As it turned out, many of the shops Hermione visited during her trip to Diagon Alley had, in fact, had positions open―or maybe they only had jobs to offer someone like Hermione Granger. The wizarding world was too stifling, too enclosed, and far too concerned with gossip and status.

Draco would know.

But regardless, within a matter of days, she had received close to a dozen owls, and Draco scanned her stack of job offers with amusement.

"Which one should I take?" she asked him when he came by her flat, brows high on her forehead.

Draco shrugged and gave her a noncommittal gesture. Things had felt a little stifled between them ever since their last meeting, wherein she had admitted she had briefly been uncertain as to their future. And though she hadn't spoken of it out loud, he could sometimes see the way her smile faltered when she looked at him. As if she still couldn't fully make sense of the way she felt about him―or the two of them.

It left him unsettled, to say the least. But he had promised they would work through it together, and though it stung, he wanted to be there for her.

"Honestly," Draco said, skimming the contents of her bookshelf, "no offence to shopkeepers. I think you're cut out for something more than retail on Diagon. Government, curse-breaking, healing." He gave another shrug. "If you don't feel confident in your magical abilities yet, you could take something temporarily."

The way she had raced through all of his books, and several loads from the manor's library, Draco would be surprised if she didn't know as much as she once had or more. But he knew so many of her hesitations were in the principle of it―that she didn't think she was ready to pursue anything else until she knew what she didn't know.

It had been fascinating to witness her pure and unaffected interest in magic when Draco had been surrounded by the politics and the bias of it his entire life.

"Curse-breaking sounds intimidating," she admitted, glancing away. "I've considered the idea of becoming a healer, but having spent so much time at St Mungo's, I'm not certain I'd be cut out for it."

Silence descended upon them; several of her shelves appeared to have been reorganised since the last time he was at her flat. A couple of them were loaded with her old school textbooks and a few personal items that he suspected she had pulled from the boxes in her Gringotts vault.

His eyes caught in disbelief when he spotted the Order of Merlin she'd been awarded after the war, but it was shifted to the side as though she either hadn't realised the significance of it or didn't care. Instead, in the centre of the same shelf, she had arranged several framed photographs.

A few were of her and her friends, including the one of their eighth year class, but the last was of a middle-aged couple with beaming smiles. Draco jolted with a start to realise she must have found a picture of her parents. The woman had her brown eyes, the man her riotous curls.

A soft smile lingered on Hermione's face when she caught him staring.

Draco took a seat on the sofa, careful to keep distance between them. While his pride stung at the thought that things between them might have gone a step backwards, he didn't think he could handle the thought of her recoiling from his touch.

"Have you considered a place at the Ministry?"

"I have," she mused, still absently shifting through the stack of parchment. "I've looked a little into it, but I don't know where I would be best suited." Her eyes flitted towards him, a hint of colour rising in her cheekbones. "I was quite fascinated by what you told me―about the Unspeakables."

Draco snickered. "You think curse-breaking is intimidating, but you want to be an Unspeakable?" Casting her a look, he smiled. "I can give you a tour of the Ministry if you like. The last time we were there was a little―"

"Right," she breathed.

The only other time she had been to the Ministry had been on the day of his father's trial and subsequent execution―or as good as. He hadn't been of much presence of mind to show her around.

His schedule had shifted with the beginning of his patrols, a little more erratic than it had been before when he had worked in the office. "I have Sunday off if you like. There won't be as many people around."

A tentative smile graced her lips. "Alright. That sounds good."


On Sunday morning, Draco felt nerves flicker through him when he stopped to pick up Hermione. It was good, he thought, to go when the corridors would be a little quieter; most of the Ministry kept regular hours on weekdays, and Hermione was less likely to be hounded.

"Hi," she said when she opened the door, a little breathless. She had dressed nicely, and he could tell by the way she wrung her hands that she was nervous.

He tried to remember the first time he had properly seen the Ministry. He must have been very young, trailing along on a meeting with his father. The thought caused a jolt of misery to shoot through him.

It had been a different time—a different world.

"You don't need to be nervous," was all he said. "Are you set to go?"

She stowed her wand into one pocket before offering a nod. She slipped her hand into his, the feel of it a little unfamiliar after he had gone out of his way not to touch her for most of the week, but he tightened his grip before Apparating them both. When they landed, he released her, perhaps a little too quickly, and he couldn't read the look on her face when she averted her gaze and stepped away.

