AN: Canon compliant until capture at Malfoy Manor in 7th Year. I have taken artistic licence when it comes to certain creatures and characters in this fic. This fic is set 3 years after the 2nd wizarding war.
Eventual Dramione, rated M for future scenes.
This is my first fic so apologies for any mistakes (They are my own) and of course I'm making no money from this and all characters, except a few OCs, are the property of J.K. Rowling.
I'd love to thank LissaDream and Snowblind12 for being my biggest inspiration to write. They're incredible, so you should definitely go and check out their work and give them some love. I 1000% wouldn't be writing this if I didn't know them. They're my favourite people. Also to the DFW FB group for positive messages and In particular NotSoSirius92 for being my mentor.
This story is still in development, so I can't promise upload times at all, but I will do my best to remain as regular as possible. I have the whole outline and finish planned, and I'm about 6 or so Chapters written. I will update tags when necessary and I will post warnings if something can get upsetting but this is meant to be a HEA, slow burn Dramione. I don't intend to write Author Notes. I listen to fanfiction more than reading it and ANs can disrupt the flow, so unless I have a valid reason, I wont put them in.
Here is Chapter 1 for your enjoyment.
A Kiss Of Two Broken Souls
Chapter 1
Draco Malfoy was sat at his desk, piles of paperwork surrounded him as he filled out yet another report. He truly hated the menial side of his job however, needs must. Being responsible for so many people gave him a purpose but 3 years on since he landed probationary work with the Ministry instead of jail time in Azkaban, he was feeling a bit lacklustre. As he detailed the events of one of his latest cases, he was quite glad to be able to sign on the dotted line. He laid his quill down and stretched out his fingers just as a commotion at the other end of the room caught his attention.
Harry was half running towards him, a look of shock plastered all over his face, his jacket carelessly thrown over one shoulder, his other hand too busy with a phone to find its sleeve. Their eyes met from across the room and it told Draco everything he needed to know; This was important, and it meant he had his chance to leave the office.
"Malfoy, get in here now!" The dark-haired man wildly gestured to a door into the private office near to Draco's own desk. Draco hadn't been granted his own room; his colleagues believed that keeping his in the communal space made them safer – though Draco had never given them a reason to doubt him in the 3 years he had been working his probation here.
He stepped around his chair and grabbed his jacket, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he stepped through the door into Harry's office. "Is it her?"
"Yes." Harry breathlessly spewed, "A woman phoned Katie, gave us everything. We need to go. Now."
Draco strode towards the fireplace, always ready to leave at a moment's notice. Harry Accio'd his belongings into a bag and grabbed the pot of floo powder gesturing to Draco to go first. Draco didn't waste a second as he stepped through the floo connection in a single stride and headed straight in Katie's direction, not waiting for his co-worker, who was only 3 steps behind.
Katie Bell sat in the centre of a crowd of people, nursing a hot cup of tea. Everyone was clamouring for more information, but she seemed mute in shock. Draco snatched up her notepad, his eyes darting from left to right as he read everything as fast as he could.
"Is it really her?" Harry asked as his feet hit the hearth, Katie looked up at the two men and nodded. Katie stood as Harry approached her, his arm reaching around her shoulder and he planted a sweet kiss upon her cheek.
"The details all match. It's a really strong possibility but it isn't going to be easy to get to her, she's protected"
"That'll be why we haven't heard any reports yet. She's isn't in the country," Draco held the notebook out to Harry. His mind whirled fast, trying to piece together everything he'd just seen. This was going to be his biggest challenge yet.
Draco ran the team of Probationary workers at the Ministry, known as the Community Service Team. They were a handful of ex Death Eaters who had been granted the position in lieu of prison time, many of them the children of the inner circle. It was a scheme thought up by Minerva McGonagall and Kingsley Shacklebolt when it was clear that Azkaban was filling up too fast. They were given 5 years of unpaid work at the Ministry, helping to repair the country after the war but their biggest goal had been to return any missing people to the Wizarding World.
