Hi. It's been a long time. In my defense, I got another job, so I'm back to school and working. I'm sorry? I love you?

Anyway, please enjoy this chapter, and as always, little old Cherry over here loves to see your comments so please review!

Love,

Cherry


Light blue jumper or brown turtleneck?

Hermione held the two garments up to her shoulders, switching between them with irritation. The jumper suited her skin tone, but the turtleneck made her brown eyes look brighter. She hated that she was giving so much thought to something so simple, and when she began to think of how she should do her hair, she gave a disgruntled sigh and pulled on the turtleneck and a pair of dark jeans and trainers. She walked into the bathroom and toyed with tying her hair back or leaving it down, when she realised how much attention she was paying to her looks.

It's just Malfoy, for bloody sake. She scrunched her nose at her reflection, less than impressed with her sudden desire to put effort into her appearance. Why should I care so much if I look put together?

The rational part of her brain told Hermione that it was because Draco was the same way. She'd only ever seen him in black or charcoal trousers and button downs. She hated to look out of place, and in Malfoy Manor, she most certainly looked out of place. The least she could do would be to look nice.

Of course, there was a smaller part of her pathos that niggled at the back of her mind suggesting that maybe she wanted to look nice because she was going to meet Draco. It was silly, to think that she cared what Draco thought of her, but something queer had stirred in her belly when he'd called her beautiful at the gala. She hadn't expected it, and standing there in the freezing cold, her mind racing from the night's events, she hadn't felt very pretty, but she felt the sincerity Draco spoke with in her bones. In a way she'd never felt from another person.

Selfishly, she wanted more, needed more, but would never admit it. Which is why she justified that the clips holding her hair out of her face were to keep her from fussing with the flyaways while she worked, and not because she wanted Draco to make a comment (which she did).

At nearly ten, Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and approached her fireplace, Flooing to Malfoy Manor. When she arrived, Draco was waiting for her, like he always did, and he greeted her with a smile that nearly knocked her back into the mantle. Had she ever really seen him smile genuinely? Really, ever? He looked so serene, and it was with pleasure that Hermione noted he was looking healthier. There was a warmth to his skin and a light in his eyes. He must've been feeling better.

The second thing Hermione noticed that left her gobsmacked was that Draco was wearing a light grey fleece and jeans. She didn't miss the irony - that she'd spent so much time mulling over what to wear because Draco always wore button ups - but more than anything, Hermione was entranced by how much younger he looked. He had always seemed older than his counterparts, and part of that was the way Draco dressed; like he was perpetually about to step into a meeting. She was surprised he even owned a pair of jeans. And a well fitting pair at that. A flattering pair, that made his lean legs look longer than they really were.

"Morning." Hermione greeted, clearing her throat. "You look well." She hoped she looked as happy as Draco. She was happy.

"Thank you." Draco said, and he hoped it didn't show just how much he enjoyed the compliment. "I trust your week was all right?"

"It was." She confirmed, and the two walked together up the stairs and to the familiar space of Draco's office. "I'm not a particular fan of the evening shift, but it did give me some time in the mornings to resolve my discussion with Neville, and the letter's been sent to Mahoutokoro. I'm hoping to hear from them by next week."

"That's wonderful." Draco commented, shutting the door behind them as they stepped into the room. "Best of luck."

"Thank you." Hermione set her bag down and pulled her notebook from it. "And I've been taking notes about your parents' case. I have some theories, but I'd love to see what you have so far."

Draco was a little disappointed that Hermione was so quickly jumping into the work, but because of the excitement in her eyes, he didn't mind so much. He'd do just about anything to make her happy.

"I hate to admit there isn't much." He gestured to his desk, which was cluttered with open books and parchment. Hermione immediately approached the desk and handed Draco her notebook.

"Then I'm in good company." She answered and stood at Draco's desk, reading the materials from left to right. Luckily, it was roughly ordered by subject, so she didn't have to jump around too much to make sense of the notes. As both read each other's writings, they put together that ultimately both were on the same page; both thought the act was personal, and that the severing of Lucius' arm that bore the Dark Mark was to throw the Aurors off the murderer's tracks.

Where Hermione had failed to pinpoint why, Draco had elaborated. He'd made up a list of questionable individuals that knew both of his parents, but reduced the list by crossing out the names of those who had died in the war, and added a note about getting records on who all was in Azkaban. Hermione read the list with curiosity, and ran through the relationships Draco had jotted down. Family friend, Family friend, Great Uncle, Third Cousin, Former employee. The list went on and on, and when Hermione got to the names of people labelled as former affair partners, she both wondered how Draco knew this information, and if she should stop reading the personal information.

"Did you end up decoding the notes of the man you hired?" Hermione finally asked, and Draco nodded, pulling a piece of parchment out from under the translation book. He fished out another piece of parchment, which looked like the original.

"You were right about it being a mix of Scottish Gaelic and Dwarvish." He explained, standing over her shoulder as he pointed to the symbols and their English counterparts. Hermione tried to ignore the way his hip brushed against her's as he leaned forward and focussed on the words he'd translated. She read the document aloud.

