Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter I Invitations and Dilemmas

“Blimey Hermione! You haven’t come around for dinner since ages! You can’t hide behind your work again or I swear to Merlin and Morgana, I’ll drag you there myself.”

Ron Weasley, with his tall, lanky self was rarely very threatening to Hermione, specially as he paced around her office in his well-worn sweater and trousers, his red hair slightly flopping about. No, he could be nothing but the object of platonic adoration, though as of now she guessed he probably wanted to look a little scary. She was about to cut him off, feed him some palsy work excuse but the desperation in his eyes had made her pause. She never wanted to make him feel anxious, like she had forgotten them. However, things had taken such a peculiar turn after the War, she had no idea how to go about things anymore.

She and Ron tried to date, as did Harry and Ginny. But Hermione realized that she and Ron had clutched onto each other as a safety net, not because of some explosive, all-consuming chemistry. He was safe, comfortable like a warm cashmere cardigan and Hermione would burn the world down for him, but she found out she couldn’t love him like that. For weeks, she had grown paranoid about how to break this to Ron without loosing him completely. She was saved by Ginny and Harry separating that summer. Ginny confessed she had been in love with someone else and Harry waived it away by saying he wasn’t ready for a relationship. This spurred Ron to acknowledge the lack of chemistry and they both took the mutual decision to remain friends. At first, they had some awkward moments. But it didn’t take long for the trio to slip back into their old familiar ways.

And then Ginny brought around Blaise Zabini introducing him as the love of her life. That just wasn’t enough because few months later, all Hermione ever heard from Harry was how Draco Malfoy had redeemed himself and was now Harry’s partner assigned by the DMLE. Harry was incessant about how he was cool, so sharp, ruthless and he was so charming to be around. The more she saw the two together, the more a suspicion grew in her head. But it was Harry’s decision to tell her or anyone really.

The only familiar thing that continued was Ron's outrage at the Slytherins. There, Hermione found solace that not everything was spinning out of control. However, when Ron, indirectly in his fumbling ways, declared Malfoy had now changed and was actually pretty amazing company, Hermione might have blew her top off.

Because, no, it wasn’t true. Blaise was a really good guy, Hermione had to accept but Malfoy still acted standoffish with her. He made dry sarcastic quips with Harry, joked around with Ron, was pretty affectionate with Ginny. But she never got more than cold, indifferent politeness in return of her various attempts to engage in small talks or discussions. Like he was barely tolerating her for the sake of others and all he wanted to do really was fling her far away. Hermione sometimes felt like an outside entity, like a homeless vagabond peering through the windowpanes of a brightly lit home full of people who were alive with laughter and warmth while watching them all become like family, bonding over field excursions of the Aurors, Ginny's Quidditch matches. She couldn’t make herself feel like she belonged there, no matter how much she ever tried.

“Good Godric Mione! I can already see the clogs in your brain churning out an excuse and let me tell you— it won’t work!” Ron exclaimed, his hand thumping her desk in anxious frenzy. Hermione sighed. “Fine, Ron. I’ll be there. Tomorrow at 8, right?”

Ron acquiesced and left off, buzzing happily like a bee. Hermione dreaded another evening of just sitting there, silently watching as her best friends chat about their new lives she was not really a part of anymore. But she would do it if it made Ron so happy.

✾✤✾

Eleanor Goldstein was staring at her from over the top of her glasses, a brow raised in question. Hermione sighed. The golden haired and hazel eyed Ravenclaw was two years younger than her, but she felt a close connection to her ever since she joined her as an assistant researcher. She was quiet and responsible, a bit too sharp and logical for most people, but Hermione was very fond of witch and the two had cultivated a steady friendship, being each other’s confidante.

“So let me get this straight,” Eleanor spoke while taking off her glasses and placing them on top of her head, “You’re going to dinner with your friends today? By refusing your date— the hot Anthropology professor? Oh wait, excuse me— can I call them friends if the last time they talked to you was eons ago? Or that they can’t see how one of their friends is always standoffish with you?!”

“Well, they are… ?” Hermione replied, rubbing her forehead which had started aching dully. “We fought a goddamn war together, for Merlin's sake! I’m probably just being touchy. And see, Ron was being so insistent about it too! They want me there.” She got up, looking for her favourite mug and chamomile tea bags. She heard Eleanor let out a long suffering sigh.

“Just… don’t be hurt, okay? You’re the most awesome person and if anyone, even Draco Malfoy, makes you feel otherwise, you call me! I’ll…” Eleanor shook her head frantically, trying to come up with something, “ I’ll put laxatives in his food! Or use him as bait for Grindylows!” Hermione chuckled fondly and sent the witch back to her work after assuring her, that yes, she would let her promptly poison Malfoy.

After returning to her cosy little apartment from her labs, she threw down her bags and coat on the plush beige sofa. Walking up to her kitchen, she opened one of the cabinets and took out a bottle of wine. Uncorking it, she splashed some of the scarlet liquid in a glass and took a long sip, sighing in pleasure at the incredible taste. She finished it quick and poured herself yet another. Finishing that one, she returned the bottle back to it’s place. It wouldn’t do to appear drunk at a dinner. But now she felt a little less strung and maybe she would survive this dinner just fine, they were her best friends after all. She slipped on a sage cardigan over her white linen top and plaid skirt. Buckling up her Mary janes, she kissed the top of Crookshank's head and left the apartment. Turning around the corner of her bloc, she apparitioned straight in front of Ron's house.

She walked in, greeted by the amazing smell of dinner— hints of tomatoes, and roasted garlic, must be his signature pasta. After the War, Ron started living alone. Coupling that with his love for food, he started learning how to cook and in no time, he became an excellent chef. He also discovered he loved feeding people, so he threw the most random dinners, full of amazing food. Hermione walked into the kitchen to find him tossing the pasta expertly, while Ginny was setting the table.

“Hey Ron, Ginny! It smells amazing in here—” Hermione's greeting got cut halfway as she almost got knocked down by Ginny grappling her in a hug. “It’s been so long, Mione! How are you?!” Ginny squealed, happy to meet one of her closest friends after such a long time. Hermione felt good being reunited with her, even though she had no idea how to answer her question. Did Ginny even expect a genuine answer, a traitorous voice in the back of her mind whispered. So she gave a generic reply, waiting to see if that appeased the red headed witch. “I— uh,.. I’m fine. All caught up in work, Gin.”

Ginny just gave a non-committal shrug. Maybe the traitorous voice was right, Hermione wondered. Ron walked up to her, wiping his hands on his apron, before pulling her into a hug. He whispered how good it was to have her here before letting her go. Ginny pulled out a bottle of butterbeer, passing it to her. She took a swig, savouring the nostalgic taste. “So,.. Where’s Harry?”

“Oh he’s in the living room with Draco and Blaise. Wait, I’ll go call them. Dinner’s ready, anyways.” Hermione nodded and Ginny set off to call the boys. She turned to help Ron set the dishes on the table. There was salad, Pasta, roasted chicken, and Pecan pie for desert. “Should I get some wine? Firewhiskey?” Ron asked, bustling about in his kitchen. Hermione requested for wine.

“Hermione!” The almost strangled sounding gasp made her turn, only to be muffled into the broad chest. She breathed in the familiar scent of Harry, something clean, added with his spicy aftershave, a scent of comfort and home. She almost felt crushed in his arms. He slowly let go of her but still kept her close in his arms, his forest green eyes twinkling like gems. “It’s been so long, I thought we’ll never see you!”

With the Auror training and steady diet, Harry had filled in his form, standing tall and strong. He exuded power when he walked in a room, possessing natural leadership. He had grown even more formidable and ruthless, always on a chase for dark wizards. Hermione was feeling overwhelmed with the feel of the rippling muscles under the thin cloth of his black tshirt. When had Harry Potter become like this? Her once gentle friend, had turn into this overpowering enigma, his bright green eyes now hooded seemed to take into all of her. He had his left ear pierced, a silver ring glinted through the dark wild hair. His hair never obeyed and was still wild, but it now looked deliciously mussed up. “When did you get that?!” was all she could blurt. Harry chuckled, the sound fond and indulging. “It’s been a few weeks. Draco got one too!”

At that, she turned to take in the other men. Draco Malfoy had always been rather easy on the eyes during Hogwarts dulled only by his nefarious nature and acerbic tongue. Now, similar to her Harry, he had filled in and walked about with the quiet power and confidence. There was something agile and graceful about his movements, that reminded her of feline predators. His molten silver eyes had a hard glint. Hermione felt the weight of his scrutiny settle onto her shoulders like a dead weight.

Ron returned with the wine and everyone sat down at the table. Hermione chose to sit beside Ron, still deep in thought and feeling a little overwhelmed at how her best friend had transformed over the last few months… wait,… years? She wracked her brain to remember the last dinner, brunch, coffee whatever it was, but nothing came to her mind. How long had she been avoiding her friend and how longer was she going to if Ron hadn’t forced her? Vaguely she became aware of the excited chatter around the table, Ginny raged at some teammate of hers and the men made suitable comments.

She ate small bites, stealing glances at Harry, still trying to figure out all the different changes in him and how in the world could she have missed it. Quidditch conversations were a given where everybody except her had played it and it gave her a perfect opportunity to sink back in her thoughts, knowing full well they didn’t expect her to participate. She had kept up with Ron, even after breaking up. Why didn’t she keep up with Harry?

