HG,

I've heard you got Belay. We need to talk.

dM

She had ignored his letter. No one ignored him, he was fucking Draco. A Malfoy nonetheless. Anyone who ignored him had hell to pay. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed heavily. He need a drink, but the latest shipment by Ogden's has yet to arrive at his door. Draco should really threaten to sue if it didn't arrive. His mouth tasted as if someone had cursed him with a Slugulus Eructo. Draco was already feeling the sweats coming on.

Bloody fucking maggots he needed a drink.

He paced his office, his stomach turning when he glanced at the broken shards of glass by the door.

He was idiot. He was an exceptionally smart man who made bad choices. Really bad fucking choices

Bloody hell, what did he do?

What did he do?

"Allestr!" A loud pop resonated across the study, Draco flinched, blinking raidly, hoping the memories trap him at the moment.

He glance at the elf, a blank look on his face as he stared at his master.

"Where does she spend her lunch evenings?

Allestr sighed, taking in the bloodshot eyes and the frown lines. He had raised him, teaching him the studies of Pureblood supremacy and how to pronounce the proper incantation of spells. Taught him dark runes and spells. Taught him how to hide his feelings alongside his father. He had taught the previous three Malfoy heirs; treating them as if they were his own despite his offspring being scattered to the family Blacks and Greengrass. Giving them an ear tug and telling them the rules of how to be a proper elf.

What they say goes.

Find a loop.

What you think does not matter unless they ask.

"Have you ever heard of Flor de Cerdeira?

Of course Draco has heard of it. It had been one of his father's go to place for board meetings. He had attended one once when he had turned 15, alcohol was flowing and the wives were all prettied up, showcasing who was the richest Pureblood of them all. Talk of mudbloods and how they dirtied everything they touched were all the rage. When he had first taken Astoria there, she had hit his shoulder gently before she dragged (really he let her, he could've easily stopped and Astoria would have been a bouncing ball) to a rambunctious diner near but not really near Knockturn Alley. It was the first time he was laughing out loud with his then fiancé.

What the bloody hell was Granger doing there?


Hermione looked at her notes, the timeline completely impeccable and in order. It made the all-knowing swot in her gleam with pride. Hermione tapped the quill against the inkwell, watching the dark obsidian ink fall into the jar, breaking the surface with each drop. She looked up from it when Donnach refilled her glass Vermentino, silently watching the woman that came in his restaurant every day for lunch.

"There is someone here for you, ma'am. I believe you want to take it?"

Hermione sighed, she already knew who it was. She had been ignoring him all week, since the incident. She had tried to forget it. Forget that she didn't wake up in the middle night imagining his hands running up her legs, grabbing her hips, kissing her. Running his tongue along her jaw. She wanted to forget but of course Draco Malfoy made it hard.

He had made it hard ever since she had been offered to evaluate a Death Eater who claimed he was under the Imperius Curse, claiming he was innocent. Draco was the head Auror. They had stayed late in the evenings, wondering how to go about with him, sometimes she would take him to her London flat and they would order take-out of Chinese or if he wanted to bug her, make one of his elves cook for them. They stayed for three months, she was seeing a potions apprentice from Spain (he broke it off with her when he realized, having a heroine was much harder work) and Draco was just seeing Astoria here and there. She had fallen in love with him and his calculating moods. Maybe love was a strong word when it came to man like Draco. She just really like liked him. Then after they won the trial, Hermione confusing the man with her reverse psychological questions, they had gone out to celebrate at a muggle pub. (Being famous sucked)

She met Astoria for the first time and Hermione realized just how out of her league she was really. She was stunning. Her brown hair pin straight until it reached the ends, forming beautiful curls, the dress was a pale pink that brought out her fair skin. Astoria's dark blue eyes gleamed with nothing but hope and awe. She was in the presence of the Hermione Jean Granger. They had become fast friends. Faster friends than she and Ginny were currently. (Ginevra currently a seeker for the Holyhead Harpies and avoided Britain with a passion). Hermione had helped pick Astoria's wedding dress, she had help her hair when the morning sickness was overwhelming, and they would go to galas and complain and nitpick every detail.

