Chapter Two
The Australian Ministry of Magic was nestled in between two very old buildings in the centre of Melbourne. There were divisions in each major city of the country, all linked via the Floo network, which the Australians called FlameLink. Hermione timidly walked down the steps, her hand trailing slowly on the rail next to her. The foyer was large, with a huge sandstone statue in the middle, featuring a witch and wizard interacting with a variety of Australian mythical beasts from the Bunyip to a Kanga-were (similar to a werewolf, but apparently half man – half kangaroo). Hermione had only seen pictures in her textbooks of these beasts, and was surprised at the sheer size that was represented in stone compared to the wizards.
People were bustling all around her and she stopped to gaze at them for a moment. They were very different to the wizarding folk back in Britain. It was nearing Summer in Australia, very unlike the season she had left behind her. Instead of robes, many of the men were wearing muggle board shorts, singlets and flip flops (although she had heard them called thongs before which made her giggle). The women weren't much different, although some were wearing sun dresses. She herself was still wearing the clothes she arrived in – denim jeans, sneakers and a short sleeve grey t-shirt. She had been wearing a cardigan as well, but had left that at her parent's house knowing how warm it would get. She caught sight of herself in the reflection of a nearby window and stopped to ponder.
She was definitely not the 17 year old girl who help defeat the dark lord anymore. She was still trim, the waistline of her jeans hugged her womanly hips and backside and she thought that she looked okay, even if others may not. Her hair was no longer frizzy, she had pulled it back into a pony tail and a few stray curls hung loose around her face. She gave herself a nervous smile before snapping back to attention. She tapped a wizard passing her and asked for the directions for international registry.
He smiled happily, and asked in his broad accent, "Oh, are you from the UK?"
"Yes, I am," she replied, holding out her hand to shake his and noticing the exuberant colours of his Hawaiian style button up shirt. "Hermione Granger, how do you do?"
He took her hand firmly and shook it several times. "Not bad, not bad at all, Misses. Granger, huh, that sounds familiar."
"Does it?" Hermione enquired politely, retrieving her hand.
"Anyhoo," he continued, waving a hand towards an elevator. "Head on down to the lift and take it to the third floor. Chuck a left and then you'll be right."
"Ahh," Hermione paused to try and decipher this. "The elevator? Thank you very much for your help...?"
"Oh, call me Bruce, Misses." He smiled toothily again at her and waved as he turned back to his walk. He called over his shoulder, "Pleased to meet ya!"
Hermione tried very hard not to pull a face as he walked away, but couldn't help smiling on the inside. The elevator was crowded but she managed to get to the third floor with no dramas. Going left as instructed, she then went down the corridor looking to the right, expecting to see the correct door. She reached the end of the corridor and looked back the way she came, confused. Maybe Bruce had given her the wrong instructions. Heading back to the elevator, she double checked all the door names but none of them was the one she needed. She took the first door after turning left from the elevator once again and knocked, turning the knob and pushing the door open to step through.
A plump witch, not much older than Hermione, was sitting behind a desk, her glasses propped on the edge of her nose as she looked down at the parchment she was writing on. She glanced up at Hermione's entrance and raised her eyebrows.
"Everything okay, love?" she asked, her jowls wobbling slightly when she spoke.
"I'm so sorry to intrude," Hermione began. "I'm looking for the Department of International Registration?"
The witch shuffled her paperwork and put it to the side. "You've found it, love. Just moved here, have ya?"
Hermione frowned. "Oh, that man must have given me the wrong directions. He said go left from the elevator and look right."
The witch raised her eyebrow. "Which man?"
"He said his name was Bruce...very cheery, was wearing a colourful shirt."
"Why, that's Bruce Lambert, he's been up here a hundred times. What exactly did he say to you?" The witch tucked a strand of chocolate brown hair behind her ear and cracked a grin.
"Chuck a left and you'll be right," Hermione quoted.
The witch burst into laughter, causing Hermione to frown further. She stood up and walked over to Hermione to greet her properly. "Oh love, 'you'll be right' is just another way of saying 'you'll be okay' not that you should look right."
