A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I've loved reading all your comments. I was so motivated this Thursday evening that you are even getting this chapter a few hours early! A special thank you to my wonderful alpha reader ladeedaa and my fantastic beta reader astrangefan

A Breach

"So, which one of your strapping young men wants to take me to lunch?" Hermione asked with a smirk as she sauntered into Harry's office and saw him hunched over a file while Ron scribbled into a notebook his legs dangling over the arms of Harry's guest chair.

"Hermione!" Harry greeted, a warm smile on his face. "It will have to be Ron, unfortunately. I've got an interrogation in ten." She was surprised he didn't ask her about her request for information on Parseltongue, but she was glad of it. The last thing she needed was Ron sniffing around in her work as well.

Ron unfolded himself from that chair and smiled at her too. "I suppose I could deign to eat with Unspeakable Granger - if I have to." There was a warm twinkle in his eye and Hermione chuckled.

"Don't do me any favours, Ron."

It felt nice, like a relief being in the presence of her friends. In the darkest days of the war, Hermione couldn't imagine the more carefree part of her life being when she was just with Ron and Harry. Everything had been so tense and terrifying. Now, they were her source of comfort and familiarity.

At her parents' house, she felt helpless against the crushing weight of responsibility for Draco and Theo - and the fear that she'd fail them. Being with Harry and Ron felt like a burden lifted - even if only for a moment.

"Come on then," Hermione said, cocking her head toward the door. "I've got to be back in thirty to meet with Rilla."

"Bossy," Ron fake pouted, but he took her arm in his and escorted her to the lifts.

"Did you finish all your paperwork?" Hermione asked, as they made idle conversation on the way to a little cafe frequented by Ministry staff just a block away.

"Yes, mother," Ron teased. "But then they assigned more, so I'll be writing until my hand cramps all over again."

"You know, this is my fault, really," she said. "I shouldn't have helped you with your homework so often, then you'd be much faster at writing."

"I'd have also failed out of Hogwarts, so let's just call it a wash."

"Don't say that, Ron," Hermione chastised. "You are incredibly smart. You are just better at doing and not all that interested in articulating."

He seemed pleased with her assessment - it was one she'd conveyed to him on more than one occasion. Ron was someone who needed validation. Being the second youngest of seven - all of them high achievers - Ron often felt as if he were not good enough. He wasn't a curse breaker, or a dragon tamer, or a Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, or a massively wealthy entrepreneur, or a Quidditch star. He was an Auror - and some tried to imply that he was only an Auror because he was Harry Potter's best friend.

She and Ron had not been right for each other - they never would have worked even in the best of circumstances. But Ron was such a good person - truly. She hated how insecure he felt and wished that he could see all the ways in which he was not only vital to the War effort, but as a friend in general.

"Moving on," she said, primly as she grabbed a salad and a water from the prepared foods display. "What's new in your life? I feel like we never get to talk anymore. With my work and your cases, we talk more about Vampires and curses than we do about our lives."

"It's alright," Ron said with a sigh. "Been seeing a girl who works at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley."

Hermione's eyes lit up and she smiled brightly. "Oh really? When do we get to meet her?"

"It's new," he said, blushing. "I'd like her to get to know me as me before she meets the Harry Potter and Hermione Granger."

Hermione could understand that. One of the problems of being a celebrity was that you couldn't be completely sure of people's motives. It was another reason she'd stuck to dating Muggles after Ron.

"I understand. I can't wait to meet her, though." She'd often wondered if Ron was lonely. She knew he dated casually, but he rarely introduced them to anyone. Then again, her friends could say the same for her. They never met her Muggle suitors. Merlin, they probably thought she was a nun! Molly Weasley and Parvati both seemed to think their life's mission was to set her up on dates.

One Christmas, Molly had forced Charlie to bring home a strapping Wizard named Bruce whom none of them had ever met but just so happened to be single and was placed next to Hermione at dinner.

Subtle.

Hermione didn't have time to think back on it, though, because their polite conversation was very impolitely interrupted.

"Oi, you're that bitch, Granger, right?" Hermione's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as she turned to see a man, probably in his mid-fifties, pointing a boney, accusing finger at her. Ron's hackles were immediately raised.

