Independent research had led Draco absolutely nowhere. Thick tomes full of legal theory left him almost cross-eyed when he tried to find workarounds for Theo. He considered himself a cut above most people in the intelligence department, but the unfamiliar terms, jargon, and complicated webs of citations, Latin, footnotes, bylaws, caveats, and on and on and on and Draco wanted to murder every lawyer for their glaring and violent abuse of commas.
One sentence should not go on for a full Merlin-damned page.
He needed Granger for this, there was nothing else for it. Yet, days kept sliding by in a haze of bleary-eyed reading, dealing with Potter's frantic messages and theories about the missing warden and whinging that he and Johnson weren't involved in the search. But Draco now also played host to the ever-constant companion of guilt.
He clung closer to Granger when they could be physically together. He wondered if she could sense it in his touches, fraught with a sudden urge to keep holding on to her, keep kissing her, keep keep keep to stave off the fear of losing.
Every moment with her felt stolen; a cheating of fate by prolonging this bliss. Because those hours when he couldn't have her in his arms, when he couldn't lose himself in her, he lingered in guilt-riddled agony. He had to dial back his time in her office because he knew sitting across the room from her would be unbearable.
Draco wasn't sleeping again.
When he showed up for their programme work, Draco had trouble focusing on anything as they arranged the Portkey. He nodded absently at everything Granger said, hardly hearing her or knowing if nodding would even make sense in the conversation.
Despite Granger being consumed by unravelling the mystery, she'd surely noticed Draco acting oddly.
"Who are we seeing today?" he asked as they approached Azkaban.
"Just two appointments, remember? Ben Sinclair and Flint."
"Flint? Thought he'd given up his little power play with having his lawyer present?"
"I told you all this already, he's said he'd like to return to how it was before. Hey," she tugged on his arm to halt their progress up the stone steps. "You seem distracted today. Everything all right?"
"I'm fine, don't nag."
Her head jerked back and her features fell in hurt at the cold way he'd brushed her off. She quickly masked it and set her mouth in a grim line.
"Fine."
She made to stalk past him, but he snagged her wrist. He ran his thumb along her pulse point, a physical apology to precede the verbal one.
"Wait… sorry. I—I didn't sleep so well last night and I'm just… out of sorts."
She softened immediately. Her benediction of forgiveness so easy for him to earn now. Now that she trusted him so fully.
Granger caring about him, harbouring affection for him, was no longer a foreign sensation; a forbidden desire locked away when he'd needed to protect his mind from wandering into a dangerous dream world. Now, he could look down into her expressive eyes and accept that their relationship hadn't been such an unattainable fantasy after all.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, searching his face as she bit her lip. He saw when she arrived at a decision, when she'd determined her next action.
She fished something out of her jacket pocket and pressed a small, round object into his hand.
"I've been… well I've had this for a day or so now. Actually that's a lie, a bit longer."
Draco stared down at the Galleon he now held.
"You know I'm obscenely wealthy, right?"
"It's not actual money."
He raised an eyebrow at her, inviting elaboration.
"It's charmed. You know, like the one I have to communicate with Harry?" She tucked an errant curl behind her ear, self-consciousness taking her cheeks hostage with a brilliant flush. "But um, this one is just for you."
He could make no adequate reply to this gesture. His inability to form words spurred her to ramble further.
"I thought, you know, it'd be quicker to reach me if you're not near a Floo and you needed me. Or, uh, vice versa."
"So do you toss enchanted gold at every man in your life?" He hoped teasing her would inject some levity into the salty sea air thick with far more than just brine.
"No, only the most important ones."
"Right," he said, and he curled his fingers around it. His throat felt tighter than usual.
Another offering.
What could he possibly say to this, to being rendered immobile and mute by a little bit of faux currency?
"I'm—"
He was what? Honoured, flummoxed, humbled, speechless, properly fucking elated? Perhaps feeling far too much for having earned something this monumental from this particular woman?
"I'm thinking I'll probably abuse this for naughty purposes."
She whacked him on the arm but there was an undeniable sparkle of thrill in her eye at his acceptance. He couldn't offer her any of the sentimental drivel she might have gotten from Weasley, and Draco knew Granger didn't expect it of him.