A large, tanned hand covered hers, effectively pulling her out of her thoughts, as she startled and looked up from her plate. Green eyes smiled fondly at her and for a moment she was back in the freezing, drab old tent, as the cold weight of Ron's absence settled in her stomach and Harry had clutched onto her to steady her. She had been afraid that with Ron leaving, Harry would be fed up with her. After all, deep down she knew she wasn’t the friend he preferred to accompany him. But Harry, cheeks stained and sticky with tears, had only smiled fondly at her.

“A knut for your thoughts, Mione..?” Harry's whispered question flustered her, she couldn’t understand why. She looked away, feeling her cheeks heat up. Suddenly the conversation at the table seemed to wane and all the focus shifted to the pair. This was not how she had had imagined her evening— flustered, confused and way out of depth.

Chapter Text

Hermione took a stifled breath at all the sudden attention. She was aware of the eyes on her and warmth of Harry’s hand on hers. She heard Malfoy clear his throat. He had clenched his jaw, a steel glint in his silvery eyes. Ginny saved her, asking “ So what are up to these days Mione?”

She sipped on her wine, taking a moment to answer. “I’ve started on a new project. It’s taking up all my time currently, so I have temporarily stopped researching charms.”

“Ooh.. Yeah, Goldstein mentioned that you were not available for charms review that day. But you’ll still help me and George out, right? ” Ron pleaded. After finishing her studies at Hogwarts, Hermione followed up with apprenticeship in Potions while simultaneously pursuing degree for being a Healer. She worked in St. Mungo’s for nearly three years. It had been pretty much like her third year again, but after the catastrophic war, she preferred being tired to the bone to avoid slipping under the traumatic memories and constant state of vigilance. She also pursued research on the side. After figuring out a cure for Dragon Pox, she solely devoted her time to focus on research— various new potions, spells and charms— working closely with the Ministry of Magic and St. Mungo's. But sometimes she helped George to test out new products, just for fun, which currently had to be put on hold.

“Well, last we heard you were mixing muggle technology with wizarding methods. I would love to pick your brains about the lazer spell you created.” Blaise praised her, Hermione smiled at him nodding gratefully. Ron continued the train of conversation. “And not to mention, the new eki-car-dy machine you created! Harry and Draco were just discussing about it last fortnight.”

Harry turned to her, surprised. “That was you?!” Hermione nodded. Harry's surprise dissolved to beaming happiness. But it was Malfoy who spoke. “A genius piece of invention, Granger!” He shot her a quick smirk. Hermione had never been more shocked and could only manage a fumbling thank you, which Malfoy seemed most smug and pleased about.

“It’s inspired by Muggle smartwatches and was actually intended for elderly witches and wizards so they could track their health.” Hermione explained. She peeked at Malfoy expecting snark but his face only showed intrigue. “Tonks heard about it and asked me if I could modify it a little…turn it into a little tracking device to see what the others are upto and what kind of curse, jinx or spell are they under. I loved the challenge she presented and honestly the arithmancy required for that turned out really appealing and I just couldn’t help…Sorry I got carried away.” Hermione cut off, flushed that she went babbling about her research.

“Well as Draco said, it was a genius piece of invention. Bloody brilliant actually on the field!” Harry exclaimed. He raised his glass of firewhiskey and proposed a toast. “To Hermione and her brilliant inventions!” She beamed at him and clicked her wine glass with his. Ron joined next in cheering.

“So what’s this new project on?” Ginny asked, resting her head on her hand. The others reiterated the inquiry. But Hermione only shook her head. “I can’t tell you guys. It’s pretty high-profile and I don’t even know if it will even turn out.”

“Well Granger, none of us are tattlers.” She could hear the condescending sneer in his voice. So much for thinking he might have changed, she huffed. “I never said so Malfoy. It’s a security risk, not just for me and my research assistant but also anyone else who might be connected.”

A chilly silence overcame the table soon broken by concerned protests from Ron, Harry and Ginny. She waved them off, not willing to discuss it anymore, and promptly pleaded Ginny to change the subject. Ginny seemed to consider her for a moment, then she grinned wickedly. “So… are you seeing anyone at the moment Mione?”

Another uncomfortable silence proceeded. She had not expected the steely tension following the question, she couldn’t understand why both Harry and Malfoy seemed disconcerted. Zabini chuckled, shooting a smirk at both men (again something she couldn’t understand) “Excellent question, darling! So, Granger tell us all about your beau, if you have one currently.”

“Oh I’m not in a relationship,.. I’ve just been seeing someone casually but it’s nothing worth mentioning.” Ginny squealed and Zabini and Ron let out intrigued ooh's, which made her flush. Ginny implored her to tell more while Ron flicked his wand to refill their glasses. But Hermione had enough attention and tried to shift the topic, steering the conversation towards the newest wine yards Zabini bought in Italy.

As they savoured the last few bites of Pecan pie, the evening was drawing close. It had been very different than what she had imagined. She still felt too much like a guest rather than family, but she didn’t feel unwanted. The Zabinis were the first to leave, with Ginny extracting promises from Hermione to meet up for brunch. She was hugging Ron goodbye when Harry and Malfoy approached them. “Come Mione, I’ll drop you home.”

Hermione protested at Harry’s offer. She had wanted to walk back to her place, enjoying the peaceful night air. But Harry doubled down on her at this. “I've never been to your new place, Mione!” At that Hermione could barely protest, so with a hug for Ron and a muttered ‘good night' to Malfoy, Harry walked her out of the house with his hand on her lower back.

Hermione could barely process the difference in her best friend and now with his hand on her back she had turned unreasonably flustered. Again. Damn it. She couldn’t figure out why Harry was affecting her so much.

“I can’t be so boring, right?” Hermione startled at Harry’s question. Mentally, she smacked herself. What was she doing for Merlin’s sake?! Acting like an idiot, like it isn’t Harry Potter she grew up with. She turned to him. “I’m sorry Harry. You were saying..?” Hermione asked. Harry only shook his head and resumed walking.

“I get it, Mione. I really do. I haven’t been the best friend, have I? No, don’t stop me—” Harry cut her off when he saw she was about to start protesting and continued. “I got so caught up with work, you know? Suddenly, I wasn’t facing death at the hands of megalomaniac. I was supposed to be happy, content with my awesome job, Ginny and peaceful life. But I wasn’t, Hermione.”

The words were not unknown to Hermione. These were the same concerns and questions Hermione pondered on during late nights lying wide awake beside Ron. This was supposedly the life she fought for. Then why wasn’t she happy? She tentatively reached out to touch Harry’s hand, holding it in her own. It was pretty much the same, calloused from Quidditch, the awful scars left by Umbridge peeking out.

“I know it’s no excuse. But honestly, I felt like I was trying to escape. The Weasleys… forgive me for saying so…felt suffocating. They wanted more— marriage, kids, the big blissful family— and I just couldn’t. Couldn’t bear to think about being a father to another helpless infant when I still woke up screaming and sweating from nightmares, when certain sounds and smells made me tremor. Ginny understood it, I guess, but we never openly talked about it. We knew we were clinging to each other because that was what was expected of us, because of who we had been before the War. She gave me an escape and I took it, running away from everything, from even you.”

For the first time in a very long time, Hermione felt seen. She had gone through the same, the listlessness, the anxiety, the fear, the disappointment. It was daunting that Hermione hadn’t really imagined a life after the war, a life where death and loss won’t mar every aspect of it. That there could be adventures she went on just for the fun of it, that all the knowledge she was gathering was not just for keeping Harry safe and surviving. And the things she dreamt of before the war — marriage, a small cottage, too many babies— just felt like things she wanted just because she feared she will never have them. For a while looking at her old friends was tough. Was this why they had drifted away?

“I don’t know what to say,.. except, how did we both go through the same thing and not realized?” Hermione voiced her doubt hesitantly and felt Harry squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Guess we were blind?” Hermione chuckled lowly. “I would say I was self-absorbed.” Harry shook his head, tutting. “No you can’t be that. It would make me a freaking Narcissist! The Boy-who-just-couldn’t- die, hero of the Wizarding World had his head up his arse and didn’t care about his friends who helped him survive? I’d bet Snape is rolling in his grave because he’s unable to say ‘I told you so’!”

She laughed, fumbling for her keys as they neared her apartment. Harry waited patiently beside her as she unlocked the various locks and wards. Once inside, Harry looked about in wonder. Her apartment was small but cosy. The drawing room had a pair of well-worn armchairs near the fireplace. There were several photo frames hanging on the wall — from her vacation in second year when she went skiing with her Mum and Dad, several more recent pictures with her parents in Australia, few of them in Hogwarts, and two with a blond girl he assumed was her assistant. He immediately liked her house and plopped down on her armchair, knowing full well he could make himself at home and Hermione would never mind.

Hermione turned towards him, shrugging off her cardigan. “Do you want some tea…or perhaps coffee?” She asked him. He answered tea and she went to put on the kettle. Returning back to her living room, she giggled watching Crookshanks make himself comfortable on Harry’s lap.

“I don’t remember him being that fond of you!” Hermione exclaimed laughingly. Harry grinned at her, scratching Crooks behind his ear. “I guess I grow on everyone with time.” He said. Hermione agreed whole heartedly. There were times when Harry Potter was ridiculed, jeered, blamed, accused, but the masses always turned back to their Hero.

