Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The atmosphere at The Leaky Cauldron is slightly different these days. Still a little dark, a tad sticky, but much more cheerful now that Hannah Abbott owned the building. She was obviously making improvements here and there, but there was a rumor going around that she was training as a healer, so she might not have enough time to handle stickiness. At the very least, the walls were now lined with new paintings, and the bar and kitchen were polished to a gleaming shine. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and old, musty wood, mixed with the aroma of delicious food from the kitchen.  

Hermione cringed as she attempted to find a safe place to rest her arm on the dreadful table. Perhaps she should leave a note for Hannah or the managers that, besides general stickiness, they also needed to improve their seating. She takes a sip of her drink - a bit of red current rum that she's begun to grow fond of lately- and listens half-heartedly to her friends usual boy-talk.  

“I don’t know. He’s sort of alright if you don’t look too hard. Might be a bit boney, but you know what they say about tall ones-“ 

Hermione's head snaps up to scoff at an unabashedly smiling Ginny Weasley.  

“Why are you even looking at him? Aren’t you still seeing the other one - for Godric knows what reason?”

“Because his cock hangs down his thigh, Hermione,” Ginny winks, her grin turning wicked now that she has a captive audience. “Blaise is also very handsome, incredibly fun, and, best of all - treats me like a goddess.” 

Hermione has to concede the point. “Fair,” she mutters to herself. “Still doesn’t answer why you’re ogling Draco Bloody Malfoy.”  

“Not for me, obviously. For you.” 

“ Me ?” Hermione screeches, looking around, embarrassed. Several wizards sniff and quirk their eyebrows in disapproval, but she ignores them. She hisses, “What do you mean for me ? The man has wanted to kill me since we were children.” 

Ginny waves a nonchalant hand. “Bugger that. We were kids. He said sorry. Sort of.” 

“I don’t know,” Angelina Weasley née Johnson adds, crinkling her nose. “He’s kinda…ghostly…these days. Too thin, too pale, needs a haircut. Plus, he has the chin.” 

“Pointy?” Hermione asks.  

“Well, yeah, but it’s that high-class inbred chin that says your mum is also your sister, and so is your grandma.”

Ginny snorts. “Sacred twenty-eight are all pretty much cousins these days.” 

“Isn’t Zabini a member right along with you?” Hermione goads her with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but he’s got that Italian blood to refresh it. No cousinly romance here. Suppose I could get him to give stepbrother roleplay a go though,” she cackled at Hermione’s increasingly disgusted expression. “Help me, stepbro! I’m stuck to my broom!”  

“Shameless,” Hermione snorted, turning to study Malfoy from the corner of her eye. 

“I’ll have to ask Dad to look into the family tree a bit closer before we begin making beautiful babies together,” Ginny sighs, setting down her drink. 

“That’s on the books, eh?” Angelina snorts, popping a handful of nuts into her mouth. 

“Merlin, yes. Man’s breeding kink is wild , and he’ll give me gorgeous children.” Ginny shrugs. "I would like to travel more and play on the team for a few more years before we start making them for real."

Hermione tunes them out as their discussion turns to future family plans that she most decidedly does not have time for. 

She instead observes the men on the other side of the bar, who were fortunate enough to secure the last booth seat rather than the ridiculously high table nearly in the center of the room that she was forced into.

Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, and Blaise Zabini chatted together. Well, Nott was chatting. Blaise was making eyes at Ginny and licking his lips every two seconds like no one else could see it. Malfoy stared morosely into a glass. Nott continued to speak animatedly, his hands waving and laughing periodically, as though the lack of attention didn’t bother him the slightest. 

Hermione covertly studied Malfoy, thinking Angelina might have a point. He was certainly looking like a shade of his former self. He looked… tired . Like the fatigue of life had sucked his very soul from his body. Granted, he had just been released from Azkaban merely seven months ago, and she imagined it would take quite a long time to recover from living in that hellscape for two entire years. Not to mention all the horrors he’d lived through even before the…

Fuck’s sake, she’s feeling sorry for Malfoy? 

She shook her head. Still, he was overly thin, had dark circles she could see from here, and his hair reached just past his shoulders in limp strands. He’d already been thin before he’d been imprisoned, and now he was practically skeletal. She rather thought that if anyone were casting for a sad Victorian film, he’d be perfect. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, barely participating in the conversation between Nott and Zabini. She wondered what he was thinking about and what memories or regrets were plaguing him.

Alright, so she felt bad for Malfoy. Sue her. She was a good person, alright? 

“You know,” Ginny continued after taking a loud sip of her pink cocktail. “Blaise told me he’s always suspected that Malfoy had a thing for you. A weird thing, but still a thing.” 

“Please,” Hermione scoffs, turning away from the men’s table to glare at Ginny. “That man’s only thing for me was to get rid of me any chance he got.” 

“Ok, it’s like this,” she murmured, glancing around as she gathered her thoughts. “He said ‘Picture a little Draco who looked up to his father and wanted to do everything he could to please him and make him proud, yeah? He's a little fucking pureblood parrot that repeats all the drivel his father spouts, no matter if he believes or understands it himself. Then picture a little muggleborn girl that shows up and she’s nothing like what his father said they were. She wasn’t ignorant - she was the brightest witch of her age. She wasn’t mousey, uncultured, or disgusting - she was brave, loyal, and worldly. So here’s our resident prat, confused and furious with himself because he can’t stop thinking about this person who is everything he’s supposed to hate. So he does what he does best, hides behind anger and pride, and spends the next few years doing the equivalent of pulling her pigtails to make her notice him. Only he’s an arse about it, of course.”   

“You memorized that word for word?” Angelina snorts and eyes her sister-in-law dubiously.  

“I memorize everything Blaise says, but especially that because that’s the right yummy enemies to lovers fodder, alright? Like, that’s unrequited pining at it’s finest,” Ginny sighs playfully and wiggles her eyebrows.  

“You have got to lay off the smut, Gin. Real life doesn’t work that way.” Hermione shakes her head fondly. “Whatever you two think, we were simply traumatized kids that just happened to not like each other. And that’s okay. We all made it out, and now we're... civil.” 

“ Fuck civil,” Ginny moans in frustration. “You’re civil with everyone. Civil with your ex’s. Civil with your enemies. Civil with your co-workers. You need passion , Hermione. We’re alive! We’re free! We can work where we like, fuck who we like, and fuck civility and expectations!” 

“Here we go again. Ginny, please…” 

“Yes, yes. I know. You’re happy figuring things out at your own pace, and you don’t need a man to feel accomplished. Your job pays the bills, and blah blah. Girl, jump that enemies to lovers dick!”   

“Jesus Christ,” Hermione groans, dropping her head onto the table. 

“Gin, babe. Maybe we should start slowing down on the drinks. You’re driving Minnie to muggle curses,” Angelina says with a laugh, poking Hermione in the forehead. 

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone for... at least a month. I’ll try really hard not to butt in.” Ginny's response was slow and dripping with mischief, her eyes taking on a sly and cunning glint, like a fox ready to wreak havoc in a henhouse. 

“If I?” Hermione rolls her eyes, waiting for the rest. 

“If you go and say hello to Malfoy right now.” 

“What!? I can’t do that!” 

“Yeah, just go say hello, and then you can run away, and I won’t bug you about your life choices for at least a month.” 

Hermione was very tempted because Ginevra Weasley was a damned annoying busybody who poked her head into her business far too often. Granted, she meant well, and she was just worried about Hermione, but still. Annoying. 

“Just hello?” She bit her lip nervously, wondering briefly what her chances were of making it to the door before Ginny and her broom thighs could catch up.  

“Anything you want, actually. But it has to be nice.” 

Her chances were zero, if she were to be honest with herself.  

She sighs and glances around, hoping to find some hint on what to say to him. She couldn’t just run up and blurt a greeting. She had to have a reason to approach. She could clearly picture his disdainful glare if she were to just pop by and say hello to him.

She glances at her watch. 8:30pm. She could probably tough it out here for another twenty minutes, and then Ginny would be so sloshed they could finally go home. 

Wait. She glances at her watch again. It’s June Third! The perfect opening! 

“Fine,” she nods, sliding from the tall chair. “I’ll go say hello. I anticipate copious amounts of apologies tomorrow when you realize what a twat you were tonight." 

“Oh, one more thing!” Ginny grins, waving her over. Hermione leans down and grimaces in disgust as Ginny whispers something to her. 

She pulls back with a frown. “I really miss how little I knew about you before you met Blaise.”

“Someday you’ll have this much fun with someone, and you can tell me everything in retaliation.” 

“It’s not retaliation if you enjoy it.” 

Angelina gives her an encouraging smile. “I’ll side-along Gin, so you can make a run for it after.” 

“After? Why not offer now?” 

A crooked grin appears on her face, and she shrugs. “Kinda curious how this is gonna play out, quite honestly.” 

She needed other friends. The ones she had now were far too invested in her suffering. 

She heaves a sigh and makes her way towards the bar with a purposeful gait, flagging down the primary bartender with a wave. 

“Stirling! Is Dahlia in today?” 

As he slung his towel over his shoulder, the burly old Scot smirked. “That she is, Ms. Granger. Your sweet tooth acting up again?” 

She laughed, leaning against the bar. “Not for me today, I’m afraid. I have a friend here that I think would adore her treats. He has a bit of a sweet tooth as well, from what I remember.” 

“You may want to rethink that, lass. Dahlia’s made her chocolate custard cake today. Package you up a slice to go and one for your friend?” 

Playfully, Hermione lets out a groan. “You villain . Of course, pack me the cake. That is one of her best.” 

The bartender chuckles as he goes to give his wife the order in the back. Hannah Abbott was a brilliant witch for hiring those two to run the place. A few moments later found her stuffing a packed slice of cake into her bag and balancing another as she strode towards the booth. 

With each step, Hermione's chest tightened, and her hands shook. She could feel the tension in her body and the sweat forming on her palms. She had no idea why she was this nervous. 

When she cleared her throat, all three of the men looked up at her. She tried to make eye contact with Blaise alone because he was the only one she spoke to on a regular basis now that he was seeing Ginny.  

“Hello, boys. Blaise, your… whatever she is …asked me to remind you to pick up sugar cubes and a crop before you visit. If you are going to do what I think you are going to do, please keep it in her room rather than in my living room or kitchen, where I eat." 

Blaise chuckles good-naturedly. “‘Course, Granger. Though, as usual, you’re welcome to join at any time.”   

"No, thank you,” she hummed, somehow managing to keep the disgust from her expression. 

 “And, um...” she placed the plate in front of Malfoy. He stared at her, his grey eyes wide. They were really rather pretty up close, weren’t they? A bit less ordinary grey and more... a rainy day sort of grey. Quite lovely. 

"I know it is still a few days away, but... Happy Birthday, Malfoy."    

She gave a courteous wave and quickly walked away, making every effort to resist the urge to run, despite the fact that her instincts were telling her to do so. She made it back to her own table without giving in to a little voice telling her to look back and see if Malfoy had chucked the treat at the wall or something.  

While assisting Ginny in standing, Angelina gave her a wink.  

“I’ll drop her off at your guy’s place before I go home,” she huffed, draping a mumbling Ginny against her. “He’s still staring, by the way.” 

“Like he wants to kill me?” 

“No. Actually, it is possible that he is blushing.” 

"Shut up," Hermione replied with a small laugh. "Malfoy doesn't blush. Let's go."

Ignoring the burning curiosity to turn back and see if Malfoy was actually flushed, Hermione followed Angelina out of the Leaky Cauldron. The cool night air quickly replaced the warm glow of the pub, sending chills down their spines. Hermione couldn't shake off the feeling that they were being watched, but she refused to look back. It was better to leave Malfoy and all his complications behind them.

He should probably take a bite at some point, Draco thought, staring down at the slice of cake. Not long after Granger had made a run for it—he knew her escape face very well—he'd made his own excuses and left for the safety of his new flat. The slice of cake now sat on his modest kitchen table with a fork nearby and a glass of the ginger cordial that he’d been forced to drink as his stomach settled to meals outside of that hell.  

He wanted to take a bite because it truly did look delicious. A rich chocolate cake with a mousse layer in the middle. He salivated, staring at it. However, he was loath to destroy it.  

He hadn’t even remembered that his birthday was coming up. His friends hadn’t said anything, and he was currently estranged from his parents - or at least was trying to be. This birthday had been well on it’s way to flying by with no acknowledgment as his last two had…but Hermione Granger, of all the bloody people in the world, was the only one to acknowledge it.  

Draco sighed and forked up a bite, closing his eyes to savor it as the chocolate and cream filled his senses. He adored sweets - had missed them almost as much as he’d missed sunlight. He gave a little moan of delight as he swallowed. 

Divine . 

He sighed again, pushing the plate away. As tempted as he was to devour it all now, he knew he’d get sick. For two years, he’d only been allotted broth with cabbage and bread, with an occasional overripe apple. On his first night of freedom, he’d gone straight to a pub for a full dinner and paid for his overindulgence by becoming ill for nearly a week. Even now, seven months later, he is still having trouble readjusting to his former diet. 

So no, he wouldn’t eat the entire cake. He would save the rest for tomorrow. He packed it up and placed it in his fridge, then drank the small glass of cordial to relive his stomach. 

He wondered what had motivated the witch to get it for him. Certainly, not because they were friends or because she liked him. He had very clear memories of her sneers of contempt and her fist nearly breaking his nose. Was it a bet? That seemed more likely. It certainly couldn’t be because she suddenly wanted him.  

He knew that he was no longer a prize. The Malfoy name was tarnished along with his looks. Scars littered his body from his various punishments, along with his brush with Potter. He’d been pale to begin with, but his stint in Azkaban had him looking practically translucent. He could see all his darker veins and the bags under his eyes. He still had fits of trembling thanks to his dear aunt’s training and her copious use of curses on him to “toughen him up.” 

He stood up and went to brush his teeth - a horrid practice but a necessary one. He still had five more months before they’d return his wand, so everything had to be done as if he were no better than a muggle. 

No. That’s not right. Remember what the mind healer said . Everyone is worthy of respect simply because they exist. We are not better than muggles or squibs just because we can use magic, especially considering how often that magic usage can take dark turns. He lived it - he should know just how dangerous magic could be.

He nodded to himself in the mirror. Yes. He knew. Perhaps the muggles were the truly superior ones, living away from all this nonsense. 

No. She’d probably nag at him about that too. Something along the lines of “Why does the concept of superiority appear to be so important to you, Mr. Malfoy?” To which he’d reply, “Because I’m a Malfoy.” Only to remember that being a Malfoy meant shit in this current world.

Taking another look at himself, he let out a tired sigh. He was looking more and more like a blonde version of Snape. Perhaps he could cut his hair, at the very least. He’d likely butcher it, but he wasn’t certain he’d trust a barber around him with scissors at the moment. 

“Draco, I can detect the heavenly scent of rich, decadent chocolate. Did you happen to save me a bite of that delectable-looking cake?”

Theo strides into the room, his eyes locking with Draco’s through the reflection in the mirror. “Admiring our reflections, are we?”

“Not much to admire these days, Nott. And no, you may not have any of my chocolate cake,” Draco grunts as he brushes past him, exiting the lavatory.

“You’re always gorgeous to me, mate. Now you’ve got that gruff quality, that’s all. Like the men in Pansy’s romance novels,” Theo grinned and followed him through the hall.  

Draco let out a slightly annoyed sigh. He just wanted to go to bed. He loved Theo, but he didn’t have the patience for the man’s never-ending chatter right now.  

“Why can’t I touch the cake? Because it’s delicious... or because it came from a pretty girl?” 

"Please, Theo," Draco pleaded with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“What? Even you have to admit that Granger’s filled out nicely, and she’s learned how to use cream on her curls. You are aware that I am not fond of women; however, I do have the urge to squeeze their breasts. Hers are quite a handful these days. Very squeezable." 

Draco paused. “You what?”   

Theo shrugs. “I consider it one of my most annoying biological urges. Although I have no sexual desire for them, I occasionally derive joy from squeezing a tit. It’s very satisfying. Pansy lets me squeeze hers from time to time, as does Greg. Stress reliever, really.”  

“Pardon, Gregory Goyle let's you squeeze his tits?” He raised an eyebrow skeptically at him.

Theo chuckled with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Hmm, oh yes. Unfortunately, he’s been getting rather fit, so the tits are shrinking,” he says, staring at the ground like he’s deep in contemplation. “I might have to find a new pair of tits to squeeze soon. Greg’s are beginning to feel like rocks. Not relaxing in the slightest.”   

"You could always try something else," Draco replied with a hint of sarcasm, his silver eyes narrowing. "Perhaps reading or solving a puzzle, like most people do."

"Pfft," Theo scoffed, brushing off Draco's practical suggestion like it was nothing. He ignored Draco's indignant protests and tugged him towards his bedroom, practically throwing him onto the bed without much grace.

Draco could have protested or demanded to be allowed to go back to his own bedroom, but he could feel the tension radiating off of Theo's body as he clung to him like an octopus. With a resigned sigh, he allowed himself to be pulled into Theo's embrace, knowing that both of them were probably having a rough night.

It was one of the reasons why they had all decided to rent a muggle home together, the other being that it was easier without the use of their magic. Each of them had their own personal demons, and in order to cope, they had become somewhat codependent on each other's presence and support. Judging by the strength of Theo’s octopus grip at the moment, Draco hazarded a guess that the previous night had been one filled with nightmares. 

As Draco's eyelids began to droop and the comforting pull of sleep started to embrace him, Theo's soft whisper broke through the silence. "Draco?" 

"Hmm?" He mumbled, barely conscious. 

After a few moments of quiet, Theo spoke again, his voice trembling with fear. "I'm scared." 

Draco's eyes snapped open in concern. "What is it?" 

"I'm so...you know that old lady three houses down? The one who used to give me apples and let me pet her dog?" 

Draco nodded, memories flooding back of their childhood days together. 

"She called me 'death eater scum' today and threw the apple at my head." Theo's voice cracked with emotion, and Draco felt his heart clench in anger and sadness for his friend. 

"I'm scared that they'll never let us move on," Theo continued, his voice now laced with fear. "I...I can't even get anyone to hire me, Draco. I've been trying so hard, but it feels like no one will give me a chance."

Draco's chest tightened at the thought of his annoyingly optimistic friend finally breaking down and struggling to find work because of their pasts. The weight of their mistakes seemed to follow them everywhere, even when they were desperately trying to leave them behind. As much as he wanted to offer words of comfort and reassurance, he didn’t know what to say when he struggled just as much. 

He too was tired of being treated like the weight of the world’s evil fell to him to pay for. He’d served his time and lost his entire way of life, and still people would spit when he passed or refuse to take his gold. Poor Theodore hadn’t even been a part of anything himself - he was paying for his demented father’s sins. 

Draco flashed a teasing grin, hoping to ease Theo's troubled mind and lull him into much-needed rest. 

"Don't worry, my dear Theo," he reassured, pulling out his best impression of his father’s crisp tones, "we will all make it through this trying time. And let's be real, with your charm and good looks, it won't be long before some wealthy widow falls head over heels for you and whisks you away to their grand castle. Then, of course, you'll have to support both Blaise and me in our luxurious lifestyles. Who knows, maybe even that Weasley chit will take a liking to Blaise enough to keep him, and we'll be rid of him for good." A mischievous glint shone in Draco's eyes as he poked fun at their dire situation.

Theo lets out a weary snort and burrows deeper into Draco's embrace, pressing his face into the warmth of his neck. "I'm just exhausted, Draco," he mumbles quietly. 

He can feel the weight of his words, heavy and layered with unspoken emotions. 

"I know," Draco responds, his voice filled with understanding and empathy. "Me too." 

The air between them is thick with exhaustion, their bodies seeking solace in each other's presence. The quiet sounds of their breathing and the gentle rhythm of their heartbeats lull them into a peaceful slumber, wrapped up in each other.

Chapter Text

Draco’s nose twitched as he scented the air. 

Bacon. 

His stomach rumbled with a deep, appreciative growl, urging him to leave the cozy confines of his bedroom. Theo had already departed for parts unknown, as was often his habit once the sun rose and having emotions became too overwhelming for him. In reality, Theo was probably just too embarrassed to face him after last night's vulnerable moment. But there was no reason for that; despite his occasional brashness, he would never mock Theo for admitting his fears. Especially considering they shared this particular one. 

He absently scratched his stomach as he ambled towards the kitchen, drawn in by the scent of something delicious cooking. Blaise stood in front of the stove, his intense gaze fixed on the pan sizzling and steaming before him. It always surprised Draco to see his friends partaking in such mundane tasks as cooking. They had all been raised in the same privileged wizarding world, but now they were forced to adapt to a muggle lifestyle without their wands. That was why they were all huddled together in this quaint muggle home, making do with what they had.

The ministry had wielded their power with brutal efficiency after the war, taking almost everything from them. Despite their efforts, some remnants of their former wealth still remained, thanks to expensive bribes and payoffs made by his parents. Lucius had faced consequences for his actions, albeit far less severe than they deserved. He had spent a mere four months in Azkaban for the countless lives lost and the unspeakable evil he had committed “in defense of his family."   After his release, he was confined to house arrest for an entire year and had his wand blunted. Thankfully, Narcissa had escaped any official charges due to Harry Potter’s testimony that she’d helped save his life. 

Meanwhile, Draco had become the face of all evil in wizarding Britain, his name synonymous with treachery and betrayal. Accused of attempted murder and other heinous charges, he had been sentenced to two years in Azkaban, despite Potter and Granger’s attempts to testify for him as well. His involvement with the vanishing cabinet and Katie's hexing weighed heavily on his conscience, and he knew he deserved punishment for those actions. 

Theo and Blaise had managed to avoid a similar fate, but they were not without their own struggles. Theo's family estate still technically belonged to him, but he could no longer bear to even step foot on the property due to horrific memories and trauma. Most of their family's wealth had been drained by his father's allegiance to Voldemort, leaving him with little to live on. Theo himself only received a sentence of community service and a blunted wand for possessing dark and illegal artifacts, though it was common knowledge that these items had once belonged to his father. 

Blaise, who had kept a low profile during the war, emerged relatively unscathed. However, he kept his true fate hidden, even from his closest friends and roommates. They didn't know if he'd been formally charged with anything. His wand had been tampered with, but neither Draco nor Theo could understand why Blaise's wand seemed to have a strange limitation: it was only able to turn lights on and off. His grand manor, once the epicenter of the group's hangouts due to his mother's frequent absences, was now shrouded in mystery and strictly off-limits. Intrigued by its sudden exclusivity, Theo and Draco once attempted to visit the manor, but upon arrival, they found it had completely vanished. Was it under an invisibility charm? Reduced to ashes by some unknown force? Taken over by a horde of dangerous blast-ended skrewts (as per Theo's wild theory)? The truth remained a tantalizing enigma. All that was certain was that the grandiose manor had simply disappeared into thin air.

And so, with determination and a sense of newfound freedom, all three boys pooled their resources together to purchase a home once Draco was released. He had adamantly refused to return to the bleak and oppressive Malfoy manor, despite the numerous demanding letters from his father and politely stern ones from his mother. The mere thought of going back to the place where he had been forced to endure living with a heartless monster made his skin crawl. Instead, they found a cozy house nestled in a quiet muggle neighborhood. It was a symbol of their shared independence, away from the toxic environment of his family's estate. Away from the darkness. 

It had taken the boys several months to acclimate to the muggle amenities of their new home and become self-sufficient without the help of elves or servants. Draco had always relied on others to take care of his needs, and he never quite realized how much he had taken for granted until now. Something as simple as knowing what to do about lavatory supplies was a foreign concept to him. The two loo’s in the house lacked the bidet or prepared wet warmed cloths that he was used to in his manor or provided by elves at Hogwarts. And in case of any mess, he wasn't even able to perform a quick scourgify spell on himself. It was a stark reminder of his privileged upbringing and his lack of basic life skills.

