Here's another chapter since I'm feeling particularly magnanimous these days.
Chapter 1
Hermione gasped for air, panting as she rolled over onto her side of the bed. As hot and sweaty as she was, she pulled the sheet up over her breasts, unable to prevent the urge for modesty.
"Wow," came an equally out-of-breath voice beside her. She turned her head and saw Etienne's mop of blonde hair, looking thoroughly displaced from where she'd run her fingers through it. His brown eyes were bright and his smile was dopey, the look of a man who'd just reached the height of physical pleasure and was learning how to function again.
"They were right," he continued, turning over on his side so he was up against her own body, his hand moving from her jaw to the curve of her breast to her waist.
Hermione let out a tired and questioning hmm to his statement as she let him cuddle up to her, her hand instinctively reaching up to play with the sweaty strands of his hair.
"Married sex is better."
Hermione let out a laugh, turning fully to face him. Her other hand that wasn't buried in his hair reached out to cup his face, her engagement and wedding rings flashing in the light of the candles that had been strategically placed throughout the room. Etienne's idea, of course. Ever the romantic. She was just glad she'd been able to talk him out of the rose petals and the string quartet.
"I love you," she murmured, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips. "Today was a good day."
"You got to marry me. Of course it was a good day," Etienne said, a smirk on his handsome face. When Hermione just scoffed and attempted to withdraw, he grabbed her hand and pulled her closer for another kiss. His fingers played with the rings on her own, a smile coming onto his lips as he felt the metal and gems under his touch.
"Welcome home, Adalene du Rand," he said. "I love you."
She bit her lip, listening to the sound of her new married name spill off his tongue. They held each other for several minutes - or hours, Hermione couldn't tell. They'd both need their sleep before their long trip to the Caribbean for the honeymoon, but she couldn't force her eyes to close. She felt it when he eventually fell asleep, his body relaxing and his snores beginning.
When she was sure he wouldn't wake, Hermione gently slid out from under him and padded over to the lounge chair by their king bed, grabbing her silk dressing robe before quietly slipping out of the room and making her way to the roof.
One of the things she loved about Etienne's home - now her home - was the balcony on the roof. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen: benches scattered about a garden with various flowers and herbs that gave the garden a mystical feel. Whatever kind of flower Etienne had managed to import, she'd found they glowed in the dark. All it took was one look at her face for Etienne to laugh and promise he'd fill their whole house with them if she wanted.
She passed them now, her hands skimming the petals and watching them pulse with some sort of energy in the light of the moon. They truly were the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. Maybe she could convince Albus to steal a few seeds when they closed the job and plant some in their own garden.
The chilly breeze gently ruffled her robe, but Hermione simply cast a warming charm so she could enjoy the night air, free from the scent of candles and 800 count sheets and the contagious grin of the man whose heart she would break. She'd always preferred being alone, even after all this time.
"Somehow I knew I'd find you up here," a voice said from behind her, their tone teasing.
Hermione turned, a smile on her face as she glimpsed pale white hair and sparkling blue eyes.
"What gave me away...the nargles?" she shot back playfully.
"Ha ha," Luna Lovegood said, walking toward Hermione. "Smart-arse."
The two women embraced and gripped each other tight. Hermione didn't realize a tear had fallen from her eye until she felt it drip off her chin, and when she pulled away she wiped at it viciously.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, lacing her fingers together with Luna's. "I haven't seen you...well, since the beginning of the job."
"Nine months," Luna confirmed, a smile playing on her lips at the wetness in Hermione's eyes. "Someone's missed me."
"Shut up," Hermione growled, ducking her head again. "I didn't know you'd be back in France; I thought Albus would have you wrapped up in some poor Englishman's arms by now."
A shadow flitted across Luna's face. "Yeah, well, I'm preparing for the next job."
"Another job? Already? I'm not even finished with this one - "
"And Albus told me to tell you to focus. Don't even worry about it until you're done in France."
Hermione let go of Luna's hand and crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling a chill even through her warming charm.
"Sometimes I feel like we'll never be done," she confessed, choosing to look anywhere but Luna's eyes. She loved the other woman like a sister, but they rarely talked about their feelings regarding their work. She was afraid of how Luna might react.
Luna simply reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear.
"I came here to tell you that the 7 days start now. Harry's already working on Etienne's Gringotts, and he's about cracked it. Severus will meet you at the public library once you've finished and you'll Apparate home."
Hermione registered the change of subject, but at least Luna hadn't told her off.