"Urm, yes. Can I help you?" she asked. She'd been addressed in public more times than she could count, but rarely with vitriol - certainly not by the moniker 'bitch'. This man looked so angry that he might strike her. It made her uneasy. She took a breath.

"Want to release the Death Eaters from prison, do you? Want to use my taxes to pay for them to live like kings?" He spoke so harshly a bit of spittle hit her in the face, and she remained seated, shocked as he continued to wave his finger at her, crowding her personal space. She didn't know what to do, exactly. She felt frozen to the spot.

"Oi!" she heard Ron shout, getting up so fast he knocked his chair over. Hermione raised her hand and placed it gently on Ron's forearm as if to say, calm down. The very last thing she needed was a duel in the middle of the cafe that almost every Ministry worker came in and out of daily.

"If you think we are just going to let you progressive, bleeding heart children steal from the public to give to those murderers, you have another thing coming!" the man continued. "I don't care who your bloody friends are."

"Mate, you'd better back off," Ron said, pulling his wand. He didn't aim it at the man, but he made it clear that he wasn't above using it if he had to. He also just so happened to flash his Auror badge if the wand was too subtle.

"Sir," Hermione started remaining as calm as she could, "I'm sorry you are upset. I do not make the laws that allocate money or levy taxes. The prison is a human rights atrocity, and that is indisputable."

"Good!" the man shot back, closing in on her. "It should be!"

She finally stood, "Ron, do you mind if we leave?" she asked, her voice strong and confident, but her insides were twisting. She'd never been addressed like this by a stranger. She couldn't imagine what might happen when she actually made the case to release some of the prisoners from Azkaban. If this was the level of hatred at the mere suggestion that inmates deserved basic human rights…

Ron hurriedly swept her from the cafe and wrapped a protective arm around her as he led her back to the Ministry.

"Blimey, Hermione. That was terrifying. I had no idea what he might do," he seemed to have a case of the shakes himself. She didn't feel as if she might be in actual danger. She was armed with her wand. Ron was armed with his. They were both competent duelers - even if she was a bit out of practice. It was the suddenness and the confidence of the man. It was jarring and had pushed her off kilter. Apparently, it had had the same effect on Ron too.

When they got back to Harry's office he was already gone. Hermione thought it was just as well. She didn't need the big brother routine at the moment. She thanked Ron for lunch, kissed him on the cheek and made her way down to the Department of Mysteries.

Rilla had the pensieve already shrunk for her and was waiting for an update when she arrived.

Hermione quickly ran down what she knew and what her conclusions were. Rilla's brows furrowed as she took in the information.

"This makes Hogwarts a priority," Rilla pointed out - a thing Hermione had already considered.

"Right, but I can assure you that Minerva is not going to allow me to cart two prisoners to Hogwarts. There'd be no way for her to ensure they wouldn't gain access to magic." Hermione left out the part where she believed even if they had access to magic, they wouldn't harm her or anyone else - nor would they run. If she did, Rilla would question how close she was getting to her subjects, and the thought of being taken off the case made her stomach drop.

Rilla nodded absently. "At the very least we need to have a Floo connection to the school from your house in Surrey. I'll take care of the administrative angle. I'll let you know when it's done. You are also going to need to access the books we have in the Death Chamber. We are dealing with a Dark Wizard trying to return from the dead, it seems. That's the most extensive collection on the ways in which one might do that."

"Of course, I'll take some things while I'm here," Hermione said. She was almost giddy at the thought of new reading material. "I'll need another portkey to Azkaban in three days as well."

Rilla nodded, "I'll schedule a new portkey every Friday. I can call for more if the need arises."

Hermione said her goodbyes and made her way back to the lifts, up to the main Atrium and to the Apparating point. When she felt her feet touch down in her parents' back yard, she felt relieved. She didn't enjoy being away from Draco or Theo. She worried about them constantly when she left.

It occurred to her that in less than a week the home she'd been so focused on avoiding had become somewhat of a safe space for her. It was filling with new memories. She hated to think how those memories would shatter her soul if she had to send the men back to Azkaban.

She was still a bit off-kilter, though, from the incident in the cafe. When she'd been in the Department of Mysteries, it had been all business, but now that she was home, she felt the shakes start to settle in.