Beyond his frantic stockpiling of essential items like toilet paper and wipes, he delved into the world of domestic tasks. He learned the art of washing dishes to a sparkling shine and mastered the intricacies of cleaning every nook and cranny in the house. But it was in the kitchen where he truly shone, crafting delicious meals with ease and precision. And even the seemingly banal task of laundry became almost therapeutic for him, as he took special care with each garment, choosing just the right settings and folding them with precision. He had become a well-rounded household manager, finding satisfaction in even the most mundane tasks.

Theo had transformed into a social butterfly, flitting from one setting to another as he attempted to charm everyone into being his friend, both magical and muggle, though he seemed to have better luck with the latter. When night fell and it was just the three of them, he reverted back to his old self—quiet and melancholic, brilliant and vulnerable. But to the general public, Theo was a new person entirely—fickle and sassy, adorned in bright colors and eccentricity, yet still maintaining a certain sweetness about him. He spent most of his time attending various events and parties, claiming to be networking in search of more stable job opportunities than odd jobs for old ladies or working in mundane muggle shops.

Blaise, surprisingly, had taken on the role of leader within their group. The harsh realities of loss, war, and his time spent in Azkaban had changed Draco so drastically that he had become withdrawn even when they were alone together. As a result, Blaise stepped up to fill in the gaps. He had managed to secure a decent job to keep them financially afloat, working as an assistant to Jordanna Bodiment, the esteemed trainer for the prestigious Holyhead Harpies quidditch team. The position seemed to suit Blaise perfectly, as he didn't seem to mind being at the beck and call of the all-female team. In fact, he relished it, constantly being ordered around by at least eight women who saw him as their own personal assistant. Despite his busy schedule, he somehow found the time to fall disgustingly in love with the Harpie’s Chaser, the one and only Ginevra Weasley—something that had surprised Draco yet somehow made sense. 

Occasionally, other members of their group would make their way over to check on them or attempt to stay in touch. Pansy Parkinson had permanently relocated to Paris in pursuit of an independent career as an interior designer. Her mother's disapproval of Pansy's unwillingness to marry into the elite circles (including Draco himself) had resulted in a cut-off of funds, but it seemed the cunning girl had prepared for this possibility and was thriving on her own. 

As for Gregory Goyle, he was still present in their lives but had undergone a remarkable transformation. The once brutish and reckless boy had mellowed over the years, perhaps due to the guilt and trauma of watching his friend perish in the fiery flames. Now, he was kinder and more thoughtful, though still not the sharpest tool in the shed. He had found his passion as a baker and happily supplied the group with delicious breads and treats.

The irresistible aroma of said freshly baked bread filled their cozy kitchen, swirling around Draco as he collapsed into a dining chair. Draco's gaze wandered to the yellow wall behind Blaise, adorned with intricate paintings of pink and blue flowers and mandalas in an attempt at "Bohemian chic," as Theo had called it when he proudly displayed his work. But all Draco could see was a feeble attempt to brighten up their dismal living space.

“Bacon sarmie?” Blaise interrupted his thoughts with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, thank you,” Draco murmured sleepily. “You here all day?” 

“For a bit,” Blaise responded distractedly as he slathered some bread with that glorious sauce called ketchup. “Dinner with Ginevra tonight, and then we’ll be in Wales for a week.” 

“All right then. You know where Theodore went off to?” 

"Here I am, my love," came a cheerful voice from behind him. "Good morning, my snakes."

Draco's eyes practically bulged from their sockets at the sight that greeted him. Theodore was standing there in an old-fashioned dressing gown, sheer and trimmed with feathers. Each step he took caused the gown to swish and flow elegantly around him, like something out of a fairytale. The dark purple fabric perfectly matched the satin pajamas he wore underneath, giving him a regal yet playful look. 

"Merlin's saggy balls, what are you bloody wearing?" Draco exclaimed.

Theodore just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "You like?" He twirled around, showing off his ridiculous outfit even more. "It's my new robe. I thought it would be perfect for lounging around on lazy mornings."

Draco couldn't help but chuckle at his friend’s antics, feeling his heart warm at the sight of Theodore's happy expression. And despite how outrageous the robe may have been, he couldn't deny that it suited Theodore perfectly.

He shook his head. He should be used to Theo’s antics by now. 

“You look lovely, Lord Nott,” he drawled sarcastically. 

"Thank you, my dear." Theo flashed a mischievous grin as he effortlessly settled into the seat across from him. Blaise and Draco exchanged amused glances behind Theo's back. 

 Blaise deftly placed two bacon sandwiches in front of them and a selection of condiments on the side. Draco’s was already dripping with ketchup. 

“Where are you off to today?” Blaise asked, adding a light dollop of ketchup to his own sandwich.

“Nowhere special. Just planning on a lie in," replied Theo with a yawn, already spreading a liberal amount of mayonnaise onto his own sandwich.

Draco scowled at the sight, wondering when Theo would learn that ketchup was clearly the superior muggle condiment. He couldn't understand how anyone could prefer the blandness of mayonnaise over the tangy sweetness of ketchup.

He savored each bite of his half sandwich, the tender strips of bacon melting in his mouth and the freshly baked bread providing the perfect balance of chewiness and softness. The delicious sauce added a burst of flavor to every bite. 

As he finished his half, Blaise's concerned eyes met his own. 

“Think you can handle the other half?” 

He could feel the heaviness of the meat settling in his stomach, causing a twinge of nausea that he pushed down. Despite the discomfort, he desperately wanted to eat more. After all he had endured, he couldn't bear the thought of dying from something as mundane as malnutrition. But he hadn’t been able to find anyone to help him. Or willing to help, he should say. 

With a sigh, he admitted defeat. "No," he grumbled. "I don't think I can handle the other half right now. We’ll wrap it, and I’ll try more later." 

Theo had already poured him a glass of ginger cordial, a gesture that Theo had done countless times before. He nodded his thanks and took a sip, relishing the soothing warmth it brought to his stomach. He closed his eyes and waited for the queasiness to subside.

"Actually, I have a special request for the two of you," Blaise says softly, his voice tinged with shyness. "As luck would have it, both of you have open schedules today. I would like to invite you to dinner at Ginevra's tonight. We are having a soft launch, and I would love to see how our friends mesh together as a group." 

Draco drawls, "I have no interest in having dinner with Potter or the Weasel. Eating is already a struggle as it is." 

Theo snorts in amusement, but Blaise just rolls his eyes. 

"Don't worry, this soft launch excludes brothers and exes. It will only be the three of us, Ginevra and Granger." 

Draco mulls it over before stating skeptically, "I'm not sure that having dinner with Granger glaring at us will be much better." 

Theo's enthusiasm bubbles over as he exclaims, "I'm actually excited! I've always wanted to get to know Granger. She's like an adorable, bristly little Puffskein."

The mere thought of it elicited a genuine burst of laughter from Draco, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. The comparison was so spot-on, he could already imagine the sparks flying off her puffskein fur as she grew more and more agitated. He relished the idea of getting under her skin and seeing that unruly hair puff up along with her. 

Theo and Blaise's eyes widened in awe as they watched him. He couldn't believe it himself, but this was probably the first time he had genuinely laughed in years—the sound bubbling up from deep within his chest and escaping his lips in a burst of pure enjoyment.

Embarrassed, he cleared his throat.  "Anyway," he managed to say, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction. "I'd like to support you, mate, but I don't want your... whatever she is... getting insulted when I can't eat her food." 

"Yes, well. As for what she is, that's why I invited you to dinner. We're making it fully official," Blaise announced, a hint of nervousness lacing his words. "I mean, we've been official and mostly exclusive for some time now, but we are going public. And if all goes according to my plan, I'll have a ring on her finger by Christmas."

Blaise paused for a moment before continuing. "Oh, and I haven't told her any details that would embarrass you, but I've hinted at your needs. We'll take care of you; just come with us for dinner tonight, will you?" The anticipation and excitement were evident in Blaise's voice as he eagerly awaited Draco's response.

Draco let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he reluctantly agreed. "Yeah, I'll be there," he muttered under his breath.

Theo's eyes sparkled mischievously as he waved a handkerchief that seemed to materialize from the depths of his feathered robes. "I'll come too and bring some exquisite wine to celebrate the occasion. But first, let's discuss what you just said. 'Mostly exclusive' ? Now that's interesting. Do tell me more," Theo purred, batting his long lashes at Blaise with an alluring gaze.

Blaise's lips curled into a wry smile as he leaned back in his chair, casually crossing his arms over his chest. "Simply put, Nott, Ginevra is a goddess, and I cannot refuse her anything."

Draco groaned. “Can we not? I’m trying to keep my food down here.” 

“You’re no fun. Blaise, tell me every detail later. I’m off to do my nails.” 

Theo sailed away to his bedroom, and Blaise stood up to clear the table and wrap Draco’s sandwich. Meanwhile, Draco sat there with his nerves battling his food for a place to curdle in his gut. 

Draco's voice was soft and uncertain as he spoke. "Are you certain you want me to come?" he asked, glancing nervously towards the door. "It might go smoother if you just take Theo. I'm sure they won't want me there."

Blaise looked over at his best friend with a determined expression. "You and Theo are my closest mates, and we live together," he reminded Draco, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ginevra is my future wife and the mother of my future children. She's going to be around for as long as the both of you, so it's time to begin building bridges, don't you think?"

Draco's eyes widened in surprise at Blaise’s words. "You're really that serious about her, eh?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his tone. "You realize those future children of yours will be Weasleys?"

Blaise nodded firmly, a smile spreading across his face. "Yes," he replied confidently. "I'm finding that I'm looking forward to being part of a large family after a lifetime of being alone." He gave Draco a reassuring pat on the back before heading to his own room to get ready for the day. 

Salazar, this was going to be a long day.

Ginny Weasley knew Hermione like the back of her hand, so she purposely didn't mention the dinner guests until Hermione caught on to it herself. As she stood in front of the stove, slicing a roast big enough to feed a small army, Hermione couldn't help but confront Ginny about the unexpected gathering.

"How can you call this a friendly get-together, Ginevra Weasley? A Malfoy will be present," she exclaimed with a furrowed brow and a hint of disapproval in her voice.

"Blaise insists that he's changed and mellowed out. Almost too much, to be honest. He's worried about him and wants to get him out of the house. And besides, he's my man’s best friend—I have to start getting used to having him around," Ginny explained with a shrug, trying to ease Hermione's concerns about their guest. 

The thought of Draco Malfoy being "mellow" was hard for Hermione to wrap her head around. Perhaps traumatized, but never mellow. Even with the constant rain cloud above his head, you had only to meet his eyes to see the simmering intensity still lurking in them. 

"You know I'll do anything for you, but the moment Malfoy starts in with the insults, I'll have to lock myself in my room."

"He won't!" Ginny interjected, her eyes flashing with determination. "Blaise has promised me free reign to hex Malfoy without any consequences if he tries anything."

"Really? He said that?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"I think you underestimate just how much I have that gorgeous man wrapped around my finger," Ginny boasted confidently. "And I say that without a shred of fake humility or exaggeration. He worships me and loves making me happy."

Hermione's head shook in disbelief. "No, I sort of understand. Remember when I walked in on the goddess and priest roleplay?" 

"Ahh, yes, one of my favorite scenes. Blaise looked so stunning, oiled down and under my heels." 

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes to the heavens. "I never would have pegged him for that type, to be honest. He always seemed so cold and detached during our school days. It's difficult for me to wrap my head around the idea of someone caring so deeply for another person, especially a man putting a woman ahead of himself in all things. It's quite strange." 

Ginny let out a small chuckle. "That's just because you're used to selfish prats like my brother and being content with playing second fiddle to Harry."

“Second fiddle? I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“I would. You were the brains, and sometimes even the brawn. Those two would have been dead first year without you,” Ginny shakes her head. “Course, it doesn’t matter now. You’ve shown all the wizarding world just who you are, eh?” 

Hermione blushes. “Hush.” 

The crackling of the fireplace filled the room, and a warm voice called out, “Ready for us, girls?” 

Ginny's infectious laughter echoed throughout the room. "Come through, darling," she beckoned. 

Blaise appeared, dressed in autumn colors and topped with a sleek grey peacoat. Even Hermione couldn't deny how striking he looked, the colors lovely against his darker skin. She found herself wondering what color to call it—ginger? Rust? Surely not orange enough for pumpkin. As she was lost in her thoughts, she realized she had been staring at him. Her reverie was broken by a loud and passionate kiss exchanged between Gin and Blaise—far too inappropriate for public display.

She turned to see Theo Nott's brown eyes meeting hers, his face adorned with a mischievous grin. He waved at her, winking, and revealing the most stunning shade of purple eyeshadow with a touch of shimmer and a smoky grey blended in instead of traditional eyeliner. His soft brown jumper looked like it was made from the finest cashmere, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a pang of longing to touch its softness.

A throat cleared, and her body snapped around, her gaze meeting Draco Malfoy's piercing stare. As always, his eyes seemed to bore into her, intense and searching. Not for the first time, she couldn't help but wonder if he was Legilimens, able to read minds and uncover secrets with just a glance. But her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sight before her: Mr. Perfect Pureblood Prince was wearing dark muggle-style jeans and a navy cardigan over a simple grey t-shirt. The shock of seeing him dressed so casually almost caused her eyes to bulge from their sockets. He looked strangely approachable, as if he belonged in the world of muggles rather than wizarding society. It was disorienting, to say the least.

"Ah, yes. Welcome to our humble abode." Hermione stuttered nervously, her cheeks flushing pink. She couldn't believe she was stumbling over something as simple as a greeting. "Um, Sunday roast? That's what we prepared for tonight." 

Her mind raced with thoughts of how to impress their guests. Why was she acting so flustered and uncharacteristically shy? 

"Sounds absolutely delightful. Lead the way to the table, Granger," Theo said smoothly, his brown eyes flickering with amusement at her sudden bashfulness. "Oh, and Draco, the wine?" 

Hermione hadn't even noticed he was holding two bottles until he offered one to her. She took it gingerly, inspecting the label with interest. 

"Bordeaux," he explained in a quiet voice. "Blaise mentioned there would be beef for dinner, so..." 

She nodded, impressed by his thoughtfulness and effort in choosing a suitable wine to pair with their meal. But her curiosity was piqued when he handed her a second bottle, one she had not expected. 

"Red currant rum," he grumbled, his jaw clenched tightly as if he were embarrassed by his choice. He refused to meet her gaze.

As Draco strode towards the kitchen, Hermione watched his retreating figure, completely stunned. How did he know what she liked to drink now? Ginny, perhaps?

She shook her head and shoulders like she was ridding herself of useless thoughts and strode towards the dining table. She placed a cooling charm on the bottle of wine, deciding to save the rum for herself later. Hermione watched Draco settle into a chair that Gin offered him, casually arranging everything to his liking. 

A sudden thought struck her—a small but nagging worry. Would he even be able to eat anything tonight? Sunday roast dinner was always a bit of an indulgence, with its rich gravies and heavy meats. Gin had said she'd kept Malfoy's needs in mind, but she couldn't imagine he'd be able to truly eat anything substantial if her suspicion of his conditions was correct. She had been periodically thinking about his situation, wondering if he might be going through the dangerous refeeding syndrome. Though she wasn't an expert, she felt confident enough to try and help him eat something . The man was nearly skeletal. 

Determined, she snuck back into the kitchen and pulled out her precious chocolate ice cream. With careful precision, she measured out a scoop and mixed it in a blender with Ginny's protein powder, a packet of her go-to breakfast drink, and a splash of double cream. The end result was a thick and creamy chocolate shake that promised to be both delicious and nourishing. 

With the shake in hand, she scoured the cupboards for a suitable glass for someone as refined as Malfoy. After much searching, she settled on an amber crystal goblet that looked like it could have been nicked from a fancy bar or something. Ginny was unpredictable when drinking.

She added a straw for good measure before making her way back to the dining table, where everyone was starting to plate their food. Surprisingly, she noticed that Malfoy had an entire bottle of ketchup next to his drink.

Clearing her throat nervously, she mustered up all her courage and placed the shake on his placemat. His plate only held a small Yorkshire pudding with a touch of gravy, a sliver of roast, and an enormous pile of ketchup. 

"Here," she said, trying to sound casual despite her racing heart. "I know you hate when I meddle in your business, but I thought this might help. Based on the little we learned from Blaise and what I've observed, I believe you may be experiencing refeeding syndrome. This shake contains approximately one thousand calories, so if you can keep it down, it should provide some relief."

His piercing grey eyes were fixated on her, as if he were trying to read her thoughts. She couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine at the intensity of his gaze.

"Thank you, Granger," his voice held a hint of surprise, despite his attempt to hide it. His words seemed to hang in the air, leaving an awkward silence between them before he continued speaking. “I am not sure what refeeding syndrome is, but this looks delicious.” 

“It’s, uh. Well, I am not an expert on the subject. It’s essentially when people have a difficult time adjusting after a long period of starvation or malnutrition. I don’t know why you’re still having trouble after seven months," she said softly, trying to mask her own surprise at his situation. "But I can look into it more if you'd like. There must be resources outside of wizarding society that can help. Unless it's a curse, which is also something else to look into."

He looked surprised by her offer, and she was a little surprised herself. She may have detested him in their Hogwarts years, but now, as adults, she couldn't turn away from someone in need.

"I mean, I'm sure you have some healer on the case already," she continued, trying to downplay her offer. "But I…”

“I don’t. The healers I’ve tried to see have turned me away. I don’t know how to get a muggle healer. I would appreciate you helping me instead, if you aren’t too busy, Granger.” 

His response shocked her—the healers he had tried had turned him away? He’d made incredibly stupid choices, and he’d been a bully, but he wasn’t Voldemort . She felt anger bubbling up inside her at the injustice of it all.

“Of course she will. She loves helping people. It’s what she does for a living, after all,” Ginny chimed in, her grin veering suspiciously towards fox territory. 

"I...yes, it is," she stammered out, turning back to face Malfoy. "I would be happy to help you. It may be a long shot, but would you be available to meet with me on Monday around noon? That's when I usually have my lunch break, and we could discuss what I've found so far. That is, if you're not too busy."

She couldn't believe she was making plans to meet with Malfoy and help him. But something about his gaze—a mix of vulnerability and hope—made her feel like she had to try.

"I don't have anything scheduled for then," he replied, his tone softer than usual. "I appreciate your help, Granger."

“He never has anything scheduled, so he could even meet you tomorrow if you wanted,” Theo piped up, his gaze sharp and his grin mischievous when she startled at his voice next to her. 

"Yes. I'm still here as well, Hermione darling," Theo chimed in, his tone teasing. "Do you mind if I call you Hermione now that we're all such dear friends?"

She couldn’t help but smile back and nod, sensing that having Theo and Ginny in the same room for too long would probably place the entire planet in mortal peril. 

She slid into her chair at the table, directly across from Malfoy. Ginny took the head of the table, with Blaise sitting to her right next to Malfoy and Theo on Hermione's right.

Pouring a generous serving of gravy over her plate, Hermione observed Malfoy through lowered lashes as the others engaged in a lively conversation about sports. She couldn't help but notice the tentative way he sipped at her milkshake, his eyebrows rising slightly in surprised delight at the taste. He took another sip and let out a contented sigh, seeming to find some small bit of relief in the drink. Hermione couldn't help but smile internally at having been able to bring him some comfort. 

“Salazar’s balls, how do you find time to live , Hermione?” 

She startled, drawing her eye’s away from Malfoy to meet Theo’s horrified ones. 

“Pardon?” 

“Ginevra was just explaining your job to us. She makes it sound like you bloody well run the world,” Blaise explained, shaking his head and then taking a bite of roast beef. 

“Well,” she laughed coyly. “I sort of do.” 

“What does that mean?” Malfoy asked, finally joining the conversation as well. He looked so genuinely interested that she dove right in, explaining everything from the very beginning. 

The aftermath of the war had left everything in shambles. The once powerful government was now a mess, with half of its members dead or imprisoned. Even the esteemed Wizengamot had been decimated. The void of Chief Warlock, left by Dumbledore's death, remained unfilled, and several members had retired from their positions in fear and uncertainty. No one knew who to turn to or how to repair the system. 

As she explained just how broken the ministry had become during the war, her voice dripped with disdain as she recounted the events that followed. "And of course we all know what happened with Umbridge," she sneered, shaking her head in disgust.

"At that time, Kingsley Shacklebolt was only acting minister, and he was desperate for people he could trust to help him clean up the entirety of wizarding Britain's government system," she snorted in contempt. "It was a rude awakening for me, realizing how easily people could be swayed by promises of power or wealth. It sickened me to see so many abandon their morals and do whatever it took to advance in this new world order."

She paused to take a sip of her drink, her expression still cold and bitter. "Kingsley has even suggested that I run for minister when he retires. And perhaps I will. But for now, none of their offers hold enough power for me. Everyone is desperate for someone to lead them and tell them what to do, but Kingsley is nothing more than a traditional politician. They all kept coming to me—the minister, the department heads, the Wizengamot, even the citizens. They began to see me as someone who could get things done, and that was rather ruthless when it came to doing the right thing. Wizarding Britain likes to run itself like a monarchy without a monarch."

"You have given them a Queen," Malfoy stated in a hushed tone, his sharp eyes gleaming with both understanding and something more mysterious that, if it had been anyone else, she would have called it awe. It startled her for a moment—the weight of that stare. It made her feel...powerful. 

Hermione smirked, basking in it. “Essentially, yes. On the outside, I have my own independent organization, giving me the autonomy to pursue projects and initiatives without being constrained by Ministry regulations.” Her eyes sparkled with determination as she continued, "I use this independence to tackle controversial or innovative reforms. Within my organization, I have several departments in formation - research, magical creatures, and even a small publishing department for sharing factual news and research papers."

"On the inside, I hold numerous titles." Hermione shrugged nonchalantly before listing them off. "Chief Warlock, with a newly established seat for my future heir, should they choose to use it. Vice Minister, which we just implemented last year. There are even rumors that they want to offer me Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards."

A mischievous glint appeared in Theo's eyes as he prodded further. "And?" he asked eagerly.

With a knowing smile, Hermione replied with a shrug, "Everything goes through me in some capacity or another. Whether it be through my agency or my official ministry roles," She paused for a moment before continuing, with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "Mcgonagall has even been trying to talk me into taking over for her at Hogwarts as well. I'm still not sure about that one yet, but if Dumbledore had time to do everything and still have free moments to meddle in children's lives, then I suppose I could handle it too."

Blaise's eyes widened in genuine horror as he stared at her. "Forgive me for repeating Theodore's question, but when do you find time to actually fucking live?" 

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sitting here having dinner with all of you right now, aren't I?" 

Theo's forehead crinkled as he spoke up. "I may not know much about politics or our strange government system, but how is it possible for you to hold so many different titles and high positions within the same organization? Shouldn't there be someone calling foul or saying it's corrupt? My apologies; I don't mean to imply that you are corrupt, darling." 

A sly smile tugged at her lips. "Oh, it most certainly is corrupt. Kingsley has used the patronage system to place his friends and fellow members of the Order in positions of power. But fortunately for everyone, I have chosen to use my name and influence for good. In a way, I am creating a silent autocracy dedicated to enacting social and economic reform for our world. You know, like, "‘ If you want it done right, do it yourself.’ ”

“You’re absolutely mad, and I believe I’m frightened and strangely turned on in equal measure.” Theo chuckled, saluting her with his wine glass.

She wasn’t even sure why she admitted all that to a room full of snakes. Granted, very few people would listen if they tried to denounce her to the world, but at least she was being morally grey for the greater good. She wasn’t seeking power for power’s sake; she was trying to make the wizarding world a safe place for all. 

Theo leaned in, his voice laced with playful charm. "You say you have many departments? Would any of them be in need of someone as beautiful as me? Perhaps research or I’d make a lovely gardener, I think." His raised eyebrow added to the flirtatious tone. 

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at Theo's interest. "You want to work? I… I’m sorry if this is rude, Theodore, but I was under the impression that purebloods of your status do not work. Outside of property tasks, of course." 

Theo shrugged nonchalantly. "We usually don’t," he admitted. "But you may not have been a part of the Wizengamot when they took what money was left for reparations and cleaned Nott Manor of all artifacts. I am now a penniless orphan whom no one will hire except muggles that don't care if you don't possess the proper muggle identification." He let out a dramatic sigh. "Malfoy’s disowned his parents, and Blaise’s whole manor is gone. And his mum is marrying a fellow in Dubai. Or was that Dublin?"  Theo asked Blaise, who simply shrugged. 

