Hermione woke up to a quiet flat and burrowed deeper into the duvet, enjoying the peaceful moment. When her stomach began to rumble, she decided to tiptoe to the kitchen without waking up Draco and find something to eat. She was a little surprised to see the empty bed in the living room, but it was only while she was pouring orange juice that she realised the bathroom door was open, and the bathroom itself dark.

She became a little worried when Draco didn't respond when she called his name, then told herself not to be silly, he'd probably just gone out to fetch some breakfast. Or maybe he felt like a walk.

She felt even more uneasy when she saw his keys on the end table by the door. He wouldn't have forgotten his keys. He never forgot his keys, even when they left the flat together. She forced herself to open his wardrobe, and saw only the wizarding robes they'd bought in Edinburgh. No Muggle clothes. No Muggle clothes at all. That's when the panic set in.


Harry had come to his office early to avoid the gossip vultures trying to get a reaction from him to the news that his best friend had been fired from her job, but to no avail. Every time any of his Ministry co-workers saw him, they'd come up to him and express their 'absolute astonishment' at the 'unfair dismissal' of the great Hermione Granger, and what would poor Miss Granger do now? He was tired of keeping that same bland smile on his face, tired of being polite to perfect strangers. It was almost as bad as it had been right after the War.

So when he pushed open the door to his office after the last meeting of the day, longing to go home and take a long hot bath - preferably with Ginny - he noticed someone waiting for him.

"George told me they fired her."

"Good evening to you, too, Ron. And yes, she received notice yesterday. Nothing anyone can do at the moment. She'll use the time to prepare for the appeal and blast the Wizengamot and Ministry objections to pieces, and that will be that. She'll bounce back. She always does."

Ron sighed and sat down in one of the chairs in front of Harry's desk, and Harry settled into his own chair.

"So she's okay? You talked to her?"

Harry nodded. "Firecall yesterday. She's furious, of course, but you know what she's like. She'll channel all that energy into something worthwhile."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, like getting old Ferretboy's money and grand house back?"

Harry placed his elbows on his desk and pressed his fingertips to his temples.

"Ron, if you're just here to have the same argument again…"

His voice trailed off. He was tired of listening to Ron's rants about Draco Malfoy, even more so now he'd spent time with the guy. He couldn't really say he liked him, but he did respect the man. Once he'd been a pampered Pureblood prince, a bully and a bigot, and the Draco Malfoy from his childhood was not someone he'd like to know under any circumstances. But the man had survived four years in Azkaban, and after being ostracised from the only life he knew and tossed into the Muggle world with barely more than the clothes he'd worn, he'd managed to survive, without magic, without money, without even a roof over his head or a fire to keep him warm. And without resenting any of it. Harry had seen that Malfoy still believed he deserved it all. He didn't blame either Wizards or Muggles for what had happened. Had Hermione ignored him when he'd stumbled into that pub, almost a month ago, he'd have gone on surviving and accepting whatever curve balls life threw his way.

Harry shook his head to clear his thoughts and realised Ron had continued talking.

"... so I understand that. And Ginny gave me a talking to, too. I'm trying, I really am, but… I mean, Harry, he was always the Ferret, ever since fourth year, and that memory will amuse me until the end of my days. But even if I don't get it, it's important to Hermione and that makes it important to me."

Harry wanted to say something in return, but a silver otter materialised on his desk and started speaking in Hermione's voice.

"Harry, please come to my flat as soon as you can. Draco's gone and I don't know where he is. The trial's in a week, you have to find him. Please. Please come."

Then the otter evaporated into thin air.

"I have to go," Harry said, pushing himself up from his chair and summoning his cloak.

"I'll come with you."

"Is that a good idea? She doesn't want to see you, you know that."

Ron took a deep breath.

"Look, I know that, I do. But you heard her voice, she's bordering on hysterical here, so if I can do anything to help... You know you can't bring in the Aurors unless there are suspicious circumstances, and, I mean, it's Malfoy, mate, you know they won't want to touch this case with a ten foot pole."

Harry shook his head, but said, with a resigned sigh, "Fine. But if she kicks you out, you leave without protest."


Hermione threw open the door and her face immediately fell when she recognised Harry and Ron. She beckoned them both inside, looked out into the hallway, then closed the door again.

"I can't believe he left without even leaving a note," she said, sagging against the door, her arms wrapped around herself in a fruitless attempt to make the loneliness inside go away. Harry stepped up to her and pulled her in a hug.

"Are you sure he's gone? Maybe he's just gone for a walk, or maybe he's visiting a friend. He may be back later."

"He was gone when I woke up this morning. He left his keys on the end table. He took all his Muggle clothes but left his Wizarding robes. He's gone. I went everywhere, Harry. Everywhere we've been in these past weeks, the shop, the restaurants, walked around the neighbourhood for hours and nobody has seen him. He's left. He's just left. You have to find him. Please, Harry!"

Harry guided her to the kitchen table and sat her down on a chair. He noticed the sofa was still transfigured to a bed, one that clearly had been slept in. Ron was studying the bed and the clothes in the wardrobe.

