Author's Notes:

Hello and Welcome to A Fool's Retribution!
If you are reading this, first and foremost thank you for taking a chance on a Work-In-Progress. I hope this lives up to your expectations and you find this an enjoyable read. Before we dive in, I'd like to say a few things in accordance to plot settings and update schedules.

1. A Fool's Retribution is canon compliant for the most part. The major divergences occur post the Battle of Hogwarts and are mostly covered in Chapter 01 which sets the tone to the rest of the story.

2. Minor character deaths would be portrayed. I try not to get into the nitty gritty details of the gruesome, but fair warning to any whom it'd matter to.

3. Warning! Ron Bashing.

4. While canon compliant, it is assumed that Draco Malfoy & Hermione Granger had more interactions (within character) during their times at Hogwarts. This will be covered more in both flashbacks and a separate companion fic that's currently in the works, so do watch out for that too!

5. Updates would be on a bi-weekly basis.

6. I am open to constructive criticism. So feel free to leave your thoughts, opinions and just about anything in the comments! Reviews definitely serve as motivation to get off my arse and write. :)

7. Last but not least, I am kind of new to AO3 and still learning the ropes, so if there is any formatting error or inconsistency or chapters you think don't add up, please, please do let me know ASAP so that I can rectify it.

That's all from me, hope you enjoy!

Full Summary: It's been a decade since the Battle of Hogwarts and Wizarding England's social landscape had drastically changed. Now with the Golden Trio, respected members of Wizarding England's relentlessly scrutinising High Society- the same could not be said for the blue blooded Malfoys. Made an example by the Ministry and now shunned for their hand in the Dark Lord's reign of terror, the Malfoys are forced to move operations and withdraw into the Muggle World. Poetic justice, one would think. But when a series of seemingly unconnected events all seem to lead her back to Malfoy Consolidated, Hermione Granger is determined to figure out what's going on. And maybe avenge all that she's lost, in the process.

Chapter 01; Chance Encounters

Sydney, Australia
February, 2011

Her face streaked with tears, despite her best efforts to hold them back as she stood quietly her hand clamped to her mouth in front of the headstone.

"Emmaline Rose Wilkins
- Cherished Daughter & Beloved Sister -
1999 - 2011
Forever in our Hearts, Her Light Lives On."

"It's not your fault, my dear." Monica put her arm around her estranged daughter. Hermione's parents had chosen to go by the identities she'd conjured for them. She'd be lying if she said it didn't hurt, but they tried. They tried their best to remember and on some days they did, bits and pieces coming back to them.

After Voldemort's defeat, the first thing she had done was book a flight to Melbourne, Australia after the Ministry of Magic suspended Britain's Floo Service in lieu of the Dark Sympathisers attempts to evade capture. The harrowing twenty-two hours on the plane was what Hermione would later deem the most stressful hours of her life. Yes, even more so than the one time the Golden Trio broke into the most heavily secured Bank in all of England, with her disguised as the infamously insane psychopath Bellatrix Lestrange, stole from one of the Sacred Twenty Eight's family vaults and rode a dragon out to safety, destroying Gringotts in the process. But all of that seemed a lifetime away now.

Monica and Wendell had not recognized her. While it was something she had expected, what the young witch wasn't prepared for was her abilities to restore their memories failing hopelessly. They thought she was a young girl who had gone insane. And so she left, back to dreary old London, her heart in her hand and her life falling apart around her.

It wasn't until the birth of Emmaline that they seemed to find something amiss. Monica would get glimpses of the past, a bushy haired girl with buck teeth and the kindest brown eyes staring up at her. A little girl holding Wendell's hand in fear as her toys began to rise up and hang suspended mid air around them. Little things that were so vivid but yet made no sense. Until they remembered the young woman who had claimed she was their daughter and had hysterically rattled off various nothings that did not make sense to them then, but something clicked now- so they had reached out to Hermione. At long last. While things were never the same, Hermione had smiled that day. A real toothy grin. One she hadn't used in seemingly eons.

"Do you hear me Hermione? It is not your fault my daughter. It was a freak accident, that's all." Monica spoke as her arms went around her surviving daughter. "That's all." she whispered as if she trying to convince herself more than Hermione.

"Come read for me, Minny." she almost heard her sister call and with a determined gait, Hermione turned ignoring the calls of her parents. Emmaline was gone, and Hermione wasn't going to let her short yet spirited life full of love and joy grey and wane away from living memory. She was going to change the world, for little Emme. And may the Gods damn anyone who got in her way.

London, England
Present day, August 17 - 2016

Hermione Granger was a woman who wore many hats. War hero. Activist. Blood-Equality Advocate. Recipient of the esteemed Flamel's Amity Laurel for her immense contributions to Wizarding Society. The brightest witch of her age. And more unwillingly now, morphing into a budding socialite. The list would go on and on and on. And she wore them all proud and well. Usually.

Currently sat against her comfortable divan, her fingers click-clacked on the keyboard in front of her. Her most recent lead was.. intriguing. It could be something or turn out to be nothing at all but it was her job to not oversee even the smallest of things. The Muggle gear surrounding her hummed as if it were alive, but it was simply electricity she reminded herself. It was easy to forget the mundane when surrounded by the convenience of magic ever so often but the young witch made it a point to not. So she'd turned down the comfortable office that came with residency at The Ministry of Magic Employees Quarters instead preferring a quaint little town-house down a perfectly ordinary Muggle Street. Magic and technology rarely mixed well after all. So, Naya Skeeter who'd thankfully taken the opposite approach of her infamous mother in her career choice- had obliged, even forking out the funds to get Hermione all set up at her home office, wanting for nothing more as she possessed the best of both worlds. With the state of the art Muggle toys at her disposal and her clearance in the Wizarding World, few things were rendered inaccessible to the Brightest Witch of an Age, especially under the circumstances Hermione Granger operated under.