“So, …who is the lucky bloke?” Hermione slightly balked at the question, staring up at him. Harry studiously avoided her eyes, a light flush dusting his cheekbones. Hermione didn’t want to be awkward around him, but telling him about her situation with Cepheus Black felt all sorts of wrong.

“His name’s Cepheus Black.” Harry looked up quizzically at the name. “Yes, he’s a distant cousin. A squib, actually, so he was lucky he wasn’t killed and just abandoned, Alphard Black asked his family to spare him. He lives among Muggles, teaching Anthropology at Oxford. We met at university and it just clicked. Late night talks over caffeine, cheap chinese takeouts and intellectual musings led to… well you know.” Harry looked a little stricken. “ So you are… friends with benefits?” He asked. Hermione nodded, secretly wishing he would drop it. The kettle whistled in the kitchen and she was happy to escape.

She returned, after fortifying herself, with the mugs in her hand. Harry was staring at one of her photo frames wistfully. He took the mug with a tentative smile. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable…” He said, cradling the warm mug in his hand. Hermione nodded vigorously. “You didn’t. I just don’t know how to talk about my…uh–situation with Ceph. It might seem weird to you, but honestly it started out all professional and then it was—” Harry cut her off mid sentence. “No! You don’t have to explain. I get it. Really, I do.” He exclaimed.

The two unanimously decided to leave that topic alone and instead they ventured into different avenues of conversation – from trips down the nostalgic road to recent developments. Time flew by and the last dregs of cold tea swirled at the bottom of their cups, but their conversation never waned. It was like old times, all familiar and comforting but with an under current of something new. A new wave of excitement and anticipation, weaved through every word, a casual chuckle, a smirk, and those discrete glances.

As Harry finally rose to leave, he managed to wrangle out a hesitant acceptance of dinner from Hermione. When Hermione sank down on her comfortable, soft bed at night, she felt weirdly light, as if an invisible weight had been lifted off of her.

Chapter Text

It had been a drowsy morning at her favourite café across London. Hermione yawned behind her hand. A sudden block had come up in her research and she had been up late, researching and theorising, hence she decided she needed a little treat. The waiter placed down the pain au chocolat and espresso in front of her with a small clink. She savoured the treat calmly, enjoying the early morning peace.

After finishing it up leisurely, Hermione strolled out. She walked through the streets as Muggles passed by frantically, in their pressed suits and neat hair. She saw her favourite bookstore and decided to head in. She was supposed to meet up with Cepheus in an hour or so, leaving her with all the time to kill.

She breathed in the familiar scent of old books and something sweet, almost like a faded vanilla. Walking through the hallways she perused the titles slowly, often stopping to pull out a book to read it. She had found an amazing new one on microbiology and virus studies by a prominent Oxford scholar. Settling down on a nearby footstool, she slowly turned the pages, examining the contents thoroughly.

As time flowed, Hermione found herself lost in the new hypotheses and theories. She didn’t register the quiet footsteps and shuffling of fabric and pages.

“Fancy meeting you here, Granger.” The low aristocratic drawl startled her so much, the book fell from her hands in a thud by her floor as she scrambled to turn around.

Draco Malfoy looked glorious, leaning by a bookshelf, poised as if he owned the goddamn place. A lazy smirk adorned his face, hair slightly ruffled, a black shirt stretching across his body, sculpted with perfection. He looked so… delicious? Hold that cursed thought! Hermione scolded herself mentally at the image.

“Granger..?” Hermione looked up when he called her name. “Does it always take you this long to come out of your book-induced psychosis?” He questioned, brows furrowed. Hermione frowned, blushing at being caught staring.

“Oh piss off, Malfoy!” Hermione cursed, and left off with a huff. But a cold grasp on her wrist startled her, yanking her back with force. “What are you doing?!” Hermione whirled, tempted to smack him again like third year, but she froze when Malfoy’s cold fingertips tentatively skipped around her chin turning her face around. She was about to protest, but then she saw what he was trying to make her see.

Cepheus stood, snuggled cosily in one of the nooks, his arms idly around a woman. The auburn hair and black coat looked familiar. Must be that professor he talks about, Hermione mused. Maybe she had seen the spark in his eyes when he talked about the particular colleague, so it didn’t really surprise her. She and Cepheus hadn’t been together in quite a while. Could this be what Cepheus wanted to tell her? She ought to congratulate him.

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when she had the sudden realisation. How did Malfoy know about this?! She jolted when one of his hands pressed at her hip. His minty breath tickled her ear. “Do I need to tell Harry you won’t be able to join us for dinner as your boytoy broke your heart?”

Hermione gasped. It was so many things all at once. How did Malfoy know about Ceph? What did he meant by ‘us’? Harry never mentioned living with Malfoy! And what did the ferret even mean about her getting heartbroken?! She was never really emotionally invested in Ceph, just platonically. She needed answers. But one look around the quiet shop clamped her lips shut. She needed to be in a place where she could scream at him, freely, with no witnesses. With that conclusion, Hermione turned around. She took his hand, the one against her hip, and yanked him out of the bookstore and away from the crowds. There was a small children’s park just around the corner which was empty at this time, so she took him there.

“Explain Malfoy! How did you know about Ceph?! And you live with Harry?! Oh and by the way- do not call Ceph my boy toy!” She all but screamed at him. Malfoy grew increasingly smug by the second. His smirk further incensed her.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist Granger-” Malfoy got cut off even before he could finish.

“My knickers are none of your business! But all this codswallop is making me mad. And I’m not heartbroken! He is just a friend.” Hermione fumed. Draco raised his eyebrow at the mention of friends.

“Don’t get your wand in knots, then, if that’s what you’d prefer. I’ve lived with Harry for the last few years after his break up. And I’ll warn you to not go charging at the poor sod before telling you that he told me. Also, fine I’ll address him by Just Friend Cepheus Atlas Black if it so pleases you.” Draco finished, sitting down on one of the benches. Hermione clicked her tongue frustrated.

“Now tell me Granger, what am I to do next? Should I bring those tubs of muggle ice cream? Personally I’d suggest alcohol, it works excellently in such situations. But then again you did say you were not heartbroken.” Draco mused as Hermione paced around, mad at Harry for not telling her he lived with Malfoy and for telling Malfoy about Ceph. What was that idiot thinking?!

“Granger you’ll wear a hole in the grass with your incessant exercise. I’d suggest you stop,-” Hermione aimed a scathing glare at him. “But you do look pretty mad so maybe I’ll stop.” Draco raised his hands in surrender.

Hermione finally stopped pacing. She sat down on the bench besides Malfoy, heaving a suffering sigh, closing her eyes. Her eyes burned a little with exertion and lack of sleep and her limbs felt heavy being slouched over her desk. Academics was truly her passion, so often she lost herself in it, until something finally interrupted her, like burning food, Crookshanks finally having enough, her stomach growling way too indecently and the like. Most often Eleanor helped her, often checking on her, reminding her to eat and take a walk. But she had stayed at home, where there was no Eleanor, and so she forgot everything, only studying and making calculations. Until Crookshanks was ready to piss on her parchment since she forgot to feed him.

“Are you okay Granger? You look really tired. Did you even sleep enough?” Draco asked , slightly worried as Granger seemed pale and frail. She nodded slowly, sitting up.

“Why are you being like this?” She asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Draco raised a blonde eyebrow in scepticism at her. He seemed to be doing that a lot around her. “W-what? I don’t think I understand…”

“Like this! You know you complimented me that day at Ron’s, you listened to my rambling on the device without being mean to me, most importantly, you’re TALKING to me! You’re not acting like I am a housefly you’re being generous to by not swatting it away.” Hermione spluttered, her hands wildly gesticulating.

Draco grew incredulous by the second. “Woah, woah.. you have issues, you know that Granger?!” He asked. “When have I been so rude to you?! After the War, I spent my days and nights changing myself to make amends to you and your friends. And you go and turn it into dust in few seconds.” He spoke, accusing her.

Hermione’s eyes widened in shocked outrage. “Well, you are perfectly nice to my friends. It’s me you obviously have a problem with!” Hermione pointed out. She felt her hands get clammy and tremoring. She could feel all the rage carefully stored away seep out.

“Don’t be daft, Granger, it’s far beneath you. I’ve never had a problem with you.” Draco muttered vehemently, making Hermione scoff.

“O really?! Then why did you never try to befriend me like you did the others, hmm? You were so polite, it was almost frosty like the bloody Antarctica!” Hermione demanded, unable to accept it. She almost distanced herself from her friends because he was there looking down on her like she was a thorn on his side.

Draco looked at her with an intensity that frankly scared her a little. His silver eyes were almost glowing with fury. “Look at you, flouncing about in your assumptions! Did you ever stop to think—” He would have continued but was cut off by Cepheus calling out her name. Hermione looked behind Malfoy to find Cepheus rushing towards her, concern etched on his face.

Malfoy watched him with a disapproving glare. He muttered some colourful words about Cepheus which would make Hermione blush on a normal day, but as of now she was pretty incensed so she had half a mind to return some of the words towards him with precision. He turned towards her, his shoulders set rigid, which reminded her of the aristocratic person he had once been. “Well, it has been a most lovely morning. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Cepheus reached her with long strides, assessing Malfoy like he was a threat. And maybe he was. Hermione couldn’t help but feel it. He had sat there evenings after evenings, looking at her with an intensity which made her want to curl up and hide away. He sat silently, always watchful, examining her each move. She couldn’t take it. Now, he said he never had an issue with her. Believing him now would mean she had a problem, not otherwise. That she assumed his silence as hostility, his watchful gaze as hateful glare.