She'd accepted what he'd offered of himself and apparently, that was enough for now.
As Draco slipped the coin into his pocket, he shot her a forced smirk. Because along with those wondrous feelings came the answering battle cry of regret, pain, shame, trepidation, and anxiety.
Oh yeah, and the fucking guilt.
They walked in silence through the gates and through the monotony of the standard wand check and security protocols.
Just before they entered the interview room, Draco stroked a hand down her back then traced the path back up.
"Thank you," he said in a low voice and pressed a kiss to her curls. The double-edged sword of her answering smile: a boon for the exhilaration it gave him and a liability for the wound it stabbed through his chest.
Ben Sinclair was their first meeting of two for the day. The Sinclairs were what Lucius would call "a tertiary family." Meaning: definitely not Sacred Twenty-Eight by virtue of sloppy relatives or at least, relatives not adept at hiding matches or dalliances of "impurity." They still held with the values of the Dark Lord and contributed to the cause but would not garner an invitation to Malfoy Manor for any sort of social call or event.
Ben had been two years above Draco in Slytherin, but their paths hadn't crossed much while at school. An extremely lower-rung Death Eater, more of a Snatcher than anything, he'd been one of the unfortunate fall men like Goyle in the post-war uproar to restore justice.
Ben appeared nervous to the point of almost passing out at their first advocacy session, particularly whenever Granger addressed him directly. Which meant Draco had been the one to form a rapport, keeping with Granger's initial prediction all those months ago about some of these men being more willing to open up to him than a Muggleborn war heroine. The Muggleborn war heroine.
Recently, Draco had gotten him to divulge more about some of his more rational, less fanatical family members. Ben would serve a sentence for four more months, then be a free man. One of his uncles owned an apothecary and he hoped to work in the shop and possibly even take refresher potions courses.
"How are you Ben?" Granger gave him a bright smile that he tried to return.
"I'm well, thank you Hermione."
"Well, I come bearing horrible news for you." Draco slid a few quidditch magazines on the table. "Your Tornadoes are tanking in the standings now that they've lost their star Beater."
He leaned forward with a frown to read the scores. "Damn. I knew our reserve roster wasn't deep enough. Who's favoured to win the conference now?"
"The Arrows."
"Pity. Better them than your Falcons though."
"Watch it, Sinclair, it sounds like you're awfully envious of our record 27 league champion titles."
"Easy when you've got more gold than any other team and can basically buy any player you like. Rich tossers."
Granger let the quidditch banter carry on for a bit, letting Draco lull Ben into a more comfortable posture in the hard-backed metal chair across from them.
"I know we've asked you a bit before," Granger said carefully, "but we were wondering if you might remember anything at all from that several months long period of isolation?"
His features immediately fell. His whole body went rigid. "Why… why have we got to talk about that? I told you, I don't know anything."
"Just covering our bases," said Granger, attempting a chipper tone. "You've got an interim warden now, so we just want to see if perhaps any of the prisoners might remember something that could help with the investigation into the disappearance of Warden Derek Stanford."
Ben shook his head back and forth, light brown hair almost a curtain over his now ashen face.
"Please," he whispered. "Please don't make me… don't make me go back."
"Back where?"
"No no no no I don't want to see it anymore, I don't know… what they did to me, I don't know, I don't know. I can't go back."
"Go where? Ben, did someone hurt you?"
"Please please, I don't know anything, I didn't do anything, just don't make me remember." His eyes darted around the room and his breathing sped up, quickly building to a panic.
"Ben, just calm down, no one wants to hurt you," Granger tried again, but Draco could see she wouldn't be able to reach him now.
"No no no no no no," he clutched his head in his hands as he rocked back and forth in his chair. Granger looked distressed and her arm made a sort of twitching motion in her lap. Draco knew if it weren't against prison protocol she would have laid a soothing hand on his arm.
"No, you don't understand, you don't know, I can't sleep now, I can't I can't I can't, don't make me, I don't want to anymore, please, please," he was almost sobbing now, begging and pleading with them but with glazed, unseeing eyes and Draco knew they'd not get anything reliable out of him in this state.
"I'll do it this time, I'll go through with it, don't think I won't," Ben babbled and clutched at his wrist.
