Author's Note: Hey everyone. Thanks for all the wonderful feedback on the first chapter of this new fic - wow! All the follows and favourites have been lovely, and your reviews have been so encouraging. I've been nervous as hell about this story, and hearing your feedback really helps - and I'm glad some of you are as excited for a new long story as I am! I hope you enjoy this chapter as we dig in further.

Be sure to visit me on tumblr if you haven't already: indreamsink. I'm a lot easier to reach there, and I love getting asks!

So much love to my alpha, Kyonomiko.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Attaching a respectable title to someone like Malfoy felt wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

He glared back, his eyes dark and threatening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meet me for lunch?

Harry

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" Harry asked, scowling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Always," the woman nodded.

"Anything specific?" Draco asked through clenched teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Malfoy

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

HG

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

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