Hermione felt her cheeks burn. "Oh, I am an idiot. It's like we both speak English, but we're speaking completely different languages."
"Too right, love. My name's Hazel," she said, offering her hand. "Hazel Jones."
"Jones?" Hermione queried. "Any relation to the Jones' in England? I went to school with one."
Hazel nodded cheerfully. "Distantly related. They descend from the brother of my Pop – but we don't really keep in contact."
Hermione nodded. "My name is Hermione Granger, I've just moved here for a while and need to register my intent to work."
The witches eyes widened. "I thought you looked familiar! I saw you here ten years ago when I just started work. You're Harry Potter's friend, yeah? You helped him defeat that really bad wizard over there."
She forced a weak smile, "Yes, I know Harry. I didn't think he was all that well known here though?"
"Oh," Hazel said offhandedly as she moved back to her desk. "Not really. He's old news now, you know? But the gossip mags still go on about him when his wife has a kid, or something scandalous happens. Like, I heard he was recently cheatin' on his wife with some chick named Parkinson? Apparently, they used to be mates at school and recently re-connected at a club."
Hermione snorted before laughing out loud. "Are you serious?"
Hazel winked, "Just repeating what the magazine says, I swear. They say that Harry Potter is a bit of a party animal."
The laughter continued. "Oh, I am going to have to get my hands on a copy of one of those magazines to send to him. They sound much more interesting than what's actually going on."
"Aww, you mean none of that happened?" Hazel sat down and ruffled through her desk drawer, pulling out a magazine. "Look here, it says Potter and Parkinson love affair."
"Pansy Parkinson," Hermione said between giggles. "Has never liked him. She always hung around Malfoy and the other Slytherins. Harry wouldn't touch her then or now with a ten-foot pole."
"Maybe I could send a Galah and get paid for a scoop!" Hazel exclaimed.
Hermione's eyes widened. "A Galah? Don't you use owls?"
The witch waved her hand absentmindedly as she filtered further through her desk drawer. "Oh, some do. They're just rarer here, whereas the Galahs, Cockys and such are in the plenty."
There was a pause now, only interrupted by the sound of Hazel sorting through papers. "Aha!" she said finally, pulling out the parchment she needed and tapping it with her wand to duplicate it. "Found the right form. Please fill this in, indicating which department you would be interested in working in, if you wish to work here at the Ministry."
Hermione took the parchment and a quill and sat down in the chair in front of Hazels desk. "Do you know of any areas currently lacking staff at the ministry? I'm fairly competent in most areas besides maybe sports."
"Sports is chockers at the moment, so you're lucky there," Hazel said. "We're hosting the Quidditch World Cup near Uluru next year, so everybody wants to jump on board."
"Oh, how exciting! I went to a World Cup when I was fourteen," Hermione said. "I'm not much a fan, really, but it was very exciting to watch. Until...until that night, of course."
"Was that the one where Ireland won, but Krum got the snitch?"
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, Viktor is an amazing seeker."
Hazels eyes lit up. "I forgot, you know him, don't you? What's he like?"
"Oh, I don't know. Very," Hermione stopped and thought. "He's actually very kind-hearted. I still owl him every so often to catch up."
Hazel sighed and sunk her chin into her palm, her elbow resting on her now-forgotten paperwork. "That must be so cool. You've met some wicked people."
"Wicked?" Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I'll assume you mean cool and not evil?"
"Yep, that I do."
Hermione fell silent as she filled in the questionnaire and declaration form, registering her as a witch in Australia.
"Now, to answer your question," Hazel interrupted. "There's a rumour going around that our Secret Service are recruiting agents – I could see if there is something there for you? We'll have to go visit Damien."
"Secret Service? You mean like...being a spy?" she frowned slightly, intrigued.
Hazel shrugged, "Not sure, to be honest. It's called secret service, aint it?"
"Yes, yes it is. Ok, I've filled in everything," Hermione passed the paperwork and quill back.
