed a laugh, a slow smile pulling at his lips. "Thank you, sir. I'll look forward to it."

Hermione's hand gave his a squeeze.

Robards and Burke rose to their feet, collecting their belongings. Burke looked at Granger, quirking a brow. "Same to you, Unspeakable Granger. I think you have a long and successful career in the Department of Mysteries ahead of you."

Draco glanced to her, feeling a smile of his own at the tug on her lips.

Chapter Text

Hermione stepped through the Floo, nerves playing at her as she looked around the clean flat with modern furnishings. Draco peered around the corner, his lips quirking into a grin upon seeing her.

"Hi," he said, stepping closer. "Are you just about set?"

"I don't know if I'll ever be set," she admitted, her fingers entwining with his.

He rolled his eyes, snickering. "You'll be fine. She already likes you, anyway. She's been hoping for this ever since she found out you were the Unspeakable I've been working with."

Hermione sighed, even as his words caused her to relax just a bit. Tea with Narcissa Malfoy was a daunting thought, but at least Draco had convinced his mother to come to his flat instead of hosting the two of them at the Manor.

She wasn't certain she was ready to go back to Draco's ancestral home yet, especially on the same day as properly meeting his mother.

She stared at him, her lips quirking. "It was your mother, wasn't it? The anonymous donation to Healer Randall's lab?"

Draco grimaced, pulling her into his small kitchen. "I think so. But she's denied it every time I've asked."

"Subtle," Hermione said, a smile tugging at her lips. "I admit I'm surprised, though. I would have thought your parents would hope for you to select a nice, pureblood girl."

He shrugged, setting out a plate of scones with a tea service that had already been prepared. "It was definitely their hope when I was young. But I think with Father in Azkaban, Mother's realized there are more important things." He caught her gaze for a brief moment, his throat bobbing. "And I think she knows she couldn't make a decision like that for me even if she tried."

Hermione nodded, shrugging off her coat; Draco took it from her in an instant, hanging it on a coat rack by the door. He stepped back towards her, rubbing his hands up the length of her arms. His eyes swept the length of her; she had opted for a simple blush-pink dress with black lace detailing.

"I like your dress," he said, his voice softer. "And I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you invited me," she said, smiling. "And that reminds me, a group of us are going to the Leaky tomorrow night. Will you come with me?"

"Absolutely," he said, sliding a hand into her curls. "As it turns out, some of your friends aren't so bad."

Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Okay and I'll admit, Theo isn't terrible." He was supportive and cared about Draco, and she couldn't fault him that, even if he was frequently unprofessional and irritating.

"Theo is pretty terrible," Draco snickered in return. "But I'll let him know you said that."

He leaned in, a hand fingering the lace of her dress, but hesitated when the Floo flared to life. His grey eyes met hers, filled with an enticing sort of heat, and he drew away, turning to the grate.

Hermione felt nerves pull at her chest again and swallowed, watching as Narcissa Malfoy emerged, graceful and elegant as ever.

"Mother," Draco greeted, stepping forward to press his lips to his mother's cheek, and then the other. Narcissa's blue eyes caught Hermione's as she stepped away. "Please, properly meet Hermione Granger."

Narcissa Malfoy offered a demure smile, pressing her lips to Hermione's own cheek. "Miss Granger – it is a pleasure."

"Thank you, Missus Malfoy," Hermione intoned, feeling a flush in her cheeks. She had never been introduced to a parent in such a capacity, given Arthur and Molly were already more or less second parents to her when she and Ron had embarked on their short and ill-advised fling.

"Please," Narcissa said with a soft wave, "call me Narcissa."

Hermione swallowed with a tight nod; Draco's grey eyes sparkled in encouragement as they met hers. "Narcissa," she echoed. "And please – Hermione will do."

"Of course," Narcissa said.

Draco ushered Hermione and his mother to the small table in the kitchen of his flat and began preparing their tea service. The banality of it, after the life with him to which she had grown accustomed, was jarring.

To be sitting in London, sharing tea with his mother… She stifled a sharp breath and forced a smile. Draco's toe nudged hers under the table and she felt some of the tension sink from her stance.

"Hermione." Narcissa turned to face her, idly stirring a splash of milk into her tea. "Although Draco won't tell me the details of your mission, might I just say I am ever so pleased the two of you were together. It sounds like you've been through quite the ordeal."

"Right," Hermione breathed, taking a slow, measured inhale. "It certainly was. But actually, it was Draco who saved me. He led our team through challenges and difficulties we hadn't foreseen, and he brought us all through the other side without further casualties in the Ministry. I was fortunate to have him looking out for me."

Beside her, Draco cleared his throat. Narcissa's eyes glistened, a sincerity in her expression as she met Hermione's eyes.

"My dear girl," the woman said, a smile playing at her lips. "It is clear the two of you have learned to trust one another, after the past you share. But all the same, I am so…" she dropped off, her smile fading. "I am just so pleased."

Draco's hand caught hers beneath the table as Hermione took an unsteady sip of her tea. She met his gaze; his expression was stoic but for the upturn of his brow.

"Draco has proven himself over and again," Hermione said, fixing her gaze on Narcissa once more. "I am honoured to receive his consideration."

A squeeze to her hand, and he cleared his throat once more. "No, Mother," he broke in. "If it wasn't for Hermione, I don't know how this all would have ended up." His grey stare met hers again. "I'm a lucky bloke."

Draco wasn't certain what he had expected, the day before when Hermione had invited him to join her and her friends for drinks at the Leaky the following night.

But the atmosphere at the long table when they Flooed into the pub wasn't it.