They had successfully integrated themselves into muggle Britain. Katie's office was situated near to The Leaky Cauldron, close enough to walk back to Diagon Alley on her lunch breaks, often spent cosying up with Harry, the door locked and silencing charms cast on the office.
Draco receded into his own mind, pulling out boxes from past cases and rifling through memories trying to match up some ideas to get this job done fast. Cases after case flashed before him, tidbits of information being saved – just in case.
"She's not in England. She's been out the country since the beginning. This will be why we haven't had a lead yet. It must be her. This has to be right." Harry seemed to only want to point out the obvious, as if voicing it would make it easier to understand. No one else made a sound, everyone looking at each other as if answers should be obvious but nothing came out.
Katie cleared her throat, anxiety pouring out of her like lava from a freshly blown volcano; hot and thick.
"Rita knows, Harry. Rita Skeeter." She swallowed. "She's been bugging the lines so she's heard everything."
Draco was proud to say that he was not one of these idiotic press reporters, thank you very much. Showing his ID to security on the way into the large hall, he strode up to the stage and ascended the stairs. Bulbs flashed at him as he took a seat on one end of the long table.
If he'd had his way, he would be delivering this press report, but he didn't get his own way and in Draco's opinion that meant this was going to be a roaring disappointment. He straightened his badge, poured himself a glass of water from a jug situated in the middle of the table and kept his rugged chin held high in front of an audience of a few dozen members of the press. Despite his heart racing, he kept a cool face. This conference was a 'make or break it' for his department, his team. For him.
Many quills scratched on parchment while the room whispered a quiet din— The reporters present were eagerly anticipating the news they were here to receive. These types of news bulletins had been quite a common occurrence, and some attended by only the most junior reporters. Nothing on this scale had been seen in the three years since Lord Voldemort had been killed at the battle of Hogwarts.
The wizarding world had rapidly moved on after the war, gradually building themselves up from the dust of war time Britain and emerging into a new era. There was just one thing holding them all back, one person in particular...
Harry Potter walked on stage, wearing a small smile and waving to his audience, he hadn't changed since the war. His hair still jet black, still as messy as ever and his glasses perched on his nose – granted these ones were much more stylish than those awful bottle top specs he used to wear in school. Draco and Harry's working relationship had been a good one. Draco was surprised to find the two men saw eye to eye on several occasions, often Harry sided with Draco to avoid all-out war at the weekly departmental meeting, or so he thought anyway. He was also quietly grateful that Harry had supported him through his trials after the war. There is no doubt that having the Chosen One fight your corner is beneficial to your defence.
Kingsley Shacklebolt sat on Harry's left-hand side. Now the Minister for Magic, he held the position with pride, and he had actively helped bring the Wizarding World out of its depressive post-War era. Kingsley had introduced Draco's department to the Ministry, and it had caused a huge uproar; He'd held his head high and took the pressure from all sides without caving. Draco admired his stoic nature and over the years it had paid off; Draco and his team had helped over 100 people and each one hailed a success under Kingsley's leadership.
On Harry's right sat Ron Weasley, the thorn in Draco's side. Ron still blamed him for everything that had happened thus far, creating a tense atmosphere between them. Draco wasn't surprised though - He probably was to blame for his current situation and so, took the reaction he received from the ginger Weasel, and others like him, with an edge of indifference which only made them hate him a little more.
Draco sat on Kingsley's left and beside Ron sat Minerva McGonagall.
Draco admired Minerva a lot. They had a firm partnership built on her desire to allow Draco and his comrades the chance to fix their mistakes. She was the reason Draco was where he was today. Her testimony, along with Harry's, had spared him a sentence in Azkaban and so he was left to fix his mistakes by working alongside Harry and his band of do-gooders. The grey-haired witch was now Headmistress at Hogwarts and she relished her new position. You would often find her partaking in ball games on the Quidditch pitch and teaching students how to cook for themselves. She breathed a new lease of life into the old war-torn walls of the school. Malfoy estates had made a large donation to the reparation works as part of Draco's suspended sentence and he was pleased to see the difference that money was making to Hogwarts.