That man looked like he wanted to kill me.

It was the suddenness of it, the lack of preparation, that frayed at her nerves. She also knew things would get worse before they got better. Her campaign for Azkaban was ambitious and it would ruffle a lot of feathers. The Daily Prophet would write more hit pieces, and if Rita Skeeter was still working with them - they'd be harsh.

Hermione decided she'd take a Calming Draught to stave off the anxiety that was building up.

When she got to the room Draco and Theo were sharing, she immediately felt a tension in the room. Both were sitting in bed reading, but the atmosphere felt oppressive.

"Is everything okay?" she asked, tentatively.

Both of their heads shot up, having not even noticed her come into the room.

"It's fine," Draco said, tersely.

She looked to Theo for more insights.

"It's the pain," he said. "We're both at about a seven."

"Why didn't you contact me?" her accusation was aimed at Draco. "I gave you the spelled notebook for a reason!"

"I'm not going to beg you to come back for a seven," Draco growled. "It's fine. Reading helps."

Hermione sighed with frustration.

Stubborn arse.

"If you'd bothered to contact me, I could have come back and told you I have an alternative pain reliever I'd like you to try. Seven is probably just the right level to give it a go. It's bad enough that we can see if it works at all, but not so bad that we need immediate, acute care." She knew she sounded snotty, but she was annoyed. This entire thing rested on them being open and honest with her. She told them as much.

"I'm sorry," Theo said. "We thought it would pass."

"Nevermind," she said. "I'll be right back. Let me just get a Calming Draught." She took the vial from the Potions rack and drank it down quickly before going to her room where she'd left the cannabis and the pipe Charles had given her.

It only just occurred to her how absolutely mental it was that she was about to teach Draco Malfoy and Theo Nott how to smoke a bowl - not as if she was an expert herself.

When she returned to the men, they were sitting up straighter in anticipation. They were both grimacing, and Hermione felt a sense of unearned guilt in the pit of her stomach. They'd been in pain while she was out. What if one of them started seizing again? What if one of them slipped into a coma? She knew she couldn't be on top of them all the time - part of healing them would require her actually leaving the house and doing her other jobs. But they were her responsibility entirely. It weighed on her heavily.

She was also mad. She was angry at Malfoy for not contacting her - after everything they'd been through over the last days.

When will the stupid prat learn to trust me?

She unrolled the baggy of weed and set the pipe down on her desk. "This is very unorthodox," she began. "This is actually illegal in the Muggle world - it's somewhat similar to tobacco, but it has mood-altering effects…"

"Marijuana," Theo interrupted. Hermione's eyes widened.

"So, you've heard of it?"

"Granger, do you honestly think we've never done drugs before?" Malfoy asked, his tone still indicating he was in some pain. "Milicent Bulstrode once smoked half a bag of it and then ate three pans of treacle tart in one sitting."

Hermione couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. "Okay," she said between giggles, "at least I don't have to explain what it is. My research indicates that its effect on pain is inconclusive. But I'm desperate for an option that will not get either of you addicted to potions," her eyes cut over to Draco, fixing him with a glare, "despite how little you care about that."

She packed the pipe with the dense, sticky leaves as she spoke, happy to see the Calming Draught had relieved her of the shakes.

"The real question," Draco went on, "is how did Auror Potter's best friend get her hands on it."

Hermione blushed. "An old boyfriend deals," she muttered. "Anyway, shall we give it a try? If it doesn't work, I'm happy to provide you with a pain potion. But I'd really like to try this if you consent."

"That's fine," Theo said, a grimacing smile gracing his lips.

"I'll smoke it, but you'd better have something to eat that I don't have to cook," Draco muttered.

"I'll make lunch. I promise," Hermione said, relieved that the conversation had gone a lot better than it had in her head. "I suppose the two of you know how to work this, then?" she indicated the pipe in her hand.

"We'll manage," Theo assured her. She passed it along with a lighter to Theo first before pulling out her notebook.

Subjects 1 and 2 indicated pain levels of seven. Will attempt testing on cannabis as pain relief. Method of ingestion: smoked. Strain: White Widow

Subject 1 has access to communication but did not utilise it as the pain increased. Either too proud or does not trust me enough to be vulnerable.

