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Here's the next bit ...

M. x

Hermione awoke to her name being called.

It took her a few moments to realize where she was, and when she did, she came fully alive with a start. She'd fallen asleep at her desk.

She looked up to see her secretary, Vicky, staring at her with wary concern.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

She wiped the sleep out of her eyes, realizing that two buttons had come undone on her blouse. She hurriedly fixed them as she swiped the empty whiskey bottle off her desk and gratefully accepted the steaming hot cup of coffee.

"What time is it?"

"Just after seven…I came in early to tidy up before your big meeting…"

Hermione blanked.

"It's…Monday?"

Vicky inspected Hermione's features with worry.

"Yes…did you…sleep here?" she asked in a whisper.

"Of course not!" Hermione snapped, getting to her feet and feeling particularly ridiculous in her jeans and button down. "I…shit. Yes. I did. Can you please find me some appropriate clothes?"

Vicky nodded once and turned to leave just as Hermione looked down at a thick, cream envelope, that was stuck beneath her empty glass.

There was nothing written on it.

"Vicky? Is this from you?" she asked, waving the crisp paper in her hand. No mail ever came to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures this early.

Vicky frowned with confusion and then shook her head.

"It was there when I came in." She left.

Hermione sat back down, feeling her head throb as she inhaled a large sip of coffee. She turned the envelope over in her hands, carefully breaking the seal. Hermione unfolded the single piece of paper and lifted it to her gaze,

You have betrayed me.

She dropped the letter as if it scalded her fingers. With a gasp, she stared down at it in horror, her heart beating much too fast. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his script. She knew it too well after those months and months of studying together, then practically living together.

He was alive.

He was back.

How? Why? Where did he go?

A thousand questions raced through her mind, each making her angrier than the next. How dare he. Betrayed him? He was the one who left her.

Hermione snatched the note up and flipped it over—there was nothing. Her brain filled with anxiety at the thought of him coming in here while she was sleeping and leaving this. She instinctually pressed her hand against her chest, fingering the buttons of her blouse.

She had to find him.

Hermione jumped to her feet just as Vicky returned with her business attire. Hermione practically barreled her way through the door, the letter still clutched tightly in her shaking hand.

"Where are you-?"

"-Cancel my day. Something's come up. It's an emergency."

Before Vicky could respond, Hermione was out the door and racing down the corridors, shoving people out of her way. She slammed her fingers against the lift's button, desperate to find some answers. She'd go straight to Grimmauld Place.

But her plan was derailed as soon as the lift clanged open and her fiancé stepped out with a warm smile plastered across his face.

"Hermione!" he cried, embracing her in his arms and burying his face into her neck. "Mmm, I missed you," Harry pulled back to look in her eyes. All warmth and delight immediately left his gaze as he cupped her cheek, looking at her with sudden urgency. "What's wrong? Why do you look as if you've seen a ghost?"

"A ghost?" she repeated numbly, searching his eyes.

"Hermione? What is it?" he asked seriously, gripping her arm.

She crushed the letter deeper into her back pocket as she forced a smile onto her face before entwining their hands.

"Sorry, I just got some weird news," she shook her head as he opened his mouth. "Nothing important, just a work thing." She leaned in and kissed him gently.

"You sure?" he insisted, squeezing her fingers between his.

She nodded with a smile.

"Why are you in jeans?" he asked with a grin, looking her up and down. Before Hermione could reply she saw a deep frown crease his forehead. "And where is your ring?"

"My ring?" she repeated as she looked down at her bare fingers. Her engagement ring was gone. That foul snake must have slithered it right off—she was going to find him and blast him into the next century. What the hell was she supposed to tell Harry?

She was saved in that moment by the booming voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Good Morning, Ms. Granger. Harry, nice to see you back."

They shook hands and she noticed Harry's smile did not reach his eyes. She hid her hands in her pockets guiltily as the Minister of Magic turned to her.

"Might I have a word with you in private, Miss Granger? A work matter." Something in his eyes made her stomach do a flip, but she nodded all the same.

She followed Kingsley back into her office after murmuring to her future husband that they would catch up later.

She shut the door behind them and motioned for the Minister to take a seat.

"How can I help you?"

Kingsley stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. She was unnerved by his silence, his attempt to read her features before he jumped with his attack. Hermione steeled herself for the worst-case scenario. He was going to fire her.

"Have you had any contact in the last twenty-four hours with Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione was wrong. This was the worst-case scenario. Malfoy was infiltrating her life in a surreal way—just as he'd done before.