"Okay," she said, deciding not to press. "I'll see you soon, then."
"Yes." Luna pulled her into a quick hug. "Be safe, Mione."
"Aren't I always?" Hermione gave her best friend a saucy wink, to which Luna rolled her eyes and Disapparated with a crack.
Hermione turned from where her friend had been, and stood alone in the garden until the sun rose and the glow from the flowers finally faded.
Etienne du Rand had planned everything. This was the last night of his honeymoon with his wife after having spent six glorious days in Wizarding Aruba, and he was prepared for them to have the most romantic night yet: a serenade by the water, a seven course meal from a celebrity chef he would Portkey in, a sparkling in-laid diamond necklace that belonged to his grandmother, and finally a romp in every corner of the room to commemorate the occasion. This was the last evening before both he and Adalene went back to work, and he wanted to make the most of it.
Adalene had kissed him goodbye earlier that afternoon, stating that she was going for a manicure and a spa treatment before their night together, and Etienne shivered at the thought of his wife preparing herself for him. She knew he liked it waxed and smooth. She called him a French aristocrat and rolled her eyes, but she did it anyway because she loved him.
While she was gone, Etienne went out shopping. He decided that he needed to purchase some new clothing for his first day back at work post-wedding, and it wouldn't hurt to get Adalene a few...things. Not for work, just for him. It took him several hours and an embarrassing number of broken English-filled conversations with female employees in the lingerie department of the boutique, but eventually he proceeded to the front to ring it all up.
"I'm sorry," the teenager at the register said. "It says this card declined?" She phrased it like a question, as if unsure if it was her own mistake.
"Try it again," he said, enunciating his English.
While he watched, she ran the credit card through the machine again. Her lips pulled down in a frown.
"I'm sorry," she said a second time. She held it back out to him. "Want to try another one?"
Etienne scoffed, grabbing the card from her fingers and looking at it in confusion. It had only been a few years since the Wizarding World moved from only metal money to credit as well, and it had been a wonder of a transformation for society; it was now far easier to access one's money, and it was the only thing the Muggles had gotten right, in Etienne's opinion.
Now he cursed the stupid card. What could possibly be wrong?
"Try this one," he said, handing the cashier his other credit card. "It will work."
The cashier just gave a little shake of her head once she ran the new card. "Still saying declined."
"Merde," Etienne hissed. "Um...I have Galleons in my...my hotel. May I...um, return?"
"Yes," the cashier said, but there was distrust in her eyes.
Etienne stumbled out of the store, bewildered. Beyond his confusion, there was embarrassment. He was Etienne du Rand for Flamel's sake, not some teenager attempting to swindle some boutique. He was practically French royalty - or at least, royalty-adjacent - and he most definitely had the funds to purchase a few items of clothing.
Now in a foul mood, he Apparated to the one upscale spa on the whole island, hoping that he could find Adalene and they could get a headstart on their night. Nothing made him feel like less of a man than being told he couldn't afford something. The absolute nerve.
"Hello," Etienne said to the man at the front desk. He winced at his heavily accented English. If only he remembered the spell so that one could speak another's language fluently. "Did my wife check in here? Adalene du Rand?"
"I'm sorry, sir, no one by that name has signed in," the man said, his voice polite.
"Are you sure?" Etienne asked more forcefully. Clearly this man did not know how to do his job.
The man raised an eyebrow and made a show of bending his head and deliberately looking at every name on the sign in sheet. When he finally lifted his eyes, he simply shrugged.
"No one by that name," he repeated. "Sorry."
Etienne didn't even bother with a response as he turned on his heel and stormed out. This was an infuriating day. Perhaps Adalene was already at the hotel.
"Adalene?" Etienne called as he waved his wand over the lock on the hotel door. It opened inward and just as he was about to call his wife's name again, he saw the room.
The presents he had gotten Adalene were gone, the wrapping torn to shreds and the jewelry cases open and empty. The drawer that held all his watches was open, and each space was bare. Anything in the room that looked remotely expensive was gone, and Adalene was not there.
"Putain," he bit out, moving quickly over to the settee and seeing the giant slash that was there from someone's wand. He dug in the hole frantically, but all his hands came up with was couch stuffing. "Bordel de merde."
His Galleons, the ones he'd saved for their trip as an emergency fund, were gone.
"Adalene!" he cried, now terrified. His money, his things, his wife - gone. What if she'd been kidnapped, or worse?