Hermione smelled the burning weed and wrinkled her nose. She lifted her wand and cast a venting charm which sucked the smoke from the room and blew it down the hall.

When she looked up at them, they were awkwardly passing the pipe back and forth and she decided added distraction was needed. She turned around and fumbled with the TV trying to find something to watch.

"Please, not Dirty Dancing," Draco scoffed.

"No, not Dirty Dancing," she replied, rolling her eyes.

"I happened to like the film," Theo said.

"Suck up," Draco muttered.

"That's why Theo is my favourite," Hermione quipped.

Deciding there was nothing on television, she flipped the thing off. She really needed to get some more movies for them to occupy their time.

She flopped back down into her desk chair and noticed Malfoy was offering the pipe to her. "Oh, no," she said, waving him off. "It's not for me. Besides, I have to stay sober to record my findings."

"Finding one," Theo began, "Pain is still at a seven, but my body feels like it is floating."

"Finding two," Draco said, "Have no desire to ever get up from this bed again."

Hermione chuckled. "Well, keep me informed of the pain levels. I'm just going to pop downstairs to make some lunch for you. I have a feeling you'll be needing it soon."

"Before you go, Granger," Draco stopped her before she managed to get up. "What was the Calming Draught for?"

"Huh?"

"You took a Calming Draught when you got back. Did something happen?" He tried to sound casual, but the question itself proved he was worried about her. It had been at least twenty minutes since she took the potion. What made him think to ask her now?

She shook her head. "Nothing really," she replied. "Nothing to worry about. I just had a run in with a rather nasty man at the cafe when I got lunch. I'm fine."

Draco and Theo both frowned. "Nasty enough to require a calming potion?" Theo pressed.

Merlin, it was like dealing with Harry and Ron.

"It was just unexpected. I'm used to people recognizing me, but rarely do people scream at me in public," she went on. "I'm perfectly fine. I wasn't close to a panic attack. I just needed to take the edge off."

"Screamed at you about what?" Draco questioned, undeterred.

"Merlin, weed makes the two of you horrendous busybodies, doesn't it?" she said, but there was no malice in her tone. Draco looked at her as if she wasn't about to deflect his question.

"It was about the Prophet article. It made a lot of people mad," she clarified. "I knew that would happen. It was just jarring."

Draco's frown deepened. He didn't like it, and she could tell. It's why she hadn't wanted to mention it at all.

"Look, I was never in any danger. I was fine. It will be a lesson to me to grow a thicker skin and be on my gaurd," she shrugged.

"Hermione, it's okay," Theo said, finally. "We understand." Draco didn't look like he agreed with his friend, but he said nothing. Hermione took the silence as her opportunity to prepare them food.

After eating, both men indicated their pain had been lessened. It was still ever present, but the sharp bite of the level seven pain had dulled to a four. Hermione couldn't be sure it was time or the cannabis, but she'd had plans to cultivate the weed into a potion that would have more immediate effects. Once that was done, she'd have better answers. Either way, she was happy to see them more relaxed.

Theo nodded off soon after eating, leaving Hermione and Draco alone, once again. It didn't surprise her that he was very quiet. Her experience with Charles and some of his friends had prepared her for all manner of 'pot-heads'. The giggles, the contemplative, the 'deep thinker'. It was really not a shock that the brooding Malfoy would be even more brooding while high.

But he did surprise her when he finally opened his mouth. "Were you alone?" he finally asked after looking at her for several long minutes.

Huh?

"Alone?"

"When the man attacked you. Were you alone?" He clarified.

"No," she said, her brows furrowed. "Ron was with me. And it wasn't an attack exactly…"

Draco waved off her clarification like swatting a fly. "You shouldn't press the Warden," he continued. "I know I asked you to get Theo out. I know I asked you to help my mother if you could. I hadn't considered…"

"No offence, Draco," she said, "But I would have done everything the same with or without you asking me."

He scoffed. "Of course," he spat, but it didn't have the same conviction it usually did.

"Why are you mad?" Hermione finally asked.

"Do you think I want to owe you something else?" Draco finally asked, but his voice wasn't mad. He sounded like he was horrified by the very notion.

