A delicate paper bird swoops down through the open office door, fluttering its carefully folded wings as it makes a few circles of the room beyond. The witch behind the desk pays the animated message no mind, clearly absorbed in the report spread over the desk before her. Seemingly having ascertained that it has arrived in the correct place, the little paper bird finally glides down from the ceiling and makes a gentle landing directly beneath the witch's nose — and not to be ignored, it makes sure that it's final resting place is exactly in the middle of the piece of paper her attention had been focused on at that very moment.
Hermione Granger blinks down at the tiny intruder as if surprised, despite the fact that many such message birds flow in and out of her office door each day. Her gaze then flickers to the clock and she lets out a suffering groan, realizing that having lost herself in the latest updates coming from her colleagues in Ireland, she had also completely lost track of what time it was and as a result was now late to the lunch she had scheduled with Harry.
As such, when she quickly unfolded the small bird back to its original square scrap of parchment she was unsurprised at the message contained within.
Hey 'Mione, Your order is going to be ready in ten minutes, figured that was enough time for you to get together and floo to Olney's. — HHermione sweeps the papers in front of her into a haphazard pile and scrambled out from behind her desk, making a quick stop at the small mirror hung on one of her only available wall spaces to try and tuck the inevitable errant curls back into her decently tidy bun. Her wild hair had become somewhat more manageable since her school years (especially once she had figured out a routine and products that had taken a considerable amount of the frizz from her thick curls), but she still held onto the lingering anxiety that had her often smoothing it or tucking at it in mindless moments. A last adjustment in the tuck of her sage green blouse into her grey skirt, and Hermione grabbed her bag and strode over to the fireplace against the opposite wall.
Pinching a measure of the shimmering floo powder between her fingers she took a breath before casting it into the flames, naturally standing at a distance that kept the fringes of her clothes away from the frantic burst of green flame. Ducking into the fire infused her with the familiar tingle of warmth and she didn't hesitate before loudly and clearly stating her destination into the air;
"Olney's Bistro."
Hermione winced at the sharp jerk as she was propelled into the floo network, tucking her arms and legs stiffly into the middle of her body. It didn't matter how many times she used the floo network to get around, she firmly believed she would never get used to the sensation and lamented the anti-apparition wards that prevented her from simply popping out of the ministry her preferred way.
After what felt like a long minute the witch was unceremoniously deposited on her feet in her destination fireplace, her hand shooting out against the brick the only thing keeping her from pitching forward out of the flames and onto her face. Once steadied, she stepped lightly out into the restaurant, her hands once again busy smoothing her hair and brushing vestiges of soot off her skirt.
"Hermione!"
Harry waved at her from their usual table by the window, green eyes crinkled at the edges as he beamed a smile at her. The sunlight streaming in through the glass highlighted the first few strands of grey mixed in with his otherwise inky black hair and as she took her friend in while crossing the space to meet him, Hermione idly took in the other ways her oldest friend had changed since their days at Hogwarts.
No longer the lanky teenage boy, Harry had grown into his longer limbs, his shoulders and back filling out to match when he had gone through his rigorous auror training. With age had come a quiet ease in the way he held himself, and a deepening of his laughter that could always bring out Hermione's own quiet grins. Despite the fact that Hermione could objectively see what Ginny (and many other women in the wizarding world, even if mentioning it made Harry blush) found so irresistible about Harry, she would always be thankful that she could never get past the fact that he felt only like a brother to her.
On the other hand, Hermione had burned through a bright but brief romance with her other oldest friend, Ron Weasley. In the aftermath of the battle of Hogwarts and all of the other tragedies of the war, the two of them had given things an honest go of it.