"I'm sorry?" she tried in her most professional tone, feeling the floor shift beneath her feet. She sat down quickly. "I haven't seen Malfoy in three years, same as anyone else, I would imagine."

The Minister looked sheepish, almost embarrassed, as he folded his hands and sat forward.

"I understand this is a delicate matter for you, Hermione," he began in his deep, smooth voice. "But if he's alive, I need to know."

"Why wouldn't he be?" she countered, cringing at the way he said 'delicate.'

Kingsley paused, giving her a look of sympathy.

"I am…aware of your history."

Hermione could think of nothing to say, so she just stared.

"He came to me three years ago on a rainy night with a request. He asked me for a particular mission. One that he did not want shared with even those…closest to him," he watched her for a moment before continuing on. "He left with the intention of returning within the year."

"Were you the only one who knew about this?" she whispered, referring not only to Malfoy's mission but to whatever he'd told the Minister about their relationship.

"I was." He purposely avoided her eyes.

Hermione scoured the newspapers for weeks after his disappearance and found nothing. Clearly the Minister covered it up.

"What happened to him?" she burst out, unable to control her whiplashing emotions.

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm not certain. I sent some people looking, but they came back empty handed. I…assumed the worst."

"What about his mother? I'm shocked she didn't cause a stir."

"After his disappearance—loss of contact, I should say—she became very ill. She's in Saint Mungo's, they say she won't last the year."

Hermione felt her heart drop in anguish.

"So why are you asking me about him now? What's changed?" she insisted, feeling dread incase her.

"I received the head of Bellatrix Lastrange on my desk this morning," he stated simply.

Hermione felt her jaw drop.

Bellatrix had been one of the few who escaped after the final battle. The one who nearly tortured her to death. When Hermione thought about regrets, that was what came to mind. She wished more than anything that the death of Bellatrix would bring her peace of mind. Draco was aware of the nightmares that came back to her and the fear she sometimes felt that the witch would return to finish what she started.

"He was after his aunt?" she asked quietly, trying to banish the shock coursing through her every feature.

Kingsley nodded.

"So…he's alive. And he's here," she added to herself for confirmation.

"Which brings me back to the question at hand. Has he contacted you?"

"No." Hermione felt the lie slip easily through her lips.

"Hermione…if he has reached out to you I need to know," Kingsley frowned.

"Why do you presume he would reach out to me? After all this time..." she added more to herself.

"You were the last person to have contact with him before he left."

Hermione thought back to the stormy night she'd torn from Grimmauld Place, furious with his cold dismissal.

"How do you know that?"

But Kingsley was already getting to his feet and shaking his head. "If you hear from him, please let me know immediately. He needs to be de-briefed and I want to make sure his mental health…" he stopped as her eyes snapped to his with overwhelming fear. "Hasn't been compromised."

Hermione's mind raced to the many things that could happen to an Auror on a mission. Especially one where said Auror was Draco Malfoy and he was on a revenge mission to destroy his mother's wicked sister. Apparently he succeeded. Hermione simultaneously felt terror and relief race through her system. He'd most likely been tortured, beaten and imprisoned if Bellatrix was able to sink her claws into him. She couldn't help the small gasp that erupted from her lips as her head spun in a sickening way.

"Kingsley," she whispered softly.

The Minister stared at her. "Yes, Hermione?"

"You'll keep me informed?"

He nodded once and took his leave. As soon as the door shut behind him, Hermione hit it with a silencing spell.

She let out the breath she'd been holding then threw her head into her hands and sobbed.

He was alive. He was back. But who was he?

Hermione had to know.

She couldn't come apart like this. She couldn't allow herself to feel more for him than she already did. Her hate and love for Draco Malfoy was the most precarious of balancing acts. She wanted to scream in his face and hit him, she wanted to tear his clothes off and press her skin up against his, to breathe in his scent and remember that he was real.

He had been hers.

She wiped at her eyes, refusing to get pulled back into the past. Instead, she righted herself. Trying not to imagine the smirk of satisfaction he must have felt at seeing her drunkenly passed out in Muggle clothes in her office, Hermione got to her feet and went in search of her demon.


By nine that evening she was not only exhausted but absolutely furious. Hermione spent her day searching everywhere for her lost lover. She turned off her cell phone, making it impossible for anyone to reach her and then went hunting through the entire city, visiting every place that she thought he might haunt. She visited parks and museums—she tried Grimmauld Place and every bar in Wizarding London. She even tried the hospital, surely he would be visiting with his mother.

But alas, her findings turned up nil and so she returned home to her flat.

