Chapter 2: The Curious Oyster

Kingsley wasn't worried yet, but to say that he was concerned wouldn't be far from accurate. He'd long since put Callie to bed and was now slumped heavily in his favourite armchair in the drawing room. He glanced forlornly between the grandfather clock opposite him and the dark leather couch to his left. "Hermione's couch" it had been dubbed almost as soon as she'd settled in to the mansion house. He suddenly leaned forward, placing his bald head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. His smooth face belied the years of stress and war that he'd been through, but his dark eyes were old, wise, and careworn. That woman will be the death of me!

His eyes closed and his brows knit together as he recalled Rosie's words from the night before. "Master, Rosie hasn't seen Mistress be 'fine' for years." He regrettably had to admit that it was the truth. The last time he had seen her genuinely, truly happy, she was about fifteen at a Christmas dinner with the Order. She was absolutely radiant, surrounded by her friends. Even her muggle parents had visited Headquarters for the day. He remembered like it was yesterday, her wild curls tied in a bun and her lilac Weasley-knit Christmas sweater pushed up to her elbows as she helped her mother and Molly with the dishes, laughing as they worked. They may not have been perfect but they were a family, a family that war and its aftermath had brutally torn from her. Kingsley shed a rare tear for the extraordinary witch and all she had lost.

Just then, a "ding" alerted him that someone had passed through the Estate wards. Finally! He walked to the front door to let Hermione in, fully aware that she would probably be in a state of inebriation. What he found on opening the massive oak doors, however, was not quite what he expected.

**HGDM**

Draco was already nervous, and he was beginning to think that bringing Blaise along was one of his less than brilliant ideas. The tosser wouldn't quit fidgeting, muttering ominous predictions of their impending murder. "Honestly, mate, you think Trelawney's bad…" Draco eyed his friend, shifting the sleeping witch in his arms. Blaise's featherweight charm was wearing off and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to keep hold of her.

Both men stopped short as their eyes absorbed Shacklebolt Estate and its enormous front doors. Blaise gulped, "Blimey, it's bigger than our parents' places put together!"

Suddenly, the right hand door creaked open, spilling warm candlelight onto the walking path. In the doorway stood a massive imposing figure. Blaise cowered behind Draco. Draco would have smirked at his friend had he not also felt some mild terror at the sight of the Minister in his home. After a few awkward moments, Draco decided he would have to be the first to speak since he was currently holding the reason for their visit.

"Evening, Minister," he began in his smooth drawl. "We were passing by the Hog's Head not long ago and Mr. Dumbledore asked a favour of us. It seems one of his customers needed to be cut off and sent home. Consequently, we are here to return your… er… Ms. Granger." He took a step forward, proffering the lump in his arms to the intimidating wizard.

The Minister easily took the witch in his ridiculously muscled arms and nodded at Draco. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Zabini. Would you care to come inside for tea? Brandy, perhaps?"

Draco glanced at his nervous friend apologetically before answering the wizard in front of him, "Yes, thank you sir, we appreciate it." He honestly didn't think they would appreciate it, but he didn't think it would be wise to refuse the Minister at this point.

Blaise shoved him as they followed the Minister inside Shacklebolt Estate. Draco rolled his eyes at his friend's childish behaviour. He kept pace with Shacklebolt who, now that he was in the light, appeared to be wearing a bath robe, pyjama bottoms, and slippers. How muggle!

"Wait here," the Minister's deep voice echoed through the hall as he gestured to the room on his left before carrying Granger toward a magnificent staircase. Draco and Blaise entered the room cautiously. A drawing room, Draco decided. The room housed two armchairs, a tasteful medieval tapestry, a grandfather clock on the North wall, and an intricately carved ivory fireplace on the South wall, with a dark leather couch in the centre of the room. The two men sat on the couch, which was decidedly more comfortable than any other couch they had ever sat on.

