August 2003

The early morning in Diagon Alley was quiet, bar the couple of little cafés that served coffee to go for the harried-looking bankers and Ministry workers on their way into the office. "Thank you, Daniel," she returned the handsome barrister's still-awed smile before once again heading out into Diagon Alley. Apparently the years spent away completing her mastery helped with her fame in Britain but she was starting to get recognised again as she became more of a fixture in the wizarding shopping district.

She'd missed London, both Magical and Muggle. Returning to the UK after three years in Switzerland working on her Mastery was the coming home Hermione needed and looked forward to. There was also a sense of trepidation when she landed at the Ministry a week ago and looked around to see if anyone had come to greet her. But amongst the sea of unfamiliar faces stood only the tall figure of Theo Nott, her friend and lawyer, to greet her and sweep her through to his office to finalise some paperwork before she could settle in. No Harry, no Ron, no friends at all.

As they made their way up and through the atrium to take the floo to the Leaky Cauldron, she felt the twist of the knife of cruel fates in her gut again. Somewhere deep down she had known this is what it would come to, but a part of her had always held hope she wouldn't be abandoned this way.

"Hermione! Hold up!"

She jumped out of her skin at the call and twirled around with her hand already on her thigh holster before she recognised the tall frame of Theo Nott hurrying his long steps towards her. "Theo, you scared me to death," she sighed and relaxed, waiting for him to join her.

He was carrying his own paper cup, no doubt with one of those fancy vanilla lattés he seemed to prefer, and shortened his stride to suit her much more petite form. "Ha, as if it would take that little," he grinned at her rakishly and in that moment she thought he was rather handsome. But he was also very much gay so she smiled and looped her arm through his elbow casually as they headed up the street.

"What are you up to so early?" she asked when they fell into step after a moment of silence.

"On my way to a client but I wanted to check in on you. How are you settling in?" he nodded to the shop coming up in front of them.

She couldn't help her smile widening at the sight of 129b Diagon Alley, and the tasteful sign above which read GG Jewels . It was a suggestion she picked up from a surprising friend whom she met in Milan on one of her vacations. She'd never expected to become friends with Blaise Zabini of all people but the tenacious Slytherin was starting a clothing line at that point and he was utterly enchanted by what she was developing for her mastery thesis, recognising the revolutionary nature of the spellwork for his clothing. It was his suggestion because the Italian word for jewellery was gioielleria , and Granger Gioielleria was the perfect brand as far as he was concerned. So she compromised and shortened it to GG as her signature. When he teasingly suggested GG might as well stand for the Golden Girl, she felt no hesitation or remorse at sending a stinging hex his way for the reminder of the horrid nickname. But Blaise had encouraged her, and it had been his suggestion to contact Theo to legally represent her and her business, which resulted in another surprising friendship.

"The shop is more settled than my flat, to be honest, but at least the library is done and I have somewhere to sleep. My stock has arrived, and I'm also making one of a kind custom pieces. The orders are already coming in, I think I'll need staff shortly to mind the front while I work in the back," she admitted.

He whistled in awe. "That's amazing, and you've been here only a week! Not that you didn't have a reputation with your craft beforehand," he acknowledged. "Anyone come by to visit yet?"

She shrugged, though he could obviously see it was bothering her. "Fleur stopped by and I had dinner with her and Bill. Their second baby's due in a couple of months. It was lovely to catch up with them but I haven't seen anyone else," she admitted.

"Well, I know something you don't," he said in a sing-song voice that he knew got on her nerves, but by Merlin he couldn't help but tease her, just to see that incredible hair of hers grow in irritation with her magic.

"Oh yeah? And what might that be?" she stopped, looking at him with a raised brow.

He just grinned and pressed a fleeting kiss to her cheek before heading towards Leaky. "You'll have to wait and see!"

"You're an arse, Theodore!"

"You know you love it! Don't act like you haven't checked it yet!" he called over his shoulder, strutting his hips for a few steps until he could hear her laughter.

His expression sobered shortly though, still worried for her. There was a sense of isolation around Hermione, and the irony of her previous school enemies being her closest friends while her supposed friends kept their distance wasn't lost on him either. Thank Merlin that Blaise was arriving in a couple of days to cheer her up.

Hermione chuckled and shook her head at his antics. Bless the man for being there for her in his own dramatic ways. He and Blaise were good friends.