Finnigan sat beside Dean Thomas, his face pale and eyes dull. There was a forced joviality to Potter's countenance as he chatted with Daphne. And Longbottom sat on the other side of Finnigan, looking uncomfortable as he sipped on a pint.

Potter's eyes chased to the two of them as they approached the table, and a hushed sort of silence fell over the small group.

It was the first time Draco had seen any of them beyond quick moments in passing at St Mungo's, in varying states of awareness, and he hadn't been sure of what to expect.

But Potter's arms pulled Hermione from him and Draco could hear her sharp intake of breath as she fell into her old friend; the air around him felt stifling as he met the stare of Dean Thomas.

Hermione sniffled as she pulled back into his side, even as she smiled at Potter, who only shook his head before extending a hand in Draco's direction. "Mate," Potter choked, "I don't even know what to say. Thank you just doesn't feel enough."

Something welled up in Draco's chest as he nodded and took the proffered hand. "It's more than enough, Potter."

Next was Finnigan, eyes wide as he shook his head. His hand was clammy as he clasped Draco's own and muttered, "Thank ye."

Dean Thomas gave a grin and a shaky laugh as he rose, throwing an arm around Draco's shoulders in an awkward embrace. Draco nodded in return as Thomas pulled back, wonder in his face. "And to think they doubted you." He swallowed, pressing his lips together. "We all doubted you. And we were wrong. You led us to success and none of us could have done that on our own, Malfoy."

He squinted, staring at his colleague with a tight nod. Hermione breathed at his side, "It's true."

As he took a seat with Hermione, Daphne beamed at him, and Longbottom clapped him on the back.

No, he hadn't expected any of that.

Two pints later, Draco felt cold. Hermione nursed a Butterbeer beside him, her expression tense and distant. While the group ought to have been celebratory and jovial, the table was instead somber and introspective, and Draco suspected everyone was coming to terms with all they had faced.

He himself had come close to the terms of his own mortality, and that of the woman for whom he had fallen. He felt a tightness in his chest even at the thought of it.

"I can't help but wonder," Hermione mused, intruding on the quiet chatter around them. "What exactly it was about Seamus that combated the sickness in a way that it didn't for anyone else."

Finnigan gave a chuckle. "Of course you wouldn't let that go, Hermione."

"I'm still curious, too," Draco admitted. "I wonder if there was something else that would have worked to fight off the magic."

"Already said," Finnigan said with a shrug. "Just drank me tea –"

"Right," Draco said, waving a flippant hand as she shook his head. "Tea, soup, rest."

But Hermione chuckled beside him, shaking her head as it turned into a mirthful laugh. "Didn't you say Parvati had been to visit you?"

"Aye," Finnigan responded, hesitant. "She brought me the tea."

Draco released a bark of laughter despite himself. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," he snickered. "And let me guess – there was tulsi in the tea."

Hermione gasped, amused moisture at the corners of her eyes. "And when you went to St Mungo's, you stopped drinking her tea."

"No," Potter groaned, drawing out the syllable as he dropped his face to his hands. "We all almost died, because Seamus went to St Mungo's…"

Draco felt a harsh breath chase from his chest at the thought. That they could have avoided so much, had they only taken a closer look.

Hermione huffed one last laugh as she leaned back in her seat, and her face fell into a grimace as she clutched at her chest. Draco frowned, staring at her and he asked, "Are you alright?"

"Just a spasm or something," she said, shaking her head. Her hand fell to her side.

"Heat," he said, his voice soft enough that no one could hear them. "Heat in your chest."

"Yes," she whispered. Her eyes widened. "You too?"

Draco nodded; he had experienced the same earlier that day. "I was wondering whether it was an after-effect."

The group looked up as two more approached the table and Draco might have sneered were he not so exhausted. Weasley and Bones slid into two vacant seats across the table; Weasley gave a hesitant nod to the collected company while Bones and Hermione exchanged a tentative smile.

But she shifted just so slightly towards him and Draco trailed a hand along her spine. Weasley's eyes flashed to follow the movement, his eyes wide.

Draco didn't have the energy to deal with Weasley and it seemed, neither did Hermione, as her tired eyes fixed on his; her fingertips grazed the fabric of his trousers around his knee.

She took a sip of her Butterbeer, her tone thoughtful as she said only to him, "It feels so strange – don't you think? It just feels so… ordinary."

She had put his exact thoughts into words, and Draco slipped an arm around her back, planting a kiss into her curls. "It does. I think it'll take a while." Hermione gave a slow nod, as if steeling herself to accept the fact.

"I'm glad we've been through this all together, you know?" she asked in a whisper, her chocolate eyes wide.

Draco could feel Weasley's stare burning through the side of his head and his eyes narrowed on instinct as he turned. But Weasley didn't have anything to say and Draco turned back to Hermione, fingers entwining with hers.

"I know," he breathed with a tight nod. "Merlin, I know."

With a sort of forced half-smile, Hermione finished the last of her drink. Her voice remained low as she asked, "Are you ready to go?" And as an afterthought she added, "I haven't been able to sleep very well."

"Neither have I," Draco admitted. He had grown so used to her by his side that the days in St Mungo's and the nights following had left him feeling cold and bereft. He threw a handful of Galleons down on the table. "Come over?"

Her eyes sparkled; she gave a grateful nod.

It felt at once anticlimactic and rewarding, as Hermione lounged beside him on the couch in his flat. Her eyes fluttered, her curls tickled his neck, and a soft smile played about her lips.

"I guess I didn't much feel like going out tonight after all," she admitted as her fingers danced across the fabric of his shirt.

He gave her a smirk. "Neither did I, as if turned out. But it's good you were able to see your friends."