It was then that something flickered out of the corner of his eye. He flinched, fully expecting to be assaulted by robbers, but instead he saw Adalene's Patronus gracefully prowl through the window by the bed. He would recognize it anywhere, the big cat whose eyes looked just like hers. It came toward him and it was then that he heard Adalene's voice.
"Hello, Etienne. It's me. I know this must all be very confusing for you. The Galleons, the jewelry, the credit cards, even your personal vaults. But you need to know something: you will not see me again, so you need to consider me gone. If you go looking for me, you won't find me. And I know you think you have the power of the French nobility behind you, but I promise that even they will never find a trace of me." She gave a little laugh. Etienne felt numb.
"You must move on, Etienne. Be happy, fall in love again, open your heart to people. I know that will be hard for you after all this, but I promise you will find those things again. As for me…" A small sigh. "You are a good and kind man. You will replay every moment and question whether any of it was real, whether what we had was sincere. I understand that desire. You will hurt for a long time, but you will be okay. I promise you that."
There was a pause as Adalene took a breath. "Remember what I said, Etienne. You will never find me. You will be angry, and you will want to make me pay for this, but if you come looking I cannot promise that you or your family will be safe. When people ask, tell them I cheated. Tell them we got married too soon, didn't realize our fundamental differences. Whatever it takes to protect them and let me go. Goodbye, Tien. I wish you well."
The message ended, and the Patronus vanished from before Etienne's eyes. He didn't even realize he was crying until he reached up and felt wetness on his face.
How could any of this be possible? Just seven days ago, he'd gotten married to the love of his life, his French rose, and now…?
Immediately, Etienne stumbled back and toward the fireplace, throwing in some Floo powder and mumbling the address of his home. When he stepped into the flames, it only added to his nausea.
He almost fell out of the fireplace in his library, but immediately righted himself and moved toward the rest of the manor, his breathing ragged and his steps stilted.
"Bonjour, Monsieur," one of the maids said, seeing him and dropping into a small bow. "Welcome back. May I get you and Madame something to eat or drink?"
Etienne ignored her, pushing past and entering his study. Inside, he saw several owls fluttering about his desk, all hooting. There were three letters on his desk and he scanned the first with trepidation.
Msr. du Rand,
I regret to inform you that your account at Gringotts Wizarding Bank is under review after a withdrawal of all available funds. The Fraud Investigation Team will be in contact with you in order to find out whether you have authorized these withdrawals. Because of the amount of funds that have been removed, Gringotts Wizarding Bank will be treating this inquiry with utmost seriousness in order to protect the privacy of our most valued clients.
Regards,
Msr. Jean Dupont
The other two letters detailed similar situations, one with his credit cards and the other regarding his secret bank account in Mykonos. How the hell had she found that one?
Etienne sagged into his office chair with the letters crumpled in his fist. Every bit of savings and credit he had had been stolen. And his wife had been the one to do it.
It refused to make sense in his mind. His wife, his wife, his beloved to whom he had just pledged his life and heart had - he didn't even know what to call it. Had it all just been some long con, to steal his very life out from under him?
It would've been better, less painful, if she'd just stolen everything from him the second she met him, he thought.
Non, he amended. It would've been better if she'd just killed him.
"Stop pacing, Miss Granger, and tell me what's on your mind."
Albus' words might've been sharp, but his tone was amused. He'd known her most of her life, and so he knew all of her little tics, including when she wanted something.
Hermione fell into the chair in front of Albus' desk and watched him as he gazed out the window at the bright sunlight. She somehow forgot that as she aged, so did he - his wrinkles seemed a bit more pronounced since the last time she'd seen him, his eyebrows drawn down a bit more wearily. He was still the force of nature she was used to, but she couldn't help but wonder if all this took a toll.
"It's done. We got everything," she said.
"I know," Albus said, his mouth quirking up slightly at the corners. "You wouldn't be in my office if you hadn't."
"Etienne du Rand will lose his standing in French court and social circles. He wasn't a Pureblood to begin with so he doesn't have as far to fall, but the fallout…" Hermione hesitated. "You might want to send someone in to monitor the situation. I know him. He won't go quietly like some of the others."
Albus appraised her approvingly, and the little orphan he'd once rescued still buried in her chest sat up straighter.
"I'll send Minerva to handle it. She's just gotten off mission," Albus said, turning back to the window. "Was that all?"
Hermione paused. "Um…"
"Do spit it out, Miss Granger."
"Are we jumping right into another job?" she asked. "I saw Luna on the night of the wedding and she said you had something. It sounded big, especially if she's already preparing."