With a sickening rush of understanding, Draco realised that Ben had just confirmed Draco's long-held suspicion of a past suicide attempt. Draco knew what the wide eyes, desperate words, harsh intakes of air all meant: so afraid of something intangible, that Ben had once resorted to trying a permanent escape and would prefer that over whatever had happened during the isolation period.
Fear. Acute, blinding, nauseating fear.
Draco had known it for roughly thirty minutes, even if it had felt like a lifetime, inside his own dream. But it had only been one occurrence. He'd not been able to pull the specific number out of Theo, but based on the paperwork Draco had studied for months and Granger's proposed timeline of events, Sinclair had experienced a state of fear for weeks on end.
He remembered the Theo from his Sixth Year dormitory. The one who'd warned him of the darker potential for his ability.
Draco now saw the physical manifestation of the consequences of said potential. It looked like a mad, on the verge of tears, young man so afraid of what his own mind had conjured during sleep that he'd have taken a deadly way out to avoid seeing those imagined terrors again.
Draco could only watch in horror as Granger called for two guards for assistance and they dragged a thrashing, pleading Sinclair out of the room. The ringing silence left in his haunting wake wanted to choke Draco.
This was unconscionable. Theo had to come forward and Draco would have to protect him how he could, because leaving people like Ben to suffer with no hope for recourse couldn't stand.
The Galleon in his pocket felt like it weighed two tons.
Granger let out a few shaky exhales then turned to Draco. "Are you all right? I didn't mean… God, I hadn't meant to set him off like that," she said, clearly perturbed.
Draco grabbed her hand. "You did nothing wrong. He's just… well I think whatever happened here… well it affected him more than most. You couldn't have known."
"No, but you'd told me previously that you'd suspected him to be one of the more serious depressive cases. I should have taken more care with him."
Gods, she would do that. She would try to shoulder blame for something not even close to her responsibility.
For now, Draco could only offer a pitiful physical comfort with a fleeting touch. It might be the last time she allowed him to do so.
She snapped right back into lawyer mode as Flint was led into the room.
"No legal representation this time Flint?" asked Granger coolly, and despite his inner turmoil, Draco couldn't help the swell of pride at her tone. Merlin, she was always so fucking fearless.
Flint shrugged his shoulders and leaned back, trying to appear at ease.
"I thought we could have a little chat. Explore my options post-release. That is what your little initiative is meant to actually do, yes? Check on my general well-being here and then set me on the path to success once I've served my time?"
"What options would you like to explore?"
"I want to know what you can offer me, Granger. The warden just up and goes missing, vanishes into thin air, and we're just all going to pretend that's fine?"
"I hardly see how that relates to you. Mr. Stanford's case is currently being investigated by the DMLE."
Flint let out a harsh laugh. "Don't be surprised when they hand you some tidy excuse in a few months' time and label it 'unsolved.'"
"Do you know something about his disappearance? Because if so, you are legally obligated to—"
Flint cut her off. "You're so pathetically naive, both of you. To a man like Warden Derek Stanford, Azkaban was his kingdom. Your father's death," he nodded at Draco, "was quite the blow, because before that the DMLE left him alone to do as he liked, essentially."
"Speak plainly Flint and quit wasting our time," drawled Draco.
"Men like Stanford thrive by existing in the grey. He took over a crumbling institution no one wanted to touch with a ten-foot broomstick and made sure all the good, law-abiding citizens felt safe in their beds at night. And he did that by cutting a few corners, you understand, when it came to civil rights of inmates."
"Do you have evidence of further mistreatment other than what was uncovered by the recent DMLE investigation?" asked Granger, voice sharp.
Flint scoffed. "Potter's big investigation into abuse or neglect by guards did nothing but weed out the obvious cases. Problems Stanford himself would probably have taken care of and then swept under the rug without anyone hearing about it."
"Are you saying that you have suspicions of more corruption?"
"What I'm saying is you don't operate this system for years on end without a bit of inside help at the governmental level."
"Like spinning a tale of a dragon pox outbreak?"
"Perhaps."
"So spit it out then," Draco said shortly. "Now's your chance. You want Granger's help? Earn it. Tell us what happened during those months."