The witch gave it a quick glance and tapped it once more with her wand, sending it onto the Department of Records.
"Well, this is your official welcome to Australia, then." Hazel got up and motioned Hermione to the door. "Shall we go visit Damien?"
After a moments hesitation, Hermione nodded. "Lead the way."
***
They travelled up to the highest storey and stepped out. Instead of a hallway, they entered a large circular room, filled with desk stations and people running this way and that. It reminded Hermione of a Control Room, with several large projections hovering above their heads of wanted posters and current alerts.
"This is the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Hazel explained. "But Damien is usually here somewhere."
They walked through the crowd of desks and people, dodged flying messages and Galahs and headed to the other side of the room. Up a flight of steps were a group of men, all chattering and laughing loudly as they listened to a newscast on the Wizarding Wireless.
"I told ya!" One shouted, thumping another on the shoulder. "I knew the Thunderers had it in them to win!"
"You owe us five bucks, Damo!" said another, pushing the man in the middle playfully. Hermione looked up at him and froze. He had his back to her, but she knew that stance. Strong shoulders, blonde hair pulled off his face into a low pony tail; standing straight and tall, his chin lifted confidently.
"Well, you're definitely in for a chance of the cup now," the man in the middle replied. Hermione picked up on the mixed accent, noting it sounded faintly English. Hazel turned back to look at her.
"Are you coming, or not?"
Hermione nodded slightly. She took a few more steps forward and then stopped again. It had to be, she knew it did. Very quietly, she said, "Malfoy?"
The man's shoulders tensed and tightened suddenly in recognition, although she had said the name quietly enough that even Hazel missed it. Logic pulled at Hermione's mind. It just couldn't be him. Malfoy had passed away a year after Voldemort was vanquished. She was told that he was hunted down by a group of leftover death eaters and tortured, for coming forward and trying to change his ways. They killed him for outing a large group of death eaters. It was terrible, she even went to his funeral and paid her respects to his mother.
But there was no doubt in her mind.
The man turned slowly, his hands clenched tightly into fists. Hermione took another step and met his gaze, his eyes flickering when he saw her.
He was tanned, his hair now a couple of shades darker than the platinum blond she remembered, and his forearms, visible as he was only wearing a t-shirt, were home to several tattoos, which she noticed covered the majority of his now-faded dark mark, and several faded scars. His chiselled jaw was set and the look he gave her with his steel silver eyes was serious. Ever so slightly, he inclined his head and she understood immediately.
Don't give him away.
She nodded her head once, letting him know that she would not say anything. In a second, his face, which she had only ever seen hosting a sneer, broke into a wide grin as he faced her companion. It changed his entire appearance from dignified wealthy Englishman, to a down-to-earth Aussie bloke.
"Hazel," he greeted warmly, extending his arms wide to meet her. "When are you going to leave that troll of a husband of yours and run away with me?"
She snorted derisively. "Oh, how I would, Love; if not for the children."
A man in the group popped his ginger head over the shoulder of the man standing next to him and cried, "Oi!"
Hazel winked at her husband and laughed. "I'm only joking, Joshie. You know you're the one for me."
"Too right," he replied indignantly before going back to his conversation about Quidditch.
"And who is this beautiful creature you have brought with you?" Malfoy asked, turning his gaze back to Hermione, his eyebrow raised.
"Damien, meet Hermione Granger, yes that Hermione Granger!" Hazel said enthusiastically. Hermione's face fell and she groaned to herself quietly. That's just what she needed, for Malfoy to think that waltzed in and announced that she's famous and demands a job. Hazel continued, "Do you know that apparently those gossip mags about Harry Potter are complete codswallop?"
"No!" Draco gasped dramatically. "But they had a close friend as the source! Are you sure that Hermione here isn't just saying her friend is innocent to cover it up?"