"Ahh," Albus said, turning back in her direction and taking a seat across from her, the large stained oak desk between them. "I was hoping you'd wait at least a few more days before bringing it up so you could rest. This has been a trying year."
Hermione only sat forward expectantly. "I'm your best worker. I don't rest."
"That you are," he replied with a smile. "And that you don't."
"So? What are we doing next? It sounded like we're moving out of France."
"Yes," Albus said, waving his hand. A teapot with two dainty cups appeared on his desk, and she took one, carefully pouring the aromatic liquid into both their glasses. "We're all returning to England."
Hermione almost dropped the teapot. "England?"
"London, to be precise. There's something very important I have for us."
"London?"
"Hermione, must you insist on repeating everything I say?"
The apology was a habit at this point, a reflex for disappointing him. "Sorry. Why are we going back to England? To...to London? I haven't been back, since - well, since..."
"Since your pickpocketing days, yes, I'm quite aware." Albus sipped from his cup, giving the news a minute to settle in. Hermione could only blink. It had been many years since she'd last laid eyes on London. Albus was the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a position that allowed him to maintain connections and keep up appearances while also giving him plenty of flexibility for...extracurricular occupational pursuits. He frequently traveled back to London from their many bases, but she had bounced around for the last fifteen years working for the Order. She'd been everywhere except London, wooing upper class men or nobility in the United States, Brazil, Greece, Spain, Germany, Portugal, South Africa, Poland.
"Albus," Hermione started. "I'm not sure I feel comfortable going back. There's...there's too much familiarity there. I don't think I can - "
"I think you'll be interested in the proposal I have for you," he interrupted, leaning forward.
Something glittered in his eyes, and it was something Hermione hadn't seen him express so openly before. Greed.
"Have you ever heard of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"
Hermione recalled the many wealthy noble men and women she'd rubbed shoulders with around the world, particularly in Europe. She scowled.
"Yes," she said. "Purebloods who are wealthy by inheritance. Arrogant pricks, the lot of them. Claim to be the only twenty-eight true Pureblood families left in all of England."
"Correct," Albus said, flicking his wrist and sending a file flying into her lap. "And do you know this man?"
Hermione opened the file before her and saw the face of their next mark next to an impressive resume of careers, personality traits, previous and current connections, and net worth. Then she saw his name.
Draco Lucius Malfoy.
"A Malfoy?" she asked incredulously. "But we never take Purebloods; they're always betrothed from birth and it's practically impossible to break those contracts."
"Improbable," Albus corrected. "But not impossible."
He nodded to the file. She flipped the page, and saw a clipping from London's Daily Prophet. MALFOY HEIR BREAKS BETROTHAL CONTRACT: GREENGRASS INFIDELITY SCANDAL TO BLAME? The headline shouted.
Hermione briefly scanned the article. Apparently - according to this Rita Skeeter bird - Astoria Greengrass was another Pureblood to whom Draco Malfoy had been betrothed. After Astoria was caught in bed with a Romanian diplomat, Malfoy broke off their engagement for breach of contract. Her parents had been mortified and whisked her off to the continent, knowing they could never try to marry her off in England if her purity was tarnished. Hermione scoffed. Stupid prudish Pureblood rules.
But, according to all sources, Draco Malfoy was…
"Single?" Hermione asked. "He hasn't had another betrothal?"
"No," Albus confirmed. "His parents, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, wanted to set him up with another arrangement to save face, but he's refused. Something about needing time and finding himself."
"But I still don't understand why we're going for a Pureblood." Hermione shifted in her seat. "Albus, this is an extremely high-profile family. If we do this, I could never show my face in England ever again. I could never do another job ever."
"That is where my proposal comes in." Albus steepled his hands on the desk. "How do you feel about retirement?"
Hermione almost dropped the file. "What?"
"Your heart's not in the job anymore, Mione. I can see it." Albus' face was kind as he considered her. "You're good at the con, but your happiness matters more to me than the money you make the Order." Hermione stopped breathing and waited for him to continue. He couldn't possibly be saying -
"I know how much this life reminds you of your old one, with all the lying and running."
"Have you been using Legilimency on me?" she asked suspiciously.
"I don't need to peek inside your head to know you," Albus said. "You forget I all but raised you."
