A/N: Hi, hi! Thank you for your kind words! I totally agree with your saying people have a right to their own opinions. But there is a difference in having an opinion and being plain mean. Yes! I did change up a few things so I can make it flow better. So instead of Hermione knowing she had been in the past before, I'm letting her go back blindly instead. I know one of you asked what WL was – it's actually a facebook group that I admin called Wandlore of Harry Potter. I was stating that I will be updating links through the page. You'll still get it all through here! I haven't figured out Ao3 yet, but maybe I'll start posting through there as well! Thank you again for being caring! I hope this next chapter brings you something good! Xo Blue.

Beta'd by: Ravenclawmidwife! Thanks for all your hard work a always, ((hugs))

...

Still falling, breathless and on again. Inside today. Beside me, today. Around broken in two; til your eyes shed into dust. – Mazzy Star

Diagon Alley/The Leaky Cauldron 4 May 1979

The war still went strong in this time. Voldemort was on the rise-people, their homes, and establishments were attacked everyday. To some, it would come as no surprise; others just couldn't fathom the fact that the acts of violence had happened to them. Still, things seemed happier here than in 1998.

Hermione listened to her surroundings; the sound of a record player in the distance played a hit song of the time. Laughter came from small children bustling at their mother's hips. Most shops were the same, others were closed. Shop owners fiddled with their keys, opening up for the day's business. Hermione knew of one place she could settle until she was ready to start her journey. The Leaky Cauldron. Still feeling a bit put-out from the time-ejection, she managed a small breath as her weak legs began to carry her down the walk. She opened the door to the inn. It was smoky, cool, and smelled of breakfast and alcohol. Much different from his appearance in 1998, Tom the barman popped up from behind the counter, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder and a head full of hair. "Welcome to the Leaky!" he called, with a mouth full of teeth as well.

Hermione forced a smile and walked forward to where he stood. "Hello, I'd like to rent a room, please," she said.

"Good, good. Any idea 'ow long yoo are stayin' then?" he asked, pulling a pad from his apron.

She furrowed her brows, confused, "Er, my apologies. I've been traveling for some time. What day is it?"

He didn't seem to take any notice to her worries; he dealt with drunks everyday, for Merlin's sake. "It's Friday, m'dear."

"Let's say through the weekend. I'll let you know if anything changes."

Tom nodded, "Right then. 'Eres a key – take it on up to 'oom eight. Yer payment is due on the last day of yer stay. Breakfast is at seven and yoo can 'spect to have supper at six-thirty. All included in yer bill." He handed the key over to her. She paused before taking it. She really was having to do this. Before the man could give her peculiar eyes, she took the skeletal object and went up to her room.

The door's hinges creaked as she opened it. The room was nice enough. A small bed was set up in the corner next to a tiny window – a kitchenette and bathroom were just off the main space. It wasn't as dusty as she remembered her room being back in the summer before her third year. She took her bag and set it on the counter and locked the door. With the quiet, the reality of the situation hit her like a punch to the stomach. She nearly collapsed to the floor with the sensation of nausea and stress rising like lava. Luckily she was able to make it to the bathroom and threw herself over the toilet. She hadn't much to give away, but she managed bile and phlegm. She fell back to her bum and into the wall behind her. She wiped the drool from her mouth with her wrist and dug the palms of her hands into her eye-sockets. A shudder vibrated over her chest and through her bones. Tears spilled into her hands.

Loss – everything in her life was lost. She was lost in and to time. She had lost her best friends, her family, and the war. She had barely the time to mourn when she was thrown back, but she knew if she was to stay there, she would have more than likely lost her life. Voldemort wouldn't have let her live, once he found that the Malfoys were betraying him. She hoped that Voldemort hadn't dropped in on them.

Guilt. How was it she had survived? She hadn't even the chance to see if anyone else was alive. She pushed back the dead green eyes staring back at her. She barely even got the chance to look around her before she was carried off to the Manor. Her hands shook as she brought them away from her face. They were covered in scrapes and bruises; her nails were broken and dirty. Hermione Granger was never one to care about how her nails looked or about her appearance in general, but that was Before – a time when she took everything for granted. Reaching behind the curtain of the shower, she turned on the faucet and steam rolled out fogging up the room. Happy to get out of the god-awful clothes, she stepped inside and slid down the cold wall. The water flowed over her achy body, massaging her bones and the mass of contusions. She wanted to wash away all the pain; she begged the drain to carry all of it to the ocean and let it drown into the deepest depths. She tried to scrub away her sadness, but when her eyes landed over her forearm, she felt stupid to think she could. Mudblood. She bit her bottom lip just enough to draw blood, to focus her pain else where. Touching her lips, she covered her fingertips with the crimson colour and watched it swirl away with the mix of water. She smacked her head with her hands to try and knock away the intrusive thoughts taking over her mind, only to be left with a headache and bleary eyes.