"It all felt so strange," Hermione said; Draco felt his own eyes slip shut at the feel of her idle patterns on his chest. "After coming so close… and I don't even remember some of what happened down there… although I think I've seen parts of it."

"I have too," Draco hummed. "Flashes of heat… and stifling pain. Like I'm witnessing someone else's memories, but I know they're mine. But even so, I'm not entirely sure how we survived that."

"The tulsi," she said, "I think. Eliminating the sickness from our blood."

Draco nodded, threading his hands through her curls. She looked up at him, her brown eyes sparkling; he swallowed at the rising swell in his chest. "We're here, Granger. We're alive and we're going to make it. Come Monday, we'll return to work. And all of this will just be an experience. But… we'll have been through it together. And if you want to talk about any of it…"

"It's surreal," she murmured into his chest, "but thank you. And the same, of course." She turned to face him, sitting up against the back of the couch. "What do you think about getting another case now?"

"I think," he said, a smirk teasing at his lips, "I'll miss my partner."

Hermione laughed, a brilliant grin coming to her face. "And to think!" she exclaimed, waving her hands, "you couldn't wait to be rid of me!"

"It was mutual," he snorted, feeling a welling of mirth rising with him as he turned his head along the back of the couch to face her. "You wouldn't even work with me."

"Merlin," she groaned, swiping at an eye. Her expression sobered. "But now I can't get enough of you."

His voice dropped, his heart leaping in his chest. "It's still mutual."

Something shifted and she gave him a slow smile, her eyes scintillating, chin down as she stared at him. Before she could say anything else he leaned forward, catching her lips with his as he threaded his fingers in her curls.

A soft huff of a breath chased from her as she melted into him, drawing him closer; her tongue met his and Draco's eyes fell shut, basking in the feel of her kisses, the way her soft curves felt against his hard lines.

When she drew back, his stare met hers, their breaths mingling. Her fingers toyed with the knot of his tie, loosening the silk. He swallowed, mouth dry, as he traced along her jaw with his fingertips. She was exquisite.

Her gaze remained fixed on his as she coiled the fabric of his tie, her fingers falling to release the top buttons of his oxford. He could taste the Butterbeer on her breath as he leaned closer, his teeth grazing the curve of her jaw. Her chest was against his and he could feel the rapid rise and fall of her escalated breathing; her fingers twisted in his hair as he dragged his lips along the column of her throat, finding the delicate skin at her collarbone.

"Draco," she breathed, leaning away to give as he took, pressing her back into the couch. One of his hands fiddled with the hem of her shirt; his eyes met hers. He wasn't certain he would be able to hear her speak for the pounding of his heart. But she nodded, her eyes sparkling and her lips quirked with a smile. He felt a smirk pull at his own and he tugged the shirt over her head; her gaze met his as she shifted.

He could see the uneasy discomfort in her eyes as her chest and stomach were revealed to him and he recalled the way she had told him of her scars.

Draco pressed a kiss to her collarbone, trailing a path down to the curve of her breasts. One hand came up to trace the lacy edge of her bra as he met her stare.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing another kiss to her flesh, where the thin line of a scar bisected her front. "All of you and all of your scars."

Something akin to relief flashed across her face before she was pulling him towards her again; her lips met his with a clash and she was loosening the remaining buttons on his shirt, her fingers drawing the lines of his own scars and something heaved in Draco's heart with such a ferocity that it would have dropped him had he been standing.

He choked a breath, hovering above her on his hands; his fringe hung in his eyes as he gazed upon her.

Hermione smiled as she pushed his shirt from his shoulders, and she whispered, "And all of your scars."

Something stung at Draco's eyes as he blinked down at her and he swallowed a thick breath. In a swift movement, he rose to his feet, pulling her up alongside him and she laughed, stumbling and off guard as she landed her hands against his chest. Her eyes sparkled as she whispered, "Bedroom?"

He grinned, tugging her against him. "Bedroom." Staring down at her, he hitched her legs up to his waist and she jumped up, her arms around his shoulders as she coiled around him. Her lips found his neck and Draco laughed as he stopped halfway, pressing her against the wall in the corridor as he kissed her, tugging her bottom lip between his teeth as her hands reached down to release the buckle on his belt.

Draco growled and hauled her the rest of the way.

That beautiful sparkle in her eyes remained as Draco dropped her to the bed, his fingers deft as he slipped the button of her jeans and tugged them down her legs. He dropped his own trousers, holding her stare as he climbed atop her once more. But the sparkle remained as a glistening at the corners of her eyes and Draco hesitated, frowning.

"Are you sure?" he asked, dropping a trail of kisses down her chest and along the flat planes of her stomach. "Let me know… if it's too much."

She dragged his face back to hers, and a sad smile lingered on her lips. "I just can't believe we're back, Draco. And this is our life now… and…" she trailed off, swiping at her eyes.

"I know," he whispered, dropping a kiss to the skin behind her ear. "Believe me, Hermione, I know."

He felt the warmth of her shaky exhale on his skin and a quaking of gooseflesh erupted as her hands traced the lines of his chest, across his abdomen and towards his shorts. He heard her soft whisper of a contraceptive charm and Draco grinned, reaching behind her to release the clasp of her bra, taking in the beauty of her. She tensed for the briefest of moments and sunk into him as he caught one nipple between his teeth, and then the other, dragging his tongue across the peak. A whimper escaped her throat and caught on his flesh as she pulled him closer.

Hermione's hands skated the muscle of his back and Draco groaned, pressing against her; every nerve was set alight at her touch and he couldn't get enough.

He dragged her knickers to the side with one hand, slipping a finger beneath the fabric and huffed a curse under his breath at the feel of her. She released a cry, shifting against his hand as he slid two fingers inside of her, teasing her nipples with his tongue and the fingers of his other hand.