Hermione had returned to school despite being told she could be given an honorary graduation, but Ron had followed Harry straight into their first months of auror training. Where Harry had excelled, tackling the grueling exercises and instruction with an ease that earned him high praise, Ron had lagged behind significantly. His unhappiness and struggle to find his place bled into the brief breaks the two of them got to spend together, until the weekend before he was slated to begin his last section of training he told Hermione that he was dropping out. She'd protested without thinking, pointing out how close he was to finishing and how far he had come, and Ron had exploded with bitterness and anger, blaming what he stated as the "pressure to live up to her expectations" for him being in the program in the first place before apparating away and leaving her standing alone in the middle of a cold, snow covered Hogsmeade.
They didn't talk to each other for a week, and when they did finally smooth things over enough to get back together Ron had taken a position at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes with is brother George, discovering an unexpected talent for the sourcing and acquisition of rare and difficult to find ingredients for George's increasingly fantastical creations.
She and Ron would have three more large fights before Hermione would realize that their relationship was never going to be what she wanted.
They spent little time together those days despite living together, and Hermione found herself looking for reasons to avoid the tiny London flat she shared with him. When she broke up with Ron he'd been indignant, blaming her new position with the Ministry's Curse-Breaking division for her distance and unavailability but Hermione had asserted the truth: even when they did spend time together, they simply had very little to share with each other. They didn't have the same interests, or want to do the same things. They didn't spend time in the same places, or even really like the same food. What had originally tied them together, the trauma and high emotions of those years spent keeping up with Harry, wasn't enough out here in the real world. They didn't love each other, they just didn't know anything else.
Ron had gone on insisting she was wrong until the day she moved out, and it had taken them the better part of a year to begin salvaging the friendship they had once had before the romance. Now they could one again stand to be at the same events (much to their wider friends group's relief), but Hermione kept her guard up as she still caught the occasional long look, or wistful glance before Ron's eyes would dart away, pretending he hadn't been eyeing her.
"Hello? Earth to Hermione? Not petrified again, are you?"
Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and realized she had been standing with her chair partially pulled out for an overly long moment, leaving Harry staring at her with a quizzical look.
"Sorry, sorry." She huffed hurriedly, scooting the chair to sit down and dropping her bag beneath the edge of the crisp red table cloth.
"I don't know what it is today, I feel like I've had a swarm of wrackspurts bothering me since the moment I woke up."
"Well, I'm sure that the fact that your presentation for Nott is coming up may have something to do with it," Harry replied wryly, pinpointing the exact source of her mercurial state and making Hermione groan, "But you need to stop worrying so much about that. You're the best in your department, I'm sure you will do just fine."
"He's the head of my department though, Harry! Nott's the one who decides if I advance, or what my next assignment will be, so my analysis of the Irish situation is important to the next part of my career! And Nott has made it clear plenty of times that he won't be showing any favoritism for the 'Great Granger', which really means that he's just harder on me than anyone else in the entire damned—"
It was exactly that moment that a waitress pranced up to their table, balancing two plates and a small drink tray.
"That's the strawberry crepes with whipped cream and cinnamon for you," she chirped cheerily, depositing the plate piled with swirls of cream in front of Hermione, "And the steak and ale pie with extra pepper for you, Mr. Potter!"
The young woman barely took her eyes off of Harry as she also set a dark brewed butter beer in front of him and a glass of ice water with lemon beside the crepes. Harry flashed one of his open, friendly smiles at her and Hermione watched the girl flush, having to stop herself from rolling ear eyes.
"Thanks Lina; tell Grant that everything looks amazing, as usual."
"Absolutely, Mr. Potter! Remember, just wave if you need me!"
Hermione was relieved to see the server go, bounce in her step as she flounced back towards the door to the kitchen to dutifully deliver Harry's message. The girl had had this blatant crush for as long as they'd been coming here (well over a year at this point), and Hermione found her attentions annoying at best, insulting at worst. The man was MARRIED, for heaven's sake!
They both dug into their meals with vigor, Hermione stifling a groan of appreciation the minute the first fork full of tart strawberry, sweet crepe, and luscious cream crossed her lips. They ate in companionable silence for a while, until Harry glanced at his watch and cleared his throat in that way that meant he was working up to saying something important. Hermione chewed thoughtful as she eyed him, watching him fiddle with his fork and push the last bits of food around his plate for another full minute before she finally decided enough was enough.