She could have sat inside that tub for hours – and the thought crossed her mind, but the skin on her fingers and toes began to prune told her it had been long enough. The towel hanging behind the toilet was small. It barely covered her breasts when she wrapped it around her frail body.

Narcissa had packed night clothes for her – she was so grateful to find these. She was also happy to find that there was a package of fresh underwear and a bralette. "Thank you, Narcissa..." Hermione whispered. She looked at the clock; it was only just past noon. She wasn't in the mood to do her research. All she wanted was sleep. Padding to the small bed, she pulled the blankets back and crawled in. Her head was pounding and her eyes were drooping heavily. With wand in hand, she cast toward the window and drew the curtains. Darkness surrounded her and before she even realised she was asleep, her mind faded into nightmares.

The steam engine rolled over the tracks, taking us students to the one and only Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I walked through the compartments, helping Neville Longbottom to find his toad when i came to a stop, seeing a boy about to do a bout of magic on his familiar.

"Are you about to do magic? Let's see then!" After the failed attempt to turn the rat yellow, I turned to chastise the boy – asking if the spell was even a real one. "I'm Hermione Granger, and you are?" I looked to the small red-head boy. His cheeks were now stuffed with treats.

"Erm," he swallowed half the food in his mouth. "Ron Weasley."

I felt my brows furrow, "Pleasure." I looked over to the messy haired boy with glasses, only briefly noticing the scar upon his forehead. "Holy cricket! You're Harry Potter!"

You're Harry Potter….

…."Harry!"

"Harry, behind you!" I screeched.

"Hermione, run!" he bellowed back. I turned to see a woman in black throwing curses to-and-fro coming towards me. Her hidden eyes were only for me. I gathered my strength to throw a counter-jinx toward the woman's purple spells. One backfired, knocking mya Elf to the ground.

"Well, well, well... what do we have here?" the woman said. She smiled cruelly. "Hermi...o...ne."

My nostrils flared angrily at the woman. "What do you want?"

"You. Dead. I remember the first time I met you, nasty Mudblood."

...

She woke to a knocking, hoping that it was all a dream. Tears were streaming down her cheeks freely and once her eyes were clear, she saw that it definitely wasn't. Keeping her wand close, she went to answer, finding Tom on the other side. "Thought yoo might like somethin' to eat? Not seen yoo all day, m'dear." Hermione took kindly to the man. "Thank you, sir. I will come down and eat soon."

She dressed in a dusty-pink smock dress, with sleeves that ruffled around her wrists. "Ugh," she said, looking into the mirror. She would need to go shopping soon. All the things that Narcissa packed were obviously something from her past and they just wouldn't do. She wanted jeans. She pressed her hands over the waist to push it down when she found it had pockets. "Oh!" she smiled – that wasn't so bad then, she supposed. Sliding on her shoes, she descended the stairs and went to the bar. Tom was cleaning a mug when he noticed her presence. "Well, nice to see yoo," he smiled.

She nodded her head in greeting. He brought forth food, asking, "What can I get yoo to drink?"

"Hm… a butterbeer will do."

He reached into a cool cabinet and set it down before her. "Enjoy, Miss…? I haven't gotten yer name. Silly me."

"Oh, Hermione, sir," she answered quietly.

"I'm Tom, Miss Hermione. I hope yoo enjoy yer stay." He turned to another customer a few stools down.

She cut into the brisket. It was the first real meal she'd had in so long. The meat melted over her tongue and the potatoes were just as good. "Mmm...," she sighed, taking another bite.

"You know, I never thought that Leaky's food was that great. You are making it look quite wonderful. Tom, I'll have what she's having!" the man Tom had tended to moments before said.