Hermione gasped, amazed by this revelation. "That's why you guys live in a muggle home? Because you’re stripped of everything?" 

Blaise straightened up defensively at her words. "Now, see here, Granger. We are hardly starving," he replied calmly. "Well, Theo and I are hardly starving. Sorry mate." 

Draco rolled his eyes at his friends' jab.

"Anyway," Blaise continued. "I managed to secure my job, and we're doing well. And once Ginevra lands the sponsorship for the new broom model, I might even get a raise." His tone held a hint of pride and excitement at their successes, despite their unfortunate circumstances.

Her brow furrowed in disbelief as she processed the news. The resentment that still lingered in many places around them was evident, but to deny someone the basic right to work based on their background was unfathomable to her. She huffed, twirling a lock of hair between her fingers as she thought. 

"You know," she began, "Harry's been complaining nonstop about all the paperwork and constant owls he receives. The previous secretary to the head auror retired around the same time he did, and Harry still hasn't found a suitable replacement." A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes as an idea formed in her mind.

"If you're open to it, I think you'd be perfect for the job. And if calling yourself a secretary is too lowly for you," she chuckled, "you could always refer to yourself as Harry Potter's guardian, saving him from stress-crying over paperwork and reports." Her smile widened at the thought of her friend finally getting some much-needed help with his overwhelming workload—and at him having to put up with an extrovert like Theodore Nott every day. 

“Harry is very forgiving about any mistakes or flaws while people learn, so you’d be in very good hands,” she added, pulling out her notebook from her pocket and writing herself a quick note to send Harry a heads-up about Nott. 

“Flaws? Is that a muggle thing?” Theo said with faux confusion. “Blaise, darling, do I have these flaws?” 

“Not a single one, mate. Flawless as always,” Blaise gamefully answered, though he didn’t tear his eyes off Ginny the entire time, as the woman was hand-feeding him bites of Yorkshire pudding dipped in gravy. Revolting. 

Hermione nibbled her lip as she contemplated her next words carefully. Her gaze flickered to Malfoy, who was still slowly working on the shake. 

"Erm, Malfoy. Did you by any chance need a position as well?" She asked, tilting her head inquisitively. "I wouldn’t presume to..." 

"I do," Malfoy responded quickly, his voice slightly elevated from its usual calm tone. "Did you have something in mind?" 

Hermione paused for a moment, considering her words, before speaking once again. 

"Actually, I am in need of an assistant, as well. Not that I would dare call you that. Perhaps a lead organizer or vice chairman? We can come up with a suitable title together. Essentially, I need someone by my side to help me run things because I find myself spread thin."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Hermione's suggestion. "You want me to help you? Are you certain?" He asked incredulously. 

"Well, honestly, no," Hermione admitted with a small smile. "But I remember your intelligence, your charm around everyone who isn't a Gryffindor, and your keen attention to detail. Perhaps we could start with a trial period—after we get your health sorted out, of course." She added in concern. "And if it doesn't work out or you don't enjoy working with me, we can easily find another role for you. I know I can be quite trying to work with. Bossy, opinionated, etc. You know all the worst."

“That is quite the offer, Granger,” Malfoy said, his nose scrunching almost cutely as he thought about it. 

“There’s no rush on my end. You have time to think about it. Perhaps you can look around or talk to other people when you come by on Monday? It’s all up to you. I have a few other people lined up if you didn’t want it.” 

She didn’t. But he didn’t need to know that. Truthfully, there were very few people that she would trust to run anything effectively, let alone the delicate threads of her little kingdom. She felt oddly confident that he would do well, however. She remembered all too well how startlingly intelligent he was, on par with her—challenging her, even. He could even excel in areas where she failed, like charming politicians or diplomats with a few empty flatteries and a dashing smile. Whenever she attempted to do the same, it felt as if she had been thrust back into her school days as buck-toothed and bushy-haired Hermione Granger—awkwardly trying to find her footing among seasoned wizards. 

"I will think on it, then. Thank you, Granger," Malfoy mumbled, his usually pale cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink. The sight was so unexpected that Hermione found herself momentarily stunned.

"Of course," she nodded graciously, recovering quickly. "Shake settling well?" Her eyes flickered at the nearly empty glass in his hand.

"Yes," he grinned, his face transforming with an open and genuine smile that she had never seen before. "I'm beginning to feel full for the first time in ages. Would you be willing to provide the recipe?" His voice held a hint of eagerness that was entirely new for her to hear.

"Of course," Hermione replied, her tone warm and encouraging. "Though it's mostly muggle items thrown together to provide protein and calories. You could probably experiment to find more flavors you'd like. If you needed, I could show you where muggles get their groceries?" She offered, her curls bouncing slightly as she tilted her head in question.

"No need," Blaise interjected, his rich voice tinged with amusement. "Regular homemaker, this one," he said, jerking his thumb towards Malfoy. "Adores Tesco and Sainsbury's, even though he can't eat most of what he makes us. Does most of the cooking and the cleaning, as well." His dark eyes twinkled with mirth.

"I'm sorry," Ginny giggled, her freckled face lighting up with glee. "I just can't picture the ferret cleaning like an elf. It's too funny." She shook with laughter as she leaned into Blaise. 

"I'm quite good at it, Weaselette," Malfoy drawled, his pointed features arranging themselves into a sneer. "You should give it a try; your baseboards are filthy." Despite his haughty tone, there was a playful glint in his grey eyes.

"Morgana's tit, who looks at baseboards?" Ginny screeched, her bright brown eyes wide with disbelief. "Your next cleaning day, I'm watching. I need to see this before I die. That's so rich." Her infectious laughter filled the room, causing even Malfoy's lips to twitch in amusement.

Hermione's watch beeped, and she jumped, glancing at the time. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I'm afraid I have to leave, but this was actually quite lovely," she said, her voice tinged with genuine regret. "Blaise, do keep your shenanigans out of my bedroom. Nott, it was lovely to see you, and I will send Harry a note to expect you," she added as she quickly rose from her chair. 

Ginny raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Where are you headed this time?" 

"A small village tried to dam up a river to expand and angered a Tiddy Mun," Hermione explained with a sigh. "He cursed the whole village with some sort of disease." She paused for a moment to gather her plate and set it in the sink, then continued confidently.

"I'm off to help appease him and ease their sickness until he recalls it." She shook her head disapprovingly. "Honestly, they should have known better. The Tiddy Mun in that area has been well documented for centuries." 

She twirled around the spacious living room, her movements frantic as she gathered her things. The others watched with amusement, their laughter filling the air. Her eyes lingered on Malfoy, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” she asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

“You will. Have fun saving the world yet again, Your Majesty,” Malfoy smirked, and Hermione rolled her eyes before stepping to the floo. 

She grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace. 

“Arcane Advocacy!” 

She waved one last time to the room and was off somewhere where she most definitely would not think about the strange protective urges she was feeling over Draco Bloody Malfoy. 

Chapter Text

Was he a fool for coming here? A fool to trust anyone outside of his circle, let alone the golden girl herself?

Draco huffed a nervous breath and adjusted his robes so they fell in perfect folds. There was little he could do about his gaunt appearance, but he’d at least tied his hair back with a sapphire blue ribbon that matched his waistcoat and tie. He hadn’t been sure what to wear, quite honestly. He had spent hours trying to create the perfect appearance, wanting to impress Granger and her colleagues.

Steeling himself, Draco straightened his posture and armored himself with his years of pureblood training as he approached the entrance. The guard, clearly used to visitors, only nodded at him before opening the door.

The exterior of the building had been impressive, towering over him at six stories high. The white brick walls were embellished with black paint and gold accents, giving off an air of power and elegance. Palladian windows circled the entire building, making it appear bright and open. The words 'Arcane Advocacy' were emblazoned across the front entrance in bold gold letters.

As he stepped inside, Draco was greeted by a bustling atmosphere. The marble floors were pristine white, adding to the overall sense of sophistication. Black and gold accents continued throughout the building. People hurried past him on all sides, each absorbed in their own tasks and conversations.

Stairs and elevators were packed with people coming and going, creating a constant buzz of activity. Taking a deep breath, Draco prepared himself for what lay ahead—facing a firing squad of judgmental stares and whispers. Perhaps the occasional glob of spittle. But he was determined to make a good impression, no matter what it took. He had a feeling that if he could make this work, Granger might just be his salvation.

As she had explained her job that weekend, he couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and familiarity. Memories flooded back to when he was trapped in Malfoy Manor with monsters. In that hellish place, he had learned to seek solace in any way he could, often through books and the safety of his own mind. He became an expert at occlumency, creating a hidden room within his mind where he stored precious memories, safe from the clutches of Voldemort.

On those rare moments of privacy from the constant torture of his aunt and often even the Dark Lord himself, when his parents had warded him in tightly to protect him from Bellatrix's wrath, he allowed himself to escape into his inner room. Sometimes, he would lie there in peace, feeling a sense of safety behind two layers of barriers. Other times, his imagination would take over.

He pictured himself bravely facing the monsters head-on and freeing himself from their grasp. Other times, he imagined escaping with his mother and leaving his father to rot (though guilt would sometimes gnaw at him for this thought). And every now and then, he allowed himself to imagine what could have been if he had escaped with Potter and saved Granger before it was too late.

On his darkest days, he would often escape into vivid daydreams about rescuing her that day at Malfoy Manor. He could see himself valiantly defending her when she was bleeding onto the cold floors, bravely standing up to his own aunt and anyone who dared stand in his way. Another favorite daydream featured him working secretly with her to dismantle the death eaters from within their ranks after asking for her to be his prize. In this fantasy, he would cunningly manipulate the other followers, planting seeds of doubt and offering ideas until they looked to Granger for guidance instead of their dark lord. She would transform from a mere prize to a powerful leader among the death eaters, acting as the perfect servant and manipulating them all until even Voldemort himself was beneath her dainty feet. She would reign supreme as the queen of their game.

But reality proved that she didn't need anyone's help to achieve this status; she had done it all on her own. A true queen in all but name, ruling over them all with a heart of gold. Maybe that gold was mixed with threads of silver as she maneuvered society to her will in a way a Slytherin like him could respect.

Suddenly, a short Asian man in swirling dark purple robes appeared before him, his strange black hat with a large brim adding to his mysterious appearance.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m Nae Minsu, AA’s butler,” the man smirked, and Draco frowned when another person passed and overheard, chiming with, “Stop telling people you’re a butler, Minsu.”

“Anyway,” the man continued, snapping his fingers. “Follow along.”

The man led him through the bustling corridors, greeting people along the way and narrowly avoiding collisions with his oversized hat.

They arrived at a set of elevators and ascended to the very top floor. To Draco's surprise, no one seemed to recognize or judge him as a Malfoy. He supposed his unkempt appearance made him look more like a scarecrow than a member of his infamous family.

Entering Hermione Granger's office, Draco was taken aback by its size and opulence. A wall of windows behind her provided a stunning view of the city skyline, while the rest of the walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books and files. Her desk, made of myrtle burl and adorned with gold accents, exuded authority and power. It rivaled even that of his father's in their ancestral home.

But amidst all this grandeur sat Hermione herself, looking as lovely as ever. Her hair was styled in a crown braid chignon, which was practical yet elegant. She wrote furiously with one quill while another was stuck haphazardly through her braided hair. Seeing such a familiar sight in such an intimidating setting brought a small smile to Draco's face.

“Guests, Minnie Mouse!”

Draco eyed the man curiously as Hermione finally glanced up and appeared shocked by their arrival.

“Oh, yes. Malfoy, welcome. Minsu, thank you for your help.”

"It is my pleasure, honey," the man replied with a wink before making kissy faces at Hermione. The scent of his floral perfume lingered in the air as he left the room with the grace of someone trained by Narcissa Malfoy herself.

“Yes, he has that effect on people.” Hermione giggled, and Draco turned to raise an eyebrow at her. “He’s very into entrances and first impressions. Likely, he wanted to make sure there was no chance you’d forget him.”

“Hard to do that. What was that hat?”

Hermione chuckled. “It’s a gat. Traditional Korean, as is he. Korean, not traditional. He’s very into hats and hair accessories, so if you ever need to bribe him, that’s the way to go.”

“He said he was your butler?”

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. "He likes to say that, but he's actually the editor for our paper. He's been helping me out while I search for a suitable partner. Once you start, I'll be able to put him back in his rightful place."

Draco couldn't suppress a smirk at her words. "Somehow, I don't think he'll stay there for long."

"You're absolutely right," Hermione agreed with a grin. "But enough about Minsu; lunch should be arriving soon." She gestured towards the two love seats in front of her desk, silently inviting him to sit instead of standing in front of her like his father would have preferred.

Hermione leaned forward, her ankles crossed, and there was a spark of interest in her eyes.

 "How was your birthday yesterday?" she asked.

Draco shifted slightly in his seat, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Quite well, thank you," he replied. "Blaise is away with the Harpies, but he sent a cake and tickets for a future Quidditch game. Theo took full advantage and made it all about himself," Draco continued, rolling his eyes. "I was conned into making pottery with him and enduring an evening at the opera."

"Pottery? You mean, you both made pottery together?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Was it part of a class or..."

Draco nodded, his expression becoming slightly uncomfortable. "Yes. We were surrounded by muggles, and Theo made sure to announce to everyone that I was his husband." He let out a sigh before adding, "But I did discover I have quite the knack for pottery-making, so there's that."

Hermione snorted. “I can picture it, and it sounds hilarious. You’ve always been good with your hands, though. It was your mouth I had a problem with.”

“Err, right,” Draco mumbled, not sure how to respond to that.

He was distracted when a house elf appeared with a soft pop, and he was hit with the familiar scent of rose-scented body powder. He stared at the elf as she put down her tray, her tiny body clad in a hand-sewn pink and white dress with a crocheted purple apron. She beamed up at him as she conjured a small table to place his food on.

“Rosie? Wha…Granger? Why do you have my nanny elf?”

When the ministry had mandated elven rights, he hadn’t minded so much, except that they lost half their staff. Paying them was not a problem, but many of them hadn’t wanted to be there after the abuse they’d endured during Voldemort’s stay at the manor. Rosie had simply disappeared, and his parents hadn’t answered any of his questions about her.

“Rosie is ever so pleased to see her master Draco again,” she began, her big ears flopping. “Oh, pardon Rosie, Hermione Granger. Rosie forgot. Not Master. Mister.”

She beamed and nodded her head. Draco felt a small weight fall from his shoulders. A mere pebble amongst the mountain of worries, but at least something was solved.

“You may call me whatever you like, Rosie. What happened?”

“Rosie didn’t want to leave Mister Draco,” she said sadly. “Master Lucius says Rosie had to go. No children, no nanny. The others told Rosie about Hermione Granger and that she could help. And she did! Rosie has a new job at Hogwarts. But Rosie came here today because Hermione Granger said Master Draco was here!”

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink as she explained, and her smile was a touch shy. "I had to inquire about your favorite foods in order to devise a proper meal plan for you," she said. Her voice was soft and filled with genuine concern.

“Ah, Rosie. Thank you. I did try to call for you.” Draco mumbled hesitantly.

Rosie nodded. “Rosie heard it at first. Cried lots because Master Lucius said I must not go because it would look very bad. Cried so much, Master released bonds.”

“I’m sorry, Rosie. It must have been hard for you.” Draco reached out and tugged at her apron playfully, something he used to do back when all she wore was her silk pillowcase.

“Hard, yes. Rosie worried for Mister Draco.” She reached up and grasped his cheeks with both of her tiny hands, peering at him. “Draco Malfoy is sick?”

“Of a sort, Rosie,” Draco replied vaguely. “Nothing to worry yourself about.” 

But Rosie was not fooled by Draco's casual tone. She studied him carefully, her sharp eyes narrowing in a familiar way. “Mas… Mister Draco is telling partial truths to Rosie," she said with a huff, poking his nose playfully. "Rosie knows that face well."

Draco chuckled at her observation and patted her head fondly. He knew he couldn't hide anything from this clever house elf.

"Eat up, Mister Draco," she said, gesturing towards the tray and allowing him to get away without more questions. "It's the lentil soup Rosie makes when you’re sick. It'll be just the thing."

As he settled in to eat, Draco couldn't help but smile at the comforting aroma of Rosie's soup filling the air. Along with the hearty soup, there was also crusty bread and butter, a glass of ginger cordial to soothe his throat, and what he assumed was a small glass of Granger's milkshake.

"Looks lovely as always, Rosie," he complimented her with a grin, causing the house elf to blush in response. "I missed your cooking."

“It does smell delicious, Rosie. I do appreciate you bringing me lunch as well,” Hermione added, smiling conspiratorially at Draco. “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re helping Rosie’s Draco Malfoy. You eat up,” Rosie answered with a nonchalant wave. “Rosie must go back to the castle. Draco Boy…” Rosie began, eyeing him meaningfully. “Let Hermione Granger help you. No complaining. No saying mean things. No smirking. Rosie means it.”

"Yes, ma’am,” Draco answered, giving her his most brilliant smirk. The house elf rolled her eyes and vanished.

Draco's sharp gray eyes followed Hermione's movements as she took a delicate bite of her meal. A small, contented hum escaped her lips, and she glanced up at him, her chocolate brown eyes sparkling with appreciation. "Rosie is lovely," she said, pausing to swallow before continuing. "I had the pleasure of meeting her during one of my wellness checks at Hogwarts. The other elves had taken her in after your father...well, you know." A shadow crossed her face briefly before she continued. "She spent most of the time asking me to check on you.”

Draco took a moment to eat a few mouthfuls of the soup, his eyes closing in happiness at the familiar taste. He swallowed and patted his lips with a napkin. 

“Yes, well. She was my nanny, Granger. More of a mother than Narcissa was, quite honestly. Mother stepped up to try to save me as much as she could during those two years, but before that, she was the epitome of a perfect pureblood aristocrat mother. She left me in the care of the nanny and tutors while she attended to her social obligations and appearances. Our interactions were limited to dinner and occasional public outings, where we had to put on a facade of being a normal family. But at home, it was mostly just me and Rosie. Despite my arrogance and rudeness towards others, I was kinder to Rosie. Whenever something happened to me or I fell ill, I would seek solace in her presence rather than my mother's."

Hermione's spoon clinked against the plate as she set it down, her expression hot with anger. "That sounds absolutely dreadful," she exclaimed.

Draco nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "Well, that was just how things were done. It may not have been right or wrong, but that was the way my parents' world operated." His tone held a hint of bitterness and resignation, as if he had accepted and made peace with the flawed customs of his upbringing.

Through his entire childhood,, Rosie had been his constant companion. He had called out for her in the rubble of Hogwarts until his voice grew hoarse, but there had been only silence in return. Desperate for answers, he turned to his parents, hoping they could shed some light on Rosie's whereabouts. However, all they could offer was a vague explanation about new laws and practices that were sure to be implemented with the shift in power.

Frustrated and heartbroken, he’d continued to call for her while locked up in his cell. The silence that greeted him every time he called out her name was crushing. Now, he’s learned that Lucius severed their bond, leaving Rosie unable to hear him at all during that trying time. What a cruel thing to do.

He let out a heavy sigh, feeling the tension in the room increase. His eyes flicked over to Hermione, searching for a distraction from their current conversation.

"Granger," he began, his tone laced with curiosity. "Something you mentioned the other day has been on my mind. Given your beliefs and principles, I would have assumed that you wanted to abolish the Wizengamot entirely. Or at least make an attempt to do so. Yet, you mentioned having a seat for your heir. Care to explain?"

Hermione's lips curled into a mischievous grin, one that he found strangely alluring.

"Did you catch onto that, Malfoy?"

She took a delicate sip of her drink before settling back into her seat, radiating confidence.

"It's true that I despise the current system in place. It is outdated and unfair. My goal is to create something more equitable, perhaps similar to the muggle common law system. A rotating jury where everyone takes turns participating. So yes, I did accept a seat on the Wizengamot and convinced them to open seats back up for the Potter and Weasley families as well. It ensures that those positions are filled and gives me greater control when it comes time to make significant changes."

His admiration for her grew as she spoke, her determination shining through her words. He couldn't help but respect her strategic thinking and willingness to play the long game. Clever witch.

“Impressive.”

She arches an elegant eyebrow at him, a silent challenge in her gaze. "No protests about your pureblood bottom not being allowed to touch the prestigious Malfoy family seat?"

He lets out a derisive snort. "Not a word from me, Granger. I'm done with all of that nonsense."

She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, her expression softening slightly. "You really have left it all behind, haven't you? It's not just for show or obligation; you truly are living like a regular person now."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "It's hard not to when I'm still forbidden from using magic, hold no love for my parents, and am viewed as an outcast by society."

Her gaze, warm and penetrating, lingers on him as she chews on her lip. He can feel the intensity of her stare, as if it were warming him from the inside out. After a moment, she shakes her head, as though she had been struggling with something internally.

"Alright, well," she finally speaks up, "I have a packet of information for you to take with you." Without a wand or words, he notices, and she charms two thick packets into her hands. The woman is like a tiny but formidable force of nature.

"The black file is filled with details about the position I am offering you. It outlines your day-to-day duties and includes a short list of projects and department startup ideas that I believe would suit you well in the future," Hermione explains. "I thought it might help sway your decision to join us if you could see the potential opportunities here."

He takes the heavy packet from her, raising an eyebrow at her definition of a "short list."

"The brown file is for your condition," she continues sheepishly. "I took the liberty of checking your vitals during supper the other day and noticed that you are dangerously low on several essential nutrients. I want to keep an eye on your stomach and heart, so please let me know if you experience any palpitations or extreme pelvic pain. My personal healer will also be coming to meet with you soon. In the meantime, I have put together a meal plan for us to follow for the next few weeks. If there is no improvement, I think we should consider having a curse-breaker examine you." Her concern for his well-being is evident in her voice.

“I...” he starts, his eyes fixed on the equally thick packet in front of him. His hands tremble with a mix of emotions: hope, gratitude, and disbelief. He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Thank you, Granger. This is…” He chokes, struggling to find the words to express his feelings.

“It’s a lot, I know. And I’m being rather interfering and all, but...” She sighs, her voice filled with regret.

He stops her, his heart swelling with appreciation. “No, it’s fine. It’s…incredible, actually. You could have left me to rot, and no one—least of all me—would have been surprised or condemned you for it. I really appreciate this.”

“Of course," she responds softly, her gaze filled with understanding and compassion. "You’re trying your best; even I can see that. I…um."

“Well,” he stops her, breaking the emotional tension between them. “I should let you go now.” He glances at the papers in his hands before adding, “I have a bit of light reading to do."

Her lips turn up in a small smile. "Your office, should you choose to accept it," she says playfully, "will be the one on the right as soon as you step out of mine. Lots of windows to the outside but they’re charmed. You can see out, but no one can see inside. Similar furniture to mine, but we can change things up for you if you want. Um. Just take a look around and take some time to think. I won’t give you a specific day to respond, but soon, hopefully, you can let me know how you’re leaning.”

Draco rises to his feet, a subtle bow gracing his movements as he recognizes his dismissal. 

"It was a pleasure, your majesty ," he drawls smoothly, stalking towards the door with an air of confidence.

She rolls her eyes, but she smiles as she waves goodbye to him. He exits her office, the door clicking shut behind him. Immediately, a large black hat obscured his vision.

"So. She's recruiting Draco Fucking Malfoy," comes a mocking voice from in front of him.

Minsu is lounging nonchalantly against the wall, as if he had been waiting for Draco to emerge alone.

"You know," Minsu continues, his tone still light and friendly. "My brother went to Hogwarts with you lot. I went to Beauxbatons, of course. I begged to go because I thought attending Hogwarts would be a waste of this face. But my brother was there with all of you. He can't walk anymore, of course. The doctors said something about his nerves being too damaged to heal. They were quite confused until we took him to wizard healers. Even then, they couldn't do much—something about being crucioed too many times. Lucky he didn't lose his mind, they said."