"Draco," she gasped, tugging at his shorts; his eyes fluttered at the cry of his name from her tongue as he pushed her knickers down, and she toed them the rest of the way off. He tossed his shorts to the floor, staring down at her as her hand found the length of him; her breathing was heavy, her lips parted and eyes dark as they met his. He had never seen her so beautiful.

A smile tugged at her lips as she drew him in for another kiss; Draco sheathed himself inside of her warmth, a breath chasing from his lungs as the feel of her exhale skated his skin.

He choked out her name, lips finding the corner of her mouth as he moved within her tightness, eyes falling shut at the sensation. Hermione's fingers coiled in his hair; her skin was soft against his, her legs holding him to her and Draco didn't know up from down.

As Hermione's breathing grew erratic, seeking her release as he sought his own, Draco moved quicker, marvelling at the feel of her beneath him. He couldn't think but for the feel of her skin against his hands, for the heat surrounding him, and his blood roared in his ears as she cried out, arching from the bed and into him. He huffed a breath, plunging into her over and again; her fingers dragged at the skin of his back and he felt himself spiral and twist until his release chased through him with a groan.

He buried his face in the skin of her neck, a sheen of perspiration on his temple as his lips found her skin. He could feel the upturn of her own as she kissed his jaw and turned to look at her, his chest heaving with the exertion.

The melted chocolate in her eyes sparkled up at him as she grinned. "That," she breathed, as he withdrew from her and laid alongside, "was worth the wait."

Draco barked a laugh, pulling her close. "You were worth the wait, witch." There was something deeper behind the words and he could see in her eyes she understood.

He felt sticky and overheated and in need of a shower but she melted into him, her legs entwining with his as she pressed another soft kiss to his lips. She breathed, "And we have one another, now."

As the sentiment settled into his heart, he could only pull her closer.

Chapter Text

It was both disarming and disconcerting to return to work. The few days off had felt altogether too short after so many days spent in the field and the numerous subsequent days in St Mungo's. Draco paced into the DMLE, one hand clutching the strap of his shoulder bag like a lifeline, feeling an odd sense of foreboding.

He hadn't seen Robards since he and Hermione had submitted their formal report on the happenings in the Indus Valley, and he hadn't seen any of his colleagues with the exception of Potter, Finnigan, and Thomas at the Leaky Cauldron several nights prior.

Furthermore, it felt odd to be at work and not have Hermione by his side. Despite that he had seen her that morning – and seen was a loaded term – he had come to rely on her presence.

He didn't know what to expect with regards to his job – would he return to filing paperwork, now that the long-drawn and convoluted case of the mysterious figure had been settled? Would Robards and the other administrative staff give him a partner at long last?

He swallowed a thick lump in his throat as he made his way to his desk, doing his best to keep his chin high and his gaze fixed ahead. His hand on the strap of his bag felt clammy.

There were eyes on him and Draco didn't stop to look as he took his seat at his desk, his outward composure at odds with the racing of his heart, and he couldn't quite comprehend why he felt so nervous to be back within the safe confines of the DMLE.

Finally he looked up. At least half a dozen Aurors had stopped in the midst of their work and were staring at him. Robards stood at a nearby desk, his face contemplative and focused. Draco swallowed as Robards excused himself from the conversation and made his way over to Draco's desk, pulling up a seat in the chair opposite him.

"Alright, Malfoy?" Robards asked.

"Yes, sir," Draco returned. He wished everyone would return to their work. Robards shot a sharp stare around the room; with an exaggerated delay, the rest of the Aurors busied themselves once more and Draco would have smirked if he hadn't felt so out of sorts. He turned back to his superior. "What can I do for you, sir?"

There was a hesitation in Robards stare before he shook his head. "I just wanted to be sure you were feeling okay. Word has travelled, of course, as to what you and the rest of the team faced in the Indus Valley. Despite that it was all under a high level of clearance."

A ghost of a smirk. "Of course."

Robards clapped his hands together, leaning forward in his seat. "I suppose you'll be ready for your next case, then?"

Draco forced as confident a nod as he could manage. "Absolutely."

"Good." The man brandished a file folder and Draco's eyes widened while he explained the case. "Misuse of magic in Hampstead, potential of dark artefacts. Should be a fairly routine sweep of the house and area."

"Of course," Draco returned, swallowing. An actual case – in an actual capacity as an Auror.

"You'll want to consult with your partner," Robards went on, his lips tugging into a smile. Draco looked up at once, his eyes widening in surprise and a knit lifting to his brow. He cracked a grin as Dean Thomas walked over and leaned against the next vacant desk.

Of all the unassigned Aurors in the office, Thomas was the one Draco knew the best after spending grueling weeks in the field, and he already knew they worked well together. He smirked, looking at Thomas. "It'll do, I suppose."

Robards rose to his feet, clapping Draco on the shoulder with a laugh. The look on his face suggested he knew something else of which Draco wasn't aware. "Have fun. Oh, and Auror Malfoy – good work out there. I'll need you back in the office by three o'clock today – both of you."

Thomas' brows flickered. "Shall we – partner?"

Hermione looked up as the seventh memo of the morning flew into her office, her brows rising into her hair. She had spent the bulk of the morning attempting to get her space back into some semblance of order, unpacking the gadgets from her beaded bag, and going through the stack of memos she had missed.

But she smiled at the contents of the latest missive.

ASSIGNED A CASE.

DM

She knew how nervous he had been with regards to where his future with the Auror's Office would lead, now that the case of the bull figure had been laid to rest. He had been halfway adrift since they had returned to London, although she knew not all of that was to do with work.