"Can't."
"Can't or won't? Which is it Flint because we're running out of patience here," snapped Draco.
"I can't recall. Do you understand?" Flint cast a quick gaze over at the door behind his shoulder. "I am unable to recall. But I'd agree to certain, ah… procedures for recollection."
Granger sat back in her chair and surveyed Flint, performing at once an intake of the information and scanning it for truth.
"What would you want? In exchange for uncovering memories. No guarantees, mind you, we'd have many steps before we'd reach that point."
"What every prisoner wants. To not be murdered and to get the hell out of here sooner."
Granger sized him up again and to Flint's credit, he neither looked away from her scrutinising gaze nor did he sneer. Draco hated that he couldn't help with this decision. She'd have to personally weigh her own scruples, her own moral code, her duty as a lawyer against aiding someone who'd rather see her cut down by a wand at worst or cast out of wizarding society at best.
Her benevolent sense of justice won out, as it always did.
"I can't promise a favourable outcome, nor will I agree to personally handle your case. But if you are willing to cooperate, I will assign you a solicitor from my firm to take you on for your next parole eligibility hearing. The firm you've used for your family for decades is actually a bit of a laughingstock in legal circles."
Flint's lips twitched.
"You've got a deal, Granger."
"You could thank her," drawled Draco.
"I'm sure you'll take care of personally rewarding her on my behalf."
And just like almost every other visit, Granger had to stop Draco from drawing his wand while Flint was led away to his cell.
Granger seemed in a good mood as they returned to her office. She had another piece of her puzzle with Flint agreeing to supply his memories of the supposed cover-up.
She began scribbling on parchment and then periodically floating new ideas and theories over to her investigation wall.
Draco watched her work for a few uninterrupted minutes. He let the time distend on: Granger in her purest form. Carried away by an idea and having brilliant thought after brilliant thought. Reading and researching and trying and caring so much that it cascaded out of her, overflowing in an abundance of her relentless pursuit of truth in this fucked up and unfair world.
Draco needed to finally pull his weight.
"What sort of protections are available?"
"For Flint?" Her head jerked up from her notes. "Plenty, but I'm not sure his claims will be taken seriously, or would even be enough for us to launch another official investigation. I think it's time I looped in Sterling. We'll need to file for permission to have Flint's memories reviewed by a court."
"No, not for Flint." Draco played for time by fiddling with one of her paperweights. It was a ceramic tooth, a gag gift from her parents. Her mother had written "Always fight tooth and nail!" on one side of it. Her father had penned "Root out the bastards!" on the other.
"What if someone outside the prison had information? But perhaps certain circumstances prevented them from coming forward. Fear of retaliation in the form of, I don't know, job loss or even physical danger?"
"Draco, why are you asking me this?"
He released the tooth and looked at her. Another moment he let extend on, wondering if doing something good always had to come at such a high cost.
"I might… have information. I might know something, or rather someone, who was a large part of running the experiment at Azkaban."
"Who?"
"I can't say just yet."
It was not often he'd seen Granger stunned into silence. And this wasn't shock in a fun way: shock at something salacious or romantic he'd said. This was a surrender to surprise because disbelief had taken her mind captive.
She stared at him and Draco catalogued the different ways he'd fucked up by the emotions displayed: Hurt. Anger. Betrayal.
"How long have you known?"
"I can't… I can't say anything more until I know they'll be safe if they come forward."
Her pained face regarded him for a beat more before she abruptly grabbed a fresh piece of parchment. She wrote furiously for a few moments of terrifying silence before folding the piece and sending it off in the form of a flying memo. It flew across the room and slipped under her door to its intended recipient.
When she looked back at Draco, the cold layer of a person trained in a legal career masked the Granger he'd come to know. Not the blazing fire of a passionate advocate, nor the fierce fury of a warrior, but the protective chill of cool professionalism.
"If Sterling and I are filing an official whistle-blower investigation I'll need your statement on record. And I'm… I'm compromised. If you're a witness to all this, I want it officially noted. I'll have Sterling conduct the formal interview."
"I'm not a witness, I just know the identity of someone who is a witness and I—"
A returning memo interrupted any explanation, excuse, or pleading elaboration he might want to attempt. Granger's mouth set in a resigned line as she read it.
