Draco had scarcely been able to dredge forth an ounce of focus in the days since he had stumbled across Hermione Granger in Muggle London.

It had taken him the rest of the week to finally pass that particular magical training simulation without losing any additional Aurors from his team―and even then, he'd only managed a satisfactory grade. He could see the strain in Potter's face as he failed steadily, but to his credit, he didn't berate Draco for his mediocre efforts as he had done the first time.

And Draco knew the trials would only grow increasingly difficult. He needed to improve upon his reaction time or intuition―or both―if he ever expected to be fully qualified as an Auror.

The idea threatened to discourage him still further, but at the least, Potter hadn't yet given up on their training.

More than once, Draco had opened his mouth to tell the man he'd run across Granger. But each time, something stayed his tongue. Whether it was some misguided sense of propriety or a niggling fear that something else was afoot―and maybe it wasn't Granger after all―he couldn't say.

Still, the conversation they'd had skulked in the back of his mind for days.

After the simulation concluded, Potter looked at him, a little out of breath. "That's adequate for now. Good work today, Malfoy."

Praise or encouragement of any sort was a rarity, and Draco felt a grin split his face. "Thank fucking Merlin."

Potter gave a bit of a chuckle. "I'm on assignment this afternoon, but I'm sure you can find something to do in the office. Sorting files or something. Robards appreciates initiative around that sort of thing."

Although the idea of organising the ubiquitous chaos in the file room held no appeal whatsoever, Draco appreciated the offering for what it was. "Right. Suppose I can do that."

An hour later, Draco blew out a breath as he gazed upon towers of boxes, the tall filing cabinets covering every wall, and he almost instantly regretted agreeing to such a thing. He had never been keen on the idea of manual labour―but for years, he had gone out of his way to do things his younger self would have scoffed at.

As his eyes slid towards the filing cabinets, he glanced back at the door. Aurors regularly bustled in and out but rarely did they ask questions.

Slipping his hands into his trouser pockets, Draco edged along the wall, his eyes scanning the contents until he arrived at the cabinet for 'G'.

Surely, there was something in her file that might prove informative or useful. He flicked through row after row of bland, beige files until at last, he noted one that read GRANGER, Hermione.

With another furtive glance towards the door, he drew the file and settled at a table nearby.

The word Unsolved had been stamped on the front, along with another overlaid: Cold.

The Aurors assigned to her case had never solved the matter of her disappearance and had eventually run out of leads. Draco's stomach churned at the thought, and the warmth of her smile flitted through the back of his mind. He simply couldn't imagine anyone giving up the hunt of such a notable figure in society―especially when Harry Potter had been one of her closest friends.

So what, then, was she doing in Muggle London?

She obviously went by an alias, which lent credence to the idea of her simply vanishing into Muggle society. But something must have come up.

He skimmed her files, keeping half an eye on the door in the event anyone slipped in to see him investigating when he was meant to be organising. It wasn't against the rules to look into old cases; he simply didn't want to draw any questions just yet.

The file contained several things of little importance; records of her introduction into the wizarding world, her OWL and NEWT scores, and school awards. She had been top of their class every year aside from seventh when she had been absent, although Draco already knew that much. But his attention stalled on the details of the investigation following her appearance.

She had ordered and taken an international Portkey to Brisbane, Australia shortly after their eighth year ended and hadn't even settled anywhere in the interim as far as he could tell. The return Portkey two weeks later had materialised without a passenger. Several days later, the investigation had been launched, and, despite numerous leads, nothing had come of it. The case had quickly gone cold.

The next page contained sworn affidavits from her friends, including Potter.

Apparently, her parents had been in Brisbane, and she had gone there to visit them—to reverse some sort of memory restriction spell she'd cast on them during the war.

The thought stuck in the back of Draco's mind.

There was no record of anything else connected to her parents after the war. Richard and Jean Granger, both dentists, had met while studying at Newcastle. Married shortly out of school, they'd raised one daughter and kept a joint practice in London until the summer of 1997 when they simply closed the doors and walked away.

Studying her parents and her personal history felt oddly intimate. An intrusion of her privacy, despite that Draco knew little about her to begin with and owed her virtually nothing. Most everything within the file was certainly information within the public domain, aside from the sparse details about her case.

Still, he couldn't shake the way she had spoken to him.

As though theirs wasn't an ugly and tumultuous past. The way he had once treated her roiled within the pit of his being, and unease tugged at the back of his mind to read how her case had ultimately been put aside in favour of more urgent matters. Idly, Draco wondered how Potter had stood to let her go when the pair of them had been so close.

Whether the memory of her still haunted Potter's thoughts.

Draco ought to tell him about what he had discovered.

But something coursed through the situation on a deeper level―he could feel it in his soul, and every instinct within him roared to look further. Nothing about the matter made sense, and he was hesitant to involve anyone else until he understood more.

He may not have been a fully qualified Auror yet, but he knew enough to play with the idea of an investigation of sorts.