She had been feeling it, too, a sort of disconcerted ambiguity and an unrest in her soul. As if something lingered there – something she had brought back with her. She had awoken the night before with memories of hot, searing pain chasing through her mind, but she couldn't remember having experienced it.

And there was a dull ache, dancing somewhere between her mind and her heart. She wondered if it would ever fully abate.

Regardless, it would be helpful for him to get out of the office and attempt a semblance at a normal career. She knew how much being an Auror meant to him, and his excited message made her smile. Then a flush crept to her cheeks at the thought of how he had woken her up that morning.

Hermione looked up, startled, at a tap on her door. "Come in," she called, releasing the wards with a wave of her wand.

Burke edged in, rubbing a thick layer of stubble on his jaw. "Unspeakable Granger. I see you've settled back in."

"Of course," she returned, offering a tight smile. Burke walked over but remained standing, his dark stare fixed on her.

"You've done well, Unspeakable Granger," he said after a long pause. "Especially for your first case. You and Auror Malfoy worked well together – eventually."

She laughed, feeling a flush to her cheeks. "Eventually," she echoed, feeling sheepish. "I misjudged him at first. But… he's intelligent, and very dedicated to his career in the DMLE."

"I agree," Burke returned. "Which is why the Ministry is holding a conference this afternoon for the field research team up on level two. I trust you'll be in attendance. Three o'clock."

Hermione swallowed, her heart leaping into her chest. "Absolutely."

"Good," Burke clipped. "The other Unspeakables are all clamouring for you to work with them for your next case, so I imagine you'll be receiving a flood of proposals and requests over the course of the next few days. It will be at your discretion what you prefer to do."

She smiled with a nod; she looked forward to whatever would come next.

After a consultation with Healer Randall the day before, it seemed as if the brain waves pushing the visions had leveled off and there was no longer significant risk. She still couldn't manage the visions entirely without reaching for the trigger, but it was probably for the best. The thought of accidentally slipping into the past was an unsettling one, even if it had proven helpful in the Indus Valley.

Burke turned to go but turned back around, halfway to the door. "I'm glad you're alright." He met her gaze, pensive. "And Unspeakable Granger – I'm proud of you. The Department of Mysteries has a valuable asset with you."

She fought back a smile. "Thank you, sir."

Exhilaration chased through Draco's veins as he and Thomas Flooed back to the DMLE that afternoon. It had been his first routine case as a field-qualified Auror; they had confiscated several dark objects, none of which had been life-threatening.

He returned to his desk, intent on filing and processing the paperwork, but by a quarter to three there was such a bustle of activity on the floor that he couldn't concentrate and his eyes narrowed with a scowl as the noise level continued to increase.

It was only when Hermione slid into the other seat at his desk that he remembered something was meant to happen in the office. He grinned, setting his paperwork aside.

"How was your assignment?" she asked, excitement brimming in her face.

"It was…" he trailed off, searching for the word. "It was ordinary. Mundane, even."

She released a laugh. "Excellent!"

He smirked, holding her gaze. A memory flickered through his brain at the way she'd screamed his name, early that morning, back arched and fingers laced in his hair. Something clenched in the pit of his stomach and he pushed the thoughts away. "What are you doing here?"

Her brows raised. "Didn't Robards tell you?"

Just then Draco recoiled, almost on instinct, at the sight of Gerard Moreau, the first of Madame Moreau's sons who had caused a fuss upon learning Draco was in charge of his mother's case. But then he saw Francois Moreau as well and released a sigh of relief, rising from his seat. It felt strange to see the two brothers when they hadn't learned the details regarding Moreau's connection with Balthazar O'Connell – but the best guess was that they were involved in some capacity and Moreau simply overlooked O'Connell's thievery.

"Auror Malfoy," Francois said, extending a hand. He turned to Hermione. "And Unspeakable Granger – thank you both for everything you've done to bring peace to our mother's case."

Draco's gaze flickered between the Moreau brothers and Hermione, who was looking unsurprised as she shook each brother's hand in turn. The surly brother offered a hand to Draco, frowning. "Thank you for your efforts, Auror Malfoy."

He offered the man a stiff nod. "Just doing my job, Mr Moreau."

The two men walked away and Draco turned to Hermione; she was looking around the room with an idle smile. "Why do I get the feeling you know something about this I don't?"

Across the room he could see Hikari and the two other Unspeakables from the team in conversation with Burke and he swallowed.

She offered a musing smile and said, "I know hardly anything."

Draco had shaken more hands than he could count. Senior Aurors, administration, Ministry higher-ups, and civilians. He hadn't been aware of any of this or he might have tried to cop out of it, unused to, and disinterested by, the spotlight in which he now found himself.

It was past four now and he hoped this recognition social, or whatever it was, would end soon. Hermione had vanished fifteen minutes ago and he had yet to find her again; Draco found himself in the company of Thomas and Hikari, having chosen to keep with people who were familiar.

It also hadn't slipped his mind that those two were the ones who went back into Harappa and risked their own safety to rescue him and Hermione from the vicious magic of the tunnels. He had approached Hikari and found himself pulled into an embrace, offering the man his heartfelt gratitude, if only for the sake of Hermione's life.

But Hikari had merely clapped him on the shoulder with a grin. "We never would have left you behind," the man had said with a laugh. "Are you fucking nuts?"

Someone had set up a table of refreshments and Draco found himself picking at a plate of finger food when Hermione came upon him again in the mass of people. She swiped a cube of cheese, her fingers interlacing with his. "Come on."

"Where?" he asked, depositing the remains of his plate on his desk as she tugged him past.

