Chapter 6 – Hermione Granger-Weasley
Draco was bored out of his mind. It wasn't often that his chosen career made trips into the Ministry a necessity, but when he needed information from the Department of Mysteries (the only known location of old artefacts and lineage information) then he was faced with no choice except to make the dreaded trip.
Draco was currently seated in the office of an Unspeakable, his thick cloak failing to ward off the chill that being so far underground caused. Following the final war, access to the Department of Mysteries had been fully restricted except to a few select individuals who could be 'trusted' with the information contained within. As a former death eater and known dark wizard, the heir to the Malfoy estate was as far from trusted as one could be, as evidenced by the openly hostile glares Draco still faced as he made his way through the Ministry.
Draco glared at a spot on the dark wall. The office was not only cold but also wet, and the smell of mould permeated the air. It was a depressing reminder of how low the Malfoy name had fallen that he was expected to sit in a mouldy room, locked in, whilst information was gathered for him. Unbidden, Draco thought to himself that he was certain that Harry Potter wouldn't have been restricted from accessing the Department.
He scoffed at his own thoughts and shook his head, long blonde hair flowing in waves around his head as he did. His encounter with Potter continued to plague his thoughts at the most inopportune moments, the mystery of his wild magic and unbridled pain a beacon to Draco's curiosity. How the mighty Boy Who Lived had fallen so low was an unsolved mystery and one that Draco seemed unable to put from his mind.
He jumped slightly as the door to the office creaked open, an Unspeakable with greasy black hair entering the room. Without a word, the man dropped the book that Draco had requested on the table in front of him. Had Draco not been given express magical permission by his client to obtain the family lineage information hidden by an ancestor in the Department, he knew his presence here would have been thoroughly unwelcomed. Even with permission, the Unspeakable glared at him with a hatred that didn't need words to express, and Draco rolled his eyes before rising to his feet and gliding from the room. He was used to the reactions he received from the wizarding world, but the Unspeakable was entirely unprofessional in his personal opinion.
Ignoring the side glances of Ministry employees, Draco kept his chin raised with pride as he made his way towards the upper levels of the building. One of the many reasons that Draco kept to himself was the sheer hypocritical nature of the wizarding community – most of those who proclaimed hatred for dark wizards were those who hadn't so much as lifted a wand during the war, or ever had to stand in the presence of the Dark Lord. Perhaps if they had, they might be a bit slower to form judgements on matters they knew nothing about.
Draco was so very close to the exit when another distraction entered his vision, one which he knew within himself he was not going to be able to ignore. Swearing and groaning at himself internally, Draco veered to follow the long brown hair of Hermione Granger-Weasley, now working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Married to the insufferable pig of a Weasley, Granger was at least known for possessing an iota of intelligence. She was also known for causing many issues with families like his own who still possessed house elves, but right at this moment that didn't concern him.
Draco quickly caught the witch, his long strides making short work of the distance. As he called out to her, Draco noticed that unlike Potter she appeared reasonably happy. Her hair was cut shorter as an adult, the curls arranged neatly around her angular face. For a mudblood she wasn't ugly, and Draco wondered not for the first time what on earth she was doing with the freckled Weasley idiot.
"Granger", Draco greeted as she raised one eyebrow at him, clearly surprised to be addressed after all these years. "It's been a long time."
"It's Granger – Weasley now," she told him in a haughty tone, her expression unchanged. Draco's lip curled – why she would want to associate herself with such unrefined wizards he didn't understand.
"Oh yes I remember," Draco sniped back, "you married the Weasel. Any half blood children running around yet?" He wasn't polite but wasn't trying to be – as far as he knew, Potter's friends hadn't been seen with him in years.
Granger's eyebrows drew together in anger, her lips pulling back slightly in a snarl. "Well, this has been an enlightening discussion," she said formally, "but I'm afraid I'm far too busy to speak to dark wizards today." She turned on her heel primly and made to walk off as Draco reached out and caught her wrist.
"Granger wait," he said at the same time as her face contorted. Whether from shock that he had actually touched her or anger that he had done so Draco didn't know, so he quickly dropped her wrist. "I thought I'd ask you about a mutual acquaintance of ours, see if you can provide some answers for me."
Rubbing her wrist as though Draco had passed along a disease, Granger frowned at him. "I doubt we would have any mutual acquaintances as you put it, Mr. Malfoy." She was back to being stiffly formal. "But I assure you, no acquaintance of yours is one I would have any information about."
"Not even Potter?"
Draco had been interested to see what the witch's reaction would be, and he wasn't disappointed. Granger's face paled dramatically, and her hand stopped moving against her wrist as she stared at him in shock.
"You've seen Harry?" Her voice had dropped to a low whisper and all traces of hostility had disappeared – it was clear that she was rattled.
"Indeed," Draco drawled, his tone condescending. "I was merely wondering what on earth the hero of the wizarding world was doing hiding in muggle London, clearly still injured." His silver eyes peered at her mercilessly, not missing the way her face dropped and her eyes glazed over briefly.