Harry stood. The din quietened.
"Thank you all for coming at such short notice, however we felt it important to call you here today to, uh" Harry paused, unsure, "to avoid wild speculation."
Draco eyed Rita Skeeter, her wicked smile curling the corners of her rosy red lips as her Quick Quotes Quill spewed its vitriol onto parchment. Still as flamboyant as ever, she had made it her mission to slay Draco in his work, her motto - 'the Quill is mightier than the sword' – made its way into every article she'd written about him.
"We have some vital information to share, regarding our Community Service team and their current focus here at the Ministry…"
"Is it true, Mr. Potter? Do you - "
"… It has been agreed between all," he stressed the word 'all' as though any confusion need not be elaborated on, "the departments working within the Retrieval Committee that we should share some new intelligence we have." Harry interrupted the shout from the audience. "We will invite you for questions afterwards."
Draco scoffed, almost. Harry was not a public speaker. The members of the press were quiet for him out of respect, not because he commanded his audience, he is the Great Harry Potter after all. Gryffindors Golden Boy, The Boy Who Lived. If he had just been allowed to speak, there would be none of this rabble. He'd have got it out already, but Harry was just dithering.
"In the 3 years since the war, we have worked tirelessly to fix the mistakes others who came before us made..."
"… But one error has remained a mystery to us for a long time and we believe we may have a breakthrough in the disappearance of Hermione Jean Granger."
"Miss Jean!" A squeal of excited voices came from the corridor. Hermione put her book down on the old desk and smiled brightly, as a small gaggle of young students ran towards her.
"Miss Jean, we did it!", "Oh you won't believe us, it worked!" "Come and see!"
Within seconds, many small hands wrapped into hers and around her waist, pulling her from her quiet reflection and out into the midday sun. All of them giggling and chatting away, Hermione couldn't really piece together a single sentence. Their delightful accents changing familiar words and her brain didn't seem to work fast enough to keep up with their excitement.
The girls led Hermione across to their vegetable patch where runner beans had sprouted from their vines. Vegetables of all kinds spread across the area where clearly, someone had been encouraging their cultivation.
"Well done girls, I told you all your hard work would pay off one day!"
She reached out and picked the largest one from its stalk and broke pieces off, sharing them around and watching in delight as their small faces ranged from pure happiness to complete disgust. "Now, these are great when they're fresh, but they taste even better when cooked. We must wait for them to grow more and we can all join and create a meal for everyone". She popped a piece into her mouth and crunched down – She'd loved teaching the students to cultivate plants of many varieties.
A chorus of "Yes, Miss Jean" came and the girls ran off to play together.
"You're doing a stellar job with that bunch," Hermione turned to see Linzy, another worker at the camp. She stood tall, her hair muddy blonde and poker straight – something Hermione envied her for – and it was nearly always tied back in a messy bun. Linzy was from Australia and Hermione loved to hear her speak, her accent soothing Hermione's soul. Sometimes, she would sit in with Linzy while the blonde read to the children, it felt familiar - somehow.
"Thanks," She smiled.
"Half of those girls never spoke a word before you got here. It's like you cast a spell over them."
Hermione scoffed. "Ahh, if only that were true. I'm sure if I had magic I could fix the world and these kids wouldn't be here at all."
"The world is certainly no fairy tale," Linzy's joined Hermione as she walked back into the school building, "but you're a great start in making it a brighter place for some."
"Thanks, Linzy, I'm glad I am doing something worthwhile." Hermione felt as though the words didn't mean anything. She'd been just over 2 years now and while there was running water and a new school building, Hermione still didn't feel as though she really belonged. Something was missing.
"Do you know if Geoffrey has had any luck yet?" Geoffrey was their manager; he oversaw the whole camp and he was also in charge of making the decisions there. They'd come a long way since they had started but he was now having difficulties obtaining more funding to continue their work. Hermione grabbed a few logs for the fire and started walking towards the dining hut.