"Is something wrong, Harry?"
"Uh-er-well, no. Nothing is WRONG, 'Mione… it's just, well, lunch may not have been entirely just to catch up this time." His tone dripped guilt. Hermione took in how his green eyes were riveted to the table, continually surprised about how Harry could spend his days chasing criminals out of the shadows but be so intimidated by conflict in his personal life.
"Alright then, what did you want to talk about?"
"Well, actually, it's got a bit to do with what you were on about before. Your next assignment, and all that?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes, instantly more alert. What would Harry have to do with her future assignments? He was a high level auror, and she didn't even work in the field division of the Curse Breaking department.
"… yes, but Nott doesn't give out our new assignments until we present on our last ones. What is this about, Harry? What's going on?"
Harry took a moment to glance around the restaurant before fingering his wand, tracing a familiar pattern just above the tabletop and whispering 'muffliato'. Hermione felt the trace tingle of the spell wash over her, knowing that anything they now said to one another would only be heard as an indistinguishable light buzzing noise to anyone within ear shot. Her curiosity piqued, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, staring down Harry as she waited from him to continue.
"Look, what I'm about to tell you has to stay completely between you and me. I can count on one hand the number of people outside of my department who know what I'm about to tell you, and if it got out it could put people in danger and ruin a valuable thing. Understand?"
"Of course, Harry. Anything you tell me is perfectly safe; you know you can trust me. But what is all of this secrecy about?"
Harry took another deep breath as though steeling himself before answering—
"Draco Malfoy ."
" … Draco Malfoy." Hermione blinked in confusion at her friend, completely lost in what he was trying to tell her. "Rich asshole, disgraced pureblood, former Death Eater Draco Malfoy?"
"Yes! Well, no. Uh, sort of. Except he's not just those things, at least not anymore. He's been working with us, the ministry's auror program, in secret. He's been helping us smoke out the last of Voldemort's followers across Europe. He's using his family's old connections to get locations or arrange meet-ups with the scattered death eaters and any factions that supported Voldemort so our department and local wizarding enforcement can ambush them. Probably three quarters of the arrests and captures we've been making have been because of information he's given us or raids he's helped plan."
"What?! T-that sounds ridiculous, Harry!" Hermioned gaped incredulously at the man across the table as he rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly anxious to be revealing such closely guarded information.
All she could think about was the countless Daily Prophet gossip headlines on Malfoy's doings since the war— 'Malfoy Heir Takes Over Top Box at Ballycastle Bats game', 'Malfoy Crashes St. Mungo's Fundraiser', 'Witch of the Week - Who is on Malfoy's Arm Now?'—
"Why wouldn't he just become an auror? If he's done so much to help, why keep up this facade of being a swaggering, pureblood TWAT?"
"Well…" The guilt in Harry's tone spread to his features as he contemplated his next words, his brow furrowing in what may have even been the beginnings of anger. "He did actually apply for the department, the same time Ron & I did. He was there the day we did our initial testing - the health screening, wand analysis, all of that. But then after that day I never saw him again. The rumor was that he was asked not to come back, that having a Malfoy on the force would only mean trouble for everyone involved. That no one would be able to… well, to trust him. After what he did… before."
Even though Hermione could understand this perspective, it still ran against the grain of her own sense of right and wrong. There had been trials and investigations after the war ended, and the Malfoys had been among the first to be dragged into the depths of the ministry to undergo questioning. Those initial months had been filled with Prophet reports on the gruesome things that had come out of the rounds of veritaserum and days of what could only be called interrogations.
In the end, the final verdict for the Malfoy family had seen Lucius Malfoy condemned to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, while his wife and son had returned to their familial home for a summer of house arrest and a pile of reparations to pay. The uproar from the wizarding world had been extreme, to the point that Kingsley Shacklebolt himself (still settling into his role as the new minister of magic) had published a statement attesting that Narcissa Malfoy and her son were found to be victims of Voldemort's cruel reign, not conspirators.