"I owe you for what you did for my mother. I owe you for helping to kill The Dark Lord. I'll owe you for freeing Theo from this prison. I owe you…' He stopped speaking but he was looking directly at her left arm. Hermione looked down to follow his gaze, her right hand brushing unconsciously against the place 'Mudblood' was scrawled in Bellatrix's hand under her jumper.

"You don't owe me anything. All of those things would have happened whether you existed or not," Hermione said, cocking her head to the side as she contemplated what he was saying to her. For all his fear of being vulnerable, he was certainly taking to it like a duck to water now.

"No, they wouldn't have," he insisted. "If I didn't exist, you wouldn't have given my mother special treatment. Maybe you'd still help Nott, but we both know him being here was my fault in the first place. I didn't do enough to get him out. I didn't try hard enough. I was too worried about my own skin. And as for that," he indicated at her arm. "I could have denied who you were outright."

This conversation had gotten very deep very quickly, and Hermione's mind was reeling to keep up. "Draco, don't you understand that you saved our lives that night?"

He scoffed again, but she couldn't abide it. She stood up, moved over to his bed and sat down next to him. She would make him see her point of view if it was the last thing she did. "You knew it was me. You knew it was Ron. You knew that wherever I was, and Ron was - you knew Harry would be there. With your entire family and that fucking basket case of an aunt breathing down your neck, you stalled long enough for us to get out. I'd be dead if it were not for you."

"Calling The Dark Lord was delayed by Gryffindor's Sword," Draco countered. "Nothing I did ever mattered."

"She would have called him before even noticing the sword if you hadn't lied," Hermione pointed out.

"I suppose I never properly thanked you for what you did," she said. The truth was, until recently she'd not given it the thought it was due. That night was mad, and the trauma she had because of it meant she didn't like to think about it much.

"Don't," he pleaded, reaching his hand out tentatively to the sleeve of her jumper. He lifted it up her forearm until the offending scar came into view. "Don't you dare thank me."

Hermione didn't know what to do or to say. Malfoy was clearly dealing with inner demons and guilt, but she earnestly no longer faulted him for the actions of a boy five years ago. Instead, she said nothing and quietly allowed him to run his finger down the raised lines of the word that had been carved there for half a decade.

"I will never call you that again," he promised, his voice suddenly very calm. "Yet another thing I must apologise for."

"Draco, what…" she wanted to ask him what changed so much in just a few days. Why this need to purge and confess? What was he thinking? It was so hard to tell what was going on in his head at a given moment and his moods changed like the wind.

In that moment, though, the talk of the worst night of her life, or merely the stress of the day took over and suddenly she felt her left-hand seizing. "Shit," she muttered.

"What is it?" he asked, alert.

"My hand. It's cramping. It's going to go into rigour any moment…"

Her fist clenched and unclenched a few times before it clenched shut and she could no longer open it. She moaned in pain, though she'd valiantly tried to bite her lip to stop it from slipping out.

Without a word, Draco took her hand in his and prised open her fingers the way she had that very first day at St. Mungos. "Tell me what to do," he said, breathlessly.

"Start at my wrist, and massage down firmly to the tips of my fingers and then back up," she said, gasping through the pain. She focused on the way his long, strong fingers made quick and efficient work of unknotting the muscles of her hand.

His hair fell into his eyes as he concentrated on his task like a Potions Master brewing Felix Felicis. He used both his hands, enveloping her smaller one in them completely as he worked. She felt a tingle inside her as the pain started to dissipate and was replaced with something else - something that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Another errant moan escaped her mouth as the muscles finally unlocked and the pain lifted. "Thank you, Draco," she sighed, leaning forward with relief just barely catching herself from falling into his shoulder where she sat next to him on his bed.

His hands remained on hers for a moment before he moved his away and placed her hand back into her lap. The silence engulfed them again.

"Thank you, Granger," he finally said, leaning back against the cushions and dropping his hand from her arm. "Just try not to destroy me."

What does that mean?

He closed his eyes and that seemed to be the end of the conversation. Hermione was left with more questions than answers when she heard a tapping at the window. Malfoy cracked one eye open and looked in the direction of a beautiful black owl with a very official letter in its beak.