A Visionary untraceable Floo uses the same network as the Ministry monitored Floo to let its users travel. Operating under the existing network reduces the risk of operator error and splinching. The Ministry of Magic keeps track of your Floo travel by registration of the fireplace itself. It keeps track of who enters and exits each Floo by its location, and the Visionary model uses your mantle to disguise the entrance and exit locations of Floo travel, keeping your use untraceable.

"It's an advertisement." Hermione noted.

"For some company named Visionary." Draco nodded, moving to the credenza behind the desk. He lifted another stack of parchment and set it in front of Hermione. "I've looked into trademarking and patents for Visionary and Bruadarach, which is the Scottish Gaelic translation, but found nothing. Vision Inc., Dreamer's Desire, Taibhsear, there's even a Bruadarch Whisky, but no carpenters or spell designers."

"Then it's underground." Hermione sifted through the papers, confirming Draco's statement. Nothing looked like a match. Not that a criminal would want to trademark their company and make it well known.

"Like most Dark Arts operations."

"Given that the advertisement was in a Scottish language, I don't think it'll be a likely resource, but have you tried Knockturn Alley?" Hermione asked, looking up at Draco.

"Ah yes, I just strolled on down, popped into Borgin and Burkes for a quick hello, just to reminisce on the old times. See if they had any trinkets of questionable origin for sale." Draco shot Hermione a look and she smirked.

"I see your point. All right, well then I'll just do it." She rounded the desk and picked up her bag. "Is it common knowledge that Mimmy is in your employment?"

"It's decently known that she used to be." Draco shrugged. "But she's free now, perhaps you hired her as your assistant."

"True. All right, then. Mimmy?" There was a crack.

"Yes, Miss Hermione?" Mimmy appeared in the room, wearing a silk dress and bowler hat. She tried to look coy but it was obvious she knew she would be leaving the manor.

"Would you like to accompany me to take a trip to Knockturn Alley? As a free elf?" Hermione appealed to Mimmy, whose ears flapped happily.

"Nothing would please Mimmy more." She confirmed. "What is Miss Hermione hoping to find?"
"Information." Hermione shrugged. "But we don't want them to know we're looking for information, so we'll have to be very sneaky."

Mimmy's lip trembled from excitement and she straightened her posture. "Very well, Miss Hermione. Mimmy can be discrete."

Draco watched Hermione communicate the plan to Mimmy with great seriousness, and Mimmy absorbed it all with attentive wide eyes. He felt an immense level of comfort knowing he'd asked the right person to help him. Aside from being brilliant, Hermione was cautious and deliberate, and for not one moment did Draco worry about her going to Knockturn Alley alone. She wouldn't betray his cause, and in knowing that, some of the stresses that had weighed on him so heavily the last five months were beginning to lighten. It felt unfair, to know Hermione did so much for him and he provided so little in return, but selfishly, he didn't care at the moment; he was too desperate for normalcy to consider what he was offering to the other person in the relationship.

"Right. We'll be back soon, then." Hermione looked to Draco for confirmation, and he nodded silently.

"I feel useless." He said as he walked Hermione to the Floo, Mimmy having chosen to Apparate to their meeting place at the Leaky Cauldron.

"You're not." Hermione placed a hand on his upper arm. "This is just something I have to do so we can move forward. Besides, you're reaching out to contacts I don't have in the Far East. We all have our skills."

"And mine is money while yours is clout." Draco muttered, and Hermione removed her hand from his arm and replaced it with a quick swat of her elbow.

"They're both due to reputation. Yours affords you requests of distant colleagues, and mine affords me a free pass to stroll through Knockturn Alley without judgment. Actually, I'll probably still receive judgment." She considered, but shrugged and took some Floo powder as she stepped in. "We'll be back soon." With a puff of green flames, Hermione disappeared and Draco stood alone, befuddled. What did he do while waiting for Hermione to come back? He'd already sent letters to his associates in Tokyo, Sapporo, and Seoul, and he hadn't expected Hermione to leave so soon, so he was left to his own devices while she helped him.

She'd be hungry when she returned, Draco justified. It was just after eleven when she left, so it was nearly time to eat. Mimmy was with Hermione, and Thrump hated anything related to the kitchen, so that meant Draco had to cook himself. That was romantic, wasn't it? When a man made a woman food? Maybe he could prove his worth to Hermione if he made her something delicious.

With purpose, Draco set toward the kitchen with new ambition, and scoured through a Malfoy cookbook that contained recipes from the past generations back to the 900's. Some looked terrible, which was to be expected, but he settled on a soup made by his great grandmother that Draco knew he'd been able to make successfully twice. That wasn't a very good track record, but it was better than some of the other meals he'd made himself.