Minsu crosses his arms and stares silently at Draco for a moment before continuing.

"My brother told me a story about one of the deatheater kids. He said that this kid would be ordered by the Carrows to torture multiple students at once, sometimes using other methods, and as soon as they left, he would secretly help the victims. He healed their cuts and gave them potions to ease their pain. And then he would charm their memories so they wouldn't remember who had helped them. But my little brother is quite clever. A natural legilimens from birth, actually. So he managed to break through all the charms and learn the truth. He knew that the same blonde bastard who was helping the deatheaters torture his fellow students was also the one sneaking him food and attempting to heal his failing body. Apparently, whatever you did saved him from organ failure but caused a strange reaction in his body that killed off his nerves instead."

Draco whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm not a healer," he confessed, "but I had to try."

Minsu sighed and pushed himself away from the wall, his face a mix of anger and resignation. 

"Yeah," he said with a tinge of bitterness. "I know. He's never said a bad thing about you. I'm still pissed you dared to touch him at all, but he seems to think you were some kind of vigilante, just trying to survive." He paused for a moment before adding, "So, forgiven but never forgotten, Malfoy."

Draco nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of Minsu's words. "Understood," he replied. "Is Hakkun doing well?"

Minsu let out a snort of laughter. "Decent enough to remember his name, I guess," he said with a hint of teasing in his tone. "Yeah, he's good. Hermione's got people researching how to fix nerve damage, so maybe he'll walk again someday, but for now, he's got the most pimped-out wheelchair you'll ever see." A small smile graced his lips as he continued, "He hasn't found any prosthetics he likes, muggle or magical." After a moment of silence, Minsu added, "He's the main archivist here. He'll probably want to see you." And then, with a warning tone, he said, "Step lightly, Malfoy."

Minsu's robes swirled around him in a dramatic flourish as he spun and left Draco standing there, his eyes following the graceful movements. Once Minsu was out of sight, Draco dropped his head and let out a deep sigh, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. The memories of that year before the final battle were always too much to bear; the guilt and regret weighed heavy on his heart.

He despised what they had made him do - striding around with false pride, hurting people, and watching his fellow students suffer under the cruel hands of the Carrows. Hogwarts, once a sanctuary, had been transformed into a den of beasts by their presence. He hated himself for being a part of it all.

Draco's head was reeling as he struggled to process everything that had happened today. He had desperately wanted to take a tour of Hermione's building, but the emotional weight of it all had become too much for him to bear. He practically ran to the apparition point and quickly traveled home, slamming himself behind his bedroom door the moment he was inside. He knew Theo could easily crack through the wards, but he also knew that Theo would respect his need for solitude.

Draco stripped down to his boxers and turned on the fan, trying to cool his overheated body. He plopped himself onto the bed with a heavy sigh, feeling utterly drained. This was one of the things he hated most—how everything seemed to follow him no matter where he went. Even after Minsu had let him off with a warning instead of the beating he deserved, it was clear that the man would be watching him closely if he took that job.

He closed his eyes tightly and focused on slowing his breathing, counting down until he felt centered enough to enter his mind. The secret room within his mind was just as opulent as always—white and gold furnishings, a massive king-sized bed with a white silk canopy. Every wall was lined with books, each containing a different memory.

As Mind Space Draco entered the room in some sort of white and breezy loungewear set, he found her waiting for him on the bed. She smelled of lilacs and oranges from the fruit she had been snacking on. Draco flopped across her legs and curled into her, seeking comfort and solace in her presence.

"Was it that bad, darling? Was I not nice to you?" she asked with concern in her voice.

"You were surprisingly kind, actually. It was just a lot. There was a lot of emotion all in one day. Exhausting. I should really get rid of those nasty things," Draco replied, feeling drained and vulnerable.

She snorted and reached into his hair with her nails, scratching at his scalp in a way that always soothed him. He groaned, holding onto her long legs tighter.

"This is how my hair was today? I rather like it—practical yet pretty," she remarked, admiring her reflection in the floor-length mirror across from the bed.

"Yes, I rather liked it too," Draco agreed, smiling at her.

She patted her cheeks. "You've aged me up a bit more too."

"Yes," he confirmed. "You look exactly like each other now. It had been a while since I last saw her, so you were due for an upgrade."

She playfully glared at him. "Rude. I put up with you every day, and this is my thanks?"

"Granger, love. You know I'll grovel if you ask it of me, but forgive me? I'm just jesting," he grinned and reached up to flick her chin lightly.

She sighed and tugged him into sitting up with her. "So? How did it go? Is she as madly in love with you as I am?"

Draco snorted at her question. "Things don't work like that in the real world, darling. You only love me here because I imagined you into this place. The real Granger would rather stab me with a rusty sword than love me."

"You never know, Draco," she said, crawling into his lap and holding his face between her hands. "I've always thought it was more than that. I first came to you that night after Granger escaped. What if I'm actually a piece of the real Granger, created when her blood seeped into the manor and melded with the Malfoy blood magic?"

"It's an interesting theory, but how would that explain you still being here after I moved away from the manor?" Draco questioned her, intrigued by her idea.

"Perhaps the blood mixed with the blood magic in the house and therefore is attached to your own blood," she suggested, her nose crinkling as she tried to puzzle out her own existence. 

"Now you're just grasping at straws, darling. Or maybe you're just being a brat because you know when you get to acting swotty, it drives me to distraction," Draco teased her with a smirk.

“Oh, you need something, my love?”

The soft purr of her voice washed over him like a warm embrace, her words dripping with temptation. But despite his desire, he shook his head.

"Not for now," he said, his mind in turmoil. "I...don't know. It feels wrong now that she's back in my life. Like it's a violation."

"Do you want me to go away?" Her question was filled with concern and love.

" No !" His response was immediate and urgent as he tightened his grip on her. "No. Please. I still need you. You're all I have. Don't go, Granger."

"I'm here, Draco." She reassured him, her presence grounding him. "I won't leave until she's here to protect you in my stead. Won't that be nice? I think she'd love this room."

His heart raced at the thought of losing this version of her. Was it strange that this Granger doppleganger existed only in his mind? Perhaps. Was it healthy that he had become so dependent on her to cope? No, not at all. But he couldn't let her go. She had saved him, kept him sane, and given him something to hold onto during the dark days and horrors that consumed his world. The only thing he would allow to take imaginary Granger from him was the real one.

For now, he held onto the woman in his bed even tighter, allowing her to soothe him enough to eventually join the real world once more.  

Chapter Text

Petal soft fingers caress his cheek, moving down to his lips. They trace the shape, and he withholds his urge to open his eyes or smile, letting them explore for a second. Finally, unable to resist, he sneaks out his tongue and pops the curious little digit into his mouth, nibbling on it playfully. 

“Draco!” She giggles, tugging lightly. “I need that back.” 

“Never,” he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep. The little fingertip takes the chance for escape.  “It’s mine; give it here.” 

“No. My body parts are not yours.”

He finally cracks open an eye, grinning wickedly. "Oh, but they are, Granger. I’ve marked every speck of your lovely skin, therefore mine.” 

“Neanderthal.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, pulling her closer and nuzzling into her hair. She had taken it out of the braid while he slept, and now it was back to being wild curls. 

“You need to wake up soon. I think I smell Blaise making breakfast.” 

“Sod breakfast,” Draco groans. “I’ve got much more appetizing plans for you.” 

"Oh, do you now?" Hermione teases, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "And what exactly might those plans entail?"

Draco's lips curve into a devilish smirk. "Let me show you," he purrs, his voice like velvet. In one swift motion, he flips them over, pinning her beneath him. Hermione lets out a breathy gasp, her cheeks flushing prettily. 

He leans down, ghosting his mouth along the elegant column of her throat. She shivers, tilting her head to give him better access. His tongue darts out to taste her soft skin, relishing the hint of salt and something uniquely hers. He’d long ago stopped questioning how he could smell her, taste her, and feel her so well in this imagined room. 

"Draco," she sighs, her fingers threading into his sleep-mussed hair. He hums in approval, continuing his sensual assault down to her collarbone. 

“I think feasting on your wet cunt sounds better than anything that wanker could make. Would you like to sit on your throne today, love?” 

Hermione grins and tears the shirt she was wearing off—an old Falcons shirt of his that he couldn’t fit into anymore. 

“Lay back, Malfoy. I’m going to sit on your face. Make me cum, and I might take care of you in return.” 

Merlin , he loved it when she demanded what she wanted from him like it was her due. 

Draco eagerly obliges, lying back against the plush silk pillows. His silver eyes darken with lust as Hermione slowly straddles his face, her glistening core hovering just inches from his hungry mouth. The heady scent of her arousal fills his nostrils, making his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Such a good boy," Hermione praises, lowering herself onto his waiting tongue. Draco groans at the first tantalizing taste of her, his hands gripping her thighs possessively. He laps at her folds like a man starved, circling her clit with the tip of his tongue.

"Oh gods, yes," she mewls, grinding herself against his face wantonly. Her fingers tug at his hair, urging him on. 

Draco redoubles his efforts, thrusting his tongue inside her slick cunt as he brings a hand up to rub tight circles on her clit in the rhythm that she taught him. Hermione cries out, her thighs clamping and quivering around his head. 

"Don't stop, I'm so close," she pants, rolling her hips to ride his face with abandon. Her breathy moans and sighs fill the room, spurring Draco on. He alternates between fucking her with his tongue and suckling on her swollen nub, determined to make her fall apart.

"Draco, Draco, oh yes !" Hermione keens as her orgasm crashes over her. Her body goes taut, inner walls clenching around his invading tongue. Draco doesn't let up, lapping at her hungrily as she spasms and shakes above him.

Finally, Hermione collapses forward, bracing herself on his chest as she comes down from her high. Draco places tender kisses along her inner thighs, soothing the tremors still running through her. 

"Mmm, you’ve gotten rather skilled with that tongue of yours," she purrs contentedly, shifting to lie beside him. Her satisfied gaze trails appreciatively over his nude form, lingering on his rock-hard erection, jutting proudly towards his navel.

"All for you, Granger," he smirks, silver eyes gleaming. “Since you’re the one that taught me. Now, I believe you mentioned taking care of me if I pleased you?"

"So impatient," Hermione tsks playfully, walking slender fingers up his abs. "But I suppose you have earned a reward..."

Draping herself over him, she claims his mouth in a searing kiss. Draco groans into it, large hands roaming the expanse of her back to grip her pert arse.

Breaking away, Hermione trails open-mouthed kisses down his chest, pausing to lave at his flat nipples. Draco hisses in pleasure, hips bucking up seeking friction. She continues her sensual descent, dipping her tongue into his navel before nuzzling the trail of fine blond hair leading to her prize.

Just as she was about to put her mouth where he wanted her, a piercing scream shattered the moment. 

“That's Theo,” she gasped, looking up at him with concern and releasing him from her grasp. “Quickly, go check on him.” 

He let out a string of curses, annoyed by the interruption. “That damn cockblocker better be dying or I'll kill him myself.” 

She chuckled and playfully pushed him away. “Go on now. Wake up and have a good day, my love.” 

He grumbled but obediently stood up, leaning over to give her a quick kiss before willing himself back into reality. 

With a hiss, the first rays of morning light pierced through the windows and stung his eyes. With a groan, he forced himself awake and out of bed, dressing quickly when he couldn’t hear anymore screams. He reached for the golf club he kept propped against the bedroom door in lieu of a wand. The cool handle of the club felt foreign in his hand as he made his way through the hall, the hardwood floors creaking beneath his bare feet.

He followed the whimpers and hissed angry words to the kitchen, where he found Theo pressing himself against the wall, pointing with a wooden spoon, while Blaise was waving a skillet around. 

Draco finally looked at what had spooked them and cursed, barely holding back the urge to scream himself. 

“What the bloody fuck is that?” he yelled, pointing at the giant creature in his kitchen. 

“I don’t fucking know, Malfoy,” Blaise grunted. “I think it’s some sort of owl creature. But perhaps one of those ones that sucks out your soul or escorts you to the other life.” 

Theo's voice cracked with hysteria as he frantically questioned, "Is that even possible? Is this really happening right now?" The sound of his panicked squeaks echoed through the air as the creature creeped closer, its movements almost fluid and unnaturally graceful.

“How should I know?” 

The creature let out a haunting chirp and seemed fixated on Draco's voice, causing him to clamp his lips shut in determination to not say another word. It resembled an owl at first glance, but upon closer inspection, it appeared more like a strange eagle with its sharp, angular features. Its height was nearly the size of a child, and its feathers gleamed with a bright silver hue that almost seemed to glow in the dim light. It clutched a rolled-up scroll tightly between its razor-sharp talons.

The creature cocked its head, studying Draco. It hopped closer and dropped the scroll at his feet, then stared at him. 

“Does it want a treat? What the fuck do you feed it?” 

“Again, how should I know?” Draco growled, leaning down to snatch up the scroll without taking his eyes off the beast. Whoever owned this thing had to be dangerous, and he didn’t like the implications of someone like that knowing where he lived. 

“A bird that size probably eats whole deer or something,” Blaise grunted, moving to stare into their refrigerator. 

“Give it the whole chicken,” Draco said distractedly, popping the seal on the scroll. 

“But that was dinner,” Theo wailed. “I was so excited for your roast chicken. I’m fairly certain the whole reason Blaise came home to visit today was because you said you were making that chicken.” 

“It’s either give it the chicken or lose a finger, Nott.” Draco snorted, backing away from the kitchen slowly as he unrolled the paper. 

Blaise grumbles and takes the container that Draco had placed in there last night. He pouts and throws the thawed whole chicken towards the bird, and it snatches it up, clicking some weird sounds as it accepts the meat and scuttles towards the open kitchen window. It hops up and out, flying away with perhaps the largest set of wings any of them had ever seen. 

“Well, who is it from?” 

Draco stares at the note in disbelief before finally snorting. 

“Of course that bloody witch owns the most terrifying messenger bird I’ve ever seen.” 

“Who?” 

“Granger, of course.” 

Blaise cocks an eyebrow. “Granger? That bird was almost as big as her!” 

He shrugs and waves the parchment. “She says it’s from her. Potter wants to interview Theo.” 

“And?” Blaise asks. “I know she wouldn’t send that beast just for that. I’ve been to their house multiple times, and I’ve never even seen that bird.” 

“She wants me to meet her doctor and asked if I had time today or tomorrow.” 

“Ah, that would be a good idea, right? Are you going to do it?” Theo asks, finally stepping away from the wall. 

Draco shrugs. “I might as well. No one else will help. Just…don’t get your hopes up.” 

Draco folds up the parchment, his mind already whirling with the logistics of meeting Granger's doctor. He can't deny the small flicker of hope that ignites in his chest at the prospect, even as he tries to temper it. 

"I'll owl her back later. Let's just focus on breakfast for now, yeah?" he says, tucking the note into the pocket of his pajama bottoms.

A pop sounds, and Rosie appears at his feet, hand on her hips. 

“Rosie was waiting for you to wake up. She’s going to make sure you eats your breakfast. Noticed you barely touched your stew when we collected the dishes.” 

“Rosie?” Draco sputtered. “You shouldn’t be here, right? You work at Hogwarts now. The laws…you can’t serve me anything.” 

“What Hermione Granger doesn’t know can’t hurt her. Rosie isn’t letting her Draco boy go hungry. Isn’t right. Won’t have it,” she harrumphed and stomped her tiny foot. 

Draco sighed, knowing it was futile to argue with the determined little elf. "Alright, alright. I'll eat. But you really shouldn't risk getting in trouble for me, Rosie."

"Rosie will do as she pleases," the elf sniffed haughtily. "Now sits. Rosie will whip up something hearty." With a snap of her fingers, pots and pans began floating out of the cupboards. 

Theo and Blaise exchanged amused glances as Draco obediently took a seat at the kitchen table, wisely choosing not to protest further. Within minutes, the tantalizing aroma of sizzling bacon and eggs filled the air, along with a small pot of what he assumed was porridge for him.

"Smells good, Rosie," Blaise commented, his stomach rumbling. "Mind if we join?"

"Of course not; Master Blaise and Master Theo are always welcome at Rosie's table," the elf said warmly, levitating heaping plates of food in front of each wizard. "Eat up now; growing boys need their strength!"

Theo chuckled as he dug into his eggs. "I think we're a bit past the growing stage, Rosie. But I won't say no to seconds if you're offering."

Rosie beamed, clearly in her element as she fussed over them. Draco couldn't help but smile softly at the maternal little elf. As much as he worried about her getting in trouble, he had to admit it felt nice to be cared for. Merlin knows he hadn't had much of that in his recent life.

As if reading his thoughts, Rosie patted his hand gently. "You just focus on getting better, Master Draco. Let Rosie worry about the rest."

Draco's throat tightened with emotion at her sincere words. He managed a grateful nod, not trusting his voice at the moment. Blaise and Theo tactfully remained silent, though he could feel their supportive presence. 

After a hearty breakfast that left them all pleasantly full, Rosie shooed them out of the kitchen, insisting on cleaning up herself. Draco retreated to his study to pen a response to Hermione while Theo and Blaise settled in the living room for a lazy morning.

Pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment, Draco stared at it for a long moment, quill poised in thought. He wanted to express his appreciation for her efforts without sounding too desperate or pathetic. Taking a deep breath, he began to write.

Granger,

Thank you for reaching out to your doctor on my behalf. I would be amenable to meeting with them at their earliest convenience. Today or tomorrow works for me. Just let me know the details and I'll be there.

I appreciate you going out of your way to help, especially given our history. It means more than you know. 

Yours,

Draco

He read over the short note, debating if it sounded too formal or impersonal. But everything else he thought of felt far too familiar for their tentative friendship. With a sigh, he sealed the parchment before he could second guess himself further.

He ambled back towards the kitchen. “Rosie, if you’re going to see Granger today, could you pop by and give her this? I’m afraid I don’t have an owl of my own any longer. I can pay you if you wish.” 

Rosie looked up from where she was vigorously scrubbing a pan, her large eyes widening. "Oh no, Master Draco! Rosie would never accept payment from you!" she squeaked indignantly. "It is Rosie's pleasure to deliver your message. Rosie will make sure Miss Hermione gets it straight away!"

Before Draco could even thank her, the little elf popped away with the letter clutched in her spindly fingers. He shook his head fondly, still amazed by her unwavering loyalty after all these years.  

With nothing left to do but wait for Hermione's response, Draco wandered into the living room, where Theo and Blaise were engrossed in a heated game of wizard's chess. He settled into an armchair to watch, his mind drifting.

He rubbed absently at his left forearm, fingers tracing the faded outline of the Dark Mark hidden beneath his sleeve. It was a nervous habit he had developed, one that Theo and Blaise studiously ignored. They all had their scars, visible and not.

A sudden pop startled him from his brooding. Rosie appeared, bouncing on her toes with excitement. "Miss Hermione says to meet her at St. Mungo's at 2 o'clock, Master Draco! She'll be waiting in the lobby for you."

Draco glanced at the ornate clock on the mantle. Just past 11 now. Plenty of time to shower and make himself presentable. He nodded his thanks to Rosie, who beamed and patted his hand. 

“Rosie will check up on you from time to time. If you need Rosie, just call.” 

“But the bonds…you can’t hear me anymore.”

She tsked and waved away his protests. “You let Rosie handle that. Let the doctor looks at you. Full report.” 

With her piece said, she popped away. 

"Looks like you've got a hot date with Granger this afternoon," Blaise teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Should we expect you back tonight or will you be too busy playing doctor?"

Draco rolled his eyes, flipping a chess piece at his friend's head. "Sod off, it's not like that, and you know it. She's just trying to help."

Theo snickered. "Sure, keep telling yourself that, mate. I've seen the way you two look at each other when you think no one's watching."

"We do not look at each other in any way," Draco huffed, crossing his arms petulantly. 

"Mmhmm, and I'm the Queen of Genovia," Blaise drawled. "Face it, there's always been something between you two. But I won’t press. I know you have a lot of shit on your plate, mate.” 

Draco sighed, pushing himself out of the armchair. "Right, well, as enlightening as this conversation has been, I need to get ready. Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone, yeah?"

Theo and Blaise just smirked at him knowingly as he left the room, their low chuckles following him up the stairs. Shaking his head, Draco entered his bedroom and made a beeline for the ensuite. 

He turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it, letting the scalding spray work out some of the tension in his shoulders. As he methodically washed, his mind wandered to the upcoming appointment.

What if this doctor couldn't help him either? What if he was doomed to slowly waste away? He survived an entire war and lived with the embodiment of all evil, but he was going to die of hunger. The thought made his stomach churn with anxiety. Could it be a curse? It wasn’t the first time he’d thought it, but he’d assumed he’d know if he’d been cursed. 

If so, it was a fate meant to slowly and cruelly destroy him. Malnutrition gnawed at his body in torturous waves, leaving him weak and emaciated. It was a merciless end, devoid of any sense of mercy or compassion. Each day brought new pains and struggles as he fought to survive against the relentless grip of starvation. 

Draco shook his head, banishing the morbid thoughts. He couldn't afford to spiral down that dark path, not when there was still a glimmer of hope, however faint. Hermione believed this doctor could help, and despite their tumultuous history, he trusted her judgment. If anyone could find a solution, it was her brilliant mind.

He finished his shower and stepped out, wrapping a fluffy towel around his waist. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he grimaced at his reflection. Gaunt cheeks and dull eyes stared back at him, a far cry from the proud, aristocratic features of his youth. He saw the same thing every day, and yet it never failed to shock him. 

With a sigh, he set about getting ready, determined to at least present a semblance of his former put-together self. He chose a crisp white button-down and charcoal trousers, the well-tailored clothing hanging loose on his too-thin frame. He tied his hair back with a small black ribbon, though a few stubborn strands refused to cooperate. Examining himself critically, he decided it was the best he could manage under the circumstances.

Grabbing his wand and a light cloak, he made his way downstairs. Theo and Blaise were still lounging in the living room, though the chess board had been abandoned in favor of tumblers of firewhisky. They looked up as he entered, matching looks of surprise flitting across their faces.

"Well, don't you clean up nice?" Blaise drawled, an approving glint in his eye. "Granger won't know what hit her."

Draco scowled at Blaise, but there was no real heat behind it. "I'm not trying to impress anyone, you prat. I just want to look presentable for the doctor." 

Theo chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. But seriously, good luck today, mate. I hope this doctor can help you."

Draco's expression softened at the genuine concern in his friend's voice. "Thanks, Theo. I hope so too. Merlin knows I'm running out of options." He adjusted his cloak and checked the time. "Right, well, I best be off. Don't wait up."

With a final nod to his friends, Draco stepped out the door and apparated to the designated spot near St. Mungo's. The bustling London street materialized before him, muggles hurrying by without a glance. Draco took a steadying breath and stepped through the enchanted entrance, emerging into the familiar, sterile lobby.

He scanned the waiting area, spotting Hermione's unmistakable curls almost immediately. She’d left it wild today, though it was still more tamed than it had been in their school days. She was seated in a corner, nose buried in a thick tome, oblivious to the curious stares of the other patients. A small smile tugged at his lips as he made his way over to her. This was one thing the real Granger absolutely had in common with the Hermione in his mind room. 

"Some things never change, I see," he drawled by way of greeting. "Still can't go anywhere without a book."

Hermione’s head snapped up, and she grinned. “Guilty. To be fair to myself, it’s a rare moment where I’m allowed to just sit and read anymore.” 

Hermione marked her place and closed the book, rising to greet him properly. "Malfoy, I'm glad you could make it," she said warmly, surprising him with a brief hug. The scent of her shampoo, something floral and light, wafted over him. 

He returned the embrace a bit awkwardly, still unused to such easy affection from her. "Yes, well, I figured it was worth a shot. Thank you for arranging this."

She waved off his gratitude. "It's the least I could do. Dr. Mariette is one of the best in her field. If anyone can help, it's her." Hermione glanced at her watch. "Her office is just down the hall. Shall we?"