“Are you okay, love?” Cepheus asked. Hermione gazed at him, trying to find an answer. She felt frustrated, like grasping at straws as her reality was again being chipped slowly. Every time she ever came close to Malfoy, it seemed he wrecked her, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

Chapter Text

Harry stirred the bubbling curry in the pot. As a principle, he hated cooking. All the times he was forced to do it as a child really made him hate it. He would have to waste hours in front of the stove, especially on scorching days only to be met with insults and criticisms. He was a good cook, Aunty Petunia made sure of it, but he hated the chore. Draco brought with him his House Elf, Pipsy, who had been a life saver for him. Hermione’s words on House Elves and in respect for Dobby, Harry paid Pipsy for her work, though it had been an uphill battle to get the poor elf to stop bawling and accept it.

Tonight, he wanted to cook for Hermione. Draco had ranted on about how she looked pale and drawn after coming back from seeing her. It made him want to take care of, like he should have all those years ago. He had felt the guilt return tenfold when he met her again after so many years. She had looked lovely that evening, wrapped up in the soft cardigan. Her eyes, glowing like honey, felt like home. But she had changed so much— she remained quiet, in her own little corner. There was a silence about her, like she was trying to blend into the furniture, fade away into the background. The Hermione he grew up with would never fade away, she would dominate conversations, loud and confident, perhaps a little know-it-all, but always strong and steady.

This Hermione subdued herself to silence. She was calm and polite. She didn’t join in when they talked as if she knew she wouldn’t be heard. And finally when she did, she shut up in the middle of it and apologized! Harry sighed unhappily. His hands worked mechanically, stirring and chopping and working away, but his mind had wandered so far away. He was assessing himself and his friends. Did they make Hermione feel wrong for talking about her interests?

Draco would have known the answer to that. He had always been highly observant and often unapologetically blunt in putting others in their place. The front door banged open and Draco walked in, kitted up in his Auror robes, sulking in. “Think of the Devil and He shall appear!” Harry muttered, wiping his hands on the apron tied around his waist. He pulled Draco in a hug. “Not in the mood, Potter!” Draco grouched, but he didn’t leave Harry’s embrace.

He finally stood up straight, mussing his blonde locks. “Are you sure Granger wouldn’t leave once she sees me?” Draco asked unsurely, walking towards his side of the couch. Harry just shook his head. “ You said she knows, but I have yet to receive any notice of her bailing.”

This did little to comfort Draco. He threw his head back, sprawling dejectedly on the sofa. Harry went back to cooking, glancing at the despondent man. “You know you could just act like yourself around her, yknow?” Harry suggested in a soft tone.

Draco looked at him bewildered, like he was stupid. “Riiight… How did I not think about such a thing?! Oh Potter, you absolute genius! When did you go from saintly martyr to such a walking encyclopaedia?” Draco exclaimed, the words dripping with sarcastic mockery. Harry’s ears turned red with chagrin and he scowled at him. But this did not deter Draco the slightest in his rant.

“Of course, it is SO simple! Silly me! Wow, Potter, you sure are a fountain of wisdom. My usual self— which one? The slightly homicidal maniacal auror? Or wait, perhaps, Granger would love the sarcastic broody git? No! I have the best one! How about the racially prejudiced prick who called her slurs and wished her death?!” Draco continued dramatically pacing around the small dining room. Harry was sure his eyes hurt from rolling too much. Draco could be such a pain, if he wanted to.

Harry sighed. He knew Draco was only trying to hide his insecurities. Deep down he was being torn apart with his guilt and remorse. It was peculiar how he redeemed himself with Harry and the others, but around Hermione, he had always been tongue tied. “ You know she is the most forgiving and accepting of us lot. If you just talked it out with her, it would be done. Trust me!” Harry tried to reassure him.

“ I wish it had been so easy, Harry. I’ve watched her writhe on the floor, her body twisting in ungodly angles as my Aunt carved out the vile slur and I stood on the side. I hear her screams in my nightmares.” Draco reminisced, pain and anguish seeping through each syllable. Harry knew he could do practically nothing. The only person who could free Draco from this was Hermione herself.

“ But you know what’s crueller? How I sneered and mocked her, called her names, made her feel small and unworthy all those years. I wished her pain. How do I take that back?” Draco whispered, dejected and anguished.

Draco stared listlessly at the beige ceiling of their flat. “You know when we fought today, I just realized that… I have been making things worse than making any amends. I thought if I stay polite and not torment her with my existence, she would be…eh better?” Draco finished unsure. Harry really wanted to say ‘I told you so’ so badly, but seeing Draco’s absolute lovelorn despair, he settled on just giving him the face.

“Yeah yeah, okay, fine Potter, I admit it. You, oh wisest wizard, were definitely right and now STOP with that look. Don’t you dare sass me!” Draco thundered, bristling at the look. “How do I keep on messing things with her?! And why is she not mad at YOU?! You also left her behind yet she looks at you with those brown doe eyes all sparkling!” He asked, bewildered.

“Well, you know I’m Harry Fucking Potter, her best friend for life!” Harry ducked down to avoid the flying cushion Draco flung at him. “It will be okay, Dragon. She will understand, you’ll see. Plus, you’re not alone. We are in this together.” Harry tried to reassure him, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around him. Draco slumped against him, exhausted. “Now, stop worrying and go hit the showers. You stink!” Harry chuckled, swatting Draco away.

Draco looked down at his Auror robes, marked by the day’s toil. He stood up, ready to go shower off the day’s grime. Harry watched him leave. Worried about Draco, he returned back to the kitchen. The dinner at Ron’s had brought up buried hatchets for both of them. Harry had been a little awestruck, finally getting to see Hermione after so many years. It had felt like opening a Jack-in-the-box. It was a sudden explosion attacking him. Guilt and longing, regret and elation, and most of all the unbearable attraction. She was all soft and steel, sweet brown eyes looking up at him all curious, her voice a soft whispery breeze. Harry didn’t even know what was happening to him. He had looked back at Draco and seen the very same burning flame. It had been a night of revelations.

Harry remembered that day very well. It had been one of those gloomy months after Harry and Ginny broke up, that Draco entered his office with a proposal for sharing a flat together in London. From then on, it was as if a dam had broken. It was casual touches speaking of love, waking up in each other’s bed tangled in sheets, late night conversations over whatever meagre meal the two scrounged up. It was peaceful and quiet, even through bouts of adventure catching miscreants, floundering through Missions, bandaging each other up. One of those days, Harry was sharing about their time searching for Horcruxes. Days he had spent alone in the tent with Hermione blew through his lips like recounting sacred tales. He never told anyone about that— not Ron, absolutely never Ginny, but he found he could tell Draco. Those were days he found himself relishing, savouring the realisation that it was always him and Hermione against the world. Even at moments when Ron had left, Hermione stayed for him like a solid oak tree spreading its branches to give him some rest.

Draco listened to them, all quiet reverence, nursing the glass of whiskey. When Harry finished, he asked questions which blew Harry’ s mind. It made his mind run, like a camera roll, flashing memories. “Merlin, you were a dumb teen Potter! How do you not realize who you like?!” Yup, that had been Draco’s ending statement.

Draco, in return, told him about his fifth and sixth year. His words bled with remorse, anxiety and longing. He confessed how he looked at Harry and Hermione and wished he could be a part of whatever they shared, because then he wouldn’t be alone. After the War, he would often keep tabs on them and become sick with jealousy of how Hermione took care of Harry quietly and how Harry sometimes looked at her like she was the answer. But it had been three years since the War and Hermione never came around anymore, so the lovesick fools decided to bury it away.

That night after the dinner, they both agreed to one thing. This bubbling cauldron of feelings will never be buried and the two would never stop wanting Hermione Granger. Now that they have had admit them, all those things have awaken. It felt like they were incomplete and Hermione needed to have someone who would never leave and protect her with all. No stupid boys who couldn’t even commit, even if they were handsome professors.

Harry finished the last of the dishes, getting Pipsy to approve of the salad dressing when the Floo flashed neon green and Hermione almost tumbled in. Draco had once again put that stupid hooved umbrella stand in front of the fireplace. She almost kicked the gnarly umbrella stand, cursing it to the Gods and coughing out soot. Harry grinned at the adorable sight.

“There, there,” Harry came over to help her dust Floo powder off of her lavender robes. “I told Draco to remove it. His Aunt’s housewarming gift with a penchant for tripping guests. Freaking Purebloods and all their unearthly cursed heirlooms!” He joked casually. He removed it away from the path.

“I’m sorry. What a lovely guest I make! Cursing out host’s furniture.” Hermione bit out, embarrassed at the scene she caused.

“You are rather lovely, it’s true!” Harry remarked, looking at her so earnestly. Malfoy joined them, offering to take Hermione’s robe. Harry could almost feel his magic sing, as he felt a glowing string entwining between the three of them, pulling each other closer. It was addicting to have them so close to him. Watching Draco interact with Hermione, his fingers unconsciously lingering over her skin, her cheeks flushed, was simply the gift that keeps on giving.

This evening would be nothing short of marvellous, he decided.