And it was only then that Draco noticed that the rest of his team had assembled across the room; Minister Shacklebolt was speaking on the merits and efforts each member had contributed. He swallowed upon seeing Potter and Finnigan, as well as Aurors Cary and Milano, were among the crowd.

"Here they are," Shacklebolt said with a chuckle, and Draco felt a hundred sets of eyes turn in his direction. He cocked a brow, feeling again as if everyone knew something he didn't.

"Unspeakable Granger," Shacklebolt was saying, and a pretty flush came to her cheeks as a smattering of applause broke out; Potter and Finnigan hollered like schoolkids as she gave a small wave. Draco blinked as Shacklebolt continued, "And Auror Malfoy."

"Speech!" Finnigan shouted, grinning.

Hermione's gaze flickered to his as she folded her hands behind her back. Burke watched from the side, pride evident in his gaze. "Well," she began, catching her lower lip between her teeth. "Auror Malfoy and I just needed to figure out what type of magic the figure was imbued with… but then when we ended up in the Indus Valley, everything sort of went out of control and then we just needed to survive. Auror Malfoy kept the team together – he really was the leader of everything."

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. "As if I could have done anything without you." He steeled himself, turning to the crowd. "Look, the only reason anything was accomplished was because we had a competent team. We came up against some crazy things and it was through working together that we made any progress." He swallowed, his gaze landing on Hermione. "I was fortunate to have this group alongside, and I wouldn't have made it through anything if not for Unspeakable Granger."

Her eyes shone as she stared at him; a hush had fallen across the room.

"You risked your life to save her?" someone exclaimed from the back of the crowd.

Draco felt a tug in his chest and a knit in his brows. "It was a matter of many lives. There were four Aurors in St Mungo's without a cure… and we just had to keep going. The fact that Granger was sick was just…" He met her glassy stare, frowning. "It just made me push on."

He caught the amused eye of Robards and looked away, feeling a flush as he went on. "I appreciate all this, really, but it isn't necessary. I was only doing what was asked of me. I made a promise when I was accepted into the Auror's department, and I only ever meant to fulfill it. I can assure you, it wasn't heroic in the slightest."

"But yet," Hermione said, catching his gaze. "You saved the lives of six people in the process."

"We," he corrected. He waved a hand at the others, catching Hikari's eye.

He noticed Auror Marshall, the man who had thrown a fit over Draco's proposed leadership, standing off to the side, arms folded and mouth twisted into a sour grimace. He fought the urge to smirk.

"Regardless," Shacklebolt carried on with a grin, "the heads of all major departments have conferred and it's been decided."

Draco caught Hermione's gaze again and she looked as confused as he felt; he pressed his lips together and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

Shacklebolt straightened and addressed them once more. "Unspeakable Hermione Granger; Auror Draco Malfoy. For your valiant and courageous services to the British Ministry of Magic and the Wizarding World as a whole, I bestow upon you each the Order of Merlin, First Class."

He heard Hermione's sharp intake of breath as he felt the Minister's words as a blow to the chest; he blinked in surprise as raucous applause broke out. With a wave of Shacklebolt's wand, a golden medal on a green ribbon materialized, pinning itself to Hermione's robes. He clasped a hand to her arm and said something that Draco couldn't hear. Hermione nodded, a tension in her shoulders and her eyes shining.

Then Shacklebolt stepped towards him and Draco choked out, "You've got to be fucking kidding me," as another golden medal appeared on his chest.

"I am not," Shacklebolt said, amusement playing at his lips, "kidding you. Congratulations, Auror Malfoy. The Ministry owes you a debt of gratitude. Thank you for your efforts."

His eyes stung and he felt the weight of the ribbon on his robes as he met Robards' stare; his colleagues were applauding, and his teammates, and a furrow came to his brow as he looked at Hermione. She mouthed something that he couldn't see because there was something in his eye and he clenched his jaw and lifted a hand in thanks, blinking as he felt the moment course through his veins and race through his pounding heart.

"So," Hermione said, leaning into Draco's hold; her fingers traced idle patterns on his arm as his gaze moved across the page of a book. He looked up, marking his page and smiled. "What comes next for the renowned Auror Draco Malfoy?"

He snickered, shaking his head, even as a flush came to his cheeks. "More of the same, I suppose."

It had been a month since they had returned home from the Indus Valley and attempted to find some semblance of normalcy once more – but some days Hermione wasn't certain there was truly any sense of normal anymore. Not after everything over the years.

The cold feeling in her soul lingered from her encounter with the illness and she often found it difficult to sleep on her own. As a result, she had spent most nights at Draco's flat, or he at hers. Crookshanks had taken to Draco with a voracity she hadn't expected, despite that he pretended to be irritated by the feline.

She knew Draco felt it too – he often awoke in the night with the same cold sweat to which she had become prone. Dark flashes of a cavern – flickering memories of a searing pain. But it was manageable, and she wasn't alone with the darkness.

And even though she knew it was love, and that the feeling was mutual, there was something about the way he still found her last nerve. But the arguments had turned to debates; the mockery to teasing. Maybe it was normal, for them.

His fingers entwined with hers, his grey eyes pensive. "It's nice, you know? Going out on ordinary field cases. And I can't complain that no one treats me like the pariah in the department anymore." He quirked a smile. "Although I do miss my daily trips down to level nine."

"My office is always open for you," Hermione teased, "and you know that."

Although with the influx of demands on her time, she spent less of her day in her office and more time in the chambers.

Draco planted a kiss into her hair. "I know."

She relaxed further into him as his hand on her shoulder tightened, her fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt. But she could feel his eyes linger on her and glanced back up.

