A/N: A huge thank you (as always) to Mcal, for her work as beta, and also for being a generally lovely person!

And of course, JKR owns the rights to Harry Potter and his crew.

Chapter 8

The Ministry was blessedly quiet as Draco stepped out of the visitors' floo. He was quite thankful that the floos were in service once again, that phone booth was cramped and stale and being flushed into a building would never do for a Malfoy.

His shoes clicked rhythmically on the polished marble floors as he walked to the lifts. It too was empty and the eerie voice announced his floor before he had a chance to be disoriented by the jerky movements.

Stepping off the lift he walked straight to his destination, through the door and sat behind the desk. Thank Merlin the chair was reasonably comfortable as he waited for the next two hours to pass.

"With the state of this desk it's a small miracle you can solve any cases, Potter."

The file Harry was reading fell out of his hand and was replaced by his wand. "Holy Shi…, Malfoy, what are you doing in my office?" Harry lowered his wand and used it to summon the case file. "Don't you have an empire to run?"

Draco leaned back in Harry's office chair and waved his hand, the epitome of nonchalance. "I have a board of directors. I'd rather be here checking on your progress."

Harry visibly deflated at that. It had been a month since Hermione disappeared. A month with no leads and the hope of finding her slipping further and further away. Draco made daily visits to the Auror department until he was told, in no uncertain terms by head Auror Robards, that he was to return to his civilian life and let the experts do their jobs. Only the resolute look in Potter's eyes as he held up his wand over Robards's shoulder, a clear threat of stunning and forcible removal, motivated Draco to leave.

He came every other day now. And he came early to avoid run-ins with the head Auror. Potter wasn't so lucky.

"You know we're doing everything we can." Harry rounded the desk and motioned for Draco to vacate his chair. Draco did so with an affected air and settled himself in one of the visitor's chairs.

He watched silently as Harry shuffled over the piles of paperwork and fidgeted with his muggle writing pens. With a sigh, Harry slumped in his chair. "This is hard for me too, you know?"

"I know." It was a quiet answer, Draco's swagger from moments before evaporating.

"It is killing me not to have an answer. I keep thinking if it was me that had gone missing, Hermione would have known exactly what to do and found me in no time, but… without her, I feel so lost."

"How do you think I feel, Potter? That woman… " Draco tore his misting eyes away from Potter's all too piercing gaze, "She was… is… everything to me."

"We're doing everything we can."

Draco stood abruptly, cutting him off and knocking the chair over in the process, "Well do more!"

Harry stood in answer, "It's out of my hands!"

"What do you mean?"

Harry sighed, collapsing into his chair, his hands tugging at his already unruly black hair in frustration, "Without any leads Robards is turning it over to missing persons."

Draco carefully picked up the fallen chair and sat himself in it, leaning forward his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. "How could she just disappear, Potter? How can we know nothing more than we knew a month ago? We have magic! How can she just be… gone?"

Harry just gave pitiful shake of his head with an equally pitiful shrug of his shoulders.

Standing with an obstinate huff, Draco straightened his blazer and turned on his heel. "You're just going then?" Potter asked.

Draco was at the door and turned to the man he once held in such contempt, "Yes, I'm going. I'm going to find Hermione." And with that final statement he walked out of the Auror department, ignoring the looks, ignoring Potter's pleas, and primarily ignoring the deceptive voice in his head telling him that maybe he wasn't meant to have Hermione after all.

Draco made two stops. One to his flat, where he threw clothes, and toiletries into the duffle Hermione had charmed for him, and one to the Manor to inform his mother of his plans.

His mother asked few questions, simply wishing him success and kissing him gently on the forehead.

Less than an hour after leaving Potter's office, Draco felt the disconcerting pull of the portkey as he spun away to Australia.

Richard and Helen Granger had only met him once, so showing up at their home unannounced sparked their immediate concern.

Hermione confided in him that learning what their precious daughter had been through all those years left a deep fissure in their relationship; the memory modification and exile to Australia being the least of these. They knew their daughter was strong and independent, but felt she could have-should have-been more open with them about the socio-political goings on of the wizarding world; particularly as they pertained to her safety.

Draco felt increasingly miserable as he watched Helen's eyes-eyes just like Hermione's-fill with tears, and her father's face harden as he drew into himself.

"I never thought there would be a time I would miss Monica and Wendell," Helen cried miserably as her husband held her, his stare piercing through Draco like frozen blades.