"I don't know, he mentioned that there is a chance another group of volunteers are coming, but you know how that works out… They never stay for long."
"Voluntourism" Both girls laughed.
"When are they coming?" Hermione enquired,
"Maybe next week, maybe not" Linzy had never been a great fan of those temporary workers. They tended to show up to a raucous greeting from the village and then disappeared a week later without a trace, going back to their lives like this place didn't exist. Linzy often made it hard for them, getting them to carry water for miles and teaching them that the camp didn't just pop up one day with all the amenities it has. "Maybe there will be a cute one who is looking for a bit more than voluntourism" She winked in Hermione's direction.
Hermione blushed, "Stop it!" she laughed, "Maybe it is you scaring them all off you know. Or maybe one is a real Prince Charming who wants to pay for indoor plumbing and gas pipes"
Linzy laughed out loud at that one, "They'd need to be loaded"
A clock ticked 1pm, lunch was over. Hermione left the logs in the dining hut and brushed herself down.
Back to work. She sighed, this monotony could do with being broken up, maybe it was a good thing that the volunteers were coming, she would have to speak to Geoffrey to see what was happening.
Later that evening, Hermione was sat reading by candlelight outside her tent. Her day had been mentally tiresome, and she longed for a little getaway. Unable to concentrate on the words, she placed the book gently down and sighed. The others had all settled for an early night because despite being one of the warmest places in the world, it got mightily cold in the evenings.
She stood and wrapped her blanket around her shoulders. This blanket was a gift to her from some of her students, she had taught them to crochet and each little wonky granny square had been sewn together and was now one of Hermione's favourite possessions. She didn't have much, she didn't need it, but she treasured a few precious items. Her first job here had been to build the school. She was a volunteer originally but having nothing to go back home to had made her stay. Two long years had passed since the plane had landed and Hermione had been promoted to a schoolteacher and given a small allowance every week, accommodation and food included.
Something had begun to bother her on a regular basis, an itch. Some unknown calling from the void and she couldn't understand what was holding her back.
Every now and then, strange things would happen around Hermione that couldn't be explained. Electronics would go haywire near her, so she never had a phone or a computer or contact with the outside world. This meant she wasn't any good at helping with the admin side of her work, it was all physical and she excelled in her role of tutor. But that itch, that desire to do something else, had firmly set in and Hermione knew it wouldn't be long before she asked to change what she was doing.
When Hermione first arrived at the camp, it was a mishmash of canvas tents and dwellings surrounded by corrugated tin sheets. Nothing was permanent and the people here were desperate for help. It had started with building some small homes for the villagers, bringing medicine to them and digging water wells and these had made an immediate change. Hermione lived for the day another piece of good news arrived, like the day a child in the village was named after her or the day the school finally opened after 5 weeks of lugging bricks and mixing clay cement. She thought back to when the school opened, her face spreading into a big beaming smile and the memories flashed before her eyes.
She loved the celebrations and the big village meals where singing and dancing lasted for 3 days or more. Everyone came together to share and be a part of something together. The love she received from these people was something she craved, she needed. Recently there had been little new to celebrate. The camp was stagnating without funding and they really needed to build more homes and fix the shower situation.
Showering in camp meant heating water in an old oil drum over a fire before it piped its way to the shower tents. It wasn't modern but, she guessed, it never really would be. Everyone had to shower at the same time to save on fuel for the fire, women in the mornings and men in the evenings.
Except recently the oil drum had rusted right through and that meant there was no more hot water to shower in, you had to use saucepans and metal cups to warm water in the fire then run towards the tent to use it before it cooled.
She wandered over to the tents housing the female students and peeked inside. It was dark and everyone seemed sound asleep. She checked the school was locked and headed towards the main offices.
Geoffrey was still busy working inside, so she knocked lightly on the door before stepping straight through.
"Hi Jean," He mumbled without taking his eyes off the computer.