Chapter Text

Hermione almost felt her knees buckle. She tried to look nonchalant, but her cheeks felt hot, so she knew she was looking like a boiled tomato.

“Hello Granger! Let me take the robe for you,” Draco swooped in elegantly, his nimble fingers prying the robe off of her frame and draping it over his arm. Hermione looked back confused. She almost felt pressed like a sandwich, with Harry in front and his hand on her waist he had used to stable her and had yet to remove, Draco to her back though not touching her but close enough to feel the silky warmth emanating from his body.

“Oh, thank you, you two!” Hermione muttered. They escorted her to the dining room. Malfoy pulled out a chair, bidding her to sit. Harry walked to and fro the kitchen, placing plates and dishes.

“If I remember correctly, Granger, you prefer red wine..?” Malfoy asked, looking over the glass cabinet which had several bottles. Hermione let out a soft approving hum. After the morning, she went on an overanalysing spiel, visiting old memories. She realized that she never made any real efforts with Malfoy and stopped trying completely after once or twice. Though it was not on her to make up with her tormentor from Hogwarts, she could’ve at least tried to see if he had truly changed as her friends claimed. So, she will try to be as un-prejudiced as she could be— no getting salty over him being coolly polite and not treating her the same as others and not taking everything he utters with a great pinch of offense.

Thus, she had set out with jittery nerves and scowl on her face. But, weirdly, the moment she stepped foot in their apartment she forgot all of it. She could almost feel like magic rising and flowing like serene tidal waves. It was like drinking Elven wine. Harry’s presence was the delicate familiar sweetness but Malfoy was slightly sour relief, the charm that cut through making it not overly sweet. It was refreshing, a big change from whatever company she might have kept. He finally found what he was looking for with a soft ‘aha!’, taking out a bottle.

“That’s a lovely assortment of… muggle drinks?” Hermione asked, trying so hard not to sound judgy. But Draco Malfoy cherishing muggle things was not a sight she was accustomed to.

“I choose to blame Potter for turning me and Zabini into muggle wine connoisseurs.” Draco mused. “But I got to agree, it has the capability to be quite pleasant without being too much. I’m not particularly fond of the drunken revelry a few sips of Elven wine renders.” He poured some into glasses for three of them.

“Then call it ‘credit’ not ‘blame’, you posh tosser!” Harry walked in, settling on a chair beside Hermione. Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry, mumbling something. “No thank you! What you introduced me to was cheap fermented grape juice that tasted like disinfectants from the supermarket. I chose to study and research and collect fine wines.” Draco tossed back.

The two volleyed blows at each other. Hermione watched the exchange with interest. Harry had always been rather sarcastic. Paired off with Malfoy’s dry wit, it was like watching a spark go off and turn into a wildfire. But it was also warm— there was a humorous glint in the men’s eyes and their words though sharp were almost affectionate.

“Come on, now! Mione isn’t it a rite of passage to get drunk off of cheap supermarket wine in your twenties?” Hermione turned to look at the two men staring at her expectantly. “Eh… I mean, we didn’t have the finances to get Pinot Noir. Those were all that available.” She said, reminiscing her college days. She shimmied a little to get comfortable, resting her elbows on the table mirroring the men’s lax postures.

“I thought you two got ample funds as a reward to save the Wizarding world?” Draco asked, looking between the two war heroes. Harry nodded in affirmation.

“We did, I kept a little for myself. Just for paying tuition in Cambridge and some research funds. The rest I donated— Hogwarts needed repairs, many families were left destitute, so many magical creature communities were uprooted. I couldn’t keep the funds knowing well they would have helped the needy.” She shared. “Most of my magical internships and higher studies were offered free of cost, a gift for the Brightest Witch of her age, I suppose. I achieved a scholarship in Cambridge. Though most of my academic pursuits were covered at the time, my living expenses had been a little meagre.”

As she finished, Draco let out a low whistle, mumbling something which sounded very much like ‘bleeding heart’. Hermione tried not to let his sarcasm prickle. She had done a lot of thinking over their shouting match earlier in the park, which led her to analyse some of their past encounters. He was being courteous right now, joking and quipping with her.

“But you do need a drink or two,— well three or four, really— if you’re a scholar. And drinking those was a better option, considering my living expenses.” Hermione mused.

“ Ooh-hoo! Is it so, Granger? So the Golden girl of Gryffindor secretly likes to drink?” Draco ribbed her a little. Harry shook his head at him, clearly enjoying the banter. Hermione mock-gasped at him, trying hard to suppress her growing grin.

“You are making it sound like I am a drunkard! Its just— a sweet little treat for all my hard work. Come on, you’re making me sound bad!” Hermione retorted.

“Yeah Dragon! That’s not very right of you.” Harry backed her up, however, the mischievous glint in his green eyes made Hermione’s throat dry. “Are you calling our Hermione a bad girl?”

The atmosphere seemed to change for a sudden moment, charged with the spark of Harry’s teasing lilt. Hermione’s eyes widened as she saw the look of pure heat flicker in their eyes— something akin to carnal desires, a hint of possession— and she knew there was something brewing and she was in the midst of it.

“Well,… you wouldn’t be wrong. Hermione likes rules and principles, but she has never let them stop her.” Harry chimed, his easy demeanour back. Draco smirked in that damned infuriating way that made Hermione’s insides churn and heat skitter through her skin, silently telling her that though Harry had steered the conversation away they were not done. But for now, it was a dinner and only light conversation would follow.

“Oh, is that so?” Hermione knew she was about to be engaged in a leg-pulling game, as Harry was sure to dive deep into tales of her ‘lawlessness’. The three had started serving themselves portions of fragrant herb rice and curry.

“YOU KEPT SKEETER IN A JAR?! Y-YOU BLACKMAILED HER!” Draco’s horror was understandable. It was the first time he was hearing such sordid tales. Hermione simply nodded and continued enjoying the spicy curry.

“NO WAY! You cursed Cho’s friend?! Permanently scarred her!” Hermione shrugged. She might have felt a little guilty, but, well, eh… desperate times call for desperate measures.

“CONFUNDUS ON MCLAGGEN?! Does Weasley even know that?!” Hermione shook her head no, guilt colouring her cheeks. “Love makes you do stupid things… well— not necessarily love, more like teenage hormones.” She explained to an amused Harry and an appalled Draco Malfoy. She ate another spoonful, preparing herself for yet another story.

“Flock of canaries?!” Draco fell into peals of laughter. “You have to teach me that spell!” Draco looked at her in awe, so Hermione agreed. Then she cleared her throat. “I’m not really proud of all these things… But it was a tough time and well, I was a teenager. I thought I was fighting for justice. Ends justifies means and all that Machiavelli shit. It doesn’t excuse me though.” Once done, Hermione looked down at her hands, avoiding them.

“Its okay. Haven’t we all done or said something..” Harry looked at Draco like he was searching for a word, so Draco being the generous person that he was, gave him some suggestions. “ Mean? Horrifying? Almost criminal? Wonderfully cunning? Absolute genius? Pure Slytherin?” Hermione rolled her eyes, almost a little offended especially at the Slytherin part.

“I was going to say stupid, but now that I think about it, those are good suggestions.” Harry admitted. The two started giggling at their jokes with the glee of three year olds. Hermione let out an all-suffering sigh.

“Mark my words Harry, one of these days it’ll be my turn to scandalize Draco with tales of your misdeeds!” Unfortunately for Hermione, her words carried none of the scary factor she was hoping for. Harry only laughed louder, smug as can be.

“I’m pretty sure I know most of it, Granger. Tales of Saint Potter always circulated well in Hogwarts. I’m afraid you have to find some other way to avenge yourself.” Draco was right, Hermione knew. Most of his embarrassing moments had happened in broad daylight. The food had been finished long ago. Hermione got up to help clear the table and deposit the dishes in the sink. Harry waved his wand and cleaned the dishes and Draco shot off drying charms and the plates flew over and settled neatly in the cabinets. The conversation never ceased. It surprised Hermione that she felt so at ease, almost enjoying their company too much— in fact so much that she might be wanting more of this, more of them. They moved to the drawing room and Harry declared it was time for dessert.

“We three should go to the movies next weekend! I’ve heard a new vampire movie is out. Muggles do have the wildest interpretations.” When Draco brought up movies while they enjoyed ice-cream for dessert, all Hermione could do was stare owlishly at Harry.

Harry cleared his throat. “You and Draco really need to get more acquainted with each other.” Hermione looked up in astonishment. Her gaze turned towards Draco who spotted similar look of confusion. “We what?!—” Draco’s shocked interjection ended with a pained wince as Harry’s elbow collided firmly with his ribs.

Hermione was feeling sceptical. You know like when your friends try to plan a surprise for you but they are being overly conscious around you which makes you feel a little icky and also slightly fear for your life because you know your friends and the amount of trouble and stupid shit they could pull… that’s the feeling. She saw Harry’s bright green eyes sparkle and bore into her gaze deeply and she knew she was in for some scheme. “You know you two have years to catch up on with each other. So,… you two should spend time together. Let Draco take you out for coffee, brunch, lunch or whatever so you could get to know each other.”