Draco admired the dark green of the walls, accented by ivory and mahogany pieces throughout the room. Blaise turned his gaze to the significantly more frightening chandelier that hung above their heads. It must have weighed half a ton! Though any other person might have admired the exquisite craftsmanship or the way it seemed to suit the room perfectly, Blaise was more concerned about having an astonishing number of sharp crystal shards that could easily be converted to weapons literally hanging above his head. He shuddered and directed his eyes back to the door to watch for the Minister, his hand clamped tightly around his wand through his teaching robes.

A sudden "pop" made both men jump as a small house elf with a maid's outfit appeared. Draco and Blaise chuckled nervously at their scare while the elf cleared her throat to get their attention.

"Master Kingsley is sending Rosie to bring your drinks while he puts Mistress to bed. What is you wanting?" Draco's eyebrows shot up when he heard the elf call Granger "Mistress." From what he recalled of their Hogwarts years, the woman would never consent to being the mistress of a house elf. Not to mention the implication that came from the house elf thinking of her as the lady of the house.

Draco was brought back to himself when Blaise answered quietly, "Double brandy on the rocks, please."

"I'll just have tea, black," Draco said distractedly.

Rosie returned quickly with their drinks and a tray of biscuits. Blaise eagerly took his brandy and gulped it down while Draco took a sip of his tea, trying to reconcile this new information with what he already knew about Hermione Granger. He thought back three years ago to his war trial.

'Will the accused please stand?' the amplified voice of Madame Bones rang like a death bell in the trial room. The greatly reduced Wizengamot and an excessive number of media and spectators had gathered for the war trials of the notorious Malfoys. Hermione Granger, from her seat as temporary Chief Warlock, watched the trial unfold with an emotionless face, listening patiently to all evidence and testimonies and keeping a stern watch over the audience to make sure order was maintained in the room.

Once the five-hour long trial reached its close Granger stood for the first time, her eyes scanning the room before she spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot," Draco noticed that she didn't use a sonorous charm. The room was so quiet, she didn't need it though. That tended to happen when the Chief Warlock spoke. Most people respected her too much despite her tender age. Those who didn't feared her, especially after the Final Battle. "All who find the accused guilty?" Around half of the Wizengamot raised their hands as Madame Bones took note of the vote. "All in favour of clearing the accused of all or selected charges?" Again, close to half of the Wizengamot raised their hands. Madame Bones worked calmly and all eyes were on her until she looked up to the Chief Warlock.

"Madame Bones, how does the vote stand?" Granger asked.

"We, the ladies and gentlemen of the Wizengamot would clear the accused of charges," Madame Bones answered confidently.

There were shocked gasps and murmurs throughout the crowd.

Granger raised a hand and immediately the room silenced. She addressed the Wizengamot, "In the case of Draco Lucius Malfoy, will you clear the accused of all charges?"

"Aye," was the resounding vote of the Wizengamot, with a few nays interspersed.

"Madame Bones, let the record show that Draco Lucius Malfoy has been cleared of all charges," Granger's clear voice said. As the words sank in, Draco stared at the woman he had tormented through their Hogwarts years, then stood by and watched his aunt torture. The overwhelming gratitude and shock he felt must have been evident in his expression because Granger did something he never would have expected her to do. She smiled at him and nodded once before returning to the case of his parents.

Draco still found himself in awe of the outcome of his and his family's trials. They were only free now thanks, in large part, to Hermione Granger. A lesser person would have allowed prejudiced witnesses and less substantial evidence to stand in order to satisfy a personal vendetta, but Granger's unwavering sense of justice had saved them perhaps from a fate worse than death.

At that moment, Shacklebolt entered the drawing room, looking rather exhausted. "No, please sit," he said as Draco and Blaise rose to their feet to greet their host, ever the gentlemen. The Minister crossed the room, took his place in an armchair, and looked contemplatively at the men on the couch for a few minutes. They were both obviously uncomfortable.

Shacklebolt took a deep breath before speaking to his guests. "Gentlemen, what would it take to make you forget this ever happened?" His face remained stern and stoic and his hands clasped in front of him almost threateningly.