Friends... The word tasted funny on her lips these days. They used to be inseparable, Harry, Ron and her. But after an intense year on the run, the boys left to start training as Aurors and found their other halves, Harry in Luna and Ron in Lavender. She was happy for them, they seemed to be doing what they loved and lived a happy life. But with her life at Hogwarts and her Mastery later on, the letters dwindled before they stopped altogether, and when she wrote to let them know she was returning, she received no response. Over the years the newspapers told her all she needed to know as to why - they were still very much celebrities here, Harry already named Deputy-Head Auror for Robards, and Ron at his hip, grinning at the cameras as he enjoyed the spotlight. It was clear that their friendship with her was no longer a priority for them.

Gods, she was being maudlin and it was barely eight o'clock in the morning… She unlocked the shop doors and bent down to pick up the copy of Daily Prophet in her letterbox, reading the short article on the front page discussing her new shop and arrival to Wizarding Britain as she settled behind the counter with her tea and took a moment to start her day. The writer of the Prophet article appeared to be surprised that her path has taken her towards jewellery, and to be fair it was the same question Blaise and Theo had asked her as well.

After her NEWTs she wanted to pursue something that required a lot of magical skill while improving people's lives in ways other than being an Auror, Healer or Curse Breaker, which were the most popular careers after the war. So she studied charms, working with runic protections, warding, even researching broadly on how to best incorporate charms into objects in a much more layered way. This led her to wonder about charms in everyday items such as jewellery. Similar charms existed - something to weave into clothing so it never wrinkles for example, or Auror robes to deflect some minor curses. Some wedding bands or small jewels for children were layered with protective charms, or blood wards to recognise the wearer in vaults or for payment authorisation. But it has previously only been possible to layer two spells at the most for long-term effect, which also had to be reapplied regularly and wore out eventually. Her charm formula allowed the wards to not just be layered but integrated into the object, woven into its magical fabric to latch onto and sustain for long periods of time.

Her dissertation was as thick as a dictionary and half of it was just her formula that roused the interests of the international charms academic community. She even received a letter from Professor Flitwick congratulating her on her achievements. Mistress Devereaux beamed with pride at her apprentice as Hermione received the gold medal for contribution to the Charms field at the International Conference in Geneva last October.

Once she patented the spell work in autumn of last year, the royalties from its use started coming in - Blaise and his studios being her first subscriber, shortly followed by Gringotts, St Mungo's and the Ministry for use on their robes and badges, and even Malfoy Industries for use in their developing lines. And those were just the UK-based users. All these companies were paying to use her formula on their products and essential items. That's when she decided to go ahead and hire Theo, as well as an Account Manager at Gringotts to deal with all the income and investments, and decided to focus on what had really made her intrigued and happy - applying her knowledge and being creative with crafting jewellery.

Making magical jewellery was incredibly intricate work, forging and weaving the charms and wards into delicate precious metal pieces. She started with wedding bands but just before Christmas worked up to making more intricate pieces such as custom jewellery for children. In February she successfully crafted magical silver bracelets that helped enhance the spells in surrounding wards, which were ordered by a local hospital in Zürich for their equivalent of Mungo's Janus Thickey ward, to keep their patients calm through the charmed jewellery. That was the deal breaker that persuaded her to go into magical jewellery crafting full-time and continue her studies and charms practice on her own terms.

When she told Theo she was thinking of coming back and opening a shop in London, he was an absolute superstar. He viewed several shop venues for her in London and even in Edinburgh, and showed her the memories in a pensieve to make a final decision, settling on Diagon Alley as originally planned. He even fast-tracked all the paperwork for the shop and the adjoining flat, and had the place visited by magical contractors before she arrived last week to clear it out and paint all the walls and ceilings, ready for her to sort out her own home and shop front once she arrived. The shop at 129b Diagon Alley used to house Whizz Hard Books, but the owner went bankrupt and it had been gathering dust for years. Hermione found the shop front nice and sunny as she added the appropriate displays and security for the jewellery she made, and sorted out the adjoining three bedroom flat at 129a with the library and window seat of her dreams.

She finished reading the paper and confirmed she had the orders for today ready before opening the shop for what will turn out to be a busy day. The door barely closed before it opened again, and the sight of the happy customers leaving her shop was worth the tiredness that was settling in her shoulders. As she checked the register just before closing time, she couldn't help the melancholy smile that graced her lips. She had three new orders for custom jewel pieces, all for soulbound couples.

As with any traumatic event such as the Second Wizarding war, there was a rise in marriages and a population boom in the past few years, people rejoicing in being alive and being able to love freely without putting their loved one in danger. The parties sprouted at every step after the funerals, with eager people, young and old, those who were yet unmatched or those who lost a partner and still hoped to find that which eluded them.

Their soulmate.