"If you have information pertinent to our evidence-gathering of illegal activities at a government institution and are willing to share it with the firm, we would appreciate your formal statement. Tomorrow, preferably, if you're not busy."
"This formality is unnecessary, I—"
"You may bring your own legal representation if you wish."
"I don't require legal representation, for fuck's sake Granger, just let me—"
"Draco, stop."
She'd voluntarily lowered her shield. It morphed into a spear and Draco felt the pierce as she swallowed a lump in her throat.
"If you meant anything you've ever said to me since we've been together, you will show up in Sterling's office tomorrow morning," she whispered hoarsely.
Draco buried any other pathetic responses to her, knowing he could not rectify the damage he'd caused. Not yet.
He took one final look at her as he spun through the fireplace. Already seated back at her desk with quill in hand. But this time with brimming eyes.
Still a warrior. But a wounded one.
Draco fired off an owl to Theo the second he returned home, even though it was mid afternoon.
Come over tonight, as soon as you can. We need to talk.
Theo made good on Draco's abrupt request, Floo'ing straight from the Ministry into Draco's study. One of his elves would probably need to re-buff the floor with all the pacing Draco had done while waiting for his friend.
"What excuse did you give Blaise?"
"Just wrote and told him I'd be working late."
Theo accepted a tumbler of amber liquid.
"Unprompted alcohol huh? Is this about what I fear it's about?"
"We have to ask for help Theo, it's time."
Theo took a deep sip of his drink and said nothing, sinking into a plush armchair and the burn provided by whisky. Draco took the chair opposite and leaned forward.
"I went to the prison today. Granger asked one of the inmates a simple question about that phony dragon pox outbreak and he looked like he wanted to die. I've felt that fear before, not just from what you did to me, but I've had to live in that fear. I know how it can wreck a man."
Theo glared at him. An uncommon expression of malice on a normally kind face.
"Don't you think I know what I—" but he cut himself off, shaking his head back and forth, fighting with the magic that suppressed whatever he may have wanted to divulge.
"I know you can't tell me anything more," said Draco in a placating tone. "Granger has a plan, but it will involve you revealing your ability to her and telling her what you can for now."
"So why isn't Hermione here?"
Of course Theo would ask. Would sense the desperation in Draco's voice. He shifted back in his seat, swirling some more liquid courage down his throat in place of the real thing.
"We've had a bit of a… a misunderstanding. I think I've lost her trust for a bit. But I'm trying to… course correct. Which is why I need you."
"Is this about fixing your relationship?"
"I can admit that's a pretty strong motivator. But Theo, it's more than that. You know it is. I've never been good at helping people. Me trying to help has been disastrous, frankly. But this time, this time we have someone who we can actually trust. And I know you Theo. I know you want to make things right."
Theo sized him up over the rim of his glass. A calculating stare to ascertain the level of dedication Draco had to this situation.
"You have that much faith in her."
"No," Draco disagreed. "I have all my faith in her. She doesn't know how to fail."
Theo assessed him again. A reluctant, wry smile eventually graced his features.
"Gods you know… I'm happy for you, you know that? If you could see yourself, like Blaise and I see you," Theo broke off and stared into his drink. "This is a fucked up thing, I won't deny it, and I wish this had come about in just about any other way but Draco, seeing you find someone worthy of you is fantastic."
"I—thanks, I guess. I might have cocked it up. Massively."
Theo gave an encouraging squeeze to his shoulder, a rare physical display of kindness that Draco secretly welcomed.
His friend's face turned hesitant. "One more time. One final time I need you to swear to me that if we do this we can keep Blaise safe."
"I can promise you that we'll try and with Granger involved that our odds look good. Do you really want to live your life constantly looking over your shoulder? Waiting for the day you can't protect Blaise or yourself anymore? Because let me tell you, I've been there and it's fucking terrifying."
Though Draco could see that fear hadn't quite dissolved from Theo's features, resolve to do the right thing eventually won out.
"I know. I know, and I appreciate that you can relate, as depressing as that is so—" Theo let out a frustrated breath. "I'll meet with her. Just tell me when."