Her cheeks blushed. She set the fork down and turned to her admirer, smiling. "And, who are you?" she asked. Just as the words left her mouth, she knew. Sirius. She nearly choked. So young and handsome. His hair was pulled back – he wore a leather jacket and didn't look a day older than nineteen.

He held up his own drink toward her in cheers. "Whoever you want me to be," he said with a smirk.

She slipped from her reverie when she heard Tom address the man. Sirius continued smirking at her, staring. "What brings yoo this way, Black?"

"Only just got back from a mission, Tom. On my way to the office. But, with the load I dealt with, a drink sounded much more appealing than dealing with Mad Moody just now."

Mad Moody? Hermione's shoulders stiffened. She had buried her beloved mentor deep away in her thoughts after his death.

"Ah, that stink mess?" Tom asked with Sirius nodding his answer.

"A stink mess?" Hermione heard herself say.

He looked back to her – yes, so much younger. His grey eyes were so warm and he had such a charming smile. "Yes," was all he said. Tom set the plate of food before him. He cut into the brisket, just as the food met his tongue, he laughed. "It's much better than the usual, I must say."

Hermione smiled and took a final drink from her butterbeer. "Thank you, Tom. The food was delicious. I'll see you in the morning." she said. The barkeep strolled over and removed the plate from her and smiled. "Need a wake up, Miss Hermione?" he asked. "Sure yoo don't want to stay for dessert?"

She shook her head, "No. This meal is really all I can handle just now. Thank you. I'll be down here as soon as the sun rises, no need to worry yourself." As she went to leave the seat, Sirius stopped her.

"The morning? You're staying here?"

Hermione really wanted to hug the man – seeing him alive and with meat on his bones was so comforting. "I am. I'm afraid I will have to go apartment hunting soon, as I just moved here. Know of any good flats?"

Sirius knew of a great flat actually. He smirked again; clearly, this was his trademark, "I do. It just so happens I am in the market for a roommate."

Hermione found that really hard to believe. This was Sirius Black! The notorious womanizer! She drew in her bottom lip and actually smiled with humour. "Um… Wouldn't you like to do an interview or… possibly get to know me before you go and invite me to live with you? For all you know, I could be a cold-blooded killer."

He shrugged, turning on his bar stool. "Are you a killer?"

"No." That wasn't something to tell him. And that was because of war – in the future.

He shrugged again, "Then the room is yours."

She opened her mouth to say something, but then closed it again, lost for words. Leave it to Sirius to have that effect on her. He stood and came to her side. He smelled faintly of stink pellets. "I'll be here at seven in the morning. Show you the place." He turned to Tom, "Place her meal on my tab."

She went to say no, as her food was already covered, but instead was met with a wink and a grin. "See you tomorrow, Hermione." He left the Leaky Cauldron and Hermione returned to the barkeeper with a look of befuddlement. He shrugged humourously, "Mr. Black is a good man, but if yoo don't feel comfortable with him, let me know and I'll tell 'im not to bother yoo."

Hermione rubbed her arms and shook her head, "No. It's all right. Thank you, Tom." She wandered up the stairs and back to her room. She had some studying to do.

Sirius strolled to the Ministry of Magic and into the Aurors' office. Most of his team had gone home for the evening, save for the few that had just gotten back from missions. Moody was sitting at his desk in his office, scribbling over a case file when Sirius heard his name being called.

"Black!" his gruff voice echoed. "Everything cleared up?"

Sirius dropped into the chair before his boss, desperately wishing to throw his feet up on the desk, but knew better. The man before him would probably strike him dead. "Yep. That Phelps should've been a Marauder, I tell you."

"A what?" Moody asked – unaware of the existence of the troublemaking foursome.

"Nothing, Moody. Everything is cleared." Caractacus Phelps had exploded eight-hundred stink pellets from the roof of The Daily Prophet – stinking up most of Muggle London, forcing people to believe something nuclear was happening. Aurors were called to the scene to clear it away and to detain Caractacus.

"Good. Stupid idiot. Why he chose to do stink pellets is beyond me. Guess that's his way to get his point across though, isn't it?" he rolled his eyes.

Sirius chuckled. "The Daily Prophet is spewing lies – perhaps he just wanted to let that be known. Surely little Miss Rita will get my message."

Moody grumbled, "Whatever. Anyway, tomorrow you and Longbottom will be given a new mission. Got some intel that would be beneficial to check out."

Sirius nodded, "Got it. However, I will be late to work tomorrow."