It was true. That day on the London streets, he hadn't just become a teacher. He'd become a mentor, the closest thing to a father figure she had. He'd gotten her admission to Hogwarts, taught her basic magic so she could keep up with the other children, and then more advanced magic when she'd come to him on her own, hungry for knowledge. He taught her the art of getting what she wanted, first by petty theft, then by childlike manipulation, and finally by womanly seduction. He'd given her her first wand, her first community, her first purpose, her first home. Without Albus, she'd probably be in Muggle prison or lost to the unforgiving streets of London.
"I'm not just planning on taking the Malfoys," Albus said. "They're worth triple what we've made in the last three years, but this is bigger than them. The Sacred Twenty-Eight are a tightly connected network of Purebloods. All have deep pockets and even deeper Gringotts vaults. The excessive in-breeding has created a lot of overlapping access to family vaults and a lot of secrets and scandals just waiting to be exposed. We take the Malfoys. Then we take every single member of the Twenty-Eight, and expose their darkest secrets that they've protected for centuries. They'll tear each other apart."
"Albus, that's insane. Do you know how much money would disappear from right under the noses of the most influential and powerful people in the country?"
"You would take your usual cut, of course," Albus continued, a small smile on his lips. "But 10% of a billion Galleons? Seems to me you could do just about anything with that kind of currency."
Hermione's mind whirled with possibilities. She thought of establishing an orphanage, settling down, marrying and having children. She pictured Albus bouncing a small child on his knee and almost smiled. It was the farthest she'd allowed herself to dream.
"Thank you," she choked out, the tremor of anticipation noticeable in her voice. "I - thank you."
"You're very welcome, Hermione. You've earned it." He nodded at the file in front of her then, tapping it with two of his fingers. "Luna will debrief you when you arrive by Portkey at Hogwarts, our base in London for the time being."
He paused, eyes meeting hers. He looked as he had all those years ago in the library, full of concern and care and kindness. "I know you'll make it count, this last time."
Hermione swallowed her tears and looked down at the face of Draco Lucius Malfoy staring up at her, a smug smile on his lips and eyes that flashed with privilege and entitlement. She hated him.
"I will," she said determinedly.
My dearest Harry,
If you just got a goddamn cellphone like I've been badgering you about for years, perhaps I wouldn't be relegated to using that decaying feathered beast you call an owl. He sheds, Harry, all over my kitchen. With your next letter I expect some Galleons to pay for my trouble in cleaning them up.
Albus has me Portkeying out to see Luna in the morning, but he told me to check in with you first. I haven't seen you since my first day in France, so I guess it's about time we caught up anyhow. Owl me back in time and maybe I'll even save you some dinner.
XOXO
Hermione
My darling Hermione,
His name is Hedwig, and he's a delightful bird. He just happens to despise you. You nag. Also you never feed him. Although you shouldn't try - everything you make is shit.
I'll be at yours at 6. I'll bring my own dinner.
Regards,
Harry.
Harry,
I'll have you know that my cooking is excellent, thank you very much.
HG
Mione,
Two words: Brussels, Belgium.
HP
"You arsehole," Hermione said with a laugh as she threw open the door to her flat. "You swore you'd never mention Brussels ever again."
"I was throwing up waterzooi for days," Harry said bluntly. "I get to mention it whenever I want."
He stepped inside and gave Hermione a big hug, placing a swift kiss on the top of her head. In the one hand that wasn't wrapped around her shoulders hung a plastic takeaway bag.
"What's that?" she asked, trying to get a peek inside.
"Ah," Harry chided, pulling it away and heading for her cabinets. "It's dinner, but it's a surprise."
"How do you know I haven't already cooked something?"
Harry paused with his hand halfway to the plates on the top shelf and just gave her a look.
"Okay, you win," she said, pouting.
Harry fetched two plates and two wine glasses before bringing it all to her small kitchen table. While he set everything up in silence, Hermione watched her best friend with a slowly growing smile on her face. It truly had been nine months since she'd seen him, and he looked exactly the same. Same tousled black hair, same bright green eyes that held all the emotion his face didn't show, same round glasses that fell down his nose every time he moved his head downward. Tonight he wore a Muggle leather jacket and jeans - the most casual clothing she'd seen a man wear in months. Etienne's "casual" clothing was usually luxury, and usually the farthest thing from casual one could actually get without becoming explicitly "formal."
Etienne. Even the name made her heart pang. She let herself picture his face and hear his laugh for only a few seconds before she pushed it back and filed it away. She'd had to give him a small piece of herself to pull off the job, but now she had to let him go. That's how it always was.
"Ready?" Harry asked, and Hermione realized he was now seated and had also managed to Accio a bottle of red wine from her rack.