As they navigated the bustling corridors, he couldn't help but notice the curious and sometimes hostile glances directed their way. The sight of Hermione Granger, war heroine and Golden Girl, walking alongside Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater, was sure to raise eyebrows. But Hermione seemed oblivious, or perhaps simply uncaring, of the attention as she chattered on about Dr. Mariette's credentials.

"She's made some remarkable breakthroughs in the treatment of curse-related maladies," Hermione explained, her eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I sat in on one of her lectures last year and was absolutely fascinated. When you mentioned your symptoms, I immediately thought of her work. She’s also muggleborn and went to medical school, so her understanding of the physical body is far superior to many healers who only practice in the wizarding world."

Draco hummed noncommittally, trying to focus on her words and not the churning anxiety in his gut. He appreciated Hermione's efforts; truly, he did, but a part of him still struggled to believe there was any hope for his condition. 

They reached Dr. Mariette's office, and Hermione knocked briskly before entering at the muffled "come in." The woman who greeted them was not at all what Draco expected. She was younger than he anticipated, perhaps only a few years older than himself, with a kind but sharp gaze that seemed to instantly assess him. Her honey-blonde hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and she wore simple yet elegant green robes.

"Hermione, so good to see you again," Dr. Mariette said warmly, rising from behind her desk to shake the younger witch's hand. "And you must be Mr. Malfoy. A pleasure to meet you."

Draco returned her firm handshake, noting the lack of judgment or wariness in her clear blue eyes. "The pleasure is mine, Dr. Mariette. Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."

"Not at all; I'm always happy to help where I can," she replied, gesturing for them to take a seat in the plush armchairs facing her desk. "Hermione's told me a bit about your situation, but I'd like to hear it from you directly, if you don't mind."

Draco nodded, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. He'd recounted his symptoms countless times, but it never got easier. Taking a deep breath, he began to explain the gradual onset of his condition—the relentless nausea, the inability to keep down more than a few bites of food, the steady and alarming weight loss. 

Dr. Mariette listened attentively, her quill scratching notes on a piece of parchment. Occasionally she would interject with a clarifying question but otherwise allowed him to speak uninterrupted. Hermione sat quietly beside him, a supportive presence.

"And you've seen other healers about this?" Dr. Mariette asked when he finished, glancing up from her notes. "What have their diagnoses been?"

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No one else has agreed to see me. Because of who I am, I suppose. Or what they think I’ve done. 

Dr. Mariette frowned, a flash of sympathy crossing her features. "I see. Well, I can assure you that your past has no bearing on the care you'll receive from me. My only concern is getting to the bottom of your condition and finding a treatment that works."

Draco felt some of the tension leave his shoulders at her words. It was a relief to finally be seen as a patient, not a pariah. "Thank you, doctor. I appreciate that more than you know."

"Of course," she said kindly. "Now, based on what you've described, I have a few theories. But I'd like to run some diagnostic spells and perhaps take a blood sample to rule out any underlying physical causes. With your permission, of course."

Draco nodded. "Whatever you need to do. I'm willing to try anything at this point."

Dr. Mariette rose and retrieved her wand from her desk. "Excellent. If you could just remove your shirt and lie back on the examination table, we'll get started."

Draco hesitated for a brief moment before standing and shrugging out of his shirt. He was all too aware of how his ribs and collarbones protruded, the sharp angles of his body a stark contrast to the lean muscle he once possessed. Avoiding Hermione's gaze, he laid down on the padded table, shivering slightly as his bare skin made contact with the cool leather.

Dr. Mariette approached, her wand held aloft. "I'm going to cast a few diagnostic charms. You might feel a slight tingling sensation, but it shouldn't be uncomfortable. You won’t even feel the blood draw. Just try to relax.”

Draco closed his eyes as she began to murmur incantations, her wand gliding over his prone form. True to her word, he felt only a faint buzzing across his skin, like the brush of a feather. Different colors of light danced behind his eyelids as she worked, no doubt revealing the inner workings of his body.

After several long minutes, Dr. Mariette stepped back with a thoughtful hum. Draco cracked open an eye to peer at her. "Well? What's the verdict?"

She tapped her wand against her chin, studying him intently. "The diagnostic spells aren't revealing any obvious physical maladies. Your organs all appear to be functioning normally, though you are severely malnourished, as expected given your inability to retain food."

Draco's heart sank at her words. More dead ends. He sat up slowly, reaching for his shirt with a resigned sigh. "So in other words, you have no idea what's wrong with me either."

Dr. Mariette held up a placating hand. "I didn't say that. The lack of a physical cause actually supports my primary theory." She glanced at Hermione, who was leaning forward intently. "I suspect Mr. Malfoy may be suffering from a rare form of psychosomatic curse—one that manifests as physical symptoms but is rooted in the mind and emotions."

Hermione's eyes widened in realization. "Of course! I've read about such curses, but they're extremely difficult to diagnose and treat. I believe it’s actually a Voodoo practice."

Dr. Mariette nodded. "Indeed. The key is identifying the specific trigger or trauma that's causing the manifestation.”

Dr. Mariette turned back to Draco, her expression serious but not unkind. "Mr. Malfoy, I know this may be difficult to discuss, but can you think of any particularly traumatic or stressful events that occurred around the time your symptoms first appeared? It could be something that happened to you directly or that you witnessed."

Draco's mind raced as he buttoned his shirt with shaky fingers. Traumatic events? His life had been a never-ending series of traumas, each one blurring into the next. How could he possibly pinpoint a single trigger?

"I...I don't know," he said hoarsely, avoiding her probing gaze. "The war, I suppose. Living with the Dark Lord. Azkaban. Take your pick."

Hermione made a small, distressed sound beside him, and he felt her hand come to rest tentatively on his arm.

Dr. Mariette gave him a sympathetic look. "I understand. You've been through more than anyone should have to endure. But for this type of curse, it's usually tied to a specific event or memory—something that left a deep psychological scar." 

She tapped her quill thoughtfully against the parchment. "Let's try a different approach. When did you first notice the symptoms appearing? Even if it seemed minor at the time."

Draco frowned, casting his mind back. It was hard to remember a time when he hadn't felt the gnawing ache of hunger, the constant weakness, and fatigue. But there had been a definite turning point, a moment when the occasional bout of nausea became an unrelenting torment.

"Just after my release from Azkaban," he said slowly. "I thought I was just adjusting to being back in the world, that my body was relearning how to handle real food again after subsisting on prison rations for so long. But it never got better, only worse."

Dr. Mariette nodded, making a note. "And was there anything particularly significant that happened during your time in Azkaban or immediately after your release? An incident or interaction that stands out in your memory?"

Draco's jaw clenched as a flood of dark images assaulted his mind. The dementors, the screams of his fellow inmates, the suffocating despair that permeated every cell. But one memory rose above the rest, sharp and vivid...

"There was a guard," he said haltingly. "He took a... particular interest in me. Said I deserved to suffer for my crimes. That I should waste away like the scum I was." His voice was barely above a whisper, his gaze fixed on the floor. "He would...taunt me with food. Dangle it just out of reach and then vanish it. Or force me to watch him eat while I starved. He seemed to take great pleasure in my humiliation."

Hermione's grip on his arm tightened, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Oh, Draco," she breathed. "I had no idea. That's absolutely vile." 

Dr. Mariette's expression was grim but unsurprised. "I'm so sorry you endured that, Mr. Malfoy. That guard's actions were reprehensible and a gross abuse of power. It's not uncommon for victims of such targeted cruelty to develop psychosomatic symptoms as a result."

She leaned forward, her blue eyes intense. "I believe this guard may have cursed you, either intentionally or unintentionally, during one of these episodes. His words and actions, fueled by malice, could have acted as a focal point for the curse to take hold."

Draco's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Cursed? You mean like an actual spell?"

"Not necessarily a structured spell, but rather a manifestation of dark intent," Dr. Mariette explained. "When a wizard harbors enough hatred and ill-will towards another, especially in a magically charged environment like Azkaban, it can sometimes manifest in a very real, tangible curse, even without a specific incantation," Dr. Mariette explained gently. "I believe this guard's malicious taunts and abuse towards you, focused on seeing you waste away, unintentionally—or perhaps intentionally—cursed you to suffer exactly that fate."

Draco felt bile rise in his throat as the implication sank in. All this time, his body slowly deteriorating, his life force draining away...it was because of that sadistic guard's twisted desire to see him suffer eternally for his sins. A strangled laugh bubbled up in his chest. After everything he'd been through, surviving Voldemort and the war, a nameless Azkaban guard's cruelty might actually be the thing that finally did him in. The irony was almost too much to bear.

Hermione's hand found his, squeezing gently. "Draco, look at me." Reluctantly, he met her earnest gaze. "This is not your fault. What that guard did to you was unforgiveable. But now that we know the likely cause, we can work on breaking the curse and getting you healthy again."

Dr. Mariette nodded in agreement. "Miss Granger is right. Identifying the source is a huge step. With targeted countercurses and therapy to address the psychological trauma, I have every confidence we can reverse the damage and restore your natural relationship with food.”

Draco wanted to believe them, to latch onto the sliver of hope they offered, but the weight of his past and the depths of his suffering made it difficult to imagine a future free from this curse. "What if it's too late?" he asked hoarsely. "What if I'm too far gone?"

Hermione gripped his hand tighter, her brown eyes blazing with determination. "It's never too late, Draco. You're a survivor. You've overcome so much already. This is just one more battle, and you won't be fighting it alone. I'll be with you every step of the way."

Draco took a deep, steadying breath, trying to absorb her words of encouragement. A part of him still struggled to believe that he deserved such dedicated support, but the earnest determination in Hermione's eyes and the calm confidence in Dr. Mariette's voice slowly chipped away at his doubts. 

"Alright," he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll do whatever it takes. I'm ready to fight this."

Dr. Mariette beamed at him, clearly pleased by his resolve. "Excellent. We'll start with a regimen of nutrition potions specifically formulated to address severe malnutrition. They'll be easier for your body to tolerate and absorb than solid food at this stage. I'll also prescribe a course of countercurses and charms to begin unraveling the psychosomatic curse."

She jotted down some notes on a fresh piece of parchment before looking up at him again. "In addition to the medical interventions, I strongly recommend regular therapy sessions to address the psychological impact of your trauma. The mind and body are intrinsically linked, so healing one will aid the other."

“I already see someone, actually. She, uh. She’s a muggleborn mind healer. I thought that would be best.” 

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling vulnerable admitting to seeking mental health treatment. It was still a taboo subject in pureblood circles, seen as a weakness rather than a sign of strength. But Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly, pride shining in her eyes.

Dr. Mariette looked pleasantly surprised. "That's wonderful, Mr. Malfoy. Working with a mind healer, especially one versed in muggle psychology, will be incredibly beneficial in your recovery. I'd be happy to collaborate with them, with your permission of course, to ensure a holistic treatment plan."

Draco nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Yes, that would be fine. I'll let her know to expect your owl." 

"Perfect. In the meantime, I'll have my assistant prepare your initial potions and schedule your first countercurse session for early next week," Dr. Mariette said, making a final note on Draco's chart. "Do you have any other questions for me before we wrap up?"

Draco shook his head, feeling slightly dazed by the whirlwind of information and emotions. "No, I think that covers it for now. Thank you, Dr. Mariette. For everything."

The healer smiled warmly at him. "You're very welcome, Mr. Malfoy. I'll be with you every step of the way on your journey to recovery. Don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything at all."

With that, she stood and extended her hand. Draco rose to shake it, surprised by the strength of her grip and the genuine compassion in her eyes. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of hope reignite in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he could overcome this curse and reclaim his life.

Hermione stood as well, thanking Dr. Mariette profusely for her time and expertise. The healer waved off her gratitude with a smile, insisting it was her pleasure. With a final nod, she saw them out of her office, promising to be in touch soon with Draco's treatment schedule.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Draco let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Hermione turned to face him, her expression soft with understanding. 

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, trying to organize his swirling thoughts. "Overwhelmed, I think. Hopeful but also terrified. It's a lot to process."

Hermione nodded, her eyes full of empathy. "I can only imagine. But you heard Dr. Mariette—you have a real chance at beating this, Draco. And you won't be alone. I meant what I said in there."

He searched her face, looking for any hint of pity or insincerity, but found only earnest determination and something that looked dangerously close to affection. It made his chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with his curse.

"I know you did," he said softly. "And I appreciate it more than you know. But Granger, you don't have to do all that. You've already gone above and beyond just by doing this. It’s incredible. And to top it all off, you keep calling me Draco,” he added with a raised eyebrow, hoping it would change the subject before he started wailing in front of her like a child. 

Hermione smiled softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm. "Draco, I'm doing this because I want to, not out of any sense of obligation. You've been through hell, and you deserve support, regardless of our history. And if calling you by your given name helps you feel seen as a person rather than just your past, then that's what I'll do. Now come on, let's get out of here and grab a cup of tea. I think we could both use one after all that."

He blinked rapidly, his throat tightening with emotion at her casual kindness and easy acceptance. "I...yes, tea sounds good," he managed, not trusting himself to say more without embarrassing himself. 

Hermione's hand slid down to grasp his, tugging him gently towards the exit. He followed willingly, trying not to dwell on how natural it felt to follow along with her. 

She took them to a little muggle cafe, the atmosphere small and cozy. He followed Hermione into the quaint muggle cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods enveloping them like a warm hug. She led them to a secluded corner table, away from the curious glances of the other patrons.

As they settled into the plush armchairs, a cheerful waitress approached to take their order. Hermione requested a pot of Earl Grey for them to share, along with a plate of assorted biscuits. Draco shot her a grateful look, relieved he wouldn't have to navigate the unfamiliar menu.

Once the waitress had bustled away, Hermione turned her full attention back to Draco. "So, how are you really doing with all of this?" she asked softly, her brown eyes searching his face.

Draco sighed, fiddling with the napkin in front of him. “As well as can be, Granger.” 

“Nope,” she interrupted. “If you’re Draco, then I’m Hermione. Those are the rules.” 

Draco huffed a small laugh, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Alright then, Hermione." The name felt foreign yet pleasant on his tongue, even though he used it all the time.

 "As I was saying, I'm still processing everything. It's a lot to wrap my head around—the idea that a guard's cruelty could have such a lasting, tangible impact. That his hatred could literally curse me to waste away."

He swallowed thickly, his gaze drifting to the window. "A part of me wonders if maybe I deserve it, after everything I've done. Maybe this is my penance."

Hermione reached across the table, laying her hand over his. "Draco, look at me." Reluctantly, he met her fierce gaze. "You do not deserve this. No one deserves to be cursed, no matter their past. You've paid your dues and then some. This? This is just cruelty, plain and simple. And we're going to fight it, together."

The waitress returned with their tea and biscuits, momentarily breaking the intensity of the moment. Hermione busied herself with pouring them each a cup, adding a splash of milk to hers. Draco watched the steam curl invitingly from the amber liquid, inhaling the comforting scent. He waited until she took a small sip and smiled to herself before he drank his. 

"You know," Draco drawled, "I actually have a bone to pick with you, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Back to Granger already, are we?"

"When it comes to giant carnivorous beasts in the middle of my kitchen? Yes." He said it playfully, but she groaned and slapped a hand to her forehead.

"Minsu sent Garuda instead of Mochi, didn't he?" Hermione asked, her tone exasperated.

"If that creature that was nearly as big as you was named Mochi, I'd eat this teacup," Draco replied with a smirk.

"I'm so sorry. Minsu probably thought he was being funny. Mochi is my regular mail owl. He's actually an elf owl—the smallest in the world," Hermione explained, sounding guilty for the mix-up.

"So you have both the largest and the smallest?" Draco raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Garuda is actually a harpy eagle that was exposed to magic while she was still in her egg. She was gifted to me by a diplomat from Brazil. I was worried about what to do with her at first, but she's taken to being trained like an owl quite well. Although I don't usually use her for that unless I'm trying to intimidate someone," Hermione admitted sheepishly. "For example, when the minister isn't responding to my post, I'll send Garuda and suddenly I have a response in less than twenty minutes." 

The image of the fierce eagle swooping down on the minister for magic made Draco chuckle.  

Draco took a sip of his tea, the warmth spreading through his chest. "Well, Garuda certainly made an impression. I think Theo nearly wet himself when she flew in." 

Hermione giggled, the sound light and carefree. "I can only imagine. I really am sorry, though. I'll make sure to specify Mochi next time." She paused, nibbling on her bottom lip. "That is, if you don't mind me writing to you again?" 

He felt a flutter in his stomach at the hopeful note in her voice. "I think I can handle a few more owl deliveries, as long as they're not of the giant, man-eating variety." 

She grinned at him over the rim of her teacup. "I make no promises. But I'll do my best to stick to the cute and cuddly ones."

"I suppose I have to become accustomed to her presence if I plan on working with you," Draco said with a pause, his tone slightly hesitant. 

Hermione's face lit up with a bright smile, and she practically radiated with excitement as she asked him, "You're accepting? You're going to join me at Arcane?" 

Feeling a sense of purpose and determination for the first time in ages, Draco confidently replied, "I will."

Hermione's smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Draco, that's wonderful news! I'm thrilled you've decided to come on board. Your expertise and knowledge will be invaluable to A.A."

Draco felt a warmth bloom in his chest at her enthusiasm. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him with such genuine appreciation and respect. "I'm looking forward to the opportunity," he said, his voice sincere. "I think it will be good for me to have a purpose again."

She reached across the table, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "It will be. And I truly believe you'll excel in the role. We're going to make a great team."

He returned her smile, marveling at the turn his life had taken. Just a few short hours ago, he had been consumed by despair, convinced he was beyond saving. But now, sitting across from Hermione in this cozy muggle cafe, sipping tea and discussing a future, Draco felt the stirrings of something he hadn't experienced in a long time—hope. 

They chatted a while longer, conversation flowing easily between them as if they'd been friends for years rather than former enemies tentatively building a new connection. Hermione filled him in on some of the projects A.A. was working on, her passion for the subject matter shining through with every word. Draco found himself drawn in, his own mind already spinning with ideas and theories to contribute. 

As the afternoon wore on and their teapot emptied, Hermione glanced at her watch with a small sigh. "I should probably get going. I have a few errands to run before my next appointment."

Draco nodded, standing and extending a hand to help her from her seat. She accepted, and he helped her gracefully rise and then handed her the colorful bag she was always carrying. 

“When should I start?” 

She slipped her purse back onto her shoulder and cocked her head in thought. “Next week? I want you to focus on taking your potions and getting your body on the road to recovery before I throw you right back into a high-stress situation.” 

Draco nodded, appreciating her thoughtfulness. "Next week sounds good. I'll use this time to start the potions regimen and get myself in a better state physically and mentally."

Hermione beamed at him, clearly pleased by his commitment to his recovery. "Excellent. I'll send over some more materials for you to review before your first day, just to get you up to speed on our current projects and protocols."

They made their way out of the cafe, stepping into the bustling London street. Hermione turned to face him, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Thank you for trusting me with this, Draco. I know it couldn't have been easy to open up about everything."

Draco swallowed past the lump in his throat, her sincere gratitude catching him off guard. "I should be the one thanking you, Gra- Hermione. You've gone above and beyond for me, and I'm truly grateful."

She waved off his thanks with a modest shrug. "It's what friends do, Draco. I'm just glad I could help in some small way."

Friends. The word hung between them, weighted with meaning and promise. A tentative smile tugged at Draco's lips as he met her warm gaze. "Well then, I suppose I'm lucky to have you as a friend."

Hermione's answering grin was brilliant. "The feeling is entirely mutual. Now, I really must dash, but I'll owl you soon with those materials. Take care of yourself, Draco."

With a final squeeze of his hand, she turned and melted into the crowd, leaving him staring after her until the curls were out of sight. 

Chapter Text

“How do you do? I’m here for an interview? Theodore Nott.”

He knew he was talking too fast and fidgeting far too much, but it’s not everyday that he needs to impress the Chosen One himself. So what if he was a little nervous?

The woman at the front desk of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is an ancient bat who barely acknowledges him, but she answers with a slight nod, and he watches a paper plane float from her desk to hopefully alert Potter that he was here.

He sat there for at least another five minutes, trying not to ruffle his curls too much or wrinkle his boring navy suit and robes. He’d abandoned his usual flashy style in the hopes that it would land him the job. He needed the work so terribly.

A paper plane finally returned, landing gracefully on the receptionist's desk. She picked it up, squinted at it for a moment, and then croaked, "Mr. Potter will see you now. Third door on the left."

Theodore jumped up, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. 

"Thank you!" he said, a bit too loudly. The receptionist just stared at him blankly.

He hurried down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. His big chance. He stopped outside the third door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

"Come in," called a voice from inside.

Theodore opened the door and stepped into the office. Harry Potter sat behind a large oak desk, looking rather dashing in an odd way. His messy black hair, piercing green eyes, and distinctive scar were just as Theodore remembered from their school days, but he’d filled out more, had a slight shadow of stubble on his face, and didn’t glare at the Slytherin in front of him. Instead, he stood up and held out his hand.

“Nott. Nice to see you. I heard from Hermione that you’re here to possibly save me from death by paperwork.”

Theo snorted and shook the hand firmly, following Harry’s gesture to sit in the chair in front of his desk.

“Yes, she mentioned that you could use an assistant. I was hoping to offer my services, if you’re amenable.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "I have to admit, I was surprised when Hermione suggested you for the job. Given our history and all. But she vouched for you pretty strongly."

Theo shifted uncomfortably. "I know we didn't exactly get along in school. I was an idiot back then, following my father's pureblood nonsense. But I've changed a lot since the war ended. Realized how wrong I was about... well, everything really."

Harry nodded slowly. "I get that. We all did and said things we regret. The important thing is that you've grown. Though I’ll be honest, you were rather better behaved then I was back in school,” he chuckled wryly.

"So..." Theo ventured hopefully, "Does this mean I have a shot at the job?"

"Well, your NEWT scores are ridiculously high, and I honestly think that you could do a hundred times better than working as a secretary, but if you’re honestly wanting it, we can do a trial period. See if you want it by the end of the week. I’m not joking when I say there’s mountains of paperwork.”

Theodore let out a relieved laugh. "Believe me, after the past few years I've had, mountains of paperwork sound like a dream. I'll take whatever you've got."

Harry smiled. "Great. Let's get you set up then." He stood and led Theodore out of the office. "I'll give you a quick tour, introduce you to some people, and then we can dive right into the exciting world of case reports and interdepartmental memos."

As they walked through the bustling Auror headquarters, Theodore couldn't help but marvel at the turn his life had taken. Here he was, a former Slytherin and Death Eater's son, about to work side by side with Harry bloody Potter. If someone had told him this would happen back at Hogwarts, he would've laughed in their face.

But the war had changed everything. And now here he was, begging for a job so he could afford to live. Incredible how everyone had turned him away and the man who should have been the last to give him a chance was welcoming him so warmly.

As Harry showed him around the office, introducing him to the other Aurors and staff, Theodore couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. Most of them eyed him warily, clearly remembering his family's reputation and allegiances during the war. But Harry vouched for him at every turn, emphasizing his supposed skills. Theo appreciated the support more than he could say.

Finally, they arrived back at Harry’s office, near a small desk tucked to the left side of his door. "And here's your space," Harry announced. "I know it's not much, but we'll get you set up with everything you need."

Theodore looked around at the cluttered desk, the towering stacks of files, and the ancient chair that looked like it might collapse at any moment. But rather than feeling daunted, he felt a spark of excitement. This was his chance to prove himself.

"Take your time settling in today, getting acquainted with your new surroundings. On the desk, I've left a color-coded guide for sorting through files and department codes, so you can familiarize yourself at your own pace. Just remember that anything marked in red should come straight to me. The rest, you can sift through and determine if it's something you can handle on your own or if it needs to be delegated. Your duties will include scheduling my meetings, taking messages, standing guard at the door, and other miscellaneous tasks. Today won't be too demanding, so take the opportunity to observe and get comfortable. We'll have someone officially start your training tomorrow unless you decide to run off before then."

Theodore nodded, his mind already whirring with ideas on how to organize the chaos.

"Got it. I'll dive right in and see what I can make of this." He gestured to the precarious piles threatening to spill onto the floor.