"Follow me," she told him quietly, taking his sleeve much to his surprise. He would need to make sure it was cleaned thoroughly later. "This isn't a discussion we can have openly."
Malfoy followed Granger into the small office on Level 4. Although it was the first basement level, the room was comfortable and warmth came from the crackling fireplace, very unlike the lower levels of the Department of Mysteries. Draco seated himself in the plush armchair across from what he assumed was Granger's desk.
Looking around as Granger closed the door, Draco was surprised to find a collection of wizarding photos placed on the mantlepiece of the fire. Whilst he fully expected the moving pictures of Granger and her now husband, he didn't expect to see pictures of the two of them and Potter at what appeared to be his wedding, Potter's arms slung around each of their shoulders. Potter was smiling – no scar carved his face – and his eyes were full of happiness instead of pain.
"He doesn't look like that anymore, does he?"
Draco glanced up to find that Granger had followed his line of sight and was also staring at the picture of the trio. Lines of stress and sadness made her appear older than her years.
"No," he told her bluntly. "Although you must know that already."
Granger took a seat at the desk across from him, playing absently with the ring on her left hand. "How is he?"
Malfoy almost fell of his chair. It was clear that Potter had drifted from his friends, yet he hadn't realised he had been completely cut off from them. Perhaps that explained some of his loneliness, sitting alone in the back corner of grubby bars.
"How long has it been since you last saw him?" Draco countered, keeping his own information close.
"Three years," Granger sighed sadly, and Draco narrowed his eyes at her. Three years coincided with the death of Potter's wife, the female Weasel. At least she had been a pureblood, he thought to himself.
"That's an awful long time for someone who was your best friend for years," Malfoy drawled, causing Granger's shoulders to drop. "Right after his wife died as well, if I'm correct."
"It was Ron's fault!" Granger burst out suddenly, rising from her seat. "He blamed Harry for everything, for Ginny dying and everything that happened during the War. By the time he calmed down, Harry was gone and we haven't been able to find him since!"
Malfoy clenched his fists in his lap. He was no friend to Potter, but loyalty was something Malfoy's prided above all else. The Weasley's it appeared had turned on Potter the first chance they had, leaving him to grieve the death of his wife alone.
"He's a bloody wreck Granger," Draco told her frankly. "Hiding in the dark shadows of the muggle world, avoiding any contact with, well, your kind." He didn't classify himself as being of the same species as a mudblood, but Granger didn't comment on his wording. "That scar on his face never healed either."
Granger looked up, her brown eyes filled with tears. "I tried to find him," she whispered. "I looked everywhere. All his houses, Grimmauld place, even places that I knew were special to him." She sniffled. "He simply disappeared. Malfoy, I need to make things right with him. Can you tell me where to find him?"
Draco glared at her. Blood traitors through and through, if Potter didn't want to be found he wasn't going to betray him to the likes of the mudblood who had chosen her lover over her best friend.
"No," Malfoy told her, extending the word. "I don't think I will. He asked not to be found, and I think I'll respect his wishes." He would do no such thing, but it wasn't going to be Granger going after the wayward wizard. "I think I'll show myself out now."
Draco ignored the witch as she sprung up behind him, shrieking to get his attention. She couldn't very well follow him out of her office without drawing attention to herself, and so Draco was unfollowed as he entered the lift to take him to the entrance of the Ministry. Draco apparated directly to the manor, the only one who could do so to ensure that the witch couldn't track him.
It was interesting, Draco mused to himself, that within Granger's words he sensed a deep guilt when speaking of Potter. The relationship between Potter and Weasley must have turned extremely sour for her to be forced to choose sides – it was well known that any time the trio had fought during their Hogwarts years, she had stoically refused to choose between them. It was no wonder Potter looked the way he did, lonely and miserable. Without a family of his own, the Weasley's would have filled some of that void.
Several hours later, Draco mindlessly ate lunch with Scorpius, occupied by his thoughts. Scorpius was prattling on about an early childhood arithmancy class that his latest tutor had him learning, and all Draco needed to do was nod in the right places. His son was going to be infinitely more intelligent than himself – it was best to leave his education in the hands of the most competent tutors Draco could buy.
When Scorpius had finished his lunch – braised beef with mashed potatoes – and returned to his pre-wizarding classes, Draco had a decision to make. It was a week since he had seen Potter, and after his unplanned meeting with Granger he felt more drawn than ever to the enigmatic wizard. Over the course of the past week Draco had felt the dark hatred for the other man trickle away into dislike at the most, given how obvious it was that Potter was irrevocably not the same arrogant boy he had been at Hogwarts.
Draco wanted to know more about the other wizard – it was the only explanation he had for his ongoing infatuation. Lust and addiction to Potter's power was a large part of his interest, but not all. Harry Potter was simply interesting, and he was drawn to interesting things. His own life was structured and rather boring, and Potter had entered his life like a whirlwind. He was ready for something interesting to happen again in his world.
Decision made, Draco pulled a dark cloak with silver trimmings around his shoulders and apparated to the muggle tavern Potter was so fond of frequenting.