"Doesn't our daughter deserve some peace in your world? Don't we all deserve it?"

"I love your daughter, sir, and I will not rest until I find her safe and sound."

Draco sat motionless on the sofa as Richard carried a distraught Helen from the room. The click of the door shutting muffled her miserable cries as Richard returned to the sitting room. He rifled through the desk in the corner and returned with a slip of paper, offering it to Draco.

"This is her grandmother, Caroline's address in Spain. She and Hermione were always very close." And with a parting nod Richard left the room to return to his wife's side.

Stepping into the back garden, Draco apparated to the Austrailian ministry, a portkey to Spain soon in his hand.

She too had Hermione's eyes. And Hermione's hair, though Caroline's was streaked with grey. The most striking resemblance was the fire; the fire in her eyes, and the fire in her spirit.

Draco knew immediately why Hermione was so close to her grandmother - they were so alike, it was a glimpse into the future. He only hoped he'd have a chance to live that future.

"Draco, my dear." She took his face in her hands and just looked at him. Her soft umber gaze breaking down the defensive walls he so carefully built, and before he knew what was happening hot tears were streaming down his cheeks as she clutched him to her small but solid frame.

It was at that moment he realized he's not grieved for Hermione's loss. Though he hoped not a permanent loss, a loss it still was, and he let his heart break for the unfairness of it all.

Caroline guided him to the deep couch in her sitting room and held him as he cried for his lost love.

The air in the grove behind Caroline's house was thick with the scent of orange blossoms. Draco walked along the rows of the orchard, the low branches brushing his face and the high grass blowing gently just below his finger tips.

Reaching up to touch a velvety petal he saw movement from the corner of his eye.

Hermione was there.

His breath caught in his throat at her beauty. Her loose curls blew freely around her face and shoulders and the gauzy white fabric of her dress billowed in the breeze. She absently sniffed a bloom and then with a playful smile at him, she turned and bounded off into the orchard, her delicate fingers trailing over the top of the grass.

Draco took off at a run to catch her, but no matter how fast or far he went, he could get no closer.

His voice was swallowed by the wind as he called out to her.

She stopped, and as if there was a barrier, Draco stopped as well. Hermione's eyes turned to the sky as she extended her arm to the heavens. He strained to see what she was seeing when suddenly, a pure white dove landed on her outstretched hand.

She brought the dove to her chest and stroked softly over its back. Once again looking at Draco, Hermione released the dove toward him.

Draco extended his hand in invitation, waiting for the dove to land, knowing that this dove carried with it an understanding beyond his comprehension; but as the dove reached his hand there was a bright flash of light.

Draco woke with a gasp. He took in the surrounding room and let his head collapse back on the couch when he realized he was still in her grandmother's sitting room.

Rubbing his hand down his face, he sat up with a groan.

"I'm glad you got some sleep, dear."

Draco turned over his shoulder to see Caroline bustling into the room with a tea tray.

She set the try down on the table in front of him and settled herself in a nearby armchair. Draco could smell the peppery citrus notes of the Earl grey mixing with, what was surely, blood orange marmalade for the selection of offered scones.

"How do you take your tea?" Caroline held up a floral patterned china teapot and poured tea into two matching teacups.

"Just honey, please." He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as she prepared his tea.

Taking the cup in his hands he let the scent surround him and the warmth seep into his bones. The first sip filled him with a comfort he'd lost in the last month. They sat in easy silence as they sipped their tea and nibbled on the scones.

"She was there… in my dream." Draco whispered.

Caroline reached out and patted his knee affectionately, a knowing smile on her face.

Once the tea and scones were consumed, Caroline rose from her chair. Draco stood as well. Once could not forego good breeding in the face of tragedy. She patted his cheek and offered him a soft smile, "Let's get you situated in a proper room. I can't have you tired while we work the garden tomorrow."

Draco didn't protest. He followed Caroline to a small guest room; his duffle was sitting on the end of the bed. She told him where the bathroom was located and bid him a quiet goodnight. Mechanically he attended to his basic hygiene needs, donned some sleep trousers, and fell onto the bed.

Even after his kip, he felt the heavy pull of exhaustion due to his lack of sleep over the previous weeks. With his face buried in the pillow, he let sleep pull him under, hoping all the while Hermione would be there once more, even if only in his dreams.

The thick waft of coffee drew him from his bed. It was rich and earthy and teased his senses with the promise of warmth and satiety. He dressed quickly, practically, remembering Caroline's edict of garden labor.