"I've been thinking," he hedged; she could see the tension in his jaw. "And maybe it's too fast and you can say no if you don't want –"

"Draco," she interrupted, resting her face against his chest again.

"Right," he murmured, swallowing. His tone dropped, his cheek finding the top of her head. "Move in with me."

Hermione tightened her hold around his middle, a smile tugging at her lips. "Okay."

"Okay?" he asked, peering down at her. "Just okay? You aren't going to draft a list of pros and cons?"

"We've practically been living together already, we lived together in a single room for weeks," she listed with amusement, "and your mother will be over the moon."

"Speaking of," Draco clipped as he rubbed a hand down her back, "Mother wants to have tea this weekend."

Her eyes fluttered and she hummed at the feel of his ministrations. "That's fine. I told Harry and Daphne we would do dinner next week."

There was a long moment of silence and Hermione extracted herself, sitting up to meet his gaze. There was something in the set of his jaw that stirred a hesitation in the back of her mind. "Is that not okay?"

"It's okay," he said, taking a long breath. "It's only…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Sometimes I just can't figure it out that this is my reality. A month ago I thought we were going to die in that cave, and…"

He winced, falling silent.

Her heart pulsed a rapid cadence in her chest as Hermione threaded her fingers through his fine hair. "I know," she whispered. And she did – there wasn't a day that went by where she didn't wonder at the outcome if just one thing had ended differently.

If they hadn't found the tulsi, or if they hadn't managed to contact London in time, or if the rescue team hadn't found them…

With a huff of a breath, his lips found hers, soft and insistent. But when he drew back, there was wonder in his eyes, his fingers tracing the line of her cheekbone. "I'll never get over this second chance I've been given."

There was a stinging to the corners of her eyes as she took his other hand in hers, braiding their fingers. She whispered, "And we'll make the best of it."

Draco nodded. "One day at a time."

Hermione met the sparkle in his gaze with her own, smiling. "Until the end."

Chapter Text

"You don't have to do this, you know."

"I know." She met the furrow in Draco's brow, the concern in his eyes. "But I need to."

After six months of focused efforts, six months of honing her visions until she could access the trigger on a reliable and consistent basis, Hermione was ready. Through countless sessions working with Healer Randall, and more intimate sessions sharing thoughts with Draco, she was set. The spells were prepared and a team was ready for her word.

Robards folded his arms as he stared at the two of them; a Portkey lay on the table before them. "Burke and Hikari have already taken the Unspeakables to begin the preparations. But this is your decision, Unspeakable Granger."

Her chest pulsed with the cold and stung with the recollections of what she had been through, the last time she and Draco had been in Harappa. His grey eyes were hesitant as they met hers, and she knew he was remembering the same.

"I'm with you," he intoned, a hand grazing her arm. "Whatever you decide."

Hermione nodded, and with a tight exhale, she began casting the protection spells. "It needs to be done."

A twitch on Draco's lips and he followed suit, preparing himself for the onslaught of corrupt magic they were about to face. "On the bright side – we know now what kills it."

She couldn't manage the muster a laugh. Not after everything. But Draco snickered and winked, and it flooded her with warmth at his amusement. She didn't think she would have made it through the aftermath of everything – the nightmares and the phantom pains – without having him by her side. He made her smile and laugh; he held her while she shook with the old terrors and wiped her tears at the new ones.

Her eyes flickered to land on the priceless heirloom affixed to her ring finger, and she felt a smile tug to her lips at the thought of it as she always did.

They would be having a simple ceremony on the grounds of the Manor – and Hermione knew Narcissa's interpretation of the word simple would be far different than her own. But it had given the woman purpose again and she knew how important that was to Draco.

Steeling herself, she met his gaze. "Let's go, then."

There was a fascinating disconnect in his spirit as Draco stared around the innocuous ruins of Harappa. It had been half a year since they had last been here, though the memories of what had happened down in that cavern were so hazy and disoriented with the sickness that he struggled to remember them.

He kept an eye on Hermione as she dawdled in the streets, discussing preparations with Burke and Hikari. He had no intention of letting her out of his sight this time. The corrupt magic that had driven the Indus Valley civilians out still lingered and he could still feel it in the air.

It was right that they were here. Even if it came thousands of years too late.

And his beautiful, courageous fiancée recognized the same.

The magic was unstable and angered, roiling in the air and deep beneath the surface of the ruins. And it was time, after so long, to lay the last of their questions to rest. He released a long breath at the thought.

With a twist of her loose curls blowing in the wind, Hermione turned back to face him; he could see the sparkle in her eyes from where he stood. Draco paced forward, catching her hand and tightening his grip on her.

"Are you ready?" she whispered, her eyes wide with anticipation, fear, and so many other things.

A grin pulled at his lips. "Yes."

And all at once the present and past became fused into one; the Unspeakables became overlaid with the people of the Indus Valley. Draco watched, marveling as he always did at the way her visions flowed into him.

The bright sun beamed down, even thousands of years ago, and the people of the Indus Valley danced and celebrated; they ploughed the earth and laboured over their efforts; they existed in their day to day actions of thousands of years prior.

Draco met Hermione's gaze, feeling a rush of bright energy course through him.

Time shifted and progressed, days and nights passing and turning into weeks, months, years, and the people of the Indus Valley carried on. And on… until they didn't.

They watched as it became evident that things were shifting; the magic twisted and coiled in the air. Gone was the jubilation of a cheerful people, to be replaced with fear and indecision. There was a palpable sadness, a mourning in the air, and Draco knew it had begun.

Groups of messengers marched forth from the city's edge, carrying word to the rest of the civilization. Others merely packed and fled of their own volition.