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. "I like the enthusiasm. Knew Hermione was onto something when she recommended you. I've got a meeting in a few, but just send me a memo if you need anything, yeah?"

"Will do. And Potter?" Theo met his eyes sincerely. "Thank you. For giving me a chance. I know I have a lot to prove, but I won't let you down."

"I believe it," Harry said with a nod. "Everyone deserves a fresh start. And Merlin knows I could use the help around here." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. He reached out his hand again, and Theo grasped it firmly.

Harry paused and brought his hand higher to his face. He quirked a small smile, humor glinting as he peered up at Theo from under his lashes.

“That’s a lovely color, Nott. Not just red, but...”

With a flush, Theo realized that in his rush to get ready for today he’d forgotten to remove his nail polish.

“Oh, um. It’s muggle. Rouge Louboutin. A present from Pansy.”

Harry hums quietly, studying his perfectly short manicured hands, the red polish glinting in the office lights.

After a beat, Harry released Theo's hand with a small smirk. "It suits you. Maybe you can teach me how to paint mine sometime."

With a wink, he turned and headed out the door, leaving a flustered Theo in his wake. Shaking his head to clear it, Theo sat down at his new desk and began sorting through the towering piles of parchment.

As he worked, his mind kept drifting back to that brief moment—the feel of Harry's calloused hand in his, those piercing green eyes peering up at him from under dark lashes, the intriguing hint of flirtation in his voice. Theo's stomach fluttered at the memory.

"Get a grip, Nott," he muttered to himself, tossing a crumpled memo into the rubbish bin with a bit more force than necessary.

With a determined spirit, he threw himself into learning the ropes of his new job. His sharp mind and quick wit made it easy for him to grasp the tasks at hand, and soon he found himself gliding through them effortlessly. Each file brought a new challenge, but he tackled them with confidence and precision, finding his own unique rhythm in the process. As he worked, his thoughts wandered to practical matters, like whether he would receive payment today or have to wait for the designated payday.

He couldn't help but imagine how pleased Draco and Blaise would be if he were able to bring home a cake or some other treat for once. Perhaps even splurging on some of that delectable ice cream that seemed to be one of the few things Draco could actually tolerate. The thought brought a small smile to his face as he continued his work with renewed determination.

As the day wore on, Theo found himself settling into a comfortable groove. He'd managed to make a sizable dent in the piles of paperwork, color-coding and sorting them with an efficiency that surprised even himself. He was just contemplating whether he could convince Harry to let him transfigure the ancient chair into something more comfortable when a knock at his desk startled him out of his thoughts.

He looked up to see Hermione Granger in front of his desk, a friendly smile on her face. "Hey Theo! Just wanted to bother you for a moment and see how your first day is going."

Theo grinned, gesturing to the much neater stacks of files. "Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Who knew sorting paperwork could be so satisfying?"

Hermione laughed, stepping fully into the office. "I had a feeling you'd be a natural. I can scent a fellow desk creature from a mile away.”

Theo chuckled. "I suppose it's in my blood. Slytherins do have a certain affinity for organization and ambition. Though I never imagined I'd be putting those skills to use in the Auror Office, of all places."

Hermione perched on the edge of his desk, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, life has a funny way of surprising us sometimes. I certainly never thought I'd be recommending a former Slytherin for a job with Harry, but here we are."

"And I'm eternally grateful for that," Theo said sincerely. "Truly, Hermione. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't put in a good word for me. It's been... rough since the war ended."

Her steely expression softened into one of understanding, her eyes glinting with empathy.

"I know. It hasn't been easy for any of us, and I can only imagine the hardships you boys have faced," she said solemnly. A knowing smile graced her lips as she continued, "But you can always trust Harry to watch your back."

She gestured towards the office building behind him with a graceful hand.

“Is he in? I was just bringing him lunch. You're more than welcome to join us. I have plenty." The inviting scent of freshly cooked food wafted through the air, making his stomach growl in response. He chewed his lip in thought.

“I suppose if he’s comfortable with it. I know I’m technically his employee…”

Hermione waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, please, as if Harry stands on ceremony like that. He'd love for you to join us. Come on." She stood up and motioned for Theo to follow her into Harry's office.

Theo hesitated for just a moment before rising from his chair. The temptation of a good meal and pleasant company was too much to resist. He followed Hermione, knocking lightly on Harry's door before entering.

Harry looked up from a report he was reading, his face breaking into a smile when he saw them. "Hermione! And Theo! What a nice surprise."

"I brought lunch," Hermione announced, holding up a basket that was clearly enhanced with an extension charm, given the amount of food she began pulling out and setting on Harry's desk. "I figured you could use a break from ministry rations."

Harry's grin widened. “That I could. I can take my lunch on time as well, thanks to Nott.”

Theo blushed and settled into one of the scattered chairs in the office. His blush heightened when Harry grabbed the arm of the chair and scooted him closer to his desk.

As they settled in to enjoy the sumptuous lunch spread Hermione had provided, the conversation flowed easily between the three of them. Harry and Hermione reminisced about their Hogwarts days—obviously choosing a subject that they could include him in—sharing amusing anecdotes that had Theo chuckling along. He found himself opening up as well, offering his own perspective on events and laughing self-deprecatingly at his past follies.

"I was such a prat back then," Theo admitted, shaking his head. "Merlin, the things I used to say and do... I'm honestly amazed you two are even giving me the time of day now."

Harry reached over and gave Theo's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We've all grown a lot since then. The fact that you can recognize and own up to your past mistakes says a lot about the person you are now."

Theo felt his face heat up at the contact and kind words. He quickly took a bite of his food to avoid having to respond right away. Harry's hand lingered a moment longer before he pulled back to resume eating as well.

Hermione watched the exchange with a knowing glint in her eye but mercifully changed the subject. "So Theo, how are you finding the work so far? Managing to make sense of Harry's filing system, or lack thereof?"

Theo swallowed his food and grinned. "It's not so bad once you get the hang of it. I think I've already made some good progress in sorting things out. Though I may need to requisition a new chair at some point. I'm fairly certain that one is older than Dumbledore."

Harry snorted. "Be my guest. I've been meaning to update the furniture in here for ages but never seem to find the time."

As their laughter subsided, Hermione checked her watch and sighed. "Well, as much as I've enjoyed this little break, I should be getting back. I still have to finish updating Draco’s office, and then I’m off to Switzerland." She stood and began packing up the remnants of their meal.

Harry and Theo both rose to help her. "Thanks again for lunch, Hermione," Harry said, giving her a quick hug. "And for convincing me to give this one a chance," he added with a teasing wink at Theo.

Theo ducked his head, smiling. "Yes, thank you, Hermione. For everything."

She waved off their gratitude. "Oh, please, you two are going to be great together. I can already tell." With a final knowing look, she took her leave, the click of her heels fading down the hallway.

An awkward silence settled between two of them for a moment before Harry finally sighed.

“She can be sort of scary sometimes, that one.”

Theo chuckled in agreement. "She certainly has a way of seeing right through people, doesn't she?" He fidgeted slightly, suddenly very aware that he was alone with Harry in his office.

Harry ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "That she does. But her instincts are usually spot on. I've learned to trust her judgment." He gave Theo a meaningful look. "Including about you."

Theo felt a flutter in his stomach at Harry's words. He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

"Come in," Harry called, his eyes lingering on Theo for a moment longer before turning to face the door.

A harried-looking junior Auror burst in, a stack of files in her arms. "Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but we just got a break in the Jugson case.”

With a brisk nod, Harry turned to Theo and offered him a small smile. "I'm off to work now," he said, his steps sure and purposeful as he made his way towards the door.

"You did well today," he added, praising Theo's efforts. "I've already sent a note to Ms. Bitterwood, the receptionist for the entire department whom you met earlier, instructing her to give you your wages for the day. Just in case you decide this isn't the right fit for you, you'll have it without any hard feelings."

A hint of pride shone in Harry's eyes as he continued, "But I have to say, I thought you did great. I was actually able to keep up with my own workload for once."

“I, uh. Thank you. I’ll be here tomorrow if you want me to,” Theo stuttered. Since when did he bloody stutter?

Harry's smile widened at Theo's words. "Brilliant. I'll see you bright and early then." With a final nod, he followed the junior Auror out of the office, leaving Theo alone with his thoughts.

Theo went back to his ancient chair, a giddy feeling bubbling up inside him. He'd done it. He'd not only survived his first day working for Harry Potter, but he'd actually impressed him. And now he had payment waiting for him—a chance to bring home something special for his friends.

He made his way out of the office, stopping by Ms. Bitterwood's desk to collect his wages. The old witch eyed him suspiciously as she handed over the pouch of coins, but Theo just thanked her politely and hurried on his way.

As he stepped out into the bustling atrium of the Ministry, he couldn't keep the smile off his face. The weight of the coin pouch in his pocket felt like a promise, a glimmer of hope after so many months of struggling just to get by.

He made his way through the throng of witches and wizards, his mind already racing with ideas of what treats he could surprise Draco and Blaise with. Maybe he'd splurge on a bottle of that elf-made wine Blaise always eyed longingly at the shop or pick up some of those fancy French chocolates Draco pretended not to adore.

And maybe he'd learn to suppress the swirl of emotions that consumed him whenever he thought about those mesmerizing, emerald green eyes and unruly, jet black hair.

Chapter Text

Hermione surreptitiously watched Draco as he sat in her office, studying her massive leatherbound binder. His appearance was marginally improved, she observed. His once sunken cheekbones were now slightly less pronounced, and there was a hint of color returning to his face. Despite the haunted look still present in his eyes, there seemed to be a flicker of life and vitality within him. He would never be considered conventionally handsome, but she was finding that this rather studious and passionate Draco was rather... compelling. 

“This is absolutely remarkable, Granger,” he was saying as he read over her extremely swotty and slightly perfectionistic ten-year plan. “You’ve actually completed at least twenty-five percent of what’s on here already, and with most of it being reforms that the ministry has denied for hundreds of years.”

He shook his head and removed his glasses. Yes, glasses . That revelation had given Hermione something to think about.

“This...forgive me, Granger. Are you certain there’s no dark magic involved here? I won’t tell if there is, but... how in the bloody fuck did you get Marin Birch to sign off on a unicorn refuge? My father has been complaining about how stingy that man is with ministry funds since I was a boy!”

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle, a mix of pride and amusement bubbling up inside her. 

"No dark magic, I assure you. Just good old-fashioned persistence and perhaps a dash of blackmail."

Draco's eyebrows shot up, his grey eyes widening with intrigue. "Blackmail? You? I'm both scandalized and impressed, Granger."

She waved her hand dismissively, trying to hide her smirk. "Oh, nothing too nefarious. Let's just say I happened to stumble upon some rather interesting information about Mr. Birch's... extracurricular activities involving a certain centaur herd."

Draco let out a low whistle. "Merlin's beard, remind me never to get on your bad side."

"As if you weren't already intimately acquainted with my bad side, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco's lips quirked into a half-smile. "Fair point, Granger. Though I must say, your bad side these days is far more intimidating than a slap to the face."

Hermione felt her cheeks warm at the memory. "Yes, well, I've learned more effective ways to deal with prats since then."

"Always the overachiever," Draco murmured, his gaze softening as he looked at her.

Hermione felt a strange flutter in her stomach at his expression. She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling flustered. The man was her school bully, and he looked like a damned skeleton. Why was he doing this to her? 

“Yes. Well. As you can see, I have most of our main projects planned out for the next several years. Most of that I’ve gone over with our department heads, so everything should be fairly realistic to accomplish,” she rushed to explain, desperate to shift the conversation. “Our main roadblock to many goals is, of course, funds. We have a few functions we run to gather them, some donations come in without strings, etc. I would appreciate a list of ideas from you. I think your perspective on that would be quite helpful.” 

“Of course,” he replied absentmindedly, still going through her notes. 

“Thankfully, Arcane Agency has become well known enough that I don’t have to literally beg for money, but people do seem to like having activities as an excuse to give us the funds. I think whatever we choose to do, the next large donation we get, we could move my plan to reform Azkaban up by a few years.” 

“Why,” he began, glancing up at her with startled eyes. “Why would you want to do that now?” 

“Because of you. What they put you through. It’s…it’s horrifying, Draco. It makes me want to weep and punch every person involved right in their bollocks.” 

Draco's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and something softer flickering across his face. He quickly looked down, fidgeting with the parchment in his hands.

"I... I appreciate that, Hermione," he said quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. "But you shouldn't prioritize that just because of me. There are more pressing matters, surely."

Hermione leaned forward, her brown eyes intense. "No, Draco. What happened to you, what's still happening to others—it's not right. It's cruel and inhumane. We can't call ourselves a civilized society if we continue to treat prisoners like this."

Draco's jaw clenched, a shadow passing over his features. "Some might say I deserved it," he muttered.

"Well, they'd be wrong," Hermione said fiercely. "No one deserves that. I believe I’ve already told you that several times. Your mistakes were horrible, yes. I’m not justifying them. I’m saying they were simply that—mistakes. Made by a scared boy who had a dark and vile batch of wizards breathing down his neck and threatening his family. I won’t argue this again.” 

He grinned, a flush growing on his cheeks. “Yes, Madame Granger.”

Hermione felt her own cheeks warm at his cheeky response. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure.

"Right, well. Moving on then. We need to finish this before my meeting with the Brazilian minister in two hours.” 

“They’re not giving you another man-eating bird, are they?” 

“Garuda is a sweet girl,” Hermione huffed. 

Draco chuckles and glances up at her with a grin. “She’s literally almost your size and ate my whole chicken the other day. Aren’t harpy eagles known for eating fully-grown monkeys?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Oh, come off it. She's perfectly well-behaved... most of the time. And I'll have you know, she's been an invaluable asset in our magical creature conservation efforts."

"Right, because nothing says 'conservation' like a bird that could carry off small children," Draco drawled, but his eyes held a glimmer of amusement.

"Honestly, Draco, you're as bad as Ron sometimes," Hermione huffed, though there was no real annoyance in her tone. "Anyway, no, they're not giving me another bird. We're discussing potential magical plant exchanges. Their rainforests have some truly fascinating specimens that could revolutionize our potions industry."

Draco's eyebrows rose with genuine interest. "Really? That actually sounds quite promising. Any particular plants you're hoping to acquire?"

Hermione's eyes lit up as she launched into an enthusiastic explanation. "Well, there's the Anima Flos, a rare orchid said to enhance the effects of healing potions. And the Memoria Moss, which could potentially be used to treat memory-related ailments. Oh, and I can't forget the Somnus Spore! It's rumored to induce a deep, dreamless sleep without the addictive properties of our current sleep potions."

Draco nodded along, his own excitement growing. "Merlin, Granger, those sound incredible. The applications could be groundbreaking. Imagine the advancements we could make in treating spell damage, mental health, and even curse breaking!"

Hermione beamed, suddenly one hundred percent certain she’d made the right decision bringing Draco Malfoy on to work for her. 

As Hermione and Draco continued to discuss the potential of the Brazilian magical plants, the hours seemed to fly by. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by moments of laughter and shared excitement over the possibilities that lay ahead. 

Before they knew it, a gentle chime from Hermione's wand signaled that it was time for her meeting with the Brazilian minister. She glanced at the clock, surprised at how quickly the time had passed.

"Goodness, is it that late already?" she exclaimed, gathering her notes and straightening her robes. "I'm sorry, Draco, but I really must be going. We'll have to continue this discussion later."

Draco stood up, a genuine smile on his face. "Of course, Granger. I wouldn't want to keep you from your important meeting. Thank you for taking the time to go over all of this with me. It's been... enlightening, to say the least."

Hermione returned his smile, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "It's been my pleasure, Draco. I'm glad we had this opportunity to talk. And I meant what I said about Azkaban. We will make those changes happen."

Draco's expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "I know you will, Granger. If anyone can make the impossible happen, it's you."

With a final nod and a smile, Hermione gathered her things and made her way to the door. As she stepped out of her office, she couldn't help but glance back at Draco, who had returned to studying her notes with a look of intense concentration. 

 As she walked down the hall towards the meeting room, Hermione couldn't help but reflect on how much things had changed. If someone had told her even a year ago that she'd be working alongside Draco Malfoy, discussing how to reform their society, she would have thought they'd been hit with a particularly strong Confundus Charm. 

But here she was, not only tolerating his presence but actually enjoying his company and valuing his input. It was surreal, to say the least. The Draco Malfoy she'd known at Hogwarts had been a spoiled, prejudiced bully, always ready with a cutting remark or a cruel sneer. The man she'd just spent hours conversing with was intelligent, passionate, and genuinely interested in making a difference.

A sly grin spread across Hermione's face as she allowed herself to entertain the thought that with Draco by her side, they could become an unstoppable force in their quest to bring change to their world. 

She swung open a door that led to her grand international meeting room.

“Zaubereiminister, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” 

Draco took confident strides down the grand staircase of Arcane, his steps echoing against the ornate walls. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow through the glass windows and illuminating the intricate designs carved into every surface. As he made his way down, Draco couldn't help but reflect on the day's events—it had been quite successful for a first day on the job. He couldn't wait to go home and relax, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done.

What Hermione was actually trying to accomplish here was mind-boggling. The fact that the tiny woman was actually managing to improve their world bit by bit through sheer determination was nothing short of incredible. The very thought that she wanted him of all people to be involved was still somehow the most shocking thing of all. 

“So, the rumors are true then.” 

The voice froze him in place just as he reached the final step. The familiar tone sent ripples of anxiety through his body, and he stood to his full height. 

“Father.” 

Lucius Malfoy sneered. “I had heard a rumor that my son was working here of all places. I thought it surely could not be true. Yet, here you are.” 

“Father. Might I remind you that I live on my own? I’m sure it’s a novel concept to you, but I do have bills to pay.” 

Lucius' cold grey eyes narrowed as he looked Draco up and down, taking in his son's slightly healthier appearance and the determination in his stance.

“You wouldn’t if you would just come home like we’ve been asking. I’m quite certain you’ve been receiving our owls, despite living in that muggle home. Your mother is quite distraught.” 

Draco felt a pang of guilt at the mention of his mother, but he quickly pushed it aside. He'd made his decision, and he wasn't about to back down now.

"I've made my choices clear, Father," Draco said, his voice steady despite the churning in his stomach. "I'm not coming back. I have a life of my own now and a job that actually means something."

Lucius' lip curled in disgust. "A job? Working for that Mudblood Granger? Have you no shame, Draco? No sense of family pride?"

Draco's hands clenched into fists at his sides, anger flaring in his chest at the slur. 

"Don't call her that," he hissed. "Hermione Granger has done more for our world in a few years than our family has in generations. And as for you... family pride? You nearly led us to our deaths. I nearly died in Azkaban, and I’m still nearly dying. Only Hermione has cared enough to help me.” 

"Of course I care. You’re my son. But I can’t reach you in the muggle world. Come home, Draco. Please son. I’ll… I’m trying. Your mother has made me see a mind healer. Dreadful process.” 

“And yet you still use that word?” 

Lucius faltered, his mask of superiority slipping for a moment. "I... I can't promise I'll change overnight, Draco. But I am trying. For you and your mother."

Draco studied his father's face, searching for any sign of deception. To his surprise, he saw a flicker of vulnerability in Lucius' eyes that he'd never noticed before.

"That's... that's good to hear, Father," Draco said cautiously. "But I'm not ready to come home. I need this. I need to find my own way, to make amends for my past actions."

Lucius' jaw clenched, but he nodded stiffly. "I see. And this... job... with Miss Granger, it's helping you do that?"

"It is," Draco affirmed. "She's giving me a chance to do some good.”

Lucius's eyes narrowed slightly, a calculating look passing over his features. "I see," he said slowly. "And what exactly does this... job entail?"

Draco hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "I'm assisting with various projects," he said carefully. "Research, planning, that sort of thing. It's... it's important work, Father."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Important enough to abandon your family and live among Muggles?"

Draco felt his temper flare again. "I haven't abandoned anyone," he snapped. "I'm trying to build a life for myself. One that doesn't revolve around blood purity and dark magic."

His father flinched slightly at that, but quickly regained his composure. "And Miss Granger... she treats you well?"

The question caught Draco off guard. Was that actual care in the man’s voice? 

"She treats me... fairly," Draco replied, still a bit thrown by the unexpected question. "Better than I deserve, if I'm being honest."

Lucius's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see," he said, his tone unreadable. "And you're... happy with this arrangement?"

Draco paused, considering. Was he happy? It was hard to say. He was still struggling with the aftermath of Azkaban, still plagued by nightmares and guilt. But working with Hermione, feeling like he was finally doing something worthwhile... it gave him a sense of purpose he'd never had before.

"I'm... getting there," he finally said. "It's not easy, but it feels right."

Lucius was quiet for a long moment, studying his son's face. Finally, he gave a small resigned nod. "Very well," he said. "I can see you've made up your mind. But know this, Draco—you always have a home with us, should you choose to return."

Draco felt a lump form in his throat at his father's words. It wasn't quite acceptance, but it was more than he'd expected. "Thank you, Father," he said quietly.

Lucius straightened his robes, his usual mask of aristocratic indifference sliding back into place. "Well, I suppose I should be going. Your mother will be expecting me."

As his father turned to leave, Draco called out, "Father, wait." Lucius paused, looking back at his son expectantly. "Tell Mother... tell her I miss her. And that I'll write soon."

A flicker of something—relief? hope?—passed over Lucius's face. He nodded once, then strode towards the exit, his cane tapping rhythmically against the marble floor.

Draco watched his father's retreating form, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He felt drained from the unexpected confrontation but also strangely lighter. It wasn't the reconciliation he might have hoped for, but it was... something. A start, perhaps.

As he turned to leave, he nearly collided with a familiar figure standing just behind him.

"Granger!" he exclaimed, startled. "How long have you been there?"

Hermione looked up at him, her brown eyes filled with concern. "Long enough," she said softly. "Are you alright?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "I'm... not sure, to be honest. That was... unexpected."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine. That looked... intense."

Draco let out a humorless chuckle. "That's one word for it." He glanced at her, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough to know your father still has some rather outdated views," Hermione said, her tone carefully neutral. "And that you stood up to him. That couldn't have been easy."

Draco felt a flush creep up his neck. "Yes, well... I meant what I said. About you and this job, I mean."

Hermione's eyes softened. "I know you did, Draco. And I appreciate it." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. Trying to forge your own path, I mean."

Draco felt a warmth spread through his chest at Hermione's words. "Thank you," he said softly. "That... means a lot.” 

Hermione gave him a small smile. "Well, I meant it. You've come a long way, Draco Malfoy."

They stood there for a moment, an awkward but not unpleasant silence stretching between them. Finally, Hermione cleared her throat.

"Right, well. I should be heading home. It's been quite a day."

Draco nodded, suddenly realizing how exhausted he felt. "Yes, it has. I should be going too."

As they walked towards the exit together, Hermione glanced at him. "You know, if you ever want to talk... about your family, or Azkaban, or anything really... my door is always open."

Draco glanced at Hermione, momentarily taken aback by her offer. He felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards this woman who, despite their tumultuous history, was extending such kindness to him.

"I... thank you, Granger," he said softly. "I might just take you up on that sometime."

Hermione nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good. And Draco? It's Hermione, remember? We're colleagues now, after all."

Draco felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. "I like Granger, though." 

Hermione rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. "Fine, have it your way then. Goodnight, Malfoy."

“Nope. I’m still Draco.” 

Hermione let out a laugh, shaking her head at Draco's cheekiness. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"I've been told once or twice," Draco replied with a smirk.

They reached the main doors of the Arcane Agency, and Draco held it open for Hermione. She stepped through, then turned to face him.

"Well, this is where we part ways," she said. "Unless... would you like to grab a quick bite? There's a lovely little café just around the corner."

Draco hesitated for a moment. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, after the long day and the confrontation with his father. 

“Tomorrow night? I’ve got to be honest and say I’m dead on my feet.” 

Hermione nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Of course, I completely understand. It's been quite a day for you."

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

As Draco watched Hermione disappear into the bustling London street, he felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. Relief at having survived his first day at Arcane, anxiety from the encounter with his father, and an unexpected warmth from Hermione's kindness. 