The man before his slammed the paperwork down to his desk. "You what?" His temperament was not to be tampered with.

Sirius pointed to himself, "I. Will. Be. Late. Tomorrow. I have a new mate coming to live with me, want to show her the place and such."

"She? A woman? You're having a witch move in with ye?" he asked skeptically, knowing very well what type of man Sirius was.

"Yes… I am more than capable of having a woman live with me without it being… Moody it isn't anything. I will be late, I won't miss the day." He didn't have to explain himself to the man, but knew better than to not say anything or else his boss would poke and prod until he got his answers.

"Uh-huh. And where did you meet this… woman?" he interrogated.

Sirius laughed. "She's a known Death Eater, Moody. She's come for my hand in the cause."

Moody glared. "Get out of my face, Black. Don't be later than two hours."

...

5 May 1979

Hermione dressed in the next best thing she had in that bag of hers. She'd make it a point to stop at some of the shops to buy proper robes and better clothes. She glanced at the clock to see that it was ten 'til seven and, if Sirius was a man of his word, she'd be meeting up with him. It was a bit comforting to know she'd be getting the chance to know Sirius. After all the people she lost – including him – it was good that she had this. She even thought that maybe she'd get the chance at meeting Remus and James and Lily, maybe even baby Harry when the Potters had him. That the thought hadn't occurred to her before now was frustrating. It could have saved her a bit of sorrow. Grabbing her bag, she went downstairs to her stool and awaited her escort.

Tom placed a cup of coffee on the counter before her – people began to come through, making their ways to work. The hustle and bustle was the same as in her time. The clock struck seven and no sign of…

"Good morning, Hermione," Sirius said from behind her. She stood and found the man, fresh-faced, the faint smell of stink pellets no longer lingering over him.

"You know, I haven't gotten your name," Hermione played.

"You're saying you didn't gossip about me with Tom after I left?" he winked.

She smiled, "No." She held out her own hand, "Allow me to properly introduce myself. I'm Hermione Granger."

He smirked at her hand then took it within his own. "Black. Sirius Black."

The pair made their way into Muggle London, into a small neighbourhood only five minutes away from The Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't familiar to Hermione. There were quaint houses and small stores. They went on up the way and came to an old-style set of apartments. A spiral wrought-iron staircase led up to each level. Without even asking, she knew that his place would be at the very top. She hadn't noticed him looking over at her to see her reaction, but he was pleased nonetheless and led her up. The staircase ended at a small patio and sliding doors. Sirius produced a key from his pocket and slid it into the lock. Then he said a silent charm and Hermione could see the magic of the wards falling away. He opened the door and the wondrous feeling of air conditioning wafted over her.

"This is the place," Sirius said. He held out his arms, "Two bedrooms – that one has a bed already." He pointed to the second room. "But if you want the master bed, you're more than welcome to it."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Er – why would I take it? It's your home."

He shrugged – which Hermione found he was also really good at doing – "I'm hardly here. It has a bathroom and it's bigger."

"I don't want to put you out," she stated plainly. "I know you said you're hardly here, but it'd be nice to come home to your bed and the comfort of your own space."

"There is a room just there. I can get the same amount of privacy and comfort."

The flat itself was clean and carpeted. The sink wasn't full of dishes as she suspected it would be, as he was a bachelor. It didn't even smell, which was even more surprising. She supposed she was used to Ron and Harry and their bad habits. She could hardly stand walking into Ronald's room at The Burrow, as it smelled like sweat and other bodily functions. "All right, so how much do you want for rent?" she asked.

He frowned, "I hadn't thought about it. I own the place. You were looking for somewhere to stay and I have it. Better than giving your money to that hole of a place you're at now."

Hermione sighed, "Mr. Black. This just seems too easy. You don't want anything, you don't even know me and you're offering me the larger bedroom. What is the purpose of it?"

He chuckled and shrugged, "I'm a nice guy, and you said you weren't a killer."

"As far as you know!" Hermione said a little too loudly.

He knitted his brows together, "Are you wanting me to believe that you are?"

Hermione breathed out her stress and shook her head, "No. That's not it. Just… where I come from, nothing is ever free, yet here you are. You're offering me a place to live, free of charge, on a whim for thinking I'm not a killer."

"If you don't want to live here, then say so!" he said a bit harsher than he intended.