Draco didn't expect to see Granger when he arrived in Sterling's office. But she sat in a chair next to Sterling, quill poised over parchment and prepared to take notes.
She didn't greet or look at Draco. She kept her eyes down. She'd be all business today, she'd keep up that unbothered act in his presence. But he knew her too well now. She wore her least favourite work robes. No makeup, no jewellery. The Granger he'd seen on that morning months ago who thought she could hide her misery after her breakup with Weasley.
Had she slept poorly? Did she get up in the middle of the night and bake something terrible? Did she know how Draco hadn't slept either? That he'd tossed and turned and when he eventually slept he dreamt of the most mundane things when he'd wanted to dream of her? So he could at least see her?
"Mr. Malfoy, thank you for coming in today," said Sterling in that professional monotone. "May I offer you tea or coffee while we await your solicitor?"
"No, thank you, and as I already told Granger, there's no need for the formality. We're not waiting on anyone."
"In that case, do you agree that anything said today may be submitted to a court of law as evidence of illegal activity?"
"I do."
"Hermione has brought me up to speed on the suspected situation occurring at Azkaban. What more can you tell us?"
"I have reason to believe that the Department of Mysteries conducted an unethical experiment at Azkaban."
"Hermione has already provided all of the evidence collected thus far. What else can you tell us to back up your claim?"
Though he had no cause to do so, Draco squirmed in his seat at being subjected to the brisk, rapid questioning.
"That evidence is all conjecture and will get you nowhere with the Wizengamot. I know a person directly involved with the running of the suspected experiment willing to testify."
"Name?"
"Not just yet." Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Granger roll her eyes at her notes. "I'd like to clarify a few things first. Is there a workaround? For the oath the Unspeakables take?"
"Yes, the Squib Experiment trials created the legal precedent for it," rattled off Sterling without a second thought. "If this is an official whistleblower case, the charm can be removed and the Unspeakable can testify."
"How?"
"We petition the Wizengamot to undo the charm by filing a claim on behalf of the Unspeakable, provided we have enough reason to believe it's a necessary step."
"Rather than reveal their name now, what if I were to bring them here? You can question them to the best of your ability and decide if it's enough."
Mentor and protege exchanged glances and seemed to arrive at agreement.
"We'll expect you on Monday morning then, Mr. Malfoy."
Sterling stood and offered him the professional courtesy of a handshake. While there was nothing malicious in the perfunctory conclusion and dismissal of Draco, the blue eyes said something else entirely.
Granger didn't say a word, but gathered her notes and stalked past Draco.
"Granger, wait."
She stopped and turned to him with an imperious glare that screamed, I swear to Merlin if you embarrass me in front of my boss I will hex your bollocks off.
"Could we speak somewhere in private?"
Her eyes shifted; looking down and around the room, anywhere but at him.
"Please?"
She finally looked at him and gave a brisk nod, then turned on her heel and led him to her office.
She dumped her notebook and files perhaps a little harder than she intended to on her desk as some slipped off and she gave a frustrated swish of her wand to set everything back to rights.
"What do you want?"
"Is your office warded for privacy?"
"Of course it is, what kind of lawyer do you take me for?"
"I'll be bringing Theo in."
She raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"You seem unsurprised," said Draco.
She clucked her tongue. "Of course it was Theo you were protecting, it wasn't hard to put two and two together, Draco. But I just wanted to hear the truth from you."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you. Before."
"You lied to me."
"I didn't."
"You withheld information from me. Crucial information. You lied by omission."
Always out-lawyered by her.
"I made a promise to my friend years ago, back at school. I said I'd never tell anyone about his abilities."
She slapped her palm on her desk. "Damn it Draco, this is so far beyond some promise you made as a teenager!"
"I wasn't going to betray Theo. I'll not put him in harm's way."
"And what about everyone else, hmm? Do you not care about the harm that's been done to others? That could continue if we don't bring this to light?"
"Theo is my priority. He's the one I'll protect here."
Her lip curled. "Yes, well I think we both know how your desire to only protect your own has brought devastation to the rest of us in the past."
Draco couldn't help but flinch at her cutting words.
"Low blow, Granger."