Draco nudged Hermione, surprised, as the eight council members paced towards where they knew the chambers to be, their bull keys clenched in white-knuckled fingers; some time later just six returned.

Hermione edged forward, her eyes wide and shining as she tried to follow so many lines of time at once, until she shook her head and retook her spot at his side.

"The two figures didn't make it down," Draco inferred. She nodded, a pained expression on her face.

And still time raced on, until the once vibrant civilization was a mere glimmer of what it had been; the last of the people were leaving.

And then… nothing.

The steady and relentless decay of time marched on, erosion taking hold and crumbling the foundations of a civilization that had thrived and been impassioned with knowledge, now lost to the ancient fabrics of time and the uncertainty of the history books over which they had toiled.

Decades, centuries raced past, until the excavation crew at last came in, wonder and awe in their faces. Draco wanted to look away, knowing what was to come. And then the small crew of magical excavators, triumphant with the discovery of one of the bull figures.

He ran a hand through his hair; tears glistened at the corners of Hermione's eyes as the team searched and investigated, until at last they marched into the Northwest of the ruins and never returned.

Draco drew her closer, his face dropping into her curls as still they watched on.

Then decades more, wherein groups of tourists visited the ruins, pacing Harappa's worn and dissolved pathways, oblivious to the magic that brewed beneath the surface, dormant and lying in wait.

He caught the eye of Hikari, startling in its immediacy and Draco held up a hand to wait.

Then with a sharp intake of breath, he turned back to the direction in which the practitioners had walked – the direction from which the excavators had come – and he saw her. Madame Moreau, smiling to herself as she brandished a figure that was jarring in its familiarity.

He wanted to reach out, wanted to stop her, but there was no stopping the relentless chase of time.

The figure, after having been lost for thousands of years, had been found – and so went the rest of the story as Draco knew it.

Then Moreau faded away, as a wisp of dust into the air, and the breath that chased from Draco's lungs.

All was silent but for the stirring of dust in the air.

Hermione released his hand, her eyes pressed shut and her breathing measured. Then she turned to him, forcing a smile. "So now we know."

He echoed, "Now we know."

"And now," she went on, turning to Hikari and Burke, "we can lay the magic of Harappa to rest, once and for all."

Draco pulled Hermione to his side as the other Unspeakables, fully clad in protective gear and enchanted robes, paced the distance to where the ground had given way and they had fallen into the tunnels. They lifted the enchantments on the pits into which Draco and Thomas had nearly fallen. Merlin, it felt like years had passed.

He swallowed, realizing he held Hermione's hand in a death grip. He could feel her eyes on him.

The Unspeakables' magic raced through the ruins of Harappa, until as one, they released a barrage of destructive magic of their own.

Draco's eyes fell shut at the feel of it, being sure to keep a safe distance away, but still he felt the blast of it, percussive and a swelling beneath the earth.

The magic pulsed and swirled, combatting the corruption in the Harappan air, filling and pulling at the pits and racing down through the length of the tunnels. The earth below his feet trembled, and for a harrowing moment, Draco thought the calculations had been wrong – that the tunnels were going to give way beneath them –

Hermione tucked herself into his side, her eyes wide and sorrowful as she watched the two forms of magic fight and clash, a shimmering in the air ahead of them. The vast emptiness of the pits filled in, reforming themselves as a part of the ground once more.

The tunnels continued to quake in the northwest as the magic poured from the Unspeakables' wands in unison. Draco had never seen anything quite like it.

Burke led the force, commanding the others to hold firm, and he felt something build in his chest at the sight of it, and at the reminder of how everything had gone so wrong in Harappa. He looked down at Hermione.

And how everything had ended up so right.

After some length of time Draco couldn't even guess, everything fell silent. The Unspeakables stepped back, stowing their wands, their chests heaving with the exertion of their magic.

Hermione stepped forward to the edge of the opening but it was no more. She toed at the earth and only dust rose up.

There was a silence, sinking into Draco's soul. The magic of Harappa no longer danced and swirled, tugging at his own. There was only nothing. The pits, the tunnels, the corruption was gone.

He swallowed, mouth thick and dry, and met the hard stare of Unspeakable Burke. He slid his hands into his pockets with a nod.

Hermione's fingers interlaced with his own and her eyes were wide with the rise and fall of her chest; the chocolate in her eyes was soft when they met his own and he could see the emotion welling in her as it was in him.

It was thousands of years too late, but the magic that had driven the people from Harappa was gone. The magic that had driven fear into the hearts of thousands and pushed a brilliant society from their homes was no more.

And something, after everything they had been through, felt at peace deep within Draco's spirit.

The Unspeakables prepared themselves to leave; with a wave Draco pulled their own Portkey from his pocket, and the rest made the return to London.

Hermione's breathing remained steady as she turned to him. Her fingers skated the skin of his arm and she shook her head. "At last."

Draco returned, "At last."

They had seen the truth of it all, and they knew there was no way it could ever be shared. The mystery of the decline of the Indus Valley would live on in history. Something pulled at Draco's chest at the thought of it – at the way everything had fallen apart to such horrific consequences.

He reached an arm behind Hermione's shoulders, tugging her closer. "You did it." He glanced down at her. "I'm proud of you."

Her face dropped to land on his chest, her hands interlocking around his waist. She released a long breath. "We did it. And everyone else and – it's hard to believe this is all laid to rest."

"But yet…" Draco let the sentiment hang between them, his fingers twisting in her curls. "I wouldn't trade what came of it. Not for the world."

Her eyes caught his, glistening with a faraway sparkle and her lips brushed his in a soft, lingering kiss. "I love what came of it." Her grip on him tightened; a tear escaped Hermione's eye and she swiped at it with a soft smile. "Let's go home."