"Well, don't you want to be able to have your ladies come and go as they please without them thinking you've a wife or a girlfriend living with you?!"

His whole stance changed. He crossed his arms. "So is that what this is about? You obviously know of who I am, since you think I'm such a slag. Sure you didn't gossip with Tom about me? Read a little too much Witch Weekly, have we?"

Her eyes widened. "What? No! I didn't say such a thing! And I don't bother with that rubbish!"

"No, but you meant it."

"I did not," Hermione argued.

He moved closer to her. He stared deeply into her amber eyes – "You have nothing to worry about. If you want to live here, the room is yours." He pulled another key from his pocket and held it up between them, "If you don't, leave it on the counter. If you do, then… I'll see you when I get home. I have to go to work."

As he turned to leave, Hermione reached out for his arm stopping him. "I'm sorry. I've come from a bad place. I've been under the impression that there wasn't much good left in the world. That's" – she could see the questions rising in his stormy grey eyes – "a conversation for another time. I am most grateful for your offer. Thank you."

He smiled, "I look forward to getting to know you, Granger." She almost lost it at the familiarity of his use of her surname.

Hermione looked around the apartment. He had bookshelves covered in a plethora of reading material, along with photographs that caught her attention. She moved toward them and noticed the familiar faces of a young Remus Lupin and Sirius sitting at a table, both with an ale in their hands. They were laughing and clanking their cups together. She moved to the next one and it was of the four Marauders. James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter. She badly wanted to tear him from the picture but knew better. She would have to form a relationship with Sirius before she bothered with any of that. The happiness within those pictures hurt like hell. She covered her mouth with her hands, trying to swallow back the sobs forcing their way into her throat. It all came down to that rat – if he hadn't been made the secret-keeper, so many things would be different. So many things could be different.

Sirius stopped at The Leaky Cauldron on his way to work to talk to Tom. The man was busying himself with customers when Sirius knocked on the counter. Tom noticed and stepped over to him. "What can I do for yoo, Black?"

"Hermione. When she arrived here, was she with anyone?" he asked quietly.

Tom shook his head, "It was just her and a small purse."

"Interesting. Did she say where she was coming from or why she was moving here?"

"No, 'm sorry, Black. I just give me guests a place to stay. No questions asked," Tom shrugged.

Sirius nodded, "All right. Thanks, mate."

The Marauder rolled into the Auror's office. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat at his desk looking to fall asleep at any moment. He wasn't the only one. It was likely they had been on an overnight shift and were told to come to the office before going home. Scrimgeour filled his coffee mug, giving the sleepy Aurors a look over and rolled his eyes.

Sirius knocked on Moody's office door, and it swung open allowing him the entrance. Moody was drinking his own cup of coffee. Without looking up to his guest, he gestured for him to sit. "Longbottom will be here any minute. How'd the showing go? The girl going to move in with you?" he asked.

Sirius shook his head, "I don't know. She's not very keen on the idea of living free in my home."

Moody looked up, "How do you mean?"

"I don't know. I told her I owned the place and even offered her the master bedroom but she looked at me like I was a mad dog," he said, exasperated.

The Auror grimaced. "If I were her, I'd be a bit put-out, too. You sound creepy, Black."

"So you're saying I should charge her for rent?" he asked.

"I don't know, Black. I'm not a relationship specialist," he growled. Just as he did, there was another knock on the door, and in came Frank Longbottom.

"Longbottom!" Sirius stood and shook the man's hand. "It's been a while, mate. Heard about your engagement. Congratulations. You're a lucky bloke."

Frank smiled, "Thanks! I kent it well I wanted to marry her when she first batted those damned brown eyes at me."

"Yes, yes. All good. Sit." Moody said, causing the men to roll their eyes and turn to their leader.

"We have a rat in the Order. We don't know who, but some information about Harper and Jones' whereabouts on Monday had been found out – we suspected it was happening, so we were able to send proper backup - however, we were only just in time. Harper was severely injured and Jones has a broken leg. I need you two to go between different Order members, give faux information, that way we can narrow it down. Let's say two at a time – three times a week. Sound like a plan?"

Sirius sat uncomfortably in his chair. It was a difficult task, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He just hoped no one would feel betrayed.

"For how long?" Frank asked.

"For as long as it takes, Longbottom. Do you have a problem with it?"

"No sir."

"Good. Go," Moody ordered.