And she realized she was a horrible person to look at Draco like he was a tall glass of water and she was parched. She admired the way he would hold Scorpius, crooning in his ear about how he was a great son and how he would do wonders. She had craved that. Before Astoria she wanted to carry his heir before she snapped her mind out of the idea. She wanted to make love to Draco and have Draco take her the way Astoria would confess to her after a couple drinks.

He is really good Hermione. He's fantastic. The things he can do with his tongue. Oh!

She's going to hell.

Looking at Donnach, she nodded her head. She took out her wand, whisking it over the table she watched as her quill cleaned it self and the papers shuffled back in order before disappearing into her briefcase. She leaned back into her seat, raising her glass of wine to her lips, letting the sweetness of it be soaked by her tongue before she relished the bitterness. Hermione watched as Donnach lead him to her table. Draco made her way to her, he was clean. Immaculate. Impeccable just like her notes and that bloody turned her on more than anything. Letting out a silent groan of frustration, she rose an eyebrow as Draco sat across her. Donnach instantly pouring a glass of deep crimson wine, placing the glass in front of him, "The usual."

They stayed silent.

Her lips tingled with the memory and her jaw throbbed, the scar now gone, thanks to a salve Luna had given her. Hermione avoided his eyes. They were even colder now since the death of his remaining family (Lucius was very much alive although he may be in Paris or Africa tending the family apothecaries, while Narcissa was probably frolicking in Afghanistan). She cleared her throat. The friendship they had built was carefully woven, years of hatred and blood, and war had made them cautious. Now? That carefully woven friendship had a bit too many tears to Hermione's liking.

Letting their plates appear in front of them, their combine aroma heavenly to her nose, her baked salmon and cream sauce (it was Saturday; it was windy but sunny outside) and Draco's filet mignon beautifully done.

"Aged Chianti?" Her words were barely a whisper, but Draco heard her as if she was shouting. He had gotten used to her soft-spoken sentences.

He picked up his glass swirling it before he took a small sip, "Yes. My father has always preferred aged wines, it just stuck with me. How do you know?"

Taking a bite of her salmon. She chewed slowly, thinking over her answer, "My mother and father were wine fanatics. They would take me to wine tasting festivals out in the vineyards and they would let me try and taught me the differences."

"Vermentino."

She looked into Draco's eyes, his grey eyes meeting her mud colored ones. Silence fell over them, blanketing them, almost like a cocoon, "You're not here for a social visit. What exactly did you want?"

Draco snorted, "Are you ever so blunt, Granger? Although you are correct. You have his case." He watched as Granger's eyes dropped to her plate, her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth once again, "Look, Granger. He killed my wife and son. He...Scorpius did not get to live to get his first kiss. To go to Hogwarts, and ride a real broomstick. He would never learn to shave," his voice cracked, "He would never know what love is."

Hermione blinked the tears away. Her little godson. She remembered seeing him on the hospital bed, it seemed like it engulfed his small body. His skin ashen, medi-nurses doing everything they could before they declared him brain dead with multi-system organ failure. Hermione laid next to him on the bed, cradling his head to her chest. She had brushed his hair back gently, letting her tears land on her cheeks. Telling him he was a brave boy and that they loved him. Draco was silent on the other side. Eyes red and wet with grief. She had started to tell the story of Peter Pan that it was okay for him to go to the star that he'll be in Neverland with the lost boys with his mother and Wendy. Pressing kisses to his forehead, Draco clutching his hand in both his big palms. When the head healer waved all the vitals keeping him breathing it had taken over an hour before he took his last breath. She had cried harder when she heard the flat line, hearing the last breath leave his body with a rattle. She had taken care of all the funeral grievances, Draco too busy in his study drinking and Hermione cleaning his vomit whispering in his ear hell be okay. Astoria and her son were buried together, many survivors of the war had gone and raised their wands in solitude for their fallen friend. The eldest Malfoy had clutched his son to his chest, letting his boy grasp his robes, screams of agony leaving him. Narcissa crying against Hermione's shoulder, watching Lucius comfort his son, words of encouragement being whispered into Draco's ear.