"I would never!" Hermione spluttered, quite shocked that he managed to use her first name, and alarmed by the slight shiver it sent down her spine when it rolled off his tongue. That was one thing she noticed in Australia – there was no default in using surnames before becoming acquainted. You were introduced by your first name and called thus until an appropriate nickname came up. She really hoped that didn't happen, she despised nicknames.
"Of course you wouldn't," Draco smiled at her and then held out his hand. "Damien Thorne, lovely to meet you."
Hermione hesitated before taking the last two steps up to the platform and placing her hand in his. It was surprising cool, not at all clammy or sweaty as she had expected in this heat. The touch sent more tingles down her arm and she met his eyes once more. She had never been this close to Malfoy before, not unless he was throwing insults at her in the school yard. Now that he faced her calmly, and smiling, she thought to herself; she noticed that he was very handsome. He looked so different in a way, relaxed almost – his face had filled out in the years since she had seen him, making his pointed chin less defined. His high cheekbones curved as he smiled and her breath hitched in her throat as she took back her hand.
"Now, what can I do for you?" he referred his question to Hazel.
She waved a hand at Hermione. "She's just moved here from the UK and has registered her intent to work. I told her that you may have something for her."
"Is that so?" he arched an eyebrow and glanced back to Hermione. "Just moved here? Bring the family with you, then?"
She heard the real question – did she bring Ron with her? She shook her head in the negative. "No family to bring. Just me. My parents live down the coast a bit, so I've decided to spend some time with them."
Draco's eyes furrowed as he looked at her again. She could see the question behind them. "Well, we prefer candidates with minimal family commitments, so that's good for you then. How about I take you out for a coffee and I can chat to you about the requirements?"
Hazel clapped her hands excitedly. "Sounds great. Well, I better be off – so nice to meet you Hermione!"
The plump witch took off down the stairs and across the room, quicker than Hermione had expected her be able to move. She looked back to Malfoy as he motioned after Hazel.
"Shall we?"
***
Malfoy stayed quiet as they exited the ministry and headed several streets over to a café in a back alley. Hermione knew that Melbourne was well known for these little nooks and was surprised by how easy Malfoy had found one. How long had he been here for?
He ordered them both a drink and sat at one of the outdoor tables, the café umbrella shading them from the sun. Whipping his wand out, he quickly muttered, "Muffliato," to make sure they weren't overheard.
His whole demeaner dropped as he rested his chin on his interlocked fingers. "So...Granger."
Hermione lifted her chin and said confidently, "Malfoy."
He flinched again. "I haven't used that name in a long time."
"But it is your name," she said in barely a whisper.
"What are you doing here?" He snapped. "Potter said that I was able to come here to live freely as long as I don't contact anyone from my old life. Did he send you to check up on me and make sure I was doing just that?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Potter...Harry knows that you're here and alive? Speaking of which, how is it that you are alive? I went to your funeral nine years ago!"
"Of course Potter knows I'm alive-" Draco stopped. "You mean...you seriously didn't know about me?"
"I thought you were dead, Malfoy!" she exclaimed, as he flinched again. "Harry doesn't even know that I'm here."
He lifted his grey eyes to hers once more. "So why are you here? And where is the Weasel?"
They were interrupted at that point as their coffee arrived. Pausing until the waiter had left, Hermione then took a sip of her hot drink to further extend the time in answering. Finally, she gathered enough courage to say, "I broke up with Ron."
Draco had the grace to look startled and a little sympathetic. "I'm sorry to hear that...well, not really, I couldn't give a shit about the man really. But, does that mean you literally moved countries to avoid him?"
He started to laugh. The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched. "No...not to avoid him. As I said, my parents live here and I needed a change. I am looking to get some more adventure in my life. But that still doesn't explain you – why does Harry know you're alive and that you're here?"
"You don't know what Potter does, do you?" He said.
Hermione frowned. "He's an Auror."
"No," Draco shook his head. "That's his cover. What I'm about to tell you is top secret, but since you're apart of his little posse, I can't see why I can't tell you. He's an intelligence agent. The Head of the British division of the Wizarding Secret Service."
"What?!"