"There you are." Caroline smiled brightly, the lines around her eyes pulling at Draco's heart as he thought of Hermione's eyes and cheeks, so young and supple, and how he may never see the remnants of their shared love and laughter caressing her face. "Cafe' con leche?" He nodded and she pushed a frothy mug toward him as he sat at the small table in her kitchen.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I did. Thank you." He sipped his coffee, the creamy texture and strong taste waking and warming him simultaneously.

Caroline looked over her shoulder from the stove where she was stirring a pot, "Valerian root. Does the trick every time." She winked at him. She had dosed his tea with a sleeping aid. So brash. Merlin he missed Hermione.

After he finished a plate of eggs and toast, as well as another coffee, Caroline announced that the day was wasting and it was time to get to work.

He dutifully followed her outside, put on gloves and got to work helping her weed and plant in her herb garden.

They didn't speak much, outside of what communication was necessary to get the job done, and at the end of the day, after a hearty helping of paella, she served him another cup of tea with valerian and he found sleep easily once again.

His days faded into a blur as he fell into a routine. He would wake, help her with whatever chores she needed, enjoy the layered and vibrant food she served and find sleep with the help of her dosed tea.

Caroline let this go on for three weeks.

Dragging into the kitchen after a particularly unsettling dream - one where Hermione called to him over and over, but he could never reach her - he sat at the table to receive his morning coffee.

This morning however, the smell of coffee was absent from the air and Caroline was absent from the kitchen.

Getting up to look out the kitchen window, Draco found her in the back garden, his mother's owl perched on her arm.

As he stepped into the garden, Evangeline took flight and landed on his shoulder. He removed the letter tied to her leg and she promptly flew back to Caroline. She cooed at the owl for a few moments then Evangeline took back to the sky, presumably to England.

"Your mother needs you home." He met Caroline's knowing gaze over the top of a parchment that said exactly that, but in a carefully composed and subtle undertone that he wouldn't have recognized had it not been from his own mother. Of course she was struggling as much as he was. She'd lost her husband, almost lost her freedom, and was now losing her son, just not in the physical sense.

"I don't know if I can go home." He was losing himself.

Caroline approached him and drawing her arm through his led him into the orchard. It was exactly like in his dreams, but lit golden by the sun instead of the cloudy haze of his subconscious.

They walked along silently; he liked that about Caroline, she never pushed, it may have been her greatest difference from the granddaughter so like her in many ways.

"I haven't told you about when I knew Hermione was special… magical."

Draco smiled despite himself, "She told me. You took her on a picnic and she made the flowers fly when she threw a fit."

Caroline laughed softly at the memory, but shook her head, "No, that was the first time, Hermione knew about her magic. I knew the very first moment I held her." She squeezed his arm drawing him a bit closer, as if she was pulling the memory closer to her heart. "She was such a small thing… but so… remarkable." her voice a reverent whisper. "She opened her eyes and they were so dark-you couldn't tell the color really-and she looked up at me and blinked and I could see the sparks firing in those fathomless depths. She radiated with something that was different… magical. I knew immediately that she would experience great things, but not the great things every parent or grandparent hopes for their child… things beyond that of understanding.

"I knew about you the first time we met too." Draco looked at her puzzled. "That you were my Hermione's true love," She answered. "It's not in the way you look at her or any of those other things people use to equate love, though you can see it there too. It's in the way your souls convene and the magic that fills the air when you're together. She needs you, Draco, just as you need her."

"She's gone."

"No she isn't. Not forever. But she needs your help to come back to us."

Draco shook his head in despair, "What am I supposed to do?"

Caroline stopped then and stood in front of him taking his face in her hands. "Go home. Go back to England and live. No matter what, she wants you to live." She kissed him on the cheek and released his face, "She'll come back to you. Maybe not as you'd expect at first, but she'll find her way." Then she turned and walked deeper into the orchard, leaving a confused and equally enlightened Draco in her wake.

Draco knew Caroline spoke the truth as her words sunk into him. She clearly had the sight. He watched her for a moment more as she wandered the orchard and then he turned back toward the house.

After gathering his sparse belongs he stepped out to the back garden to apparate to the Spanish Ministry. Before he could turn on the spot, Caroline caught his eye from the edge of the orchard and gave him an approving nod. He smiled and nodded back in thanks and then he was gone into thin air, the pop of his apparation scaring the birds from the orchard.

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