"Why do you think he's left? I mean, there's no note, like I said, maybe he'll be back tonight. What makes you so sure he's gone? Did anything happen in the past few days? Did anything change?"

Hermione clasped Harry's hand tightly in her own, and tried to get her mind to slow down. Just having her two best friends in the room made her feel calmer and more herself again.

"You know everything that happened, Harry. Yesterday morning I received an owl from Figgmore telling me I was fired. I ranted about that, of course, and he tried to distract me by talking about your obstacle race from Sunday."

Hermione paused and her eyes flicked to Ron, whose face had turned bright red, but whether with embarrassment or anger she couldn't rightly say. He leaned against the table behind Harry and looked away from her.

"Then around noon we received the date and time for his appeal. And we spent all afternoon going over his testimony and the old transcripts, and he seemed fine. He was a little apprehensive about what was coming, I suppose, but then he has been from the start. He really seemed to finally be starting to believe it might work, you know." Hermione rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I don't know what else to tell you, Harry. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary."

But as she said that, something was niggling at the back of her mind. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, her brow creasing in concentration.

"He did seem a little strange last night. Went to bed straight after we ended our call. He didn't even say goodnight."

Her eyes flew open.

"He always says goodnight. So maybe something was wrong? But I have no idea what could have changed. Nothing happened."

"Nothing?" Harry pressed on.

Hermione blushed, but didn't answer the question. Instead, she said, "I'm just worried something's happened to him, you know? I mean, because of that Prophet article, everyone knows he's living here, and the date of the appeal is probably widely known as well. He doesn't have a wand, Harry, he can't defend himself. What if someone came and kidnapped him to make sure he can't make it to his trial? Or worse, to…"

She tightened her grip on Harry's hands. "What if someone's out to kill him, take revenge or some such idiotic idea? You know there are crazies out there, Harry, you deal with them every day."

Harry freed one of his hands and quickly put it over her mouth to stop her from talking.

"Has anyone breached your wards?"

She raised her shoulders, and mumbled something against his hand. He placed it back in his lap, and she repeated, "I forgot to check."

Ron got up before either of them moved and whipped out his wand.

"I'll check, if that's okay with you. You keep talking."

Hermione watched as Ron moved towards the door and started muttering spells to test her wards.

"What are you not telling me, 'Mione?" Harry pressed on, his voice soft but unrelenting.

Hermione blushed again.

"Harry…"

"The more we know the easier it will be to find him, 'Mione. You know that. I doubt you would have slept through any breach in your wards, and since his clothes are gone, I'm thinking he probably left of his own free will."

Hermione looked at their entwined hands. Harry was her best friend, and she knew he wouldn't judge, but with Ron here…

"Why did you bring Ron?"

"He was in my office when your Patronus arrived. He volunteered to help. We didn't know the particulars so we wanted to keep this disappearance as quiet as possible. And since this doesn't look like foul play, it's probably best to keep it this way. Why are you avoiding my question?"

Hermione squeezed his hands and then let go. She walked up to the window and looked out over the street. It was raining again, a cold and steady drizzle that never looks like it's that bad, but soaks everything and everyone inside out within minutes. She shivered involuntarily.

"We almost kissed."

Her voice was so soft, Harry nearly missed it.

"What?" Ron spat, outraged. Hermione ignored him, lost in the memory for one moment longer.

"Sunday evening. We almost kissed. I'm pretty sure we almost kissed. But he turned away and between me receiving my notice and the court date being announced we didn't really talk about it, so I don't know…"

"Did you want to kiss him?" Ron asked through clenched teeth. His face had turned an unusual shade of scarlet, and his blue eyes were cold with fury. He was standing on the other side of the table, his fists forcefully coming down onto the wooden table top.

Hermione whirled around, her eyes angrily focusing on her friend. Harry glanced between them and decided not to interfere - yet.

"Yes, yes I wanted to kiss him. Is that what you want to hear, Ron? What business is it of yours, anyway? I don't even know why you're here. You've shown time and time again you don't care about me at all, so don't go pretending you're shocked that I'm moving on."

"But it's Malfoy! Of all people…"

"So? What does that matter? You don't know what he's like now, you haven't talked to him since Hogwarts." She stepped closer to her side of the table and mirrored his stance.

"I can understand you want to help the little Ferret, Hermione, you've always had a thing for the lost and destitute. But there's a difference between helping and a pity shag."

"A pity shag? If I wanted a pity shag I'd come back to you."

They were both breathing heavily and glaring. Harry made to move between them, but then Hermione turned away again, her shoulders slumped, her hands pulling angrily on the sleeves of her jumper.

"I can't even imagine any more what it was like before he moved in here," she said in a low voice. "I do want him in my life. If something happens to him, I don't know what I'd do…"

Her voice broke and she started sobbing, loud, wrecking sobs that made her body shudder. Harry caught her when her knees gave out and held her, muttering comforting words and rubbing soothing circles on her back until she calmed down.

Ron slumped down onto a chair, his head in his hands, his shoulders drooping. He glanced at Harry and Hermione occasionally, but didn't say anything.

Hermione calmed down again eventually. She studiously ignored Ron, which he didn't blame her for.