She looked apologetic but offered nothing by way of verbal contrition. It might have been a cruel statement from her normally kind lips, but it wasn't incorrect.
"Did you not trust me with this?" The hurt in her tone, the notion that Draco hadn't confided in her because he doubted her reliability, gave a harsh twist to the spear still lanced through his chest from yesterday.
"No, I did. I do."
"Then why not tell me as soon as you suspected? Why make me, make us, go round in circles for weeks? You watched me hit dead end after dead end and all the while you kept this from me. Did you not believe in what we're doing here? I thought—I thought you cared about the work, about the programme."
I thought you were better than this spilled over from her tone.
"I'm sorry, but I had to be sure first. And Theo's… ability is something only myself and Blaise know about."
He'd piqued her curiosity now. "That's the second time you've mentioned an ability. What is it that Theo can do?"
"What do you know of magically cast dreams? Dream parameters set by another person based on a particular emotion."
She furrowed her brow, transformed into the Hermione Granger who'd memorised knowledge, tucked it away, and could now recall that knowledge on a whim.
"Do you mean empathic dream magic? There's a few texts on dream states specific to the magical world but it's all rather vague in my opinion."
"It's real."
She raised one skeptical eyebrow.
"In my Sixth Year he did it for me. When I couldn't sleep because of... because of the horrifying situation… the task I'd been given. And I'll admit, I thought he was full of it too, but then he used his power to give me one night of pleasant dreaming. Probably the best sleep I'd ever had."
He tried to hold her gaze but she looked away, casting her stare to a point over his shoulder.
"What was your dream?"
She might be angry with him, but nothing could tamp down Granger's desire to learn something new.
"He cast happiness. And I dreamt of living my life on my own terms. I'd survived the war and reached adulthood and I had… I had a family."
Draco twisted the two rings on his fingers, one after the other. "Not just in name, you understand, I had what I'd ached for possibly my entire worthless life. A child who looked up to me, who didn't fear me. An actual, real relationship with both my parents. And a wife who… well more like an equal, really."
Her eyes flicked briefly to his, but didn't linger, moving to a random spot on her desk instead.
He could respect her need to shy away, and so he'd carry the bravery load for a bit.
"She was gorgeous and kind, but so fucking cheeky you wouldn't believe," he let out a reluctant chuckle. "And smart. So smart. It was amazing she let me even discuss the same topics as her."
"Sounds lovely," she clipped.
"I always thought you were brilliant, you know. Even if my stupid, younger self refused to acknowledge it aloud."
That got her attention.
"Are you saying… that you dreamt of me? Back then?"
She didn't look disturbed by this confession, but intrigued.
"Not quite. Blaise explained it to me once. How it wasn't necessarily you, more a familiar stand-in for something good. A sign that I had something I could live for and hope for beyond the awful position I'd found myself in during Sixth Year."
When she nodded and lowered her eyes, Draco quietly added, "The dream showed me a person that I could know happiness with, should I care to earn it. My ideal partner."
She looked up again through her lashes, wetting her lips nervously before tossing out the question he knew she'd ask.
"And how does the real thing compare?"
"You don't. It's not even close."
Draco couldn't take the distance any longer and stalked around her desk, reaching for her. "You are so much more than I could ever—"
"Stop. Please."
He stopped his progress and dropped his arms as she hugged herself around her middle.
Wounded still.
Because he'd taken her offering and not given fully in return. Granger had every right to retreat for a time, he knew that. It didn't stop him from feeling bereft and unsure of where they currently stood with each other.
His honourable traitor of a mouth asked, "Do you want me to leave?"
"No. But I think I need you to. For now."
Draco respected her wishes. He clung to her last two words like a tiny string of hope, pulled taut and threatened by an impending tug. If he pulled too hard, if he grabbed and yanked at it like every instinct within him screamed at him to do, he knew it would snap. He'd be left with nothing but his regret and a Galleon that hadn't once warmed with an incoming message from her.
Alone again in bed that night, he gave into the temptation. He grabbed the coin and his wand from the nightstand and sent off a confession she deserved to know.
I eventually let go of the dream. Not sure I'm capable of letting you go.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Next chapter will be on August 10. Final chapter count is 19. You can find me on tumblr at heyjude19-writing.