Seeing that Hermione wasn’t melting, Harry used his choice weapon. “I love you two a lot. Wouldn’t it be great if you two got along?” His eyes sparkled again. Hermione screwed her eyes shut, then opened them with a sigh. Of course, Harry will never make easy requests

Chapter Text

It was a bright day, mellow sunshine and slight breeze, and Hermione Granger was blissful. Hunched over translations of some ancient Sanskrit texts, she was slowly planning a visit to India. The ancient Ayurvedic texts talked a lot of indigenous potion ingredients to be used for treatment which were so fascinating, she had to go see these plants herself. Lost in the thoughts of medicinal herbs and evergreen Indian forests, she barely registered when the door of her lab opened. The masculine clearing of throat made her squeak in shock as she scrambled to turn back.

“Easy there Granger! Wonderful morning, isn’t it?” Draco walked in with his usual quiet grace that made Hermione feel like a klutz and placed a to-go cup of coffee on her desk. “And we got you Pumpkin pasties to make this morning even better!” Harry chimed, walking in behind Draco holding a big box. Hermione felt her mouth go dry as took in the two. Decked up in their official Auror robes, the men oozed sensuality, barely concealed power and a promise of danger that made her knees weak. She barely muttered a reply back, still trying to figure out how to proceed.

“Ooh, these look interesting! Which script is this?” Draco pored over the scrolls, tracing the Sanskrit words with his finger. His question shook Hermione awake.

“Uh— it’s Sanskrit. These are translations from ancient Indian medical text called Charaka Samhita.” Hermione walked around her desk to stand beside Draco. She pulled out some illustrations for him to check. Picking up the cup of coffee he brought for her, she took a sip. It was rich and strong with a bitter hint of chocolate. She soaked up the amazing taste and warmth, sighing happily. It was so much better than the simple brew she made for herself.

Harry offered her a warm pumpkin pasty. She nodded gratefully, accepting it with a sweet smile. “Coffee and Pumpkin Pasties, huh? What other tricks do you have up your sleeves, gentlemen?” She teased Harry. He just laughed, the sound so familiar yet feeling new to Hermione. Something had shifted, she was sure, since that dinner. The energy between the three seemed to crackle with sensual fire then ebb into friendly warmth, toeing the fine line of risqué flirting and charming banter here and there, careless glances and observing gazes thrown into the mix.

“Does our charming countenance count? Then Draco would fill in for that one. Right, Dragon?” Harry tossed back, running his hand through his hair turning it even wildly messy. But he never got any reply. Hermione watched in surprised silence as Draco perused through the scrolls and translations while making small sounds of interest and understanding. He amazed her even more as he queried her on various points, reminding her of his brilliance in potions. They started discussing and Draco’s natural curiosity and teeming respect for academics drew Hermione in a trance. Harry joined in once or twice, but he was more than eager to let Draco and Hermione continue on their scholastic bonding. When Draco’s and Harry’s wand shot off an alarm for returning to work, Hermione caught herself feeling a little dejected.

“Uh so,…” Draco started hesitant making Hermione turn to look at him, curiosity glazing her features. Draco avoided her eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on the soles of his feet. Harry shot him a look, then turned to Hermione bidding her farewell. Clapping a hand on Draco’s back he gave him what Hermione could only call a supportive, reassuring look. Harry pecked Hermione on her cheek and left.

“What is it Malfoy…?” Hermione asked unsure. It wasn’t like Malfoy to look uncertain. She patiently waited for him to continue, enjoying the last of the delicious coffee which had now cooled off.

“This might sound stupid but—"Hermione couldn’t help the small snort that escaped. Upon realising, her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “I’m so sorry, really Malfoy, I’m so sorry. Trust me I wasn’t laughing at you!” Draco arched his brow in scepticism.

“Its just — I’ve never seen you so flustered! And uncertain, and then you said you might sound stupid—” Hermione rambled on nervously, trying to appease an offended Draco. “And I mean, Draco Malfoy calling himself stupid?! That’s a little funny, you’ve got to admit that. I’ve never seen you like that, and normally you walk around pretending to be God’s gift to us mere mortals—” Hermione stopped when she saw Draco smirking at her, amusement glinting in his mercurial eyes.

“I just— we need to talk. No, wait…I need to talk. Hermione Granger, would you please give me a chance to present my case to you, to appeal to your generous nature, in hopes of earning your forgiveness?” Draco asked earnestly. Hermione felt herself locked in a spell, unable to look away from his soft eyes. Catching herself staring, she looked away.

“You didn’t need to say it like that, Malfoy—” Hermione avoided his earnest gaze. But Malfoy snatched up her hand in his, holding steadfast.

“Please, let me, Hermione. I need to.” He almost pleaded. “It doesn’t need to be today, or tomorrow, you take your time. Just give me a chance.” Hermione was about to talk, trying to form the wave of feelings inside her into words. Draco looked at her expectantly, like his very being depended on her answer.

But the door opened right then, leaving the two scrambling to put some distance between themselves. Eleanor poked her head in, opening her mouth to say something, but she shut it immediately after looking at the two standing awkwardly, cheeks red and guilty eyes.

“Roberts brought in the results from the last slides. J-just wanted to tell you! I’ll bring them around later.” Eleanor left before Hermione could even push out a syllable. She reluctantly turned to see Draco scratching the back of his head, a light flush adorning his aristocratic cheekbones.

“I’m guessing that conversation has to be private? So could I offer you my flat for the evening? You could bring dinner or whatever and tell me all—” Hermione didn’t know what came over her when she said this, just that she didn’t want to see Malfoy fumbling about in remorse. But when Malfoy cut her off by hugging her tight, she felt all her reprehensions fall away.

✾✤✾

“This is crazy!” Eleanor yelped. “This is, wait— amazing?! Weird?! Woahh!” She snickered, almost sloshing the drink in her hand. Hermione huffed at the blonde witch. The two had escaped to their favourite bar in Muggle London, a hole in the wall institution with dim golden lights, good food and drinks, and mellow jazz permeating the air. And drunkenly, Hermione made the mistake of telling everything to Eleanor who was now having the time of life at her expense. “You got butterflies for TWO guys?! Who, by the way, are probably together by your own admission? This is—”

“Messed up?” Hermione supplied, then winced at the reminder. Eleanor stopped laughing at that, looking at Hermione earnestly. She sipped her drink, watching Hermione from over the rim of her glass and making her squirm in her seat. After a while, coming up to her conclusions Eleanor straightened in her street.

“You don’t have to feel guilty. It happens.” Eleanor said softly making Hermione sigh dejectedly. “Does it, though?” Hermione queried, slouching slightly over the table. “One of them is my childhood best friend, friends since we were little kids. I was there through it all — all the fights, bruises and scrapes, the crushes and heartbreaks, quidditch matches and the Horcrux hunt.” Hermione sighed, looking away.

“The other was my school bully, taunting me and calling me slurs whenever he could. It’s so messed up, so complicated, I can’t even wrap my head around it. And it’s all so sudden, this turnabout, I mean.” She finished, turning to take a large swig of her drink to relieve her parched throat.

“It sure is sudden, Hermione, but why should that make your or their feelings mean any less?” Eleanor questioned. Spotting a waiter passing by, she ordered a plate of chips. “Your life has never followed trodden ordinary uncomplicated paths, why should it now?” Her words opened Hermione’s eyes to her reality. Small spark of hope fluttered in her chest, but it dimmed just as quickly.

“But still— it’s two men and I have suspected them to be together for quite some time. They live together for Merlin’s sake! Do they even like like me? Or is it just my mind playing tricks?!” She muttered. The waiter arrived with the piping hot fish and chips. The two witches focused on dipping their chips in homemade curry sauce they provided at the bar. The bar buzzed with a lot of guests, majorly muggles.

“You could ask them…?” Eleanor suggested, tilting her head, her observant hazel eyes roving over Hermione’s face. Hermione scoffed. “And destroy whatever bond we have managed to recreate after years?!”

“Right. But Hermione, you are not a witch prone to flights of fancy. I don’t think you’re the type to see things that aren’t there.” Eleanor reminded her. Sensing that Hermione still had some reservations, Eleanor presented to her something that was encircling her head all evening.

“Are you worried about what people might say?” Eleanor asked her. Hermione nodded her assent, avoiding her gaze. She shouldn’t even be concerned about others, but she couldn’t help it.

“Hermione, what do you know of Triads?” Eleanor asked calmly. Hermione looked up in surprise, repeating the word in a whisper. Eleanor donned what Hermione could only call her ‘Lecturer face’ and delved deep into explaining.

“Though Muggles usually frown over such relationships, it may not be so in the Wizarding world. Triads here are more accepted and liked, pertaining to the immense value of the number three in the area of magic. It ensures a viable balance between powerful witches and wizards, also dividing their various needs and assets equitably.” Hermione listened in rapt attention.

“It was even encouraged in the past, if the number of male heirs in a family were too many. The most recent and well-known triads were the Prewett Twins with their girlfriend Diana Evergreene a muggleborn witch, also Bellatrix Black with Lestrange siblings.” Eleanor finished.

“But if it is so favourable, why was I hated so much in fifth year when Rita Skeeter wrote on me being with two boys? Couldn’t people just think it was a possible triad?” Hermione questioned.

Eleanor shook her head. “No that’s entirely different. In a triad, it’s not just like two men choose to stay with the same woman, the men choose each other too. If not romantically then platonically. There needs to be a strong bond between them too. It was very obvious there was none between the Krum and Harry. But in your current case, the Wizarding world knows very well about Potter-Malfoy camaraderie. So they will probably accept it.”