He began his walk home, his mind replaying the events of the day. The way Hermione's eyes had lit up as she talked about magical plants, her fierce defense of him when discussing Azkaban reforms, the gentle concern in her voice after his confrontation with Lucius. It was all so different from how he'd always seen her.

Draco found himself looking forward to tomorrow, to diving into more projects with her, to maybe taking her up on that raincheck for dinner. He chuckled softly to himself, imagining what his younger self would think of him now—working for Hermione Granger of all people. 

He groaned overdramatically the second he walked inside his home, dropping his bag onto the floor and flopping onto the couch. Theo snickered from the kitchen, where it looked like he was attempting to serve food from take-away containers, only he got it all over the floor with every scoop. 

“Long day?” Theo asked with an amused snort.

"You have no idea," Draco mumbled into a throw pillow. "First day on the job, and I've already had to face down my father."

Theo winced sympathetically. "Ouch. How'd that go?"

Draco rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "About as well as you'd expect. He's still not thrilled about my life choices, but... I don't know. There might be hope yet."

"Well, that's something, I suppose," Theo said, abandoning his messy attempt at plating and bringing the takeaway containers to the coffee table. "Here, eat something. You look like you're about to pass out."

Draco sat up gratefully, grabbing a container of what looked like curry. "Thanks, mate. So how was your day? Any progress on the job front?"

Theo shrugged, settling into the space next to him. “Potter was actually…very nice.” 

Draco narrowed his eyes. He knew that tone.

“Nice? Or, you know, niceeeee ?” 

Theo's cheeks flushed slightly as he stabbed at his food. "I don't know what you're implying, Draco."

"Oh, I think you do," Draco smirked, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Come on, spill. What happened with Potter?"

Theo sighed, putting down his fork. "Nothing 'happened', you prat. He was just... surprisingly understanding. Very patient. I think I’ll enjoy being his secretary. Although, I think. Um. I think he was perhaps flirting with me?” 

Draco nearly choked on his curry. "Flirting? Potter? With you?" He let out a bark of laughter. "Merlin's beard, what is the world coming to? First, I'm working for Granger, and now Potter's making eyes at you?"

Theo threw a pillow at Draco's head. "Shut it, you git. It's probably nothing. I'm just... not used to people being so nice to me, I guess."

Draco's laughter died down, his expression softening. "I know what you mean, mate. It's... strange, isn't it? Being treated like we're actual people, not just ex-Death Eaters or whatever."

Theo nodded, picking at his food. "Yeah. It's nice, though. Makes me feel like maybe we have a shot at a normal life after all."

"Speaking of normal lives," Draco said, setting down his curry, "Granger invited me to grab dinner with her tomorrow night."

Theo's eyebrows shot up. "Dinner? With Granger? Well, well, well..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's not like that, you prat. We're colleagues now, remember?"

"Uh-huh," Theo said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Colleagues who go out to dinner together."

"It's not a date," Draco insisted, though he felt a strange flutter in his stomach at the thought. "We just... have a lot to discuss about work."

Theo snorted. "Right. Because discussing work requires candlelit dinners and wine."

"Who said anything about candles and wine?" Draco protested. "It's probably just a quick bite at some casual café."

Theo smirked. "Sure, whatever you say, mate. Just don't come crying to me when you realize you've fallen for the Gryffindor Princess."

Draco scoffed, though he felt his cheeks warm slightly. "Don't be ridiculous. Granger and I are... well, we're not even friends really. Just colleagues who are learning to tolerate each other."

"Uh-huh," Theo said, clearly unconvinced. "And I'm the Minister for Magic."

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s Granger.” 

“And I believe you. Bloody woman is terrifying.” 

Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "You have no idea. You should see her when she really gets going about one of her projects. It's like watching a force of nature."

"Sounds intense," Theo remarked, taking a bite of his food. "So, what exactly are you working on with her?"

Draco's eyes lit up as he launched into an explanation of the Brazilian magical plants and their potential applications. Theo listened, an amused smile playing on his lips as he watched his friend become more and more animated.

"...and the Somnus Spore could revolutionize sleep potions!" Draco finished, slightly out of breath.

Theo raised an eyebrow. "Merlin's beard, Draco. You sound like you've swallowed a textbook. Or worse, you sound like Granger herself."

Draco felt his cheeks flush at Theo's comment. "I do not sound like Granger," he protested, though he couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. "I'm just... excited about the work we're doing, that's all."

Theo laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm just teasing, mate. It's good to see you so passionate about something. Even if that something involves working with Granger."

Draco smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. It was true—despite his initial reservations, he was genuinely excited about the work he was doing at Arcane. And while he may not be ready to admit it out loud, he was starting to enjoy Hermione's company as well.

"Well, I suppose stranger things have happened," Draco mused, leaning back into the couch cushions. "Like you and Potter apparently making heart eyes at each other."

Theo threw another pillow at him. "Oi! I told you, it's not like that. We're just... friendly. In a professional sense."

Draco smirked, dodging the pillow. "Right, because Potter's known for being so 'friendly' and 'professional' with former Slytherins. Face it, mate, he fancies you."

Theo groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?"

"Fine, fine," Draco conceded, still grinning. "How about we discuss your abysmal attempt at plating take-away? I think there's more food on the floor than in the containers."

Theo peeked out from between his fingers, glaring at Draco. "Piss off. At least I'm trying to learn how to cook. It’s only a matter of time before Granger sweeps you away, and then I’ll have to learn to feed myself.” 

“Shut it.” 

He got up and threw out his trash, nodding to Theo. “I’m knackered. Off to bed. You staying up?” 

Theo shook his head, stifling a yawn. "Nah, I'm pretty beat too. First day and all that. Think I'll turn in as well."

Draco nodded, heading towards his bedroom. "Right then. Night, Theo. Doors open if you need it."

"Night, Draco," Theo called after him. 

Draco rushed through his shower, anxious to get to her. He knew she’d be waiting to hear how everything had gone. 

He slid under his covers with a contented sigh, willing himself into his mental room. 

She was already there waiting for him, her hair a riot of curls and smile wide and welcoming. 

“Darling! How was your first day? Was I kind to you?” 

“Granger. You look ravishing tonight.” 

She blushed, her only piece of clothing being a long sleep shirt that had seen better days. 

“Don’t distract me. How was it?” 

Draco smiled, settling onto the plush bed next to her. "It was... surprisingly good, actually. You were more than kind—you were brilliant. The real you, I mean."

Hermione beamed at him, her eyes sparkling. "Of course I was. I'm always brilliant, aren't I?"

Draco chuckled, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "That you are, love. We spent hours discussing magical plants from Brazil and their potential applications. It was fascinating."

"Ooh, tell me more!" Hermione exclaimed, snuggling closer to him.

As Draco recounted the details of his day, Hermione listened intently, asking questions and offering her own insights. It was so easy to talk to her like this, in the safety of his mind. No complicated history, no judgmental looks from others. Just the two of them.

"...and then you invited me to dinner tomorrow night," Draco finished, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Did I really? How exciting! A proper date with the real me."

Draco felt his cheeks warm. "It's not a date, love. Just two colleagues grabbing a bite after work."

Hermione smirked, trailing her fingers along his arm. "If you say so, darling. But I think we both know there's more to it than that."

Draco sighed, pulling her closer. "You know it's not that simple. The real you... she's only just starting to tolerate me.” 

Hermione pouted, her lower lip jutting out. "But she invited you to dinner! That's got to mean something, right?"

Draco smiled softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "It means she's kind and compassionate, just like you. But it doesn't mean she feels the same way I do."

Hermione sighed, resting her head on his chest. "I suppose you're right. But a girl can dream, can't she?"

Draco chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Of course you can, love. And who knows? Maybe one day, those dreams will come true."

They lay there for a while, simply enjoying each other's presence. Draco's mind wandered to the real Hermione, to the way her eyes had shone as she talked about her work, the gentle concern in her voice after his encounter with his father. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that the real Hermione could one day look at him the way this version did.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione murmured, tracing patterns on his chest.

Draco hesitated, then decided to be honest. "I was thinking about the real you. About how different you are from her, and yet... how similar in some ways."

Hermione propped herself up on an elbow, looking at him curiously. "Oh? How so?"

Draco smiled softly. "Well, you're both brilliant, of course. Passionate about your work. Kind, even to those who might not deserve it. But she's... harder, I suppose. More guarded. With good reason, of course. I never got to know the real Hermione, to be honest. I had this idea of her, and it hardly does her justice."

Hermione's eyes softened as she looked at Draco. "I'm sure the real me is getting to know you too, darling. And I bet she likes what she sees."

Draco chuckled, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I hope so, love. But it's complicated. Our history..."

"Is in the past," Hermione finished firmly. "You're not that boy anymore, Draco. And I'm sure the real me can see that."

Draco pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. "I hope you're right," he murmured.

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, Draco absently running his fingers through Hermione's curls. Eventually, he spoke again, his voice soft.

"Father showed up at Arcane today."

Hermione tensed in his arms. "Your father? What happened?" Hermione asked, concern evident in her voice.

Draco sighed, his fingers stilling in her hair. "He wasn't too pleased about me working there, as you can imagine. Especially working with her."

Hermione frowned. "What did he say?"

"The usual pureblood nonsense," Draco replied, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. "Couldn't believe his son was working for a 'mudblood'. Nearly had a fit when I defended her."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You defended her? To your father?"

Draco nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Of course I did. Told him she’d done more for the wizarding world than our family has in generations. And that I was proud to work with her."

Hermione sat up fully, her eyes shining with pride and affection. "Oh, Draco, that's wonderful! It must have taken so much courage to stand up to your father like that."

Draco felt a warmth spread through his chest at her praise. "It wasn't easy," he admitted. "But it felt right. The real Hermione... she deserves better than to be spoken about that way. Especially after everything she's done for me."

Hermione cupped his face gently, her thumb stroking his cheek. "You're a good man, Draco Malfoy. Even if you don't always believe it yourself."

Draco leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. "I'm trying to be," he murmured. "For you. For her. For myself."

"And you're succeeding," Hermione assured him. She leaned in and kissed him softly. He melted into the kiss, savoring the comfort and acceptance he found in her embrace. When they parted, Hermione gave him a tender smile.

"You know, the real me might surprise you," she said, her eyes twinkling. "I have a feeling she sees more in you than you realize."

Draco chuckled, though there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "You're biased, love. You're literally a figment of my imagination."

Hermione smirked, poking him playfully in the chest. "A very intelligent figment, I'll have you know. And one who knows you better than anyone."

Draco captured her hand, bringing it to his lips. "That you do," he murmured against her skin.

They settled back into the plush bed, Hermione curling up against Draco's side. He wrapped his arm around her, relishing the comforting warmth of her body against his.

"So, tell me more about this dinner tomorrow," Hermione prompted, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "Where are you going? What are you going to wear?"

Draco chuckled. "I'm not sure yet. She just mentioned a café around the corner from Arcane. As for what I'm wearing, I hadn't really thought about it."

Hermione clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Draco, darling, you can't go on a date—sorry, 'colleague dinner'—without putting some thought into your outfit."

"It's not a date," Draco protested weakly, though he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Why do you want me to date?” 

“I don’t know,” then she sighed. “Maybe because I’ll never get to go on one with you. It’s hard being me sometimes, Draco.” 

Draco felt a pang in his chest at Hermione's words. He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I know, love. I'm sorry," he murmured. "You know if I could..."

Hermione shook her head, giving him a sad smile. "I know. It's alright. I just… I have nothing but time to think. Sometimes I just... I think I’m more than just your imagination. How many hallucinations or figments do you know of that have years of memories or my range of emotions? Or ones that you can feel, smell, taste...” 

Draco furrowed his brow, considering Hermione's words. It was true that this version of her seemed remarkably real and complex. He'd always assumed she was just a product of his imagination, but could there be more to it?

"You're right," he said slowly. "You do seem incredibly lifelike. But if you're not just my imagination, then what are you?"

Hermione shrugged, looking uncertain. "I don't know. Maybe some kind of magical construct? Or a fragment of the real Hermione's consciousness? I just know that I feel real. My thoughts, my feelings for you—they all feel genuine."

Draco pulled her closer, feeling a mix of confusion and concern. "I wish I had answers for you, love. But I promise, no matter what you are, you're real to me. You've been my lifeline through some of the darkest times in my life. That will never change."

Hermione smiled softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you, Draco. That means more to me than you know." She nestled her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

They lay in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Hermione spoke again, her voice quiet. "Do you think... do you think the real Hermione could ever feel for you what I do?"

Draco sighed, absently running his fingers through her curls. "I don't know, love. It seems so unlikely, given our history. But then again, I never thought I'd be working alongside her either. I suppose anything's possible."

Hermione propped herself up on an elbow, looking at him intently. "Well, if I were her—and in a way, I suppose I am—I'd be falling for you already. You're not the boy you used to be, Draco. You're kind and passionate and trying so hard to make amends. Any woman would be lucky to have you."

Draco felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. "Thank you, love. I just hope the real Hermione can see that too, someday."

"She will," Hermione said confidently. "Just be yourself.” 

“The one who got me into this mess?” 

She snorted, rolling her eyes playfully.

After a few more moments, Draco quietly asked. “Do you think she’ll be upset if she ever learns about you?” 

"Maybe at first," Hermione said thoughtfully. "It might be a bit strange for her to learn about my existence. But I think ultimately she'd understand. You created me as a coping mechanism during an incredibly traumatic time. I've helped you heal and grow. I don't think she could fault you for that."

Draco nodded slowly, considering her words. "I hope you're right. I just... I don't want her to think I'm some kind of creep who's been fantasizing about her all this time."

Hermione chuckled softly. "Darling, I think she's smart enough to understand the difference between a coping mechanism and a creepy fantasy. Besides, you've been nothing but respectful towards me. Well, mostly," she added with a playful wink.

Draco felt his cheeks warm slightly. "Yes, well... you're very persuasive when you want to be," he said with a small smirk.

Hermione giggled, snuggling closer to him. "That I am. Now, about this dinner tomorrow."

Draco groaned playfully. "You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Hermione said firmly. "This is important, Draco. This is your chance to make her look at you in a new light. A romantic one."

Draco sighed, but there was a fond smile on his face. "Alright, alright. What do you suggest?"

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Well, first of all, you need to wear something nice but not too formal. Maybe that dark green button-down shirt I like? It brings out your eyes. And those black slacks that cling to your bum like a second skin.” 

Draco chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "You certainly have strong opinions on my wardrobe, love. I'll consider the shirt, but perhaps trousers that are a bit less... clingy."

Hermione pouted playfully. "Fine, spoil my fun. But promise me you'll at least make an effort to look nice?"

"I promise," Draco said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Though I maintain it's not a date."

Hermione rolled her eyes fondly. "Keep telling yourself that, darling. Now, what else? Oh! Make sure to ask her questions about herself—not just work-related things. Show her you're interested in getting to know her as a person."

Draco nodded, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement at the prospect. "Right. Personal questions. I can do that."

"And don't forget to compliment her," Hermione added. "But make it genuine, not some cheesy line. Notice something specific about her—her hair, her eyes, her laugh. Let her know you're paying attention."

Draco felt a flutter of nerves in his stomach. "This is starting to sound more and more like dating advice, love."

Hermione gave him a mischievous smile. "Well, whether you want to admit it or not, this dinner has potential. I just want you to make the most of it."

Draco sighed but couldn't help smiling back at her. "Alright, alright. I'll do my best to impress her. Though I doubt she'll be as easily charmed as you are."

Hermione's expression softened. "Don't sell yourself short, Draco. You’re quite literally my dream man.” 

Draco chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at Hermione's words. "Well, when you put it that way, how can I argue?"

Hermione beamed at him, her eyes twinkling with affection. "You can't. Now, promise me you'll try to relax and enjoy yourself tomorrow. Even if nothing romantic comes of it, this is a chance to get to know the real me better."

Draco nodded, pulling her closer. "I promise. Though I have to say, the real you has some pretty big shoes to fill. You've set quite a high standard."

Hermione laughed, the sound light and musical. "Well, I'm sure she'll live up to it. After all, she is me... or I'm her. You know what I mean."

“Perhaps. No matter what comes of this or how crazy it makes me sound, I do love you. You’ve been my only light for so long.” 

Hermione's eyes softened at Draco's heartfelt words. She reached up to cup his cheek gently. "I love you too, Draco. So very much. And I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens with the real me."

Draco leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. "I know. And I'm grateful for that every single day."

They lay in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's presence. Eventually, Hermione spoke again, her voice soft. "You should get some rest, darling. You have a big day tomorrow."

Draco nodded, feeling the pull of sleep tugging at him. "You're right. Will you stay with me?"

Hermione smiled, snuggling closer to him. "Always."

As Draco drifted off to sleep, he felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him—excitement, nervousness, and hope. The prospect of getting to know the real Hermione better and potentially forming a deeper connection with her filled him with a giddy anticipation he hadn't felt in years. At the same time, he couldn't help the nagging doubts that crept in. 

What if he wasn't enough to capture her interest? He was not even close to handsome anymore, any money he had now came from her, and his personality resembled Snape more than her Gryffindor friends. What did he have to offer? 

His mind's version of Hermione seemed to sense his inner turmoil. She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, her curls tickling his skin. "Stop overthinking, darling," she murmured. “Actually, there’s a quote I remembered today, and I wanted to tell you because it reminded me of you.” 

“Yeah?” Draco prompted. “What’s that?” 

“Love is a decision, it is a judgment, it is a promise. If love were only a feeling, there would be no basis for the promise to love each other forever. A feeling comes and it may go. How can I judge that it will stay forever, when my act does not involve judgment and decision.”

“What’s that from?” 

“A poet...or an author? It’s a little fuzzy. His name was... Erich Fromm? A muggle. Anyway, I thought it might help you. I don’t just randomly love you for no reason. She won’t just give into some random feeling. We’re choosing to love you—and before you argue with me again, she will—and there is no reason for you to question it. It’s not just an irrational emotion that you manipulated us into feeling. It’s us choosing to love and care for you. Let us.” 

Draco smiled sleepily. “It sounds like that quote means something deeper than that, but I’ll take it.”

Draco felt his heart swell with emotion at Hermione's words. Even if she was just a creation of his mind, she always seemed to know exactly what he needed to hear.

"Thank you," he murmured, pulling her closer. "I'll try to remember that."

As sleep began to claim him, Draco's last conscious thought was of the real Hermione—her warm brown eyes, her passionate voice as she talked about her work, the gentle concern she'd shown him after his encounter with his father. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between them.

With that hopeful thought, Draco drifted off into a peaceful sleep, his mind's Hermione nestled safely in his arms.

Chapter Text

Draco stood near the fountain, waiting for Hermione to arrive. She’d sent a note ahead saying she wanted him to meet her here today so he could attend her meeting with the minister. Apparently he was dragging his feet on some project she wanted done, and she was coming to discuss it in person. As someone who grew up learning aristocratic tactics, that usually meant they were there to express disappointment and figure out if they needed to use violence or money to make it happen. Somehow, he couldn’t see Hermione Granger using either way.

The minister had already passed Draco, giving him a quick nod before heading to the elevators. A few people had called out to Shacklebolt and gave him respectful nods, but overall there was no fanfare like he remembered seeing with other ministers. Also, the man was looking quite old these days; guess being the man in charge wasn’t all he’d thought it would be.

Draco shrugged internally, turning his eyes back to the entrance. Suddenly there were whispers and crowds forming all around the area he was standing until finally the entrance was completely blocked. He strained to see over the heads of those in front of him, but it wasn't long before he caught sight of her.

"Oh, she's here! Finally!" said one man with a sigh, his voice filled with admiration and relief.

"Did you hear what she did with her little werewolf sanctuary? Remarkable," whispered another woman to her friend.

"I don't even like the things, but she solved a good three hundred years worth of problems with that little setup," chimed in a third person.

"You think that's impressive? She rebuilt both Upper and Lower Hogsfield on her own. Put everything back together brick by brick," remarked yet another person in awe.

Draco couldn't help but be curious about this remarkable woman who seemed to command such admiration and respect from those around her.

Suddenly the crowds parted, letting this remarkable woman pass through undeterred.

Ah. He should have known.

Granger commanded the room with swift, determined steps, her head held high as she offered a curt nod to those who crossed her path. Her presence exuded a potent combination of authority and fearlessness, radiating an aura that demanded respect from all who dared to gaze upon her.

She had managed to tame her curls into a high, puffy style that made her appear taller than she actually was. Her all-black ensemble of pants and blazer was accented by a bright, bold red ruffled blouse, a deliberate choice to draw attention and exude confidence.

She was powerful, unstoppable, and simply gorgeous.

As Hermione approached, Draco found himself straightening his posture and adjusting his tie. Even after all these years, she still had the ability to make him feel like an awkward schoolboy trying to impress the prettiest girl in class.

“Draco,” she smiled warmly when she caught up to him. Not the public smile she had been flashing seconds ago, but real, and it made his heart thump like mad. “How are you feeling today?”

“Quite well, thank you. I’ve put on half a stone this week.”

“That’s wonderful! I’m glad this is working.”

He smiled shyly and shrugged. “So, what do you have in store for me today, Hermione?”

He said her name casually on purpose to see how it felt. He was so used to using it inside his head, but it still felt strange out here in the real world. However, she was more than Granger now, wasn’t she?

“Ah, you’re about to hear of my most controversial project yet.”

He escorted her towards the elevators, waiting until they were alone before speaking again.

“More controversial than the house elves?”

“Goodness, yes. If I’m successful, this would change our entire education system.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“I’m afraid you’ll quit after I tell you, but..."she sighed, watching the numbers as they went up to Kingsly’s office. “I want to turn Hogwarts into a college instead of them having a monopoly on our education. Have smaller schools in villages and cities. This way, not every child is forced to leave their homes and their parents protection. This will create more jobs, and it will allow for more specialized education paths," Hermione continued passionately as they exited the elevator and headed towards Kingsley's office. "Students can focus their studies based on their interests and career goals, rather than a one-size-fits-all curriculum."

Draco couldn't help but be impressed by her vision, even if it did seem rather radical. "That's...ambitious, to say the least. But what about tradition? Hogwarts has been the center of magical education in Britain for centuries."

Hermione shot him a look. "Tradition for tradition's sake is not a good enough reason to keep a flawed system in place. Besides, this plan would actually allow us to preserve the best parts of Hogwarts—as a college, it could focus on advanced magical studies and research."

They had reached the heavy oak door to Kingsley's office. Hermione squared her shoulders. “Kingsley has been dragging his feet when it comes to presenting the proposal and talking to the board of governors. I’m here to remind him that I will not be deterred from my goal.”

Draco couldn't help but smirk. This was the Hermione he knew - brilliant, determined, and ready to take on the world. "Well then, let's not keep the minister waiting any longer, shall we?"

He knocked firmly on the door. A deep voice called out, "Enter!"

As they stepped inside, Kingsley looked up from a stack of parchment on his desk, his expression a mixture of weariness and resignation. "Ah, Hermione. I thought I might be seeing you today."

"Minister," she greeted him with a curt nod. "I trust you know why I'm here?"

Kingsley sighed heavily. "Your education reform proposal. Hermione, you must understand, what you're suggesting is a massive undertaking. It will require significant resources, not to mention the political capital to push it through. The Board of Governors is not going to just roll over and accept such a drastic change without a fight," Kingsley said, leaning back in his chair.

Hermione remained undeterred. She stepped forward and placed her hands on the minister's desk, meeting his gaze with fierce determination. "And that is precisely why I need your support, Kingsley. You are the Minister for Magic. If you throw your weight behind this proposal, the board will have to listen."

Kingsley rubbed his temples. "Hermione, you know I respect your vision and your commitment to progress. But this...this is going to ruffle a lot of feathers. Powerful feathers."

"Since when has that ever stopped me?" Hermione countered with a raised eyebrow. "Need I remind you of my house elf freedom act? Or the werewolf laws? Change is never easy, but it is necessary.”