"Try not to worry, Hermione," Harry said, sending a questioning look over her head towards Ron.

"The wards haven't been breached," Ron said when he caught Harry's eye. His tone was mechanical and dull - Hermione's confession had clearly shaken him.

Harry's lips twitched, but he tried to suppress his reaction. So Malfoy had left the flat willingly, and it would be hard to track him down.

"I'll try to find him," he said, with a deep sigh. "But you have to understand, it won't be easy. He has no wand and can't use magic, so we can't use the usual magical means of locating someone. If he's returned to the Muggle world it's entirely possible he will manage to disappear completely." He saw Hermione's eyes fill with tears she was desperately trying to fight, and his heart broke for her. He'd noticed that she'd grown fond of Malfoy at their dinner, but hadn't said anything. It wasn't any of his business, after all. But from his behaviour at that dinner, he'd imagined Malfoy at least halfway in love with her as well, and he just couldn't understand why the man would disappear in the middle of the night, without leaving a note, a week before his - likely triumphant - return to Wizarding society.

"I need you to give me a list of all the places and people he's recently seen or mentioned to you. And, Hermione, please stay here as much as possible. He'll need you to be here when he returns." He thought it was probably safer to say that, than to admit that though Malfoy had probably left willingly, it didn't mean that he was staying away voluntarily. Some Death Eater sympathizers were still at large, and they might have wanted to recruit him, or punish him for taking up with a Muggleborn. Or the families of War victims might have seen him and taken the opportunity to exact revenge. He didn't need her running all over London in search of him and putting herself in danger. Harry let out a sigh of relief when she agreed, and, as soon as Hermione had given him the list, he and Ron left.

Ron didn't speak when they arrived in Gimmauld Place, and didn't even dodge the fist Harry swung at him.

"You promised you'd try to make it up to her, and instead you yell at her when she's so obviously upset? You're a selfish wanker, Ronald Weasley," he yelled.

Ron had fallen backwards onto the sofa, and cradled his cheek in one hand while staring up at Harry with dazed eyes.

"She's in love with him." He spoke in the same mechanical and dull tone he'd used earlier. Harry sighed and dropped onto the floor, unfolding the paper Hermione had given him and studying the - painfully short - list of people and places.

"That seems obvious."

"I didn't expect that."

"Again, that seems obvious."

They were quiet for a long time.

"What do you think happened?"

Harry shrugged. "It's possible he was abducted after leaving the flat, but Hermione's flat is under the Fidelius so not many people actually know where she lives. It's unlikely anyone has been lying in wait in her general neighbourhood, but it's a possibility. I'll check the Apparition Tracking Map from last night for this area. If I go back to the office now, there will be less people on duty so less questions asked."

Ron nodded.

"What can I do?"

Harry frowned. "You still want to help?"

Ron looked away and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Look, I know I screwed up, again. I can say I'm sorry over and over, but I know it won't do much good. So yes, I still want to help. I never want to see her so distraught again. Merlin, Harry, it was almost as bad as when the Healers told her that her parents' memory charm would never be reversed. I just... Let me help, please?"

Harry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck while he studied his friend.

"Maybe you can go around to the Leaky, ask Hannah if she's seen Malfoy. If he's gone back into the Wizarding world that's the likeliest place for him to cross into Diagon Alley. But be discrete, Ron, I'm serious. Make sure nobody overhears. We can meet back here in thirty minutes or so. If we have no other leads, I think we'll have to go about it the Muggle way."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been living on the streets for the past year or so. He might be trying to find a place to sleep in some of the homeless shelters. We can check those. He won't try to sleep in the parks in this weather."

Ron blinked, confused. "Sleep in the parks?"

"It's what people do when they have no place to live and no money to pay for a room."

"But I thought… His vaults…"

"And how would he have gotten into Gringotts without a wand? Look, we can discuss this later. Just go to the Leaky, I'll pass by the Ministry, and we'll compare notes afterwards."

Harry fixed Ron with a glare that made him swallow whatever questions he might have wanted to ask, and with a terse nod goodbye they apparated to their destinations.


That week was one of the strangest Hermione had lived through since the War. She hardly ever left the house, and then only to go to places she had been to with Draco, like the Muggle supermarket or the fish and chips place nearby, or the tea shop she'd first seen him. She tried to concentrate on the appeal she had to prepare for, but time and time again she would catch herself staring out the windows at the street below, hoping against hope that she'd see a flash of blond hair, or the emerald green scarf he loved to wear.

Ginny came to sit with her when she wasn't training, making her eat, and keeping her company while they waited until Harry stumbled out of the Floo, a regretful look on his face betraying the lack of success before he could say a word.

If she spent most of her nights in his bed, hugging his pillow close and desperately trying to cling to the last of his scent, then that was something she didn't share with either of her friends. And they never asked why she didn't transfigure the bed back into a sofa.

The night the frost painted ice flowers on her windows, she cried.


AN: Thank you so much for all your kind reviews! I can't believe this story now has 100+ followers! Eek!?
Bit of a filler chapter, I know. We'll catch up with Draco soon, I promise.