Hermione took it and the owl went back out the window.

The French Ministry!

She quickly ripped open the envelope.

Ms. Granger,

Thank you for reaching out. As it turns out, we have seen similar symptoms in all four Death Eaters we hold in custody here in Lyon. The fifth, a man named Boris Andenov from Bulgaria died by suicide in attempt to cut The Dark Mark from his own arm. He bled out before guards could reach him.

We are happy to send all medical information along to your office at the Ministry in London. Please do advise if you need anything else. Currently, we are keeping the Marked Death Eaters in Infirmary on regular doses of pain, anxiety, and sleeping potions.

Best,

Daphne Violeta
Warden
Lyon Prison for Maladjusted Witches and Wizards

She scanned the letter twice, mumbling to herself as she went back to her notebook to notate what the letter said before tucking into the back pages.

She noticed Malfoy wasn't actually asleep but watching her. "Did you know Boris Andenov?"

"Yeah," he said. "Bloody moron," he said with a shrug. "He was from the East. Toward the end, The Dark Lord got a lot of Durmstrang's worst. He was big, mean, and painfully stupid. Why?"

"He just died while trying to cut The Mark off his arm," Hermione explained.

"Fuck!" she shouted in frustration. She'd hoped that the younger Death Eater might help her have a test subject she didn't feel more and more uncomfortable about trying out spells on.

"Language, Granger," Draco drawled, but his lips curled up into a genuine smile - something she rarely ever saw. Those were almost exclusively saved for Theo in her experience.

"It's a wonder how that oaf made it out alive in the first place," he supplied. "Smarter wizards than he didn't."

"Well, it doesn't much matter now," Hermione said with a sigh. "He's dead, and so is my chance at finding another test subject that likely experienced the same Mark ritual as you and Theo."

"I do have the pensieve, though," she said, perking up. "All hope is not lost. I'll watch the ceremony a million times if I have to."

Draco gulped. "You are going to watch him give me The Mark?"

"And Theo," she added. "I have to know the oath exactly. I have to know everything about it. If I know how it was placed, I'm hopeful I can remove the magic."

He nodded, but she could tell he didn't love the idea. She supposed it was progress that he'd accepted that he wasn't going to and didn't have to like everything about this process.

"Are you tired?" she finally asked, seeing him close his eyes again.

"Yes," he said, quietly.

"Good. Get some sleep." Internally, she was elated to see that the weed at least would help him get the rest he needed. He was lightly snoring before she left the room.

Later that day she got another letter, this time from MACUSA.

Ms. Granger,

Originally, we'd had three Marked Death Eaters in custody but just last night there was a breach. All three - brothers Alexi, Viktor, and Dobromir Rakov - escaped in the dead of night. The US Auror Division is investigating, but every indication is that they planned to flee back to Europe.

We will be in touch with Minister Shacklebolt immediately.

Sally Quigley

Auror
US Auror Division
Salem, Massachusetts, USA

Hermione's heart lurched into her throat.

Escaped.

This was now, officially, a matter for the DMLE. Without a second thought she ran down the stairs to the fireplace where she placed an emergency Floo call to Rilla, begging all the gods above that she hadn't left for the evening.

"Hermione!" Rilla called from the fireplace in her own office. "What is it? Are you okay?"

"Kingsley is being informed now, but there has been a security breach at the Prison in Salem that was holding the Rakov brothers. They've escaped." She heard Rilla's horrified gasp but pressed on. "We are going to have to involve the DMLE on this. We have no choice."

"Of course," Rilla said, more to herself. "This is a mess! See, this is why I hate working with live people. Give me bloody Stonhenge any bloody day!"

"I'd like to have Harry and Ron on the case. I trust them more than anyone in the department and no one has more experience with Death Eaters," Hermione knew it was not her place to assign Aurors to a case, but she also knew that Unspeakables' recommendations were very highly regarded.

"Of course," Rilla said again. "I'll meet with the Head Auror. Merlin, Hermione, are you okay?"

'I'm fine," Hermione assured her. "I'll go to Harry's and wait for him."

She shut the Floo connection and paced the floor in front of the fireplace as she considered how she was going to explain this case, the magnitude and the implications, to her best friends.