Chapter 02; A Golden Reunion
The stark, polished marble of the Ministry of Magic's elevator reflected Hermione Granger's contemplative expression as she ascended to the designated floor. It had been a week since she last saw Harry, and the tension swirling within her intensified at the prospect of the impending meeting- well, not of Harry that is, but of the third of the Golden Trio. Ronald Weasley. Her ex-husband.
While the doors slid open, she was greeted by the familiar figure of Harry Potter, standing alone to her relief, his demeanor as composed as ever. Hermione flashed him a smile which he reciprocated allowing herself a breath, she least had time to get a grip on herself before her ex-husband arrived.
"Hermione," Harry acknowledged, his emerald eyes betraying a hint of weariness. Though the Boy who Lived would swear up and down being an Auror was his god-given calling, she was well aware of the sleepless nights away from home and the overwhelming stress that came with the job.
"Harry," she replied, offering a small smile that did little to mask her concern. But before she could ask him anything else or of how Ginny was faring, the elevator doors cranked open announcing the arrival of the dreaded, Ron Weasley.
Hermione felt the breath knocked right out of her- she had anticipated this of course. But to see Ron, for the first time in over at least six months. It almost felt insulting, the way he'd bothered to finally clean up. He'd clean shaven and the shirt he had on actually fit him and it seemed like he even had it ironed for a change. Besides it looked like he'd finally done good on the gym membership she'd given up trying to get him to go to. Where was this effort when he was with her?
Harry's ever observant gaze flickered between the two, a knowing look in his eye. It had been two years since their divorce, yet the wounds seemed as fresh as ever. Their attempts to maintain an amicable front since the divorce, fooled none the couple was once close to. Not the Weasleys, the Potters or even the Grang- Wilkins, she corrected herself.
Ron nodded at Harry before embracing him in a hug like long lost brothers. "Hermione," Ron then turned to her in greeting, his tone cautious yet laced with an underlying warmth that almost felt like a sliver of lingering affection. Hermione returned the greeting with a tentative smile of her own, her expression guarded but not devoid of a flicker of nostalgia. Before they became lovers and ruined everything they had- they had a decade under their belt as best friends and despite it all, that still accounted for something, didn't it?
Thankfully, right about then the door to the Minister of Magic's office swung open and Kingsley Shacklebolt's authoritative voice broke through the uneasy quiet his solemn demeanor giving nothing away though the gravity of the situation at hand was not lost on her, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of apprehension as she followed the boys to the Minister's office.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice, all three of you. To get to the matter at hand without further ado," he looked directly to Harry at this, " there's been intelligence suggesting a potential threat to your life."
Harry's response was a dismissive wave of his hand, his expression veiled by a practiced mask of nonchalance. "Threats have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, Minister. If I stayed home every time a dark sympathizer wanted a piece of me, I'd never leave Godrick's Hollow."
Hermione bit her lip, her gaze meeting Kingsley's. "Ms. Granger, if you may." he gave her the floor.
"Harry there is more to this and and we can't afford to be complacent, not when there's even the slightest chance of danger. As great an Auror you may be, your safety is paramount for the betterment of Wizarding Society as a whole so don't argue with us on this."
The Boy Who Lived opened his mouth as if he was going to object but then shut it at a single look from Minister Shacklebolt, "Alright so what is it this time? Loonys who think ol'Voldy's still knocking around in my head?"
"We are not sure, really. Just that this symbol's copped up in a few of the lines of communication we've been monitoring and.." she paused here feeling it ultimately unnecessarily to bring up her failed mission, "and I think it is more than just the average chatter."
"Blimey," Ron muttered under his breath as the Minister pulled out what looked like a grainy still image of an Oureborus- the world snake gorging itself on its own tail. "That looks.. creepy."
Kingsley nodded in agreement, his steely gaze resting on Hermione as he stared at the Oureborous in front of them. "Which brings me to the reason for this meeting. We appreciate your work at the Department of Magical Intelligence and Security Ms. Granger, and of course, your discretion. But an opportunity opened up and being honest, I cannot think of anyone better suited to it than you." This was not what Hermione was expecting. "Before you refuse- least hear me out." So she shut her mouth and wrinkled her brows as Kingsley continued.
"I'd like you to be part of the new Department of Muggle Liaisons, Ms. Granger. We need your expertise in bridging the gap between the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. Times are a changing and I find the old ways of doing things rather.. outdated. You could truly make a difference here."
Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the unexpected offer, her mind already working out the implications of the new responsibility. "I... I'm honored, Minister. But the lead I am working on right now, it's-" she looked to Harry, "important."