**HGDM**

Kingsley looked between the faces of the two wizards on Hermione's couch. Physically, they appeared to be polar opposites. One pale and the other dark; one with a suspicious scowl and the other nervously shifting his gaze around the room. Zabini was clutching his wand through his robes as if his life depended on it. Knowing the new Hogwarts professor, he was probably dragged into this situation unwillingly. Unfortunately, he was here now and he had witnessed Hermione in a compromising position. He simply couldn't let the young man leave without securing the protection of his family. Whether that meant bribery, threats, or obliviation, he was prepared to do whatever it took to accomplish it.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was far more likely to take what he knew to the Prophet just to spite his old school nemesis. Not that the action would be at all deserved. Hermione did everything she could to ensure his family got a fair war trial. She'd even publicly supported the Malfoys by shaking his hand and hugging Narcissa after the trial, which caused a big stir in the media. Of course, that was before "the scandal." Still, it was just after that day and it was almost unbelievable that she was able to put on such a show, much less willing to do so.

Perhaps that wasn't being entirely fair to the Malfoy heir. He had been getting nothing but good reports from his supervisors at the Ministry. Also, there was the matter of the significant number of galleons he'd anonymously contributed to the many charities that had sprung up after the war. Kingsley had thought at the time that it was just an attempt to rid himself of any connection to Bellatrix Lestrange, as most of the money had come directly from her vault at Gringott's. Eventually, though, Hermione had convinced him that since his donation was, in fact, anonymous, and in light of his previously selfish nature, he may have had more altruistic reasons for what he'd done.

Either way, Kingsley believed that this situation might be simply too tempting for the ex-Slytherins. He was a very forgiving wizard in most circumstances, but when he thought of the possible ramifications a leak of this information could have for his family, he would rather take preventative measures than risk his own wrath later on. Even he wasn't sure of what he could be capable if his worst fears came to fruition. Merlin help the soul that uncovered his secrets, whether by accident or with malicious intent.

As Kingsley's thoughts turned darker, his expression must have reflected the turmoil within because Zabini sank further into the couch and began visibly shaking. Malfoy's brow furrowed and his jaw tightened. He shifted his feet to position for a fight. Kingsley hadn't been an Auror for more than a decade without learning to pick up the signs of a wizard who intended to duel. His fingers unconsciously inched toward his own wand, but Malfoy did something that surprised him. He sighed and leaned back into the couch, relaxing and crossing his arms over his chest.

**HGDM**

Draco thought carefully before giving the answer that would double as both his and Blaise's. He thought briefly of obliviating the Minister and sneaking out before he realized what was going on. The idea was quickly discarded, however. Draco vividly recalled seeing Shacklebolt in action and standing in awe of the powerful and deadly accurate wizard. He may possess speed and cunning but he was no match for the man before him, who benefited from years of Auror training and experience. He'd be out cold before he could perform a swish-and-flick.

He also considered arguing with Shacklebolt, distracting him long enough to call the Aurors. After all, he and Blaise had done nothing wrong, and the Minister had indirectly threatened them. The man was usurping his power, and he should probably be reported. Draco almost scoffed at himself at this suggestion though. He wasn't a bloody Hufflepuff! He and Blaise could handle this themselves, without interference from the Aurors, most of whom were morons anyway. Even if Blaise currently appeared to be pissing himself with fear, he could hold his own in a fight if it came down to it.

Draco's musings came to a halt momentarily when he observed the change in the Minister's eyes. They had gradually transformed from exhausted and almost pleading to hard and determined. It was a look that he'd seen one other time, on Lucius before Granger's "interrogation" at the Manor. Torturing teenage witches wasn't something Lucius was ever fond of. Whatever his faults, let it be known that the elder Malfoy had never approved of using physical violence with females. Though he obviously would rather have interrogated either of the boys, he reluctantly allowed Bellatrix to torture the girl, though he had to steel himself before watching. It was then that Draco realized that Shacklebolt was not only willing to use force with them, but readying himself to do it.