Merlin, he hoped something shifted soon. They felt trapped in some sort of strange limbo, and he didn't know what to make of the way everything stung.

"So this is the Atrium," he began, clearing his throat. The expansive hall was mostly empty but for a few people flitting through between the banks of Floo grates and the lifts. "Technically, we're on level eight. The DMLE is on level two."

Hermione drew in a breath before nodding, wrapping her arms across her front. "I'd like to see where you work. If that's alright."

"Of course," he said, his words tinged with a politeness that left him feeling awkward. "You can see all the departments if you like. Or as much as we can, not working within them."

"And can we see the Department of Mysteries?" Her large eyes were frightened, but still, he could see the curiosity that had rung beneath her tone when she spoke of the Unspeakables two days prior.

Draco grimaced. "We can, but we won't be able to go into the chambers. You won't be able to see much."

"Right."

He led her into an empty lift, the door standing ajar, and with a ring, the doors slid shut, and the lift began to move. Hermione clasped her hands again, one of her feet tapping on the floor of the lift. Draco felt a smirk tug at his lips.

"I don't know why I'm nervous," she blurted, as though reading the sentiment on the front of his mind. "I suppose I feel like I'm trying to make a decision with only half the information."

"You don't need to make any decisions," Draco said mildly. "Not now, or next week, or next month. But as it stands, I'm certain you could work in any department you chose if you want to work at the Ministry."

"Do you like it here?" Her large eyes landed on him as she worried her lower lip.

He hesitated for a moment before offering a nod. "Most of the time. There's a lot of bureaucracy and red tape, of course, which can be frustrating. But it wasn't about working here for me when I enrolled in Auror training. It was about becoming an Auror... but not. It was more."

Her face softened, and he could tell she understood that it was his way of making a statement to his father and the wizarding world as a whole. That he wasn't his father, and he never would be.

If nothing else, at least she could still understand that. She still knew him, even if she questioned the very same.

The lift pinged, and they strode from the lift into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "The DMLE is a large body that encompasses a lot of facets, and the Auror's Office is only one of those." He gestured towards the office, and she glanced around with uncertainty when he led her into the large open offices. "It's alright. You can be in here. Just don't, you know, commit a crime or anything because you'll get arrested pretty fast."

She shot him a look, even as her lips twitched.

A few Aurors glanced up as they passed, but most ignored them. Robards' door was open, the man working on some paperwork, and Draco flashed a brief wave.

"Auror Malfoy," Robards said, gesturing them into the office, then nodded. "Miss Granger. Malfoy, don't you have the day off?"

"I do." He slid his hands into his pockets. "Just showing Hermione around the Ministry."

Hermione cast him a sidelong glance. "It's nice to meet you properly, Auror Robards. Draco's been kind enough to show me through all of this. I'm going to be looking for a job, you see. Once I'm able to restore my memories."

Robards' brows lifted as though in surprise. "I see. I seem to recall making you a carte blanche offer for a job here in the Auror's Office after you completed your last year at Hogwarts."

Colour rushed into her cheeks as her lips parted on a sharp breath. Though Draco hadn't been aware, he wasn't surprised, given her antics with Potter during the war.

"I wasn't aware, sir," she said quietly.

Tapping his quill on the desk for a moment, Robards regarded her with focused eyes. "I'm sure the offer would still stand if you have any interest. I'd be happy to talk through it with you at any point. Of course, you'd have to be around this one every day." The grin he shot Draco was good-natured.

Hermione tittered. "I appreciate the offer and will certainly give it some thought."

"Talk to Kingsley," Robards said, his gaze sliding back to Draco. "He'll know more about where there are any open positions."

A dart of intimidation shot through Draco at the words. He wasn't on personal terms with the Minister of Magic well enough to simply walk up to the man, though it occurred to him that Hermione might have been.

"Don't suppose you know of anything in the DoM," he drawled, leaning against the wall.

Robards' brows shot high, and he removed his glasses, scrubbing at his eyes. Hermione's face faltered as she shifted on the spot. "Merlin knows anything about anything down there. But it couldn't hurt to ask. Talk to Unspeakable Caldwell. Throw my name at her if you like."

"Thanks," Draco clipped. "See you tomorrow."

Amusement lingered on the man's face as they moved towards the door. "Enjoy your tour, Miss Granger."

She ducked her chin in a little nod. "Thank you, sir."