"I had anticipated you'd say that Ms. Granger. Which is why I think you would be the right one for the job." he slid a yellow envelope over to her. She opened it, only half surprised at the bold text on the very top that read 'Malfoy Consolidated'. Her jaw tightened. "And you would be on Skeeter's team if you desire it until the cases you are working on are closed. Take your time to think about it."
She kept the yellow padded file safely tucked beneath her arm as the Minister turned his gaze unwavering as it now fell onto Ron. "And Weasley, I am reinstating your position as Potter's partner. You two work well together and both Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger have vouched for you. But make no mistake, the Ministry will have zero tolerance towards anything but utter professionalism from you. Do you understand?"
Hermione observed the shift in Ron's demeanor, a flicker of surprise lighting up his features. Ron nodded solemnly.
"Well, that would be all." Kingsley stated dismissively, his attention now drawn to a stack of paper on the side of his desk. 'Oh, and Mr. Potter, if you may stay behind you and I may have some things to discuss.."
She smiled with a slight nod to Harry at that as he looked to her, would you be okay? he seemed to ask. But she would be fine, she always was. Ronald wouldn't bring her spirits down, definitely not today, not when she had so much work to do before accepting the promotion. A.. promotion! her brain squealed at that. We did it Emme! she thought with a rueful pang in her heart. She raised her gaze that had been stuck to the white marbled floor for so long. Hermione looked up. No, she decidedly smiled at her reflection on the doors right before they opened, Ronald could do nothing to ruin this for her.
"Hermione," Ron began tentatively as they walked out him a step behind her, "I was thinking... perhaps we could grab some tea. Catch up a bit? Mom says you haven't been around to the Burrow in a bit."
The invitation took her by surprise, and yet, there was an undeniable bit of warmth in his gaze that she couldn't ignore. "That would be lovely, Ron," she replied, a genuine smile gracing her lips.
"So sometime this week then?"
"The weekend." she replied, her lips pursued before she had the chance to rethink it. Molly Weasley had never treated her any different to her own children and she would love to catch up with Fred who still lived at home.
It wasn't the first time thoughts of Hermione Granger kept him awake at night. Usually it was her screams, those bloody awful screams reverberating off the walls of the Malfoy Manor's living room. It went on for days on end. A week, he'd suspected before the trio had managed to escape. Sometimes the screaming would stop, sometimes it would be dulled down to soft whimpers, only for Bellatrix to come right back to questioning her again.
"I don't know." she would whimper. "We don't have the sword." she'd plead.
But Bellatrix would only push her more and more and more. There were far more tormenting things he'd sustained throughout the war but that particular memory served as the moment things began to change. The way he'd stood by stunned into inaction despite every bone in his body telling him that what was happening in front of him wasn't right. He'd always been a bystander in his own life and he was aware of his place- the Malfoy heir groomed to take over everything that was his. But at that moment, something in the youngest Malfoy's reflection cracked and everything had changed.
All at once it was like he'd forgotten how to swim and now Draco Malfoy was sinking in an ocean of his own making.
He woke up with a start chest heaving through the thousand thread count sheets that were now weighing down on him heavily, holding him down very much like the waves that threaten him in his nightmares. The uneasiness that had settled in his bones since the events of the day were yet to ease its hold on him and the nightmare he'd had- he shuddered. His dreams were always fairly consistent in their dark thematics which seemed to have encompassed his whole life. There were many things Draco Malfoy wished he'd done differently but this, this one nightmare in particular- of her, he hadn't had it in quite some time. His guilt towards her that had at some point faded upon the end of the war and perhaps replaced by his contempt towards the life she had ultimately rightfully condemned him to, now returned in full swing.
He popped a cigar in between his lips as he made his way to the balcony of the penthouse he'd moved into. He couldn't put up living under Lucius' roof anymore- meeting him at work was hard enough; and if Narcissa chose to stay with him despite everything, despite Draco's begging her to leave, move in with him, and he would keep her safe- it was her choice. He made sure she had a choice but it wasn't his fault his mother chose wrong.
The night air enveloped him, as he desperately tried to get her screams out of his head. The pulsating rhythm of the metropolis below- though usually a mesmerizing display, even that failed to coax him out of it this time. The city lights twinkled on the puny little Muggles in their moving boxes of steel. He wondered how did they not feel claustrophobic being stuck like that. For all the cars he'd collected like trophies over the past decade, Draco still hated getting behind the wheels of those things. It had been quite an adjustment, leaving the country side to relocate to the City- a Muggle City, distaste colored Draco's features. The estrangement from the serene countryside, his childhood haven, only intensified his sense of displacement. But since their trial they were just as effectively banished. Polite Wizarding Society shunned the Malfoys. They weren't alone in it, so were the Parkinson's, the Goyle's, the Carrows- the pure blood families of yore.