Hermione tried to wrap her head around it all. She would have to research about it herself to learn more.

Chapter Text

“Elea let me know you had some visitors last week.” Hermione looked up at Cepheus. The man smirked at her infuriatingly, pushing up the horn-rimmed glasses up his nose bridge. Hermione stopped writing and wrapped up the parchment away. “So she did. What else did she let you know, hmm?”

“Oh well, you know Elea, always so protective of you. She wouldn’t divulge much.” Cepheus said pleasantly. “But a starved man can barely survive on tidbits and crumbs. So, my darling, let’s go out for lunch where you spill all your little secrets to me.” With that, he didn’t stop to hear any of Hermione’s protests and pulled her out of her lab.

He drove her to The Porcupine, a restaurant on Charing Cross Street often frequented by Muggles and Ministry-working wizards and witches. Parking away at a distance, Cepheus escorted Hermione inside. The maître de accosted them at the entrance, leading them to a table for two in the back which was reserved for Magic folk.

Hermione admired the fresh arrangement of peonies and damask roses at the table while Cepheus placed their orders for drinks. Once the waiter left, Cepheus turned to her.

“Okay well— almost a month back, Ron invited me to dinner. I didn’t want to, as you very well know why, but he looked so anxious and dejected. So I said yes, ready to sit through another very tiresome dinner.” Hermione spilled. Cepheus nodded. The waiter came with their non-alcoholic mock tails.

Taking a sip from her fruity drink, Hermione felt refreshed and decided to continue. “But it was not a regular dinner. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw Harry. Oh my Merlin, he had changed so much”

“Okay, Harry and Malfoy got a makeover and suddenly you’re drooling. I know just your type Hermione— What next? Oh, what happened that day at the Park?” Cepheus asked.

“Well as I was saying—” Hermione replied sassily. It was always easy being around Cepheus, which was probably why she chose him, because he always managed to get her carefree and out of the tight bounds she put on herself. “Harry dropped me off at my place and I asked him in for tea and we talked a lot. Then he invited me over for dinner. Now to what you wanted to know— that day Malfoy was at our bookshop and he caught you with Barbara.” Cepheus looked up shocked at that.

“Yeah and he was being all his smarmy self and then he said he lived with Harry! Imagine my shock. So one thing leads to another and I ask him why he hated me.” Hermione articulated, her hands flying around.

“And he confessed his love to you!” Cepheus exclaimed. Hermione gaped at him, all scandalized. Until, a familiar voice reiterated what Cepheus had just exclaimed.

“Confessed his love?!” Both Hermione and Cepheus jumped out of their skins and whirling around to see Blaise and Ginny scrambling at the table right behind them.

“What the hell?!” “Good Godric!” They both yelled at them. The shock mirrored their faces. “What the Hell, Ginny?! What in Merlin’s name are you doing?!” Hermione cried out.

“W-what a-am I doing?! Well,…I’m having lunch with my husband. As you can see—” Ginny stammered, then shot her a saccharine smile. Blaise took this opportunity to flag down a waiter, asking their tables to be joined and add two extra seats which made Cepheus raise his eyebrows in scepticism.

But Cepheus’ silent confusion was cleared immediately when he caught a glint of blonde hair catching sunlight in the corner of his eye. Turning to see the spectacle fully, Cepheus saw the two Aurors striding towards them. Their faces were like grey thunderclouds about to burst and this only egged Cepheus further to shoot an infuriating smirk their way and catch Hermione’s hand in his.

“Hermione, my love. Come, let’s get out of here. There’s still a lot we need to talk.” Hermione stopped glaring at a really smug Ginny to look up at Cepheus, whose actual entire attention was somewhere else.

“Merlin and Morgana, you sure do have a lot to talk!” Harry said darkly, as he finally reached them. Hermione felt her pulse spike immediately as she took in their menacing scowls. The promise of violence isn’t supposed to be as smoking hot, Hermione mused, admiring them in their ruffled and messed work outfits.

“Right you are, Potter! And I hope it’s to explain what, or should I say who, you do on other days when you are not taking Granger on cosy little dates.” Draco barked at Cepheus.

“Wait— what?! You cheated on Hermione?!” Ginny interrupted, but she went unheard in the midst of the charged staring contest taking place. Hermione looked between them perplexed at their reactions. “Come on, guys. He didn’t cheat, because we were never officially together!” She almost had to shout to get their attention.

But it did not calm anybody, as Hermione had hoped. “ And why is that you can’t commit?! Hermione is the most amazing, smart—"

“Kind, caring—” Hermione’s head shot towards Malfoy who cut in.

“absolutely brilliant, cute, pretty—” Now she, Ginny and Blaise were tossing their heads at the two men completing each other’s sentences.

“most beautiful, crazy wicked smart— oh wait, did I repeat that?!” Harry turned to an incensed Draco, who nodded.

“I hope you two are done, cause that poor waiter has been waiting to take our orders.” Blaise intervened before they could start again, driving Hermione absolutely crazy. “I think I’ll take the Sea bass with lemon sauce and Hermione would like the Butternut Squash ravioli in crème sauce.” Cepheus ordered, sitting down. Ginny and Blaise followed. The two men stayed stubborn so Hermione yanked them down to sit.

“So,… let’s clear the air before things get anymore awkward. Cepheus, would you like to start?” Blaise started, once again proving himself to be an expert diplomat.

Cepheus shrugged. “Hey there, I’m Cepheus Atlas Black, assistant professor of Anthropology at Cambridge. I met Hermione there, because we both were working on projects that revolved in similar circles. We became friends, then,…well some more. And I would really like to clarify that we were never a couple, never intended to be one. I just recently got together with the love of my life. Hermione knows about it and is the happiest and most supportive. We’ve been each other’s friends before being anything else, and that was for you two. Stop ganging up on people like that!”

Hermione sighed when Harry only scowled at Cepheus. “C’mon you two! What’s wrong with you today Harry?! Stop glaring at him!” She cried, clicking her tongue annoyed.

“Anthropology, hmm? Interesting choice… why did you take it?” Blaise asked Cepheus. Everyone knew very well it was an attempt at calming down tensions. Cepheus gladly took the ‘out’ presented, and the two started chatting away like old friends.

“How did they even get here?!” Hermione asked Ginny in an incredulous whisper. Ginny shrugged exaggeratedly. “Blaise might have…let them know with a … patronus.”

The glare Hermione shot her could lead to spontaneous combustion, cut through glass and throw daggers all at once, so Ginny just smiled all innocent. The food arrived finally, so Hermione could just stare at her plate in peace. Until, something Ginny said that caught her attention. “W-what..?”

“Yeah, owners of two apothecaries were missing and their mangled bodies were recovered after weeks. Didn’t you hear about it, Hermione? It was such a strange case, they were just peaceful shopkeepers, with no bad records.” Ginny recounted. “Are you two involved in that case?” She asked Harry and Malfoy, missing the subtle look of alarm and concern that flashed between Hermione and Cepheus.

Things progressed as usual, yet Hermione sat silent and a little ashen. She tried to look normal, but it took efforts. She was already making a list of things that needed to be done.

✾✤✾

The DMLE floors were quiet with only a few offices still occupied by Aurors who looked like they have been through the wringer and could drop dead asleep anywhere at any moment. Hermione pitied the poor souls, but she kept a determined pace straight ahead.

The door to the Head Auror of the DMLE was slightly ajar, but Hermione still knocked politely. A crisp ‘come in’ registered, and Hermione pushed the door open and stepped in. The chair swivelled around, revealing Nymphadora Tonks. Her pixie cut hair was in a shocking electric blue with neon pink strands peeking through. Realising it was Hermione, she dropped the tough Auror face and smiled warmly.

“Wotcher Mione!” She greeted, then spoke in a soft tone. “Its nice to see you here. How have you been? Busy as bees, huh, our researcher and philanthropist?” Hermione chuckled. She crossed over and sat down on the chair facing Tonks.

“I’m fine, and yes, busy as bees. How are you and Professor Lupin? How is Teddy liking his new preschool?” She asked after everyone, watching how Tonk’s face grew fonder at the mention of her husband and son. “I’m okay. Remus…has been struggling with the symptoms lately. I forbid him from working anymore since he could barely keep up with bodily pain after the War , so he’s at home reading and studying and taking care of Teddy. And Teddy is liking school, he has made some friends, though the accidental magic could be a tricky thing to figure out sometimes. But he'll be starting Hogwarts in a few years anyways so I’m not that bothered.”

“Is the salve not working? You could have told me, I would have—” Hermione began heated, but Tonks just shook her head. “This is expected, Mione. Lycanthropy doesn’t age well, at all. Even more so because Remus has been fighting his monster since ages. The fight to not give in to the monster and preserve his humanity itself tires him out.”

They both sat in silence, remembering the tiring life of Remus Lupin, the kindest soul who had almost lost everything and seen horrors and still remained standing. He battled storms and loss, faced betrayal from close friends and still never stopped helping people.

After a moment, Tonks shook off the melancholic air. “So what could I help you with, Mione? I know you’re not here for just a casual chat, though, you are very welcome to do so anytime.”

“Uh yes, about that…” Hermione looked up tentatively at Tonks. Tonks shot her an encouraging look to continue, so with a quick breath, she did.