"Yep," Draco nodded. "Still a git, but he's good at his job. He devised a plan way back when to get me into a Witness Protection Program. I was cornered by death eaters and tortured, but he found me in time and...as much as I hate to say it, but he saved me. He also arranged to have my mother sent to France, and although I'm not meant to contact anyone from my past life, we still talk every so often via muggle means, so it's under wizarding radar. It's taken her some adjusting to, but she's happy in her new life."
"So you're now Damien Thorne?" Hermione stifled a giggle. "As in, The Omen?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Well, I didn't know that at the time – I hadn't seen any muggle entertainment, had I? I guess it was Potter's way of having the last laugh. But it's not too bad. These Aussies love to give you nicknames, so to most, I'm known as Damo...which is close enough to Draco that I was able to quickly pick up responding to it."
"And have you really changed?" Hermione took another sip of her coffee. "I mean, the whole blood status thing?"
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?" he smirked. "I wouldn't have given you this time of day before."
"Oh, I'm sure you would've given me enough time of day to insult my hair, teeth and study habits," Hermione said, looking him squarely in the eye. He stared at her, as if evaluating her, and it made her slightly uncomfortable, so she looked away.
"Back in the day, perhaps. But, as I said before, you are a beautiful creature." He said this as if stating a fact, with no trace of sarcasm. Hermione felt her cheeks burn again and knew that she was blushing deeply.
"Things I never thought I'd hear Draco Malfoy say to me."
He shrugged and grinned, "Draco Malfoy didn't say that to you. Damien Thorne did. We're two completely different people."
"I've never seen you smile so much in all my years of knowing you as I did in the short time at the ministry." Hermione smirked a little.
"Yes, well," he mumbled, his own cheeks going red. "Damien Thorne is an exuberant and cheerful chap who everybody loves. I have to keep up that persona."
"Sounds exhausting," she commented. At her words, he sighed heavily and slumped forward onto the table, almost disrupting his coffee cup.
"Oh, you have no idea. I have to massage my cheeks every night from having to smile so much." There was a pause and then Hermione broke into laughter. He looked up and saw her clutching her fist to her mouth, trying to stop her fits of giggles. His mouth turned upwards, she had a very musical laugh.
"I'm...I'm sorry," she said though laughter. "I'm just picturing that."
She then pulled a face of deep concentration as she mimicked Draco rubbing his cheeks methodically, before breaking back into peals of more laughter. He couldn't help it, he laughed along with her.
When they finally regained control of themselves, they sat in a comfortable silence for a time. Hermione finally said, "You know, you don't have to be Damien around me. You can be Draco again...as long as you're not a dick to me."
He gave her a slight smile. "I've been Damien for so long now, I don't know if I can be Draco again. But I don't mind if you call me Draco in private. That would be nice...just not Malfoy."
She nodded. "So, shall we be friends then? Can we be friends? I mean, is that a possibility to be friends with someone you hated for seven years through school?"
"We can try," he replied.
"So what's this thing about candidates anyway?" Hermione brought the conversation back into line. "I'm just looking for a way to distract myself while I'm over here, but not looking for a boring desk job or anything. I need a change of pace in my life, I need more adventure."
"There's currently four positions available within my Department, ranging from field agents to analysts. The candidacy accepts up to 15 entrants who then go through a gruelling two month training program to get them field ready even if they don't advance through to the next round." He muttered an incantation at this and produced a brochure out of thin air to hand to her. "Here is some basic information. We've already filled 10 of the spots and the training starts in a week, so if you're interested you should let me know pretty soon."
"I'm definitely interested," Hermione said, flicking through the brochure. "It looks intensive though, do you really think I have the aptitude to do this work?"
Draco snorted. "Are you kidding? Gryffindor princess who helped take down the dark lord, who has more balls than her two best friends combined?"
Hermione blushed.
"You should be fine. But don't think it's light-hearted work – we push you to your utmost limits. But if it's a challenge you're looking for, this would be it."
"Okay then," she said firmly. "Sign me up."