He had briefly alluded to a dark picture of torture, manipulation (emotional and magica), and bleak terror that had led to their actions. It was not willing participation (though most would still choose to believe otherwise) but rather the circumstances of their family name, and Lucius' refusal to pull his family into hiding when his wife had heard the whispers of the Dark Lord's return and begged for them to disappear. Narcissa's heroic deception in the Forbidden Forest was called in as evidence of this, and the remaining two Malfoys had been begrudgingly allowed to return back to a somewhat normal life. As many of the remaining pureblood families had their own black marks left over from the war, they eventually bled back into high society, though never to return to their former level of respect.
"Wait, if he wasn't allowed to become an auror, how did he even end up working with you lot?" Hermione was trying to wrap her head around this new information, that behind the scenes of so many of their continuing victories these past years was the same sneering young man she'd gone to school with.
"We have Nott to thank for that," Harry stated with a grimace. "One day a few months after I finished training he burst into Worthton's office while we were going over a few things and flew off the handle about how the department was passing up a valuable resource, how much more we could be doing, and how completely dense he thought Worthton was being. Turns out he had been hounding the man ever since Malfoy was rejected. Nott was so worked up he didn't even realize I was there until he'd already been shouting probably five minutes."
"I still don't understand. If Worthton had been saying no all that time, what changed his mind this go around?"
"I did," This time Harry's tone was sheepish, the ghost of his usual lopsided grin pulling at the edge of his lips. "In the middle of Nott's tirade I figured out what he was on about — that Malfoy had information that could make all of our lives easier, save more lives, and so when there was finally a gap in the yelling I told Worthton that if he didn't take on Malfoy I'd go to the minister myself."
Hermione's breath hissed quietly on a sharp intake, shocked that her friend would ever make a threat like that, and to his BOSS no less. Harry was deeply conscious of his status as "The Chosen One", "The Boy Who Lived" and usually balked at the idea of throwing around the weight of those stations. However that was exactly what he'd threatened to do; only his fame would've gotten him that audience with Shacklebolt, and he knew that.
"A compromise was made. Nott insisted that Malfoy just wanted to help — to 'pay his debt' as the man called it, and so Worthton called him on it. He said that Malfoy was welcome to work with us but only under the condition that it be kept a strict secret, citing the image of the department and us aurors as his reason. But I… I think he wanted to make sure Malfoy couldn't do good deeds to try and erase his past. He said if anyone outside the approved parties ever found out, it would be done with. Over. Worthton… he lost his brother to a pack of vampires in what I heard was a horrible incident during the war. He hates death eaters more than most I've met, and I think.. I think that gets in his way sometimes. "
A stiff silence fell between them, Harry's gaze locked on his own hands where they rested on the wood of the table. He was truly frowning now, clearly bothered by the fact that this man he worked under and looked up to had shown such prejudices, even if they could both understand where they came from. Hermione knew that if it would do good, if it would save lives Harry would probably work with anyone short of Voldemort himself, and even that may depend on circumstance. A small spark of pride warmed her for a moment at how he had always been able to put his feelings aside for the greater good; it was something she herself had never truly mastered. That thought pulled her back to the whole point of him telling her this bizarre story.
"Okay, so Draco Malfoy has been secretly running point for the ministry's auror department and helping make the biggest breakthroughs since Voldemort's defeat possible. But why are you telling me all of this?" She cocked her head seeking Harry's gaze until he looked up at ear again.
"Something went wrong on the last raid. There were more of them than we thought there would be, and they were better equipped than we knew. Malfoy… he got hit with a curse, but it's something we've never seen before. Thankfully it's very slow acting, but it's spreading no matter what anyone does. None of us have been able to work out what it is, all we know is that eventually it will kill him, and we can't very well take him in to St. Mungo's with something like that, they'd insist on knowing the circumstances of how he got cursed like that when he's supposedly either out drinking at some party or holed up in Malfoy Manor according to the papers. And well, I told Worthton that I had a Curse Breaker that we could trust beyond a shadow of a doubt. When I said your name he couldn't really say no with Nott in the room, so here we are. Nott has agreed to your reassignment, the rest of your team can be told you're needed in Ireland to extend your current work, and… and… Hermione, can you do it?"