"Hello, I was just popping in to let you know that everyone is asleep and I'm thinking of turning in for the night,"
"Yeah, I've just got a few more bits to do before I'm out. Oh, hey! I wondered if you would consider leading the next group of volunteers around camp," He lifted his bespectacled eyes to hers.
"They're coming then. I don't mind leading this time but I'm almost certain that Linzy is desperate for the role you know; you should probably consider asking her first"
"I would ask Linzy, but you know what happened the last time, utter disaster. We cannot afford for that to happen again"
"But she encouraged their donations"
"Jean, that isn't the point. Professionalism is tantamount to the success of this camp and right now, we are severely lacking in funding" he chewed his lip, "and professionalism."
Hermione bit back a silent chuckle. Linzy had maintained her version of professionalism until Geoffrey's back was turned and then she delighted in portraying a certain sense of 'professionalism' amongst the hottest guys on the team.
"When are they coming?"
"2 days,"
What?! "We can't fix the showers in 2 days Geoff; we need to go to the town to get some supplies and you won't sign off the spending" She huffed, her foot almost stomping. Almost.
"Make it their mission" Geoffrey turned back to his work and ended the conversation there. He was very headstrong and felt that his word was final. Something Hermione struggled with but rarely challenged.
He seemed to always have the answers but never ones Hermione believed were any good. 'Making it their mission' meant some bravado was likely to happen amongst the wealthiest of the volunteers and Geoffrey was hoping they'd pay for the supplies out of their own pocket. Less paperwork for him and more work for the volunteers. Hermione hated this part of her job. Sucking up to anonymous people for their money felt insidious. Hermione knew this was his simple answer - his get out clause - but it pulled the purse strings of whomever came to camp, and she was terrible at manipulating people. She had learned that changing Geoffrey's approach at this stage wasn't going to be successful, however, so she sighed and left him to his work; She'd end up doing things her own way and he seemed too busy to argue.
Hermione couldn't sleep. Something was troubling her mind and she fought the turbulence behind her eyes by tossing and turning until she just couldn't do it anymore. Huffing and zipping her sleeping bag undone she ran fingers across her scalp and into her knotted hair.
She'd kept it long, the locals taught her how to braid her hair, so it kept tidy for longer, something the girls in her class delighted in helping with. Surprisingly, she found that her hair loved being free and natural.
She sighed at the thought of her younger, formative years. They'd gone now, only brief glimpses into her past remained and they were usually triggered by scents or sounds. Trains had made her heart leap into her throat. Tears welling in her eyes as the noise of the engines roared to life and steam billowed past her. Linzy's accent had made her feel comforted. Had she been Australian in her past life? Maybe not, her accent was very much a south of England accent. No memories came back to her while she was here; she didn't know how old she was or where she came from. She had no friends and no family and right now, under the equatorial sky, she took in a deep breath and allowed a tear to fall.
The single drop of salty liquid fell from her chin and landed upon the dry sand.
She felt trapped and angry.
Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.
Her sense of fight or flight tingling.
Pain ran down her arms and into her hands.
Her fingers heated.
A cry escaped her lips and she fell, back.
Back.
Back.
"Miss, are you awake?" Beep, beep.
She slowly blinked her eyes open and was assaulted by the bright lights that flooded her vision. All she could hear was a machine beeping and a gentile woman stood over her, a small smile etched across her face. Beep, beep.
"Hello there! No, wait, don't sit up. Just relax" Hands patted her stomach and a blanket was pulled to her shoulders. "Do you know where you are?" Beep, beep.
Where? Where am I? No words formed, just a scratchy noise left her throat. Beep, beep.
"Here you go, my dear, have some water." A straw was placed between her lips and she pulled a long swig of liquid into her dry mouth. "Can you tell me your name?" Beep, beep.
My name? She shook her head. Beep, beep.
"Do you know where you are?" Beep, beep.
She just asked me that, what an odd person "I'm..." Wait… "No." Beep, beep.
"Not to worry, my dear. You're in Kings College Hospital, you've been asleep for quite some time" Beep, beep.
Asleep? I need to sleep, maybe I should just... And the beeping faded.