While Draco scoured the cabinets for bay leaves and salt, Hermione arrived at the Leaky Cauldron and met Mimmy by the brick wall. Together, the two set off down the main street of Diagon Alley, and with genuine enthusiasm, Mimmy peered into all of the shop windows, her ears wiggling excitedly when Hermione suggested the two stop in a smaller shop that sold children's clothing. Mimmy's mouth went wide at the variety of styles that lined the shelves, and when Hermione offered to buy her something, Mimmy turned her down and purchased a pair of daisy shaped sunglasses. She used her magic to expand the lenses to cover her eyes and wore them out of the store.

Together, the pair walked down the cobblestone street and turned down one of the narrower paths, twisting through the turns that led them to the slightly less travelled street of Knockturn Alley. The overall feel of the shops had become less suspicious, Hermione noted as she glanced into the store windows. The population of consumers was also more mainstream, all of which likely had to do with the crackdown on Dark Arts following Voldemort's demise. It was a little disheartening in the moment, since Hermione was actually looking for illegal activities, but she was glad to know that there wasn't such a public place for illicit behavior anymore.

When looking at the shops, Hermione chose to visit those that sold home goods, like furniture, figuring that if anyone was going to know where to buy an untraceable mantle, it would be at one of those shops. That narrowed the search down to two, Borgin and Burkes, and a smaller woodworking shop called Fabricative. Hermione started there, since they specialised in wood products, and while she did find a very beautiful mantle the owner had made, she didn't learn anything about other mantle carpenters, and when she got desperate, Hermione even said she was looking for a visionary to design her mantle, which didn't seem to trigger anything in the man behind the counter. A little disappointed, Hermione returned to the street with Mimmy, and the two walked to Borgin and Burkes together. While Hermione went to the counter, Mimmy browsed.

"Hello." A gravelly voice greeted, Mr. Borgin coming to greet Hermione from a back room. He eyed her like he might have recognised her, but he continued on without asking for her name. "How may I help?"

"I'm looking to redecorate my home." Hermione spoke with a posher accent than her own. She hoped it came across as though she was a serious buyer with enough money to purchase something right away. She might have hoped to sound like Pansy Parkinson, but didn't know how effective it was. "And I'm in the market for a mantle for my Floo. Something with...unique qualities."

"I have several scattered around the shop. You're more than welcome to see if any are to your liking."

"Do you know their makers?" Hermione continued to question as Mr. Borgin shuffled to show her one leaning against a wall near the front of the room. "My husband's Scottish, and he would love to have a fireplace made by a fellow Scotsman."

"Some are signed by their crafter, so you can check them." Mr. Borgin shrugged. "You said you wanted something with unique qualities."

"Yes." Hermione nodded, and hoped she was better at lying than she felt. "My husband's business, he meets all kinds of men." And women, Hermione bit her tongue, knowing Mr. Borgin would pay her less mind if she was similar to his other clients, like wives who didn't work and valued men above women.

"Anyway, the men prefer anonymity. They don't like to know their whereabouts are being tracked by the Ministry. I don't either, to be completely transparent. If I want to have guests, why should the government know?" Hermione wished she had bit her tongue, as Mr. Borgin's face went neutral.

"I don't carry products like that. This is a reputable business." Mr. Borgin began walking back toward the counter, and Hermione realised she'd lost her chance to question Mr. Borgin, but Mimmy approached Hermione and lifted her glasses to wink, so Hermione let the subject dropped, thanked Mr. Borgin for his time, and left through the entrance, stopping by a shop with boarded up windows to ask Mimmy about what she'd seen.

"Mimmy found a mantle." Her ears fluttered proudly. "Carved with the name of a shop on Cantlebar Road."

Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to put together why she knew that name. "Is that the one in Edinburgh?" She asked, and Mimmy nodded furiously.

"Mimmy used to travel with Master Lucius and Narcissa many times. There are many friends with shops on Cantlebar Road."

"So it's the Scottish equivalent to Knockturn Alley, then?" Hermione continued, and when Mimmy confirmed she was right, Hermione handed Mimmy a piece of parchment and a quill, and had her return to Borgin and Burkes to copy down all the information the mantle had on it.

While Mimmy scuffled off toward Borgin and Burkes, Hermione waited, but Mimmy was quick, so Hermione didn't have to wait long. She scanned the scroll Mimmy handed her as they walked about toward the Leaky Cauldron. The shop was called Utopian Woodworking, which wasn't the same as Visionary, but did hold a similar meaning. Maybe this was the maker of the mantle in Malfoy Manor. Maybe they could help explain how to learn who had used the Floo.

When they finally returned to the brick wall, Hemrione's stomach growled, so she suggested to Mimmy that they get some takeaway from the Leaky Cauldron before returning to the manor. After all, Mimmy cooked nearly all of Draco's meals, and since she was with Hermione, who would have prepared anything to eat?

With a bag of food in hand, Hermione waved goodbye to Mimmy, who Apparated home, and Hermione stepped into the Floo, more than pleased that she had news to share with Draco upon her return.


"Mimmy wonders what it's like." Mimmy lurked in the doorway, making Draco jump. He turned with irritation and raised an eyebrow at the house-elf.

"Mimmy wonders what what's like?" Draco took the bait, stalking out of the room with Mimmy hot on his heels.

"What it's like to be a dirty secret."