Chapter Text

Hermione chewed on the tip of her pen, a habit she sorely wanted to get over but never really could, a quill stuck in her hair which she had thrown up in a messy bun, as she watched the several scrolls of parchment floating around her. It was going to be another night of sleepless pacing, she could feel it in her bones.

She rubbed her face tiredly, feeling the fatigue in the very spaces of her spine. Yet as she closed her eyes, the image of the big blue watery eyes looking up at her in anguish made her open them hurriedly. With a frustrated scowl, she scratched away her previous calculations. The Bundimun was still reacting very highly, Eleanor’s singed eyebrows were a testament to that.

The contradictions in her research were killing her. She needed a strong Cleansing ingredient, but it had to be gentle enough to not destroy the host’s other organs or cells. But the Bundimun, if given in a smaller dose, was not enough. And if given in a larger dose it was highly reactive and corrosive.

This was probably one of the most accessible ingredients. While creating this potion Hermione had to care about its cost and accessibility. It won’t be fair if the very victims of the affliction couldn’t even afford the potion.

Hermione had the urge to scream as she recalled her meeting with the Head of Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. After the War, the department came under the leadership of Mathilda Higgs, a petite blonde meek woman who never raised her voice more than a whisper, or really know much about creatures. She was content in sitting in her cosy little armchair, signing useless documents and following whatever the higher-ups decided for her.

Hermione had requested a meeting with her, reaching promptly on time. She walked in, greeted by the woman. “Oh Ms. Granger, what a pleasant surprise! To have the honourable War Heroine, The Greatest, Brightest Witch of her Age in my humble little office! What a great honour, I assure you!” Higgs whispered. Hermione was almost amused how she managed to convey her elation, surprise and admiration all in a muted breathy whisper.

“Thank you, Ms. Higgs. I wanted to talk to you about a new project I have started.” Hermione started. Ms. Higgs smiled wide though it looked a little bit like a grimace. “ Oh amazing! The fact that you even consider me worthy of knowing about your brilliant project, that you think I could possibly understand a bit of all that goes on in your head—”

“Ms. Higgs!” Hermione interrupted her fake cheery performance. “I’m studying something and if I succeed in this,…well it could be revolutionary— lifesaving!”

“Of course, Ms. Granger! How many I help you?” Ms. Higgs sniffed, fixing her beady glasses. “Well, I was hoping your department could endorse it, and maybe once it’s ready we could fund it so it’s more accessible…” Hermione asked.

“Uhm-huh…see here Ms. Granger, I know what exactly you are researching. But we just can’t endorse this! I’m sure you understand.” Ms. Higgs said in a nasally whisper yet again. Hermione blinked once, then twice. “I don’t understand. This would obviously help so many—”

“No Ms. Granger. The war has left a gory impression on people. They are really scared and our department must stand in solidarity with them.” Hermione wanted to pull her hair. “And..?! I think my project might help. What other excuses have you lined up?” She asked rubbing the centre of her brows with her fingers to ease the pain wrought on by the sheer stupidity of this.

“This just won’t do. What you’re asking for is essentially a lot of funding, time and planning, which we just can’t.” Ms. Higgs didn’t look the least miffed when she said this. Hermione wanted to hex her, just a little violent urge in her heart, just some vicious satisfaction. But with experience, she knew she would never find any cooperation from the government. Hence she didn’t waste anymore time. She got up and briskly walked off, not bothering to reply to the mousy lady left gawking at her.

Now, on this fine— wait, scratch that!— absolutely not fine, borderline horrible evening, she sat in her flat, all messed up like a tangled ball of yarn. If Hermione Granger could just be a simple researcher, she would have been fine. She would use the optimum ingredients to get the potion to cure the ‘incurable’, never mind it’s accessibility or affordability.

But Hermione Granger could never be Hermione Granger if her supposed cure couldn’t reach the masses, all because her concoction had some pretty costly ingredients only the posh arses could afford. No, that was unfathomable. The reason she never wanted a Ministry job was because she knew she couldn’t help the masses, the ostracized, the needy. The need to help people, make the world a better place was her raison d’être.

Now some of the pompous arses or Ministry Higher-ups as popularly known had decided to continue blindly on the same path of prejudice and discrimination and didn’t want to just help Hermione out a little. They had the funds and the means to help out, but would they? Nah… they would rather blow it off on useless things.

As she felt the clouds of desperation roll over her, her doorbell rang. Surprised, she quickly got up and headed for the door, running a hand through her messy curls willing them to settle down after how they had sparked and spilt out of the bounds of the clip. The enchanted parchments followed her, dancing in the air to their own unheard tune.

Hermione checked the cameras only to see Harry’s head of unruly black hair and a fidgeting blonde who could only be Malfoy. Hermione gulped looking down at her hoodie and shorts. She cursed the Gods. This is mortifying, she thought as she swung the door open.

“Hey Mione! Mind if we come in?” Harry chirped, getting in without waiting for any answer. Draco scowled at him, the years of Pureblood etiquette training ringing alarm bells in his head.

“Hey guys! So… what brings you here? Right now?” Hermione asked, though the false ring of cheeriness in her voice made her cringe internally. This time Draco cut Harry off, answering, “Previously you mentioned I could come over for dinner and the long overdue apology. So here I am. Though I feel we are seriously intruding.” Draco stared bewildered at the flock of papers still dancing in the air. Hermione blinked up at him, then turned to look at Harry standing away leaning by her fireplace, trying to catch a particular crumpled ball of paper which was zipping away like a Quidditch Snitch. “Oh I brought Potter along for emotional support.”

“Yup I’m the lap dog Draco clutches on to when nervous.” Harry winked at Hermione, making her flush at the images of him sprawling over Draco’s lap, his emerald and silver ring clad fingers running through Harry’s messy black locks. She shook her head vigorously to expel such thoughts.

“R-right! Come sit, you guys.” She invited them to sit on the sofa and armchairs. But she stopped short realising there were only two armchairs. She shut her eyes tight grimacing at the decisions she had made. “Wait— I’ll just transfigure somethi—” She whisked out her wand, searching frantically for something, but the two men had decided that today was the day for making her brain further short circuit.

“I assure you it’s not needed.” Draco said casually, as Harry proceeded to go perch on his lap, then making himself all comfortable. “I’m his emotional support for the evening, please don’t mind this.” Harry quipped. But Hermione was pretty sure she was looking like a boiled lobster with steam erupting from her ears.

Not knowing what to say or do, Hermione mutely sat down on the other armchair. It was just what her irrational mind had flashed at her. Draco’s long, nimble, ring-clad fingers were splayed against Harry’s tan skin peeking out where the shirt had slightly ridden up. She finally found some semblance of rationality, realising she was staring at the most-obvious couple. She felt herself crumble in shame when she thought how she always had the most visceral reaction to these happily taken men. It was odd how they had been the only ones who could ruffle those feathers of hers, especially, when Hermione never felt really drawn to any men she met on the daily.

Yet again a reason to curse Universe, God or whatever Fates or Destiny has decided this for her. Screw them!

“Hermione, are you uncomfortable…?” Harry asked hesitatingly. Hermione winced at how her reaction was taken by the men and hence she rushed to assure them. “No, no, no, never Harry. I could never! It’s just— it has been a tiring day. I’m so happy for you two, of course.”

“Oh thanks,… but we are not yet completed.” Draco said off handedly, throwing Hermione in a loop. She unconsciously tilted her head to one side, looking at them wondering what he meant. But she couldn’t dwell on it as Draco cleared his throat.

“Hermione, I have used these days to figure out how I could apologise and make you understand my intentions. And I know you’ve figured out my childhood and our shared youth and why I acted the way I did, though I’m still not validating my actions. But it is the actions of mine after the War that I’m here to atone for.” Hermione was touched by the sincerity in the silvery eyes.

Draco continued. “I’ll be direct about it. After the War,…I thought how I was the symbol of all the pain and hatred you had to suffer from. I tormented you in Hogwarts, called you slurs, spewed hate and wished you the worst kinds of things. I watched as you were tortured, I stayed as my Aunt carved that disgusting slur on your arm, right in the dining hall of my home.”

“I thought how you would be reminded of it all every time you see me lounging about with your friends. So I kept out of your way, not realising how it might appear to you or if it might hurt you. It was truly done unintentionally, but, I’m still very sorry.” He bowed his head down as he said the last of it.

“You didn’t hate me ever?” Hermione puzzled. Draco chuckled lowly. “Hate is such a strong word, don’t you think?...No, I didn’t hate you. Maybe I disliked you back at Hogwarts since I couldn’t win against you, since you seemed to have such a tight group of friends who always cared for each other…since you had all the things I wanted. But I never hated you.”

“But you looked at me like that every time. Whenever I tried to talk to you. Or came to visit my friends you always had that look!” Harry and Draco looked a little confused at that. “What look, Mione?” Harry queried.

“A dark glower— like he was loathing me, judging me very intensely. He followed everything I did, everywhere I went, whatever I said and judged me for it.” Hermione blushed, feeling like a kindergartener complaining. Harry started laughing at a very obviously peeved Draco.

“Its— you’ll understand when it’s time, Hermione. But I promise it’s not what you think. Now, do you care for some French food?” Draco shifted the topic away and Hermione let him. She was having a sudden consciousness— for once she felt like she belonged somewhere, except for her lab. She felt weirdly at home with the two men. Yet she knew if she let this go she was hurtling towards a shattering heartbreak. But for now, she chose to forget it all and let herself before led away by them.