When a witch or a wizard reached their maturity, they came into ownership of either a lock or a key, a magical tattoo on their wrist that turned into an actual lock or key when they met their soulmate. For many of her female classmates and friends, the lock was what appeared just on the inside of their wrist, right over the pulse point and connected to their magic and the beat of their heart. For most men a key appeared on their wrist, a specific key to match a specific lock, one soul corresponding to another.

She had snorted at first when she found out about the phenomenon. Of course women had the bloody lock and men held the key to unlock their soul. And their knickers. How fucking predictable, she had thought, considering how patriarchal a lot of their society and their laws still were.

Something within her always bristled at the notion that she was a lock waiting for someone to shove a key into, to bring 'perfect bliss' to her life. Was it because she was a muggleborn that she was so much more critical of the concept? Every pureblood and half-blood who grew up around soulmates has always talked about it with reverence. But for some reason she couldn't muster the same joy; too stubborn, too persuaded about her own righteousness at the tender age of fifteen, just as Viktor Krum waltzed his way into her life during the Yule ball. But when he smiled at her sadly and told her to write to him, letting him know when her lock appeared so they could test for their compatibility, she started to understand that it perhaps may be something special, something that could mean magic was helping her find the right person to love.

Could it be the case that she was actually resentful of the idea because it felt like someone prescribing her future instead of giving her a helping hand in finding the one person she could truly be happy with? Could she accept this for what it was and focus on the fact that her soul had a mate, someone made for her, someone who could understand her on a level no one could or tried to before? Was it really possible?

She didn't give it much thought throughout the fifth year as they dealt with Umbridge, and headed into her sixth year with some trepidation. She was the first person in their year to celebrate their birthday as it was on the nineteenth of September. The morning of her birthday as she turned seventeen, she opened her eyes, ready and even a little excited to find out if she too had the lock tattooed across the inside of her wrist, signifying her readiness to find her soulmate. Instead, as she sat up in bed and looked down at her wrists, she discovered not only a lock, but also a key.

Her heart stuttered, seeing the lock detailed in delicate dark swirls of ink on her right wrist, and a beautiful ornate key with a soft magenta ribbon wrapped around her wrist in a swirl of ink as well. How could this be? What did it mean? Her hands sprung to action and she reached for the book she had been reading the night before, flicking through its pages to find the reference to the soulmate tattoos again.

One mark per person….either a lock or a key….designs vary…..lock typically appear in women….. Rare instance of no marking if soulmate not dead or castor damaged their soul enough to sever a soulmate bond….turn to the item you own once the soulmates meet in person…. little variance observed over the years….

No mention at all of having both. How was this possible? What did it even mean? Knowing there was no way around it and Lavender and Parvati and Padma would want to see her mark the moment she opened those bed curtains, she cast a glamour over the key and prayed it wouldn't draw any attention while she researched what the hell this actually meant. Predictably, the Patil twins cooed over her lock and Lavender turned up her nose at her, saying something about Ron that had Hermione frowning. Whatever bee was in that girl's bonnet, she was too distracted with her discovery to take much note.

But months later, her research yielded no answers, and though many boys from the seventh year had asked if they could test their marks for compatibility, she only ever revealed the lock on her wrist, feeling further despair as no matter who rubbed their hand across her mark, it lay dormant and unresponsive. No, she was once again the odd one, the anomaly. She finally accepted that perhaps she owned both a lock and a key because there was no one for her. Because she was her own soulmate. Or maybe she pissed off someone badly enough in her past life that this was just her karmic penance. Who knew?

But at least her craft allowed her to forgo the constant application of glamorous each morning, and instead she had make her own gold torc bangle for her left wrist last year, to permanently hold protective charms to deflect some curses and minor spells, resist manipulation, and conceal the ugly slur scar on her forearm as well as the key on her wrist. She never took it off, even when showering or sleeping, and it had become second nature for her to no longer see the key on her wrist these days. That didn't mean it was any easier, living with the knowledge that unlike all the happy couples who came through her doors today, she would never have a soulmate in another person but herself.

When the bell above her door announced a new arrival, she nearly jumped, seeing it was a minute past closing time. "I'm very sorry but I'm just closing down," she came around the doorframe from her workroom and stopped at the sight of a very familiar pair of redheads. "Gred! Forge!" She smiled a little hesitantly, though they've exchanged letters over the years and she knew that the twins' shop was using her patented formula - they told her themselves as they congratulated her on the success. Was this a welcome?

"So she does remember us!" Fred exclaimed, followed closely by his twin.

"We were starting to worry-"

"since you've been here a week-"

"and still no visit to our shop. Honestly, witch-"

"do you no longer love us?"

"You'll have to let us down gently-"

"Freddie here just had his heart broken."