She shook her head a little. "Oh. Yeah."
She took a seat, and watched as Harry pulled out multiple orders of her favorite food from the Chinese restaurant near her home in France. It was her comfort food, the one she ate when she could take off Adalene and put on Hermione to curl up on her couch and slurp noodles while watching French soap operas.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, smiling widely as he served her and placed her plate in front of her before pouring her some wine.
"I didn't get to celebrate your birthday with you while you were in France," he said, dumping some fried rice on his own plate. "Plus, I know how hard it can be for you after a job. I wanted to give you a night to really be Hermione again before you have to be some other person."
Hermione laughed, but she felt her eyes grow blurry with tears. Harry wasn't sentimental by any stretch, but he had his moments.
"Thank you," she said, reaching for her wine glass and lifting it to toast with his. When their glasses met so did their eyes, and Harry gave her a crooked little smile.
They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Hermione marveled at how good the Chinese food was. Harry must've somehow gotten it back from France with a stasis charm to keep it hot. She let herself relax, practiced slipping back into her own skin. She was done playing a part, for the moment. She was Hermione Granger, and she was having dinner with her best friend.
"So…" Harry said after a minute. He raised his eyes to hers expectantly and Hermione knew immediately what he was going to say. "Story time?"
"Ugh," Hermione groaned. "Fine, but don't tell Albus. You know he hates it when I talk about the jobs with you."
Harry just placed his head on his fists in a parody of intense listening, and Hermione rolled her eyes.
They spent the night demolishing the Chinese food and the wine, Harry simply listening and reacting at all the right times as Hermione recounted the story of Adalene and Etienne, two people who'd met on the balcony of a French socialite's party. She told of their love that sparked that very night, where Adalene was everything Etienne had been looking for - the answer to a question he hadn't known he'd been asking. She told Harry about Etienne's virtues, the way his eyes looked when he laughed, how fiercely loyal he was. She also divulged his flaws, the way he could be controlling, his particularities about her appearance, his shallow fascination with living as an elite. She spoke of their whirlwind romance, their quick marriage, their delightful week of a honeymoon. And then she ended it like she had every story she told Harry.
"And they lived happily ever after."
It was their way of sealing the narrative. Hermione had ruined a life, the life of a man she'd actually come to care about. But she believed the words she'd said to him through her Patronus. He would be happy again. And her heart had been through much worse than this. She'd live happily ever after, and so would he, though separately and perhaps not for a long time.
Her stomach, which had been heavy throughout the story, now felt suddenly less tense as she remembered Albus's proposal.
"Harry, I'm going to get my future," she said. "Just one more job."
"What?" Harry blinked, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table. "As in...you're getting out ? What would Albus say?"
"Who do you think told me I could?" she said. The hope in her unfurled like a flower as she spoke. "One more - the Malfoy job - and we're filthy rich. Then I can go and live my life."
Hermione leaned forward and grasped Harry's hand. "I could finally start that orphanage, get other children off the streets and into better homes. I could help find other magical children stranded in the Muggle world and teach them who they are. I could…" she broke off as her throat constricted with the sheer emotion of getting what she'd always dreamt about.
"Oh, Mione," Harry breathed, and for a second Hermione thought she saw something like pain flash in his eyes. He engulfed her in a hug, one so tight she felt his heartbeat through his chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged him back, desperate for this job to work out, desperate to have the chance to make her own life.
"And Albus offered this deal?" Harry murmured into her hair.
"Yes."
Harry was quiet for a moment. "How do you know he's telling the truth? That he'll really let you go?"
Hermione's brow furrowed. "He's like my father, Harry. He knows how much this dream means to me."
Harry kept holding her so Hermione couldn't see his face, but his silence made her pause. Oddly, she got the distinct impression he didn't believe her.
Harry stayed that night, having had too much wine to Floo or fly home. He passed out on the couch as soon as Hermione helped him lie down on it, and she just looked at him for a moment before heading upstairs.
For the first time since hearing the news from Albus, she felt her heart twinge in her chest. Would she really be leaving everyone behind? Harry, too, and Luna? She was sure she'd see Albus again, but with her two best friends always on the job...she might be giving them up, too. The thought made her throat tighten.
She pulled a blanket over Harry's lightly snoring form and wearily headed up to bed. She'd worry about freedom and its consequences after the job. But for now, she had a Pureblood to seduce.
The Dreamless Sleep potion she took put her right to sleep.
And so it continues.
See you next time.