Draco led her from the office and deeper into the expansive room; a few Aurors glanced up as they passed, and some of the stares lingered. He did his best to ignore them when he suspected most of the attention was because Hermione was with him.

"My desk," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. "It isn't much―but I'll move once I'm through with training."

Hermione made a show of inspecting it, smoothing her hand over the wooden surface, tapping her fingers against her jaw, before she flashed him a grin. "It's a lovely desk."

Rolling his eyes and nudging her in the ribs, he muttered, "Come on. There are more interesting things to see than my desk."

As he led her from the office and back into the larger DMLE, however, Draco nearly collided with a man whose attention was fixed on the stack of paperwork in his hands.

"Shit," Draco hissed, jumping out of the way. The man glanced up in surprise, and Draco felt the blood drain from his face. It was Minister Shacklebolt. "Apologies, sir."

Startled, Shacklebolt looked between them. "Not at all; I ought to have paid more attention." His gaze lingered on Hermione for a long moment, as though he were warring with himself as to what he should say before he cleared his throat. "Auror Malfoy―and Miss Granger. It is wonderful to see you again."

Hermione's gaze slid towards him, and Draco ducked his chin. "Minister Shacklebolt. The Minister for Magic."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, and colour crept into her cheeks. "Of course. Please forgive me, Minister."

A chuckle fell from Shacklebolt's lips, but he offered a sad smile. "No apologies necessary. I've been overly familiar―you and I were once comrades-in-arms of a sort. During the war."

Draco saw Hermione's brows knit, and she offered another, more subdued, "Oh. Right." She shifted a little on the spot before her smile brightened. "Then it's lovely to see you as well."

"You don't need to explain," Shacklebolt said with another easy smile. "Harry―Mister Potter―explained the situation."

Hermione still looked a little jarred, though Draco couldn't tell whether it wasn't because of the familiarity Potter had with the Minister for Magic. "Draco's been taking me for a tour," she offered belatedly. "As I'm going to be looking for a job soon."

A pause hung between the three of them before Shacklebolt nodded. "You would be a most valuable asset to the Ministry."

"Thank you, sir." Hermione offered another smile.

Draco couldn't remember whether he had ever been so engaged in a conversation involving the Minister for Magic before, and he felt a little out of place between the two of them, despite that Hermione couldn't even remember the man. In fact, he hadn't even been aware Shacklebolt knew of him or his position as an Auror. But he supposed awareness of the minutiae of the Ministry fell within the man's job description.

"I've heard a little of the harrowing tale at play here." Shacklebolt offered another chuckle, his gaze shifting to Draco with a warmth he hadn't anticipated. "And might I just say, we're all glad to have you back. Enjoy your tour, Hermione." The man bowed his head for a moment and carried on down the corridor, burying his face in his paperwork once more.

When they were left alone once more, Hermione hovered in the hall without moving. "Does everyone know me?" she asked, her voice a little over a whisper.

Although she had received a lot of owls after the news began to circulate that she was alive and in the wizarding world once more, Draco supposed it was different when people approached her with the knowledge of shared experiences.

He couldn't lie to her. "They don't all know you. But yes. Everyone knows who you are." He released a snicker. "Maybe you knew Unspeakable Caldwell at one point. It would make getting a job in the Department of Mysteries easier."

Hermione shot him a look, her cheeks flaring with heat. "I don't want a job I haven't earned."

"You'll earn it." He sobered, recognising the embarrassment on her face. "I didn't mean it like that."

If he wasn't mistaken, she had been a little more on edge than he had seen her in a while, and he didn't know whether it had to do with the strange circumstances of being at the Ministry or if it was something more personal between them. Draco blew out a breath and jammed his hands into his pockets. "I genuinely believe you'd be able to do anything you decide on."

Hermione softened, her fingers brushing the side of his arm for a second. "I know you didn't mean it that way." When they carried on once more towards the lift, she frowned. "I suppose this is all just a little overwhelming. I appreciate you doing this."

The air still felt a little stilted, so he only nodded. They slipped into the lift, and Draco jammed the button for level nine.


As it turned out, Hermione had never met Unspeakable Caldwell. Fortunately, the woman was in the Department of Mysteries―Draco wondered if all department heads worked Sundays―and they came across her without any trouble. Unspeakable Caldwell was a middle-aged, no-nonsense woman with dark hair streaked through with grey, but her eyes were sharp and keen.

If she knew of Hermione or the circumstances surrounding her memory, she made no mention.