She couldn't help but laugh at their antics, the joyous tinkling sound making both of them grin. She stepped around the counter, missing their look of appreciation at her simple pencil skirt and light jumper that did nothing to hide her curves.

Fred, as the bolder of the two, reached for her and wrapped his arms around her in a hug, but she felt a searing pain pulse through her very magical core before her world went black.

"She'll be fine, just give her a moment. Oh for Merlin's sake- sit down before I make you."

The sound of the argument around her was a little bit blurred, as if coming from a distant palace, but she focused on the sound and the hissed words above her until she felt well enough to blink her eyes open, trying to focus with the light of her workroom blinding her a little.

"Then why is she still not waking up?" George's calming voice floated to her despite Fred's irritated snarl.

"Because she had a magical shock. My scans are thorough, there is nothing wrong with her, she just needs a bit of time."

She would have recognised that voice anywhere. "Thanks, I'm fine, stop fussing," she groaned and pushed up to sit up slowly.

"There you have it, she's fine," Pansy Parkinson crossed her arms impatiently and glared at the redheaded duo.

"Oh thank Merlin," Fred paused in his pacing and ran a hand over his face. "I thought I hurt you or something, you went down like a sack of potatoes, love," his hair was sticking out in all directions from running his hand through it but his frown morphed into a grin. "I mean if you wanted to be in my arms so bad, all you had to say," he winked, making Pansy snort at their insufferable antics.

"Take it easy, Granger, your blood sugar is a bit low, you should eat more regularly," she reached into her Vuitton handbag and pulled out a dark chocolate cereal bar. "This should help."

"Thanks," she tried to stand but wavered enough to have four hands steadying her in a flash. There was another wave of magic, making her gasp and knocking her off her feet as the two men beside her also doubled over.

They all landed in their seats, Fred hitting the ground with an 'oof' before a bolt of golden light flashed through the room and Hermione suddenly felt something land in her lap heavily.

She pressed a hand to her chest to feel her wildly beating heart and looked down, gasping at the sight before her. In her lap were her lock and her key, with a lovely ribbon. What the-

"Morgana's tits, this is fucking priceless," Pansy was laughing so much she was nearly doubled over as she looked at the three of them, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye as she flicked her wand over them and grinned. "Yup, congratulations, you just found your soulmates! Of course it would be Saint Granger to break the mould," she snickered. "And I have a shift to get to so - good luck!" she picked up her bag and the door of her shop opened and closed quietly, taking with it the sound of her giggles.

Hermione looked at the twins with bewilderment. They were looking at each other intently, silently communicating over the lock and key they each also held.

No.

No, no, no, no. Just, no.

This couldn't be it. It couldn't- both of them? Two soul mates? But…how was that even possible?

"It makes sense. We left school and then during the war they were away. Didn't even really get a chance to see her at Bill's wedding before-"

"The Death Eaters crashed it and they left. And after the war you were in the in hospital and I was running the shop and then-"

"She left for her Mastery. We haven't really seen each other properly in five year, not enough to-"

"Test or find out if we were compatible," George finished for them both before turning to Hermione.

Putting together their twinspeak, she realised that they were absolutely right. She had seen them of course but never in the past five years did they get close enough to each other for them to touch, certainly not to all three of them at the same time, and find out that they were soulmates.

"Fuck," she groaned and ran her hands through her wild curls, the magical jolt leaving it a little bit angry and twice its usual size.

They appeared shocked for a moment, as they hadn't previously heard her swear, not once, but Fred recovered first and cleared his throat. "Well, this is…enlightening. We've always known that one set of locks and keys was for each other, but this is unexpected."

"Unexpected?" she asked in disbelief. "Try statistically nearly impossible. There hasn't been a magical triad in at least a century, not to mention-"

"A soulbound one," George added, nodding in understanding. "Look Hermione, we came today to say hello and to take you to dinner to welcome you back. I know this is…a lot, but maybe still going for that dinner would allow us to talk?" he suggested.

She looked between them a little fretfully, teeth digging into her bottom lip as she contemplated the offer. Truth be told, she wasn't really sure what to do. She came back because she missed home and hoped to build her life here, her career, her shop. This…this was so unexpected, not to mention staggering, she didn't know what to make of them. "I…don't know," she whispered, clutching the cereal bar and suddenly not feeling hungry at all. "I don't think I can eat, but I could certainly use a drink," she admitted.

"That we can do. Are you happy to come up to ours? We're just down the road and it will allow us to be undisturbed," Fred suggested, grimacing at the possibility of a report skulking about to catch their conversation.

She was about to suggest slipping next door to her flat but realised that she neither had any alcohol, nor did she want to take away the option to leave if she felt like she needed to. "Okay."