Except that the Ministry had decided to go further with his family. Make an example out of them. So they'd stripped the Malfoys of their wands with a permanent ban in place. Wizards without magic. A mockery.
With a bitter twist of his lips, he spat out his disdain for the society that had so swiftly turned its back on his family. "Buggers," Draco spat out with venom, "Buggers the whole lot of them." The once-esteemed Malfoy name was now tarnished, meant nothing, with aught to show of the rich legacy of his ancestors. After all it was his mothers final act of defiance- lying to the Dark Lord himself, that had given Potter the upper hand. But even that had amounted to nothing.
The smug posturing of the Ministry, flaunting their so-called efforts at rehabilitation towards the repentant former Death Eaters, but who were they kidding? The staged theatrics of photo shoots and calculated articles fooled no one and definitely not Draco Malfoy. There was no rehabilitation under the threat of a Dementor's Kiss.
Nothing made sense anymore, he sighed warily. His existence had always only ever revolved around being Draco Malfoy. But now, shunned and shamed by the world he very dearly craved for- he felt lost. Like there was no point to anything he did. The Muggle World was good to them but it wasn't home. The grandeur of Malfoy Manor, stripped of its magical essence, now stood as nothing but a haunting monument to their fallen status. They'd even had to surrender access to the Malfoy vaults with all its treasure that'd have otherwise lasted generations at Gringotts. They were permitted to hold on to the assets that had no use in the Wizarding World. Their wealth had taken a hit but he had been able to save them all. Single-handedly, whilst all Lucius did was prance and prattle around in reminiscences of the time he had power. Actual power.
In a way he understood his father and maybe that's why Draco could not entirely cut ties with Lucius no matter how heinous his actions became. Or how desperate he got to cling on to any semblance of what the Malfoys once were. At first his father got to work with newfound determination that sadly for the family did not last for too long. He set up Malfoy Consolidated, with the enough of stakes he had with the family investment portfolio. But it wasn't Lucius who saw what could become of it. Nor was it he who took what was supposed to be just the family trust, to the heights it had gotten, so much so that the rich Muggles were vying for their investments to be managed by them. No, it was Draco who did that. But all he had to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The accolades and triumphs were all hollow victories, failing to fill the gnawing void within him. He felt something in him shift. The reappearance of a certain witch in his life did nothing to ease the turmoil either.
Draco Apparated the short distance from his balcony to the kitchen, grabbing a vial of clear liquid as he downed it his features shrivel at the bitter taste of it. Then he Apparated right back to the balcony. It took him considerable effort now than before, but it was one of the only last facets of Magic left available to him so Draco indulged in it with careless abandon. He did not care if it tired him out or that it would've been easier to simply walk the few strides required. Because now the magic that had once exuberantly coursed his veins, barely hummed along. He was a little more than a Squib at this point.
His mobile phone rang at that and Narcissa's name lit up in pixels on the screen. Draco let it ring. Until it stopped, and he was once again plunged into the silence of the night which he was getting maybe a bit too accustomed to since recent times.
The first time he'd seen Lucius Malfoy lay hands on his wife, Narcissa. Draco had been eighteen and freshly banished out of the life he once prided in. He'd known it had been going on for sometime. His father wasn't used to being the one with the least power in the room. So he took it out on the only ones he did retain any form of power over. Narcissa was far from powerless, in fact she had once been a formidable force of her own. But as the years wore on her and the ebb and flow of life caught up, Narcissa Malfoy now only remained a shell of her former self.
So Draco had stormed into his fathers study. Finally a kernel of courage rising through the mindless years of habit, reverence and obedience drilled into him from birth. Finding the man had already left Draco instead settled for trashing it utterly. Chairs flew around as wood splintered and books bled through its pages. Some way, any way to get out the anger- the feeling of helplessness staring down at him each time he'd bothered to turn his gaze inward. That's when he saw it- in the fire sat a half burnt emblem embroidered on blue silk. It was a tome. One he didn't recall tossing into the fire.
Draco grabbed a poker shoving it into the fire. The tome was useless, half burnt. But the emblem on it- an Oureborus, the world snake it's mouth around it's tail devouring itself. When Lucius Malfoy had returned to the mess in his study and his son in the middle of it, he closed the door behind him his decision already made.
A/N: Thank you for the follows & favourites this far, it has been absolutely motivating! I hope you've enjoy this Chapter as well, and if you did please feel free to leave a review :)
So we see an insight into where both of their heads are with this Chapter. Draco's part in this is mostly filler and a backstory as to what happened to the Malfoys post-war in this AU. And I hope this explains what Draco Malfoy was doing in a muggle coffee shop dressed in muggle clothes! Next Chapter would be a bit longer and with more action, I promise!