But she must have been living under a rock if she didn't know any of it. And besides, Draco didn't think the woman would have been as keen to talk to them otherwise.

Regardless, the seeming lack of one-sided expectations allowed Hermione to relax, and Draco slipped away for a few minutes while the pair of them conversed in the entrance to the department. He could see by the sparkle in Hermione's eyes that she was instantly taken with the idea.

Her cheeks were a little flushed when Unspeakable Caldwell carried on, and Hermione sought him out once more. "This department sounds fascinating," she admitted, "if a little intimidating."

"Told you," Draco mused, "the most intimidating in the whole establishment. But the place where you'll be able to explore magic the most by far."

"Unspeakable Caldwell asked me to send her an owl this week," Hermione said, beaming as they made towards the lift once more. "To arrange an interview. Do you suppose I could borrow your owl?"

"Of course." In an effort to avoid touching her out of habit, Draco slid his hands into his pockets again. "Do you want to see any other departments while we're here?"

She considered the thought for a moment, then offered an apologetic smile. "I think I've had enough for now."

"Alright."

They only went up one level before arriving in the Atrium, but Hermione turned to face him before they stepped from the lift. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

He had anticipated returning her home and perhaps feeling awkward about whether or not he should go home, so he latched onto the idea in an instant. "Sure. We can go up to the street level."

The summer sun beamed down on them when they emerged onto Whitehall, and Draco felt some of his melancholy seep away. As they strode through Muggle London, some of the tension fell away from Hermione as well, and they were able to fall into an easy conversation, more so than they had all week.

If nothing else, Draco was grateful for the time spent with her, even if everything else felt a little flat.

His hands hung at his sides, one of hers near enough that he could have taken it into his if he wanted. Before he could deliberate on the matter for too long―and ultimately persuade himself against it―her fingers nudged against his own.

Her pinky remained against his, and Draco cast her a brief sidelong glance.

"You know I'm not going to cringe away if you so much as touch me, right?" she breathed, the words scarcely a whisper. A flicker of something like hurt danced across her face.

Draco released a sigh. "I haven't wanted to push when I know you're trying to process this."

This. It felt simultaneously too narrow and too broad to describe how she had come to feel about her visceral recollection of him that had returned. If she had a bad feeling about him in the back of her mind, the last thing he wanted to do was make her more uncomfortable.

"Fine," she said and remained silent as they walked down the road. But her fingers still grazed against his before she pulled his hand into hers. "And part of processing it is reminding myself that it doesn't matter to me what happened between us years ago. The Draco I care about is the one right here with me."

He blew out a breath, attempting to stifle the slight quake in his hands.

"Okay?" she pressed, her stare hard on him.

Draco nodded, squeezing her hand a moment. "Okay."

"If anything," she went on quietly, "I have a chance to prepare for the memories before they arrive. I am sorry... that I had a moment of doubt."

He knew she was. And he was only sorry everything had crashed down upon her in such a way in the first place.

"You don't have to apologise for that," he murmured. Even though the thought that she had briefly considered something―he didn't know how extreme the doubt ran―he still didn't want her to carry any guilt over it. After all, he had expected she might come to her senses and leave him for months now.

Sadness lingered in her stare. "You're more important to me than that. So yes, I do."

Draco ducked in, brushing a kiss to her temple as they rounded the corner. "You're more than a flicker of doubt. Just as you're more than a collection of memories." He caught her stare for a moment, coming to an abrupt halt on the pavement. "You're the most important person to me. And I'm just grateful for the chance you've given me."

Her eyes were a little glassy when he fell silent, and her lips parted to speak.

"Hermione? Is that you?"

They both glanced up, startled, at the surprise in the words. A furrow knit Hermione's brow, and Draco's gaze settled on a man and woman, both staring at her with matching expressions of shock.

Draco's heart leapt into his throat, settling like a stone and hindering the next draw of breath.

His mind flickered back, only days before, to a series of photographs she'd framed on her bookshelf—a middle-aged couple―a woman with Hermione's eyes and a man with her unruly curls.

"Holy shit," he whispered to himself.

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes welling instantly with tears, and the couple rushed towards them.

"Mum?" she said, the word small as it fell from her lips. "Dad?"

Draco's eyes went wide, adrenaline clamouring through him as, for the first time in as long as he could remember, he found himself at a complete and utter loss for words.


Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked the chapter - the next one will be here in five days.

/runs/

Alpha and beta thanks, as always, to kyonomiko and FaeOrabel.