"He had his first kiss," Hermione gave Draco a sad smile, he saw the crinkles by her eyes, "Rose, despite her being a year older. He said he was going to marry her and if she didn't want to, he would wait."

Draco stood from his chair abruptly, their wines spilling over the rim. Hermione watched as he stormed out the restaurant. His robes billowing behind him.

Signaling at Donnach, she watched the wizard head her way with the check.

Draco...


Hermione sat across Belay, he was bad-looking. As if he wasn't currently in Azkaban, she would have done a double take at the man, his eyes a clear green. Now his eyes were dull, a beard graced his jaw and his hair was in tangles. His clothes were in tatters, hanging limply against his previously strong now weakened frame. Despite the state he was currently in, the air of an aristocrat plagued her senses.

It almost choked her.

She crossed her legs under the metal table. Fixing the two folders in front of her, one was thick and filled to the brim, meanwhile, the second was thin. Visibly one up to two handfuls of sheets, "So Henry, you are one tough man to follow, your case took me months to fully analyze. It brings your pride that you have done so much damage." Placing her hand on the thickest folder, she gave him a soft smile, watching for any body movements.

He stood up straighter. Prideful

"You smirk because I'm right, aren't I? More than 200 cases of sexual assault all lead by you, each and every one of them having psychological damages or just death," cheek muscle, involuntary twitch. Right track. , "It makes you feel all good inside, knowing there is a list of deaths that you are responsible for. From what I know, it makes you feel…all warm inside. Makes you swell if you catch my drift." She lowered her voice to a whisper, seeing his eyelids become hooded, a quick lick of his lips.

"Although Belay," She traced small circles on the thick folder, trailing her hand to the thinner one, "These are the only ones going onto your record, not even worthy of a Kiss. Tsk tsk. You must shame your Lord. You had felt to please him at every chance you got. Yet, he never noticed did he? You were just…Belay. One of his first followers who excelled in dark runes and magic. If Lestranage-"

"You stupid mudblood! Shut up! You know nothing of my Lord. That crusted bitch knew nothing. I knew him. We were great minds. I fucking lead those raids and laughed as they split the necks open of the men and children, raped the women until they were bleeding from every orifice. I am the fucking best."

Hermione blinked lazily at him, flare of nostrils, "Did it anger him you had a flare of a temper? Mm? Hothead much, Mr. Belay. What much did you have to prove?"

She watched as he sighed, his shoulders tensing before fully relaxing, "Nothing. I was the bloody best."

"Well aren't you prideful." Hermione stood, grabbing the thin file, she smiled softly at Belay," So as I said, this goes onto your record, only I can make changes to it and the rest just, I believe excessive work, so just trash. Have a good day."

Tightening of jaw, eye nerve twitch, corner of lip down turned.

Hermione gathered the files before she stepped out the room, coming face to face with Harry, Pansy, Rebar and Draco.

Harry smirked at her, "So?"

She briefly made eye contact with Draco, thinking of the failure of a meal a month ago. He was finally put back to work. With the tug of the right strings and money, he was put on the Belay case much to Rebar's disapproval,

"He's a prideful man with a temper worse than Ron and a love for a man who was utterly monstrous. The fact I just insulted his very own manhood and did not give a single inch of a care bugged him. He's going to want to speak to me again, try and put me in my place.

"And if he doesn't?"

"They always do." Draco's voice filled the room, staring hard at the witch

They always fucking do.


Hope you enjoy this very long chapter!