Hermione spent only a couple nights of the week at Harry's— they would be living together soon enough. Harry never pushed her, not like Malfoy. He was completely fine with giving her space. He knew her so well and never tried to tame her independent spirit.

Malfoy all but crushed her. Dark thoughts came to her head as a flash of his muscled flesh on top of her, filling her with passion, with black flames of desire. She shook her head as she jogged up to the entrance of her two-story townhouse. She carefully looked around before opening the doors. It was dark and silent.

"Crooks?" she called, flicking on the lights. Bushy tailed and disgruntled, her loveable cat came prowling into the foyer licking his lips and looking thoroughly satisfied. "What have you gotten into naughty boy?" she chastised, kicking off her boots and leaning down to pet him.

She gasped. There, around his collar was a ring, tied with a silk green bow. But it wasn't hers. It was similar, but much bigger.

"What the-?" she jumped to her feet, suddenly feeling as if he were right there, just behind her. She spun around, there was no one. She lifted her wand and began to make her way carefully into the shadow swept hall.

Crookskanks suddenly let out a furious hiss, his eyes narrowing into the darkness she could not see past.

A frantic knocking broke Hermione's tension as she let out a scream and turned back towards the front entrance, her wand exploding with magic and shattering the glass panes of the doors. She staggered backwards from the force as Harry's yell rent the air.

"Oh my god. Oh my god!" she breathed, flying to the entrance.

She tore open the doors. Harry stood up, his hair standing on end, blood oozing from a slice in his cheek. Hermione rushed into his arms.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I'm so sorry."

"Hermione, it's okay calm down. Are you alright?" he asked, lifting her face in his hands.

"I'm fine," she whispered, her eyes wide as she reached up to wipe the tear drop of blood falling from the wound. Her hands were shaking.

"What happened?" he asked, looking around at the broken glass.

"My magic. It…exploded." Hermione was already racking her brain, rationalizing what would cause such a powerful wave of energy. Emotions. Emotional duress. Yes, at the moment she felt very close to snapping.

"I feel like I've asked you this a thousand times today, but is everything okay?"

"I've not been sleeping well," she murmured. "That happens sometimes when you're away," she added and turned to repair the door.

"Here, let me do that." Harry reached out and grabbed her hand. Hermione started to protest just as his fingers clasped around the ring still clutched in her wand hand.

Before she could open her mouth with some sort of baffling excuse, Harry looked up at her in surprise, his whole face lighting up.

"Your ring!" he laughed, taking it carefully from her and fitting it onto her finger with a lingering touch. "I thought maybe you didn't like it," he whispered with a blush.

Hermione snatched her hand back, clutching the ring a bit too desperately in concealment.

"I love it," she whispered, leaning forward to kiss him and cover her anxiety. "Come in," she offered leading him into the house.


"What's up?" he asked as they dropped down onto her sofa with a cup of tea. She looked at him inquisitively.

"What do you mean?"

"Well you disappeared from work and I couldn't get ahold of you. I was worried something happened."

"I just had a few things to take care of."

Harry nodded, looking at her with mounting concern but he let it go as she curled up into his arms.

"What did Kingsley want?" he asked quietly after a few moments.

Hermione felt her pulse skip. She hated lying to Harry. It was her least favorite pastime so she would tell him what she could.

"Bellatrix Lastrange is dead."

Harry pulled back at her words and looked down at her in wonder.

"What? How? Were you going to mention this?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Her head was delivered to the Ministry this morning."

"Bloody hell, Hermione. Are you alright?"

"Yes. Of course, it was a shock...but a relief."

"Wow. Does he know who killed her?"

"He has his theories," she replied, wishing desperately for this conversation to be over.

Harry seemed to read her mind as he once again gathered her into his arms, a little tighter than normal.

"Well it doesn't matter now, right? She's gone."

Hermione nodded, feeling tears crest her eyes. One monster was dead and another had returned. Was he here to destroy her? What did he want?

"I'm exhausted," she muttered, closing her eyes and wishing the world would disappear.

Harry helped her carefully to her feet.

"Let's go to bed," he insisted."You're safe."

Hermione pressed herself into his comfort, knowing that the term safe was relative. She wondered briefly if Harry himself was safe. Especially since she knew what Malfoy was capable of.

Harry slowly removed her clothes, kissing her body and extinguishing reality from her mind. They made love before falling asleep in each other's arms.

And although Hermione felt as if she would never sleep again, the exhaustion from the stressful day took hold and the last image she saw before falling into the abyss was a pair of dark, accusatory eyes.