Kingsley leaned forward, his expression serious. "I understand your passion, Hermione. But this isn't just about convincing me. Even if I fully endorse your proposal, it's going to be an uphill battle every step of the way. The Board of Governors, the Wizengamot, not to mention the public outcry you're likely to face from those who hold Hogwarts sacred..."

Hermione's eyes flashed with determination. "I'm well aware of the challenges, Minister. But I didn't take on this role to maintain the status quo. I'm here to make real, meaningful change for the betterment of our society."

She began pacing in front of Kingsley's desk, her voice growing stronger with each word. "The current system is failing our children. We're clinging to outdated traditions at the expense of progress. By decentralizing education, we can provide more opportunities, better resources, and a higher quality of learning for all magical children, not just those who can afford to attend Hogwarts. Not to mention the safety concerns. Need I remind you how many of those mass graves from the war belong to children?"

Kingsley leaned back in his chair, considering her words. After a long moment, he let out a heavy sigh. "You make a compelling argument, Hermione. And I can't deny that our education system is in need of reform."

He stood up and walked around his desk to face her directly. "Alright. You have my support. I'll arrange a meeting with the Board of Governors to present your proposal. But I need you to be prepared for the backlash. This won't be an easy fight."

Hermione's face broke into a triumphant grin. "Thank you, Kingsley. I knew I could count on you." She reached out to shake his hand firmly. "And don't worry about the backlash. I've got it all taken care of.”

“Of course you do,” the man sighed. “I’m not a fool, Hermione. I know that it was only a matter of time before you just did whatever you wanted.”

Hermione's smile turned sly. "Come now, Minister. You know me better than that. I would never go behind your back."

Kingsley chuckled. "No, you'd just barrel right through anyone in your way. Subtlety has never been your strong suit."

"Why waste time with subtlety when directness gets results?" Hermione quipped back.

Draco, who had been quietly observing the exchange, couldn't help but be impressed by Hermione's tenacity. She truly was a force to be reckoned with.

Kingsley shook his head, but there was a hint of admiration in his eyes. "Very well, Hermione. I will let you know what happens with the board.”

“Thank you. Do make sure that you mention I am aware that several of them are due for retirement soon, won’t you?”

Kingsley's eyebrows shot up at Hermione's thinly veiled threat. "I'll...keep that in mind," he said, his tone a mix of wariness and amusement. "You never cease to amaze me with your, shall we say, creative negotiation tactics."

Hermione flashed him a triumphant smile. "I find that a little motivation can go a long way in getting things done. Now, if there's nothing else, Draco and I have a lot of work to do to prepare for the inevitable pushback."

She turned on her heel and strode out of the office, leaving Draco to trail after her. As they stepped into the elevator, he couldn't help but chuckle. "You know, Granger, sometimes I think you missed your calling as a Slytherin."

Hermione shot him a look. "Please. I'm too ethical for Slytherin. I just know how to get things done."

Draco held up his hands in mock surrender. "My apologies. I should have known better than to question the great Hermione Granger's moral compass."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Oh, hush. We have work to do. I need you to start drafting a proposal for the new decentralized school system. We'll need to outline the benefits, address potential concerns, and have a solid plan for implementation."

Draco nodded, his mind already whirring with ideas. "Of course. I'll get right on it. But Hermione," he paused, his expression growing serious, "are you sure you're ready for the backlash this is going to cause? You're taking on a centuries-old institution. I admit that even I am wary about this idea. I mean…it’s Hogwarts.”

Hermione met his gaze, her eyes burning with the same fierce determination that had carried her through countless battles, both on and off the battlefield. "I'm ready, Draco. This is a fight worth having. Hogwarts will always hold a special place in my heart, but that doesn't mean it's perfect. It’s not right to force children away from their families, often with barely any warning. As excited as I was, I was just a little girl new to magic, new to this entire new world. And I was forced away from my parents; I was barely allowed to tell them anything about my life. That’s not ok.”

As the elevator doors opened, she stepped out into the bustling Ministry atrium, her head held high. Draco fell into step beside her, marveling at the way she seemed to command the very air around her. People parted to let her pass, whispers of awe and admiration following in her wake.

She was a force of nature, unstoppable in her pursuit of what she believed was right. And Draco couldn't help but be drawn into her orbit, captivated by her passion and her unwavering commitment to making the world a better place.

As they made their way through the crowded atrium, Hermione suddenly stopped and turned to face him. "Draco, I know this isn't going to be easy. But I also know that I can't do it without you. You understand the traditions and the politics in a way that I never will. I need your insight, your strategy. Will you stand with me?"

Draco felt a warmth bloom in his chest at her words. She needed him. She believed in him. After all these years, after everything they had been through, she saw him as an ally, a partner in her quest for justice.

He reached out and took her hand. “Just tell me where to go, boss. I believe I signed up for all the Granger Crusades.”

Hermione squeezed his hand, a grateful smile on her face. "Thank you.”

“Now,” she sighed, “I’m off to deal with some complaints from fishermen in England. They’re claiming a Bomere fish is interfering with their jobs.”

“A what now?”

“Bomere fish? According to a book I found, it’s a fish that’s able to draw a sword and free itself from nets.” She shrugged. "Honestly, most of these people think they can blame anything magical and get me to fix it. I bet you it’s a regular fish, and I’m going down there to tell them just that.”

"Don’t they know not to mess with the great Hermione Granger?”

“Not yet," she said with a wicked grin. “But they will." She released his hand and turned to go. "I'll be back before five!" Her voice carried over the noise of the atrium.

Draco watched her retreating form until it disappeared from sight, a sense of admiration mingling with something he couldn't quite put a finger on.

He made his way back toward the elevators, lost in thought. As much as he was committed to helping Hermione with her plans, a small part of him wondered if he truly belonged in this world she was creating. She seemed so sure of everything, so determined. And here he was, still trying to figure out where he fit in. At the very least, he knew he wanted to be where she was. It was great fun watching the world kneel at her feet.

He made his way back to the office and tried to busy himself with paperwork. Of course, there wasn’t honestly much he could do with it until he consulted Hermione. Instead, he soon found himself curling up on the comfortable golden chaise tucked against a wall, deciding a moment to rest his eyes was just what he needed.

******************

Hermione huffed and stomped through the halls of her office, cringing every moment she caught a whiff of herself. She’d used every cleaning spell she knew, but she could still smell the muck of the dirty old river on her clothes.

The fish, unfortunately, had turned out to be a real Bomere fish, and she’d had quite the fight on her hands. The damned thing was now thrown into a tank and donated to the ministry to put on display somewhere.

Hakkun was waiting inside her office, his wheelchair taking up the space her office chair usually occupied. She quirked an eyebrow, and he grinned unapologetically.

“Heya, Hermie.”

“You and your brother need to get over this habit of calling people everything except their own names.”

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" Hakkun replied cheekily. "Besides, I think it suits you. Hermie the Heroine, savior of the wizarding world and champion of the downtrodden."

Hermione rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Did you come here just to tease me, or was there an actual purpose to this visit?"

Hakkun's expression sobered. "Actually, I wanted to have a chat about the cross-species adoption legalization bill. And maybe to get a peek at Malfoy working, but I haven’t gotten up the courage to go look in his office.”

“He’s tame and, quite frankly, too sickly to be afraid of. I can escort you if you want. First, I need to feed Crookshanks. He’s usually in here taking over my desk by now.”

Hermione frowned and searched her office until she noticed Hakkun thoughtfully looking at the door.

“What is it?”

“What time is it?”

“One o’clock, I believe. I was planning to head to lunch soon.”

Hakkun nods knowingly and flashes a grin. “He’ll be next door then.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a little-known secret about Draco Malfoy. I only noticed because I’m quite the observer. Every day at precisely one o’clock, the little lordling requires a nap. And Hermione, did you ever notice that Crookshanks could never be found around that time?”

“I…well, yes, I suppose. He’s been getting better and now demands to be fed instead, but I used to lose him for the entire afternoon back at Hogwarts.”

“That’s because your cat and Draco Malfoy always took their nap together at one.”

“No! Really? I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it! I stumbled upon them several times in the library. Always nestled in the back corner stacks, Draco lying luxuriously across a few chairs with Crookshanks purring and snoring contentedly on his chest.”

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "I can't believe it! Crookshanks, that traitor," she said with a laugh. "I always wondered where he disappeared to. And to think, he was cuddling up with Draco Malfoy of all people!"

Hakkun chuckled. "It seems even your cat couldn't resist the Malfoy charm. Or perhaps it was just the allure of a warm, comfortable napping spot."

Hermione shook her head, still grinning. "Well, I suppose I should go rescue Draco from Crookshanks' clutches. We have work to do, after all."

She made her way to Draco's office, Hakkun following close behind. As they approached the door, Hermione could hear the faint sound of purring emanating from within.

Hakkun waggled his eyebrows as Hermione hesitated outside the door. She gave him a playful glare before pushing it open quietly.

Sure enough, Draco was sprawled out on the golden chaise, fast asleep with Crookshanks nestled comfortably on his chest. The cat's purring filled the room, a rhythmic sound that seemed to blend with Draco's soft, even breathing.

Hakkun stifled a laugh. "I told you."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Unbelievable."

Draco shifted slightly in his sleep, and Crookshanks gave an indignant meow before settling back down.

She glanced at Hakkun. "I almost feel bad about waking him."

"Almost?" Hakkun teased.

With a resigned sigh, Hermione stepped closer and gently nudged Draco's shoulder. "Draco. Time to wake up."

Draco stirred, blinking groggily as he came to. He looked momentarily disoriented before his eyebrows rose and he stared at his chest in surprise.

“This old bag of bones is still alive?”

Crookshanks gave an affronted glare, his tail twitching as he jumped off and padded away with wounded dignity.

Draco rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up, smoothing down his tousled hair. "I see you brought a guest," he said, glancing at Hakkun with a bemused expression.

Hakkun waved cheerily. "Thought I'd drop by and say hello. But I didn't expect to find you in such cozy company."

Draco grunted, swinging his legs off the chaise. "He's persistent, I'll give him that." He looked over at Hermione. "Did your fish problem get sorted?"

Hermione nodded, trying to suppress her amusement. "It did. And now we have a lovely new exhibit for the Ministry's atrium."

"You look like you've been dragged through the Thames," Draco observed with a smirk.

"Very funny," she replied dryly. “I don’t know if you recall him, but this is Hakkun. He’s Minsu’s brother.”

Draco’s face turned serious, and he even stood to offer a slight bow. “I do recall him, of course. I am sorry for my part in your…troubles. If there’s anything I could ever do for you…”

Hakkun waved at him to stop, grinning. “What? You don’t like my wheels? Honestly, Malfoy, I’m golden. I don’t blame you. You saved me! And, as soon as I can figure out how to make invincible robot legs, I’m going to battle Hermie for leadership over the Wiz community.”

Draco considered him for a moment before nodding. “We’ll have to watch out for this one,” he said quietly to Hermione, but Hakkun heard it anyway.

“Damn straight you will.”

“Enough plotting,” Hermione interrupted with a laugh. “Hakkun, did you want to discuss the cross-species adoption bill? Or did you just come here to recruit Draco and embarrass me?”

“Why can’t I do all three?” Hakkun replied with a mischievous grin. "Actually, I do want to talk about adoption. There’s been a lot of pushback in Japan. No one wants foreign werewolves adopted into their neighborhoods.”

“That’s exactly why we need to push this through," Hermione said, her tone serious. "We can't let prejudice continue dictating policy."

Hakkun's expression softened. "I knew you'd feel that way, Hermie. I’ll set up an appointment for you with the council while Minsu’s away.”

“Where is he now?”

“Following a lead. Now that he’s back to being the editor of the paper, he’s back to sniffing out every bit of gossip he can get ahold of. Which, by the way, Malfoy, be careful with your Nott friend. Minsu’s heard gossip about love in the air.”

“What should that matter?” Hermione huffed, sitting on the edge of Draco’s desk. “Our paper isn’t for idle gossip and…dating drama.”

Hakkun interrupted with a chuckle. “No, but it is about wizarding society and its players. And last I checked, a Pureblood heir with Death Eater ties and the Chosen One making googly eyes at each other would be enough to make tongues wag.”

Draco frowned at Hakkun's words. "Theo and Potter are their own people. They should be free to pursue whatever relationships they wish without it being fodder for gossip."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Our paper is about truth and progress, not idle speculation about people's personal lives."

Hakkun held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I hear you, I hear you. But you know as well as I do that the public eats this stuff up. And like it or not, Nott and Potter are public figures. Their actions have consequences and garner attention, whether they want it or not."

Draco sighed, rubbing his temples. "I suppose you're right. I just wish they could have some privacy. Merlin knows Theo’s had little enough of that in his life."

Hermione placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ll watch out for them. It’ll be fine. And I’ll inspect Minsu’s stories before he publishes them.”

Draco nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "With you at the helm, I have no doubt everything will work out."

Hakkun grinned. "Well, I'll leave you two to your plotting and scheming. I've got my own mischief to manage." He wheeled himself towards the door, pausing to glance back at them. "Do try not to take over the world without me, yeah?"

Hermione laughed. "We make no promises."

With a jaunty wave, Hakkun rolled out into the hallway, leaving Hermione and Draco alone in the office.

Draco leaned back against the chaise, his expression thoughtful. "He really doesn’t blame me.”

Hermione shook her head. “Hakkun would never. He told me about it. About how you did your best to save them while the Carrows were torturing them. That was brave of you, Draco.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t so much me being brave as me trying to trick myself into believing I wasn’t a monster.”

Hermione's expression softened. She stepped closer, her hand coming to rest gently on his cheek. "You were never a monster, Draco. You were a boy caught in an impossible situation, trying to survive and protect those you cared about."

Draco leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "I wish I could believe that," he murmured. "But the things I did, the choices I made..."

"You made the best choices you could under the circumstances," Hermione insisted. "And look at you now. Look at all the good you're doing, all the people you're helping. That's not the work of a monster."

Draco opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. There was a vulnerability there, a raw honesty that made Hermione's heart ache. "I'm trying," he said softly. "Every day.”

“That’s all any of us can do. You think I don’t feel guilty about some of the things I did? Looking back, there were several things I did that could have led to someone’s death. Only sheer luck kept me from learning my lesson.”

“What could Hermione Granger have possibly done?”

Hermione sighed, a far-off look in her eyes. "In my first year, I set Snape's robes on fire during a Quidditch match. I thought he was cursing Harry's broom, but it turned out to be Quirrell. If Snape hadn't been able to put out the fire quickly, he could have been seriously hurt."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "You set a professor on fire?"

"I was eleven!" Hermione defended. "And that's not the worst of it. In my second year, I brewed Polyjuice Potion in a girls' bathroom so Harry and Ron could sneak into the Slytherin common room. We stole ingredients from Snape's stores. If that potion had been brewed incorrectly, who knows what could have happened?"

Draco shook his head. “Still, not that bad.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I kept Rita Skeeter in a jar.”

Draco blinked, staring at Hermione with a mix of shock and admiration. "You what?"

"I kept Rita Skeeter in a jar," Hermione repeated matter-of-factly. "For weeks. She was an unregistered Animagus, a beetle. I caught her eavesdropping on private conversations and blackmailed her into not writing any more nasty stories."

Draco let out a low whistle. "Merlin's beard, Granger. That's...that's brilliant. Terrifying, but brilliant."

A small, satisfied smile tugged at Hermione's lips. "She had it coming. The point is, we all have things we're not proud of, Draco. But what matters is that we learn from them and try to do better."

He nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Yeah. I feel like we keep having this same conversation in different forms.”

She shrugs. “And we’ll continue until it gets through your pretty skull.”

Draco chuckled softly. "Pretty skull, huh? Well, if you insist on complimenting me, who am I to argue?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, grinning. "Don't let it go to your head, Draco. We still have work to do."

She stepped back, her hand falling from his cheek.

"Right, work," he said, clearing his throat. "The education reform proposal. I've started drafting some ideas, but I wanted to run them by you first."

Hermione nodded, slipping easily into business mode. "Good. Let's see what you've got."

They spent the next few hours huddled over Draco's desk, poring over parchment and debating the finer points of the proposal.

Hermione glanced up after a while, taking note of the strain around his lips.

“It’s nearly eight, Draco. You can go home.”

He shook his head. "I'm fine. I can keep going."

Hermione frowned. "Draco, you're still recovering. You need rest."

"I'll rest when this is done," he insisted stubbornly. "This is important, Hermione."

She sighed, knowing arguing with him would be futile when he got like this. "Fine. But we're taking a break in an hour, and then you're going home to sleep. No arguments."

Draco acquiesced with a nod, turning his attention back to the parchment. Hermione watched him for a moment, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the determined set of his jaw. He was pushing himself hard, perhaps too hard. But she understood. This meant something to him, a chance to make a real difference. She could understand that. And perhaps a small part of him might be feeling the strange tug she felt too.

An hour passed in the blink of an eye, and Hermione gently closed the file they were working on. "Time to go home," she said firmly.

Draco blinked, momentarily lost in his thoughts before nodding. "Alright, alright. I know better than to argue with you."

Hermione smiled, gathering the scattered papers into a neat stack. "I'll see you tomorrow, Draco. And please, get some rest."

He stood up, stretching his lean frame with a wince. "You too, Hermione. Don't stay up all night going over everything."

"Who, me?" Hermione said innocently.

Draco chuckled softly, shaking his head as he headed toward the door. "Goodnight, Granger."

"Goodnight," she called after him, watching as he disappeared down the corridor.

With Draco gone, the office seemed eerily silent, as if it were holding its breath. Hermione sank back into her chair, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. As she replayed the day's events, she was surprised to find that she hadn't felt the usual weight of sole responsibility. Yet, the realization that she actually trusted Draco to stay by her side unsettled her. Could she really rely on him, or was she setting herself up for disappointment?

No. He was doing well. He wanted to be good. And she would help him.

She nodded to herself and startled when Crookshanks meowed at her. She turned and glared at the old orange cat crawling into Draco’s office window.

“Back again, are you? He went home, you bloody traitor. You were napping with the enemy our entire time at Hogwarts?”

Crookshanks meowed again, his squashed face somehow managing to look unimpressed with her accusation. He padded over to the chaise where Draco had been napping and kneaded the cushions before settling down, his amber eyes watching her with what she could only describe as smug satisfaction.

"Oh, I see how it is," Hermione huffed, gathering her things. "Well, I'm going home. You can stay here and pine for your napping partner all you want."

The cat yawned widely, clearly unbothered by her indignation.

As Hermione made her way out of the office, her thoughts drifted back to Draco. The way he'd looked at her when she'd touched his cheek, that vulnerability in his eyes—it stirred something within her that she wasn't quite ready to examine.

For now, she needed to focus on her plan. The education reform was just the beginning, a stepping stone to a greater vision of equality and progress in the wizarding world. But change never came easy, and she had a feeling that this battle would be one of her toughest yet.

She apparated home with a soft crack, landing in her small but cozy living room. The place was modest by most standards, but it was hers and Ginny’s—a sanctuary from the chaos of her daily life. Books lined nearly every wall, stacked in precarious towers on side tables and her coffee table, each one representing a different idea, a different possibility. It would have annoyed other roommates, but Gin made the concession considering her quidditch paraphernalia littered half the house as well.

Kicking off her shoes, Hermione padded to the kitchen and fixed herself a cup of tea. The routine was comforting, automatic. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she found herself wondering what Draco was doing now. Had he gone straight home to rest, as she'd asked, or was he poring over their proposal, unable to let it go? She hoped he wasn't pushing himself too hard. He had a tendency to obsess over things, especially when he felt like he had something to prove. It was something she’d noticed they had in common.

As soon as her tea was ready, she grabbed it as well as the Erich Fromm book that she’d read approximately two hundred times by now and settled in for the evening.

She had barely made it through ten pages when a soft pop caused her to look up. Ginny stood in the middle of the room, her cheeks flushed from practice and a grin on her face.

"Hey, stranger. I was wondering when you'd be home," Ginny said, shrugging off her coat and tossing it onto a chair. "How'd it go with the minister?"

Hermione set the book aside and took a sip of her tea. "It went well. Kingsley is on board, but he warned me about the backlash we're going to face."

Ginny snorted, flopping down onto the sofa beside her. "Of course he did. Do you think there's anyone left who doesn't know you do whatever you set your mind to?"

"That's what he said," Hermione replied with a laugh.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, studying Hermione's face intently. "What's that look for? You seem...different. And I'm not just talking about the smell."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in mock offense. "Rude."

"I'm serious," Ginny pressed. "You look like you've got a secret, and I want to know what it is."

"There's no secret," Hermione insisted, but the words felt less convincing than she'd intended.

"Uh-huh. So nothing to do with a certain tall, blond, ex-ferret?"

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. "What makes you say that?"

Ginny smirked, self-satisfied. "Because you always get that look when you've been around him. Like you're all fired up and ready to conquer the world."

If she wasn't so tired, Hermione might have protested more. But Ginny knew her too well, and pushing back would just give her friend more ammunition. She sighed instead.

"We've been working together closely," Hermione admitted. "He's really committed to the education reform proposal. Well, maybe not committed, but enthusiastic."

"Uh-huh," Ginny said again, drawing out the syllables.

"Ginny," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It's not like that. We're colleagues. It's good to have someone on my side for once."

Ginny studied her for a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright, if you say so. Just remember, I'm here for all the juicy details when it does turn into something more."

Hermione shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "You're incorrigible."

"And you're avoiding the truth," Ginny shot back with a grin. "But I'll let it go for now."

They settled into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the tea and the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a cozy blanket. Despite Ginny's teasing, Hermione knew there was some truth to her friend's words. Something had shifted, changed in these past few weeks as she and Draco worked on improving his health and getting him involved with her agency. She couldn't quite define what it was yet, but she felt it lingering at the edges of her mind.

And though it scared her a little, she couldn't deny that it also excited her. It was like staring over the edge of a cliff, uncertain of what lay below but yearning for the leap.

"Do you ever wonder," Hermione began, her voice pensive, "if we're making the right choices? If we're going in the right direction?"

Ginny looked at her curiously. "You're talking about more than just work now, aren't you?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Yes. I mean, everything. Work, life...the people we let in."

"Constantly," Ginny replied with a softness that surprised Hermione. "But we've got to trust our instincts, yeah? Go with what feels right and deal with whatever comes after."

"Even if it means taking risks?"

"Especially if it means taking risks," Ginny said. "You know I've never been one to play it safe."

Hermione smiled, grateful for her friend's unwavering confidence and support. "I don’t know if I’ll ever be your kind of brave, though. How did you know it was safe to have feelings for someone like Blaise?”

Ginny considered this for a moment, her expression contemplative. "I didn't, not at first. But I knew that what we had was worth exploring, worth the potential mess and heartache. And you know what? He surprised me. In all the best ways."

Hermione listened intently, processing Ginny's words. Was she brave enough to take that kind of leap? Was it even the same thing?

"I guess I'm just scared," Hermione admitted after a moment. "Not really of him, but of everything else that comes with it."

"That's natural," Ginny said with a reassuring smile. "But maybe you'll find that he’s scared too. And that you can figure it out together."

Hermione absorbed this in silence, contemplating the tangled web of feelings that had been building inside her. Ginny watched her, her eyes bright with affection and understanding.

"You're going to be fine, Hermione," Ginny said softly. "Better than fine. Just keep being you, and everything else will fall into place."

Hermione smiled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. "Thanks, Ginny."

"Anytime," Ginny replied with a wink. "Now, are you going to feed me or what? I'm starving."

Hermione laughed, pushing herself up from the couch. "Alright, alright. Let's see what we've got."

They spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing over a simple meal, the weight of Hermione's worries lifting with each passing moment.

As she drifted off to sleep later that night, her mind wandered back to Draco. His face, his voice, the way he'd looked at her in those quiet moments when it felt like they were the only two people in the world. She couldn't predict where this path would lead them, but for the first time in a long while, she felt like she wasn't walking it alone.

That night she dreamt she was in a large bed with silken sheets, Draco hovering above her whispering words of love that she’d never dreamed of hearing from anyone, let alone him. Her last conscious thought was that dream Draco had the cutest set of moles on his hips which looked just like the Aries constellation.