Dissatisfied with the contents of her file, Draco flipped through the last few pages. Medical records, both magical and Muggle, as well as a few other extraneous registries. A letter of application to the Ministry she had sent in caught his eye, but he didn't care to infringe on her privacy by reading it.

The letter suggested she had intended to return, and he wondered again what had gone wrong. Nothing had been recovered from her disappearance, and Draco couldn't help but wonder about that either. He assumed she'd had her wand, at the very least.

If she had taken a one way trip to Australia, her memory intact, what the hell had happened between then and now?

Stowing the file back into its place, he glanced at his watch with a grimace.

"You're back!"

Draco glanced up from his newspaper, jolting with surprise to see Granger standing beside his table. Carefully schooling his expression, he lifted a hand. "What can I say? The pie was just too good."

She had tied her hair into a curly ponytail at the back of her head today, her fringe framing her face nicely.

A secretive smile curled her lips. "Then I'm sorry to be the one to tell you it isn't apple today. It's blackberry―but, personally, I prefer it."

"I'll trust your judgement."

"Okay." Biting down on her bottom lip, she eyed him for a moment. "Do you like ice cream?"

Draco nodded solemnly. "I am pro-ice cream."

Another smile tugged at her lips before she walked away, and as an idle moment passed, Draco tried to recall her ever smiling so much. Certainly not towards him, and definitely not during the war. A few minutes later, she returned with a slice of pie and a large scoop of vanilla ice cream perched atop.

"This looks fantastic," he mused, rolling his head along the back of the bench to face her. "Thank you, Melody."

He searched her expression for anything―any hesitation, any hint of something―but she only nodded. "Enjoy. If you need anything else, just let me know."

Slicing off a bite of his pie, Draco settled back to observe.

Like the last time, she went about her duties with casual ease, as though well familiarised with them. He wondered how long she had worked at the cafe. According to the files, it had been nearly five years since she had gone to Brisbane, Australia. And that was the last recorded mention of her whereabouts.

He blew out a breath, deep in thought.

Shortly after he finished his pie, sipping his tea in silence, she returned. "And? How was the blackberry?"

"Impeccable."

He didn't have the heart to tell her nothing would ever surpass a warm slice of apple pie in his measure.

But her eyes lit up. "Excellent. Do you need a fresh pot?"

"Not quite yet, thank you." He eyed her for a moment, setting the cup down on its saucer while he collected his thoughts. "You know, I just can't quite figure out why it is that you look familiar. Where did you go to school?"

Although she looked briefly taken aback, she offered a smile. "Here in London. May I?" She gestured towards the other side of the booth. Draco nodded, taking another sip of tea, and she slipped onto the edge of the seat. "I only work here part-time to cover expenses. I'm studying at Queen Mary―perhaps that's where you've seen me?"

Draco hummed with a grimace. "I haven't been there, no. What are you studying?"

"I'm a history major." She gave a bit of a self-deprecating titter. "I know; who wants to study old things, right?"

"I always enjoyed history myself," he returned. Or he had, in his personal studies. Binns' class had been a notorious bore, but Draco's life had been steeped in magical history and culture long before Hogwarts.

But she beamed at him. "If that isn't it, I'm afraid I can't say. Maybe I simply have one of those recognisable faces? It's a thing, apparently." Shaking her head, she laughed a little. "Are you a student as well?"

"Sort of." Draco took another mouthful of tea, buying himself a moment. "I'm training in law enforcement."

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "That's fascinating. With the Met?"

"The what?"

Her face faltered a little, smile dropping off. "The Metropolitan Police?"

Draco's heart clenched, a breath stalling in his throat, and he forced a bit of a chuckle. "I was only testing you."

Granger stared at him a moment longer, her lips slightly parted before she released a laugh. "Oh, right. Of course." A smile crossed her face again. "You got me."

A smirk dragged at his lips. "You were right, by the way." She tilted her head in bemusement. "After the last time we saw one another. When you said whatever had me down would get better. You were right."

Her eyes brightened. "Wonderful news! I'm glad to hear it."

"Right," Draco drawled, watching her face closely. "It's almost as though it were magic."

Another polite smile softened her face, but she only shook her head. "Now that's silly. You and I both know magic isn't real." She rose from the booth once more. "But there's never any harm in putting a little goodwill out into the universe, is there?"

He cleared his throat. "I suppose not."

Granger still eyed him, something akin to hesitation beneath her stare, and he wondered when she would tire of his tests. She propped one hand on the back of the bench; his eyes darted to the scarred flesh on her forearm, but he didn't dare bring that up.

"I ought to get back to work," she said, "but you still haven't told me your name."

"It's Draco."

"Draco," she mused, the word rolling from her tongue with a casual grace that made his insides tighten. Her head tilted, eyes drifting upwards. "The Dragon. Associated with the Draconids, the brightest star is known as Etamin, and the Greek myth is based on the dragon Ladon who guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides."

He gaped at her, his mouth going dry. If he had still harboured any doubts whatsoever that the woman before him was Hermione Granger, she had just obliterated every single one.

But she tittered, shaking her head. "I apologise. I suppose I have a bit of a casual interest in astronomy."