Harry looked at her expectantly, obviously waiting for her reply. Hermione gaped at him, frozen as the implication of what he had just said washed through her and left her throat dry and mind reeling. Malfoy's peril, Nott agreeing to put something of this magnitude in her care, a dark curse with a ticking clock being put directly into her hands. This felt like some sort of horrible dream, an absolute nightmare — even if it wasn't MALFOY, a man she had vowed to never cross paths with if she had her say (a vow she'd so far upheld), this was leaps and bounds more complicated and heavy than her usual day-to-day work. A man's life would be strung out in front of her, making her feel like one of the notorious Fates from mythology.
"Hermione?"
She opened her mouth to try and answer him two or three times, only to have nothing come out. Finally she was able to sputter out one of the many doubts and questions racing through her brain at that very moment.
"Harry, that is absolutely insane! I'm not even a senior in my department! Nott and Malfoy have been friends as long as I can remember, why isn't he helping him? Why in the world would you choose me over him?! Or any of the other Curse Breakers who have been working years longer than I have?!"
"Nott's been by a few times, but with the nature of this thing it's going to take consistent, long term analysis and study to unravel. The head of the ministry's Curse Breakers can't very well disappear for who knows how long without someone asking questions. And I told you, there's not anyone else we trust to let in on this. Besides 'Mione, you're absolutely brilliant, yeah? You always have been. No one else's mind works like yours does so if anyone has a real chance at figuring this out before… before—"
Harry swallowed bodily, his eyes darkening for a moment with something Hermione couldn't quite pinpoint.
"Well, before it's too late for Malfoy, it's you. I know you hated him in school, and probably still hate him after all that he did but… blimey, Hermione. He doesn't deserve to go like this. No one does. The man is in pain, and it gets worse everyday, even if he won't admit as much. It must be torture."
Hermione sunk back into her chair, hundreds of different feelings waging war within her chest as she digested all that had been laid before her. Torture. She knows what that feels like; found out what that felt like laying helpless on the floors of Draco's own home.
Memories of the pain she endured beneath Bellatrix's wand drag themselves into the light, never far from the edges of her thoughts. She shudders bodily, but then another memory rises as well: Draco's drawn, horrified face as he watched his aunt carve the lines into her flesh. The conflict and fear in those blue-grey eyes, the way she had seen his hands twitch and for a fraction of a second thought he may reach out to try and…. What? Stop Bellatrix, the blood-crazed sociopath? Disobey the death eaters right under Voldemort's nose, getting both of them killed? Looking back now that she was more removed from that trauma, had he ever had the option to stop the pain being inflicted on her, or any of his own?
She felt the moment where understanding edged out over anger and pain, letting the realization leave her on a shaky exhale.
"I'll do it." She sighed, defeated by her own sense of morals and the trust in her friend's gaze. The trust that she would do what he felt was the right thing. "You're right, not even Malfoy deserves to be left to a curse like that. I'll help."
"Thank you, 'Mione. I knew I could count on you. And I'll make sure Malfoy thanks you before this is done, even if I have to shake it out of him myself."
"Don't bother, I'm not going to do it for his thanks. I'm doing it because it's right."
Her tone becomes clipped as she gathers herself back together, sitting forward in her chair and digging through her bag until she produces a compact roll of parchment and a quill, forcing herself to slip into work mode to prevent herself dwelling on the magnitude of what she had just agreed to.
"Now, let's get to it. Walk me through what you're going to need from me."
Harry's small smile dropped completely at the question and the guilt returned at full force, fully wincing before he continued on.
"Well, about that…"