Sighing and relaxing into the couch, Draco prepared to discuss the one option that would allow him and Blaise to leave the Shacklebolt Estate unscathed. He pursed his lips, keeping his gaze locked with the Minister's before clearing his throat and speaking.

"I believe we have a solution, Minister Shacklebolt, if you are amenable." He smiled slyly, clapping the violently shaking Blaise on the shoulder to present a united front.

"What would you suggest, Mr. Malfoy?" the Minister looked intrigued.

"Blaise and I are willing to make the Unbreakable Vow that we will not disclose any of tonight's events. After all, neither of us would ever dream of doing anything that could harm the Chief Warlock. Ms. Granger has been nothing but polite and supportive of us since the war and we would never betray the kindness she's shown us." Draco was surprised to find that his words were sincere as was his smile as he spoke. He must have been more grateful to the witch than he realized.

He glanced at his friend to find him slowly nodding his head in agreement, his face now expressionless as he perceived the Minister's change in demeanour. Shacklebolt looked relieved but still wary, definitely an improvement from the battle-ready stance of a moment ago.

"And what would you ask of me in return?" he queried, steepling his fingers.

"Only that our memories will not be tampered with," Draco answered confidently.

"Very well," said Shacklebolt as he stood from his chair, taking a slow step toward the couch. "Mr. Malfoy?" He extended his right arm toward Draco.

Draco clasped the Minister's forearm with his right hand and nodded to Blaise who was now standing. Blaise withdrew his wand and lightly tapped the intertwined arms. "Draco Malfoy," he addressed him. "Will you promise never to mention having contact with Ms. Granger from 11:30 last evening until now?"

"I will."

"And will you keep Ms. Granger's activities from the same time, as far as you are aware of them, to yourself?"

"I will."

"And will you, if confronted, deny having been at Minister Shacklebolt's residence in the last hour?"

"I will," Draco answered, letting go of the Minister's arm as the Vow was completed. Shacklebolt gave a nod of approval as he turned to Blaise. Draco repeated the same Vow Blaise had given and stood uncomfortably waiting for the Minister to dismiss them.

"Thank you," breathed the Minister, the exhaustion returning to him full-force. He looked both Draco and Blaise in the eyes, his overwhelming gratitude evident in his relieved smile. "I assure you that your assistance will not be forgotten."

Draco dipped his head in acknowledgement, knowing that he had made the right decision. It seemed now that the Minister of Magic was indebted to them. Not that he could foresee himself capitalizing on that, but it was nice to know all the same.

Shacklebolt snapped his fingers and the house elf from before appeared. "Rosie will show you out. Good evening, gentlemen." Then, he walked out without looking back.

**HGDM**

Once they had apparated safely away from Shacklebolt Estate, Blaise rounded on his best mate. "You ruddy bastard!" he bellowed as he landed a powerful right hook straight across his jaw. The blow was so forceful that Draco was knocked on his arse. The dark wizard, breathing heavily from the rush of adrenaline, towered over Draco and sneered down at him.

"I probably deserved that," Draco mumbled as he tenderly touched his rapidly swelling jaw. He winced as his fingers prodded the impact point. It was probably broken. Good, Blaise thought.

"Damn right you did!" shouted Blaise. "An Unbreakable Vow? What in Salazar's name were you thinking?! Oh, don't tell me! 'It's better than being obliviated.' Is it really, Draco? At least if I'd been obliviated, I wouldn't have to worry about dying if I ever slip up! What's more, I won't be able to go to the Ministry ever again without trying to avoid those two. You know, being your mate is exhausting! Sometimes, I wish I'd taken a page from Parkinson's book and just given up on you altogether!" he spat the last sentence out, on the verge of tears as his adrenaline wore out.

Seeing the look of hurt on Draco's face, Blaise's anger instantly melted away. "I'm sorry, mate. I just—that was out of line. Let's just go get some rest. Tomorrow, we'll be fine. We should be fine." He was trying to convince himself more than Draco, but he patted his friend on the back before apparating closer to the castle so he could walk up to his quarters. The sooner he could collapse into bed, the better.