"Sweet Merlin," he choked under his breath. Clearing his throat, he offered her a grin. "Very casual, I see. I suppose you could say my family was also interested in astronomy―constellations, mostly. It's a bit of an old-fashioned tradition."

"I think it's fascinating."

Swallowing his nerves, he pressed on. "And you? Did your parents have an interest in music, then?"

The warmth fell from her face with almost startling haste. Her brown eyes lingered on his for just a moment before she glanced away. "I don't actually know. I suppose they must have."

"You never knew them to show an interest, or―"

"I really should get back to work." She plastered a false smile back onto her lips that had nothing on the radiance of the real one. "I hope you enjoy your tea. Let me know if you need more sugar or anything."

The small plate of sugar cubes sat untouched beside the window.

"Thank you, Melody."

With a stiff nod, she collected his empty plate and retreated, and Draco eyed her as she returned to the counter. He blew out a long breath and murmured to himself, "This should be interesting."

"You haven't heard a fucking word I've said, have you?" Theo Nott cocked a brow, fixing Draco with a stare.

"Sure I have." He took a swig of ale. "Your father's an arse who's decided to make you get a job."

Clicking his tongue, Theo shook his head. "Honestly, how does the man still manage to be such a prick from inside Azkaban? You'd think he'd have bigger things to worry about than what I do with my spare time."

"To be fair"―Draco brandished a hand―"don't you get bored?"

"Not at all." Theo finished the last of his pint and waved at the server for another round. "I have plenty to fill my days, and my father just doesn't understand because he thinks I'm lazy."

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"Speaking of fathers in Azkaban," Draco mused, "Mother's been trying to persuade me to visit again. She doesn't bloody get it." He dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I've severed ties for a reason. Not least of all the fact that I'm training to become a fucking Auror."

Theo slumped in his seat, a commiserating smirk pulling at his lips. "Least you can tell your father to go to Hell."

"So could you," Draco reminded him. When Theo only rolled his eyes, Draco ducked in across the table. "You could. He's in on a lifetime sentence; you could challenge his claim to the house seat and take it for yourself, and then you wouldn't need to worry about a thing the bastard does ever again."

For years, Theo's father had terrorised him to the point where his friend was afraid to make any sudden movements.

The waitress delivered a fresh round of drinks, and Theo scrunched up the bridge of his nose before taking a deep pull. "I suppose I'll give it some thought."

Draco leaned back, recognising the dismissal of the subject. He only took a sip of his drink, gazing around.

"So what's got you so distracted?" Theo asked. "I haven't seen you this fidgety since Hogwarts."

Draco clicked his tongue, gazing at the ring of condensation his mug had left on the lacquered wood. "Have you ever known something and you wanted to tell people, but you didn't know how to bring it up nor how they would take it? Or if it was even a good idea to share at all, and then it started eating at you."

Theo lifted one brow absurdly high. "Is this a comment on my sexuality?"

"What? No. Of course not." Draco scowled at him. "You know I don't care if you're into blokes."

"Fine. Well, as it turns out, I can relate." Fixing Draco with a hard stare, he remained silent for a long moment. "I guess you have to ask yourself whether it's worth the discomfort of sharing or if the nature of the sharing will have negative consequences for anyone else either way. Furthermore, is it your secret to share?"

"And what if that's a grey area?"

Although Theo released a long sigh, he only shook his head. "If this is work-related, Draco, you probably shouldn't be talking to me about it. If it's a grey area, I recommend you try and put yourself in the shoes of anyone else involved. If in the course of making yourself feel better, you damage someone else... well, that isn't really a good idea, is it?"

Draco gazed at the ceiling for a long moment. "Okay, one more postulation. If the involved parties aren't aware of the hurt involved, but revealing the truth could either bring healing or hardship, is it worth the risk?"

"It's like that cat." Theo waved a hand several times as though trying to remember. "The cat in the box. You know the one."

Draco's lips curled wryly. "Schroedinger's cat."

Theo snapped his fingers. "Right. The paradox asks if it's dead or alive in there. No one knows until they open the box, so for the time being, it could be considered both."

Although a smile curled his lips, Draco shook his head. "That helps me exactly zero."

"That's my quota of advice anyway." Theo took another long swig of ale. "You should know better than to ask me about these things, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Whatever it is," Theo added, dropping his voice. "I'm sure you'll eventually make the right decision."

It was nice to know Theo had faith in him, even if Draco didn't have any in himself. He'd made too many wrong decisions in life, and he didn't know what sort of chaos he could unleash if he didn't give this situation enough adequate thought. He would have to return to his research for now and see where that path led.

He had a couple more leads to follow before he would need to make any concrete determinations, and if it came down to it, he could always bring the matter up with Potter.

Belated, he quipped, "Thanks, mate."

"And if it's to do with a woman..." Theo clicked his tongue. "Be sure you're making decisions with your brain and not your―"

"Thanks, Theo."

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter xo

Alpha and beta hugs to Kyonomiko, and FaeOrabel, respectively.