The men stood and left the small office. They were used to the way Moody talked to them – the man had seen more than enough horror during his time as an Auror. They felt bad for him, but knew he didn't like to be pitied. They sat at their desks which were faced towards one another. Sirius still had a mission of his own to figure out and he knew he had to get started on it soon. "Longbottom, you're still friends with that Private W.I. yeah?"

Frank looked up from his work. "Oh. Aye? What do ye need him for?"

"I'm wanting to look into someone."

"Really? Who?" Frank knew Sirius was a pretty laid back guy – so when he asked for favours, it must've been something quite important.

"Her name is Hermione Granger."

"Ah, a lass?" he asked with a knowing smile on his face. "Finally found one ye might want to keep?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "What is it with everyone thinking it's such a big deal to have a woman move in with me? It's nothing like that. She moved here from… well, I don't know. I don't know anything about her."

Frank opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it once more. "I ken ye like the women well, Black, but to have one move in with ye so soon after just meeting her, ye don't think that's inviting problems?"

Sirius shook his head, "There's something about her that seems… off." What he really wanted to say was – Hermione smelled familiar, the smell of someone he knew – but mixed with her own odor that didn't quite mesh with the force of the strong scent upon her. He noticed it when he first met her, but chalked it up to thinking it was the stale air of the Leaky. But, it was almost overbearing when she was alone with him in his home today. He couldn't very well explain that, as no one aside from his best mates knew of his ability.

"So ye invite her to live with ye? Have ye lost your mind?"

Sirius chuckled, "No. She's a nice woman, well enough. Just odd, a woman no older than our age, coming to a world different than her own with nothing but a small bag and the clothes on her back." He lavished his lips with his fingers in thought. "Will you do it for me?"

Frank shrugged, "Sure. I'll go to him tomorrow."

Hermione placed the key in her bag and looked around the flat. She looked into the refrigerator to find that it had only a box of pizza and a carton of milk. Inside the cabinets were bags of crisps, a package of Muggle soda, and Ogden's finest. "All right then." She checked the time, the bank would be open by now. She checked her bag to make sure the bank note was still in place. She'd also need to pay Tom at the Leaky for her stay.

Her walk to Gringott's wasn't so bad. It was nice to take in her surroundings. It shouldn't be so hard to acclimate… or so she thought. Once she was finished there, she'd stop at the Leaky, then the market, she mentally noted. There was no way she'd be living with Sirius Black and not have proper food to eat.

"Hello," she greeted the goblin sitting behind a tall podium. His chair creaked as he looked over his log and down at Hermione.

"What can we do for you?" he asked. His long fingers pushed his glasses up his long nose.

"I'd like to open an account please." She reached for the note from Lucius.

"Your name?"

"Hermione Granger." She set the check down to the counter.

The goblin sneered at it – obviously full of questions as to why she was given so much money anonymously. He did a series of tests over it to make sure it wasn't fake. Once he seemed to be satisfied, he got down from his stool and disappeared behind a curtain. Hermione stood awkwardly. She was starting to worry that he knew she was from the future… that the money came from the Malfoys… and that everything was going to fail. She was almost tempted to reach out for the note and just run away. She could find a different bank, surely. Just as she was about to reach for it, the goblin came back. He slammed down a key on the counter. "Miss Granger – this vault you're coming to is from old money."

She knew it! She knew it'd fail. "It was given to me, sir." Hermione said quietly before he could ask how. "Only yesterday." This was something she should've discussed with the Malfoys. Would they be notified now that she'd be having money withdrawn from their accounts and put into her own?

"So you are indeed an heir of the late Mr. Hector Dagworth-Granger?"

All the breath left Hermione's body. How'd they manage that? "Y-yes," she lied.

"We will set you up in his vaults, and since the giver is obviously an investor, we won't ask any further questions. Mr. Granger had many accounts and investors. You will be set to his personal account as this is the number..." he pointed to the check, "for it." He then pointed at a second series of numbers, "This comes from a private investor, who does not wish for their name to be revealed. It's a private business account."

Hermione nodded, confused.

"No need to worry, Miss Granger. The bank takes care of the business. We will only reveal the account's activity to you. We will send you status reports monthly and such. This vault holds all personal and valuable possessions. I need you to fill this out," handing her a chart.

She took it from his hands, her own still shaking. Those damned Malfoys.