But this lead, she tapped her quill impatiently. This was frustrating. The lead had initially promised to reveal to her crucial information- as he'd put it, about a secret group that had emerged from the ashes of Voldemort's Death Eaters. He spoke not a word more or less, his identity safe under the hood he'd donned on that rainy day as he Apparated right beside her before pulling her into a dark alley. But now the trail had gone cold and the man hadn't met her at their designated spot. When Hermione had exhausted all means to find any trace whatsoever of this mysterious man only to come across.. nothing. Frustration gnawed at her. On another hand, it could've been a prank. She might hold immense favour in Wizarding Circles these days, but that came with its own set of disadvantages, like being thrust into the Magical High Society's heavily judgmental eye and her every move scrutinized for gossip and advantage.

Then, came a breakthrough. Where magic failed, Hermione could always count on Muggle street cameras to pick things up. Voila. Her brow furrowed. While she had successfully integrated the technology she'd grown up with into her line of work, breaking the stigma of using such devices in the wizarding world came with its own set of challenges. There was a reason the Minister of Magic had granted her request to get set up at the comfort of her own home with nary a fight. Wizarding Society was horribly traditional. Much to their own detriment despite having sources of power the Muggles could only ever dream of, their reliance on it had made them completely resistant to change. And it wasn't just their acceptance that she struggled with but the immense potential of misuse that came with incorporating Muggle technology into a Society that was not ready for it.. Hermione sighed, as she took a sip off the red wine willing her mind to calm down, focus on only what was in front of her. Focus.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she got the location down. It was an obscure location in Heaveslit Avenue. A harmless affluent Muggle neighborhood. Hermione grabbed her cloak as she pressed a kiss to Crookshanks promising him she'll be back for cuddles later. But now, she had to go.

The coordinates in the camera had pointed to this address. She took a look at the home security camera mounted just opposite to where she now stood. Except looking at the building the weird guy she'd pinned down only because of the blurry outline of a tattoo on the back of his hand and the black robe he had on was embroidered with the silhouette of a griffin as if it were stretching its claws around his torso- had stepped into the frame for just about five seconds seeming the day after he'd accosted her. Except that, despite the Google Images for the place he stood in front of, it turned out to be that the old mansion had been turned into some boutique hotel in recent years. Great, she thought. Just great. She would need Ministry Clearance if she was going to pose as a Cop to inquire information and frankly Hermione did not have enough on her to even warrant one.

She walked in the confidence in her steps betraying the fact that she had no plan in hand whatsoever. In fact, what was she even thinking of doing? The hotel was empty save for a single receptionist. A young girl who's smile seemed too wide to be genuine. "Welcome to Elleswood Inn, how may I help you today?" Hermione simply took in the surroundings, white marble with black accents covered the reception and sitting area from floor to walls and on the ceiling was various paintings of Greek and Roman Gods. Though she knew of most of the Pantheon and its mythologies in passing, Hermione had never bothered to learn who looked like what or even to differentiate within them. She made a mental note to maybe read up on it this weekend. More knowledge never hurt a witch.

"Well actually," she began timidly. "I was wondering if I could.. if I could know if my husband is staying here. You see, he has quite a.. revolving door of taste in women and I found a receipt to your.. fine establishment" she looks around faking wonder, "Wow, he has never taken me to a place this gaudy." she sadly remarked with sighs and a dab at her eyes. "I only want him to come home to the kids they miss their father terrible." She beseechingly looked to the young lady who's eyes crinkled as if in empathy.

"Ah, ma'am I'm sorry about your eh- situation but we aren't authorized to give out information on our guests." Hermione teared up this time. "I- I understand. It is rather crass of me to ask you risk your job anyways. I shall be off now."

"Ma'am wait-" the lady called, "maybe, I could look at things for you Mrs...?" she drawled.

"Oh it's Mrs-" Hermione sniffled in time to think of an alias, "Rufus." She lied.

"Oh I'm sorry ma'am but a Mr. Rufus does not seem to be in our lists."

"That's alright he is a careful man with his indiscretions. He would've checked in with a different name anyways." This was of no use Hermione realized. Even if she did have the blurry image from the security cameras from the street pulled it was the man's tattoo and jacket that made her recognize him, the picture too blurry to even know his features. She turned to leave before the receptionist asked anymore questions she wouldn't have the answer to.

With a reluctant bite of her lip and a final glance throughout the hotel's reception committing everything she could to memory- Hermione turned on her heel. Only to knock into an old lady. "Ow, slow down kid." the lady called out. A crown of greying hair and wrinkled skin revealed her old age but her eyes- blue as ocean waves in summer sparkled as did the string of pearls around her neck. Old, rich and dressed in drably black as if she were in mourning. Hermione mumbled out an apology as she grabbed the walking stick that she'd mistakenly caused the old woman to drop. "Let me help you," she smiled sweetly as she pointed out the steps in front of them.

"Youngsters always in a hurry these days have no time to spare to help an old lady out. You're different. May the darkness fall light upon you, my dear." she blessed the girl much to Hermione's amazement. That was a weird thing to say, she thought almost absent mindedly. The old woman's weird phrasing almost reminded her of Nana Rose. Nana Rose, she froze at the onslaught of warm memories that rushed to her.

She slumped against the wall at that, exhaustion seeping into her bones. She'd need to go to Harry for this she thought with a start. But the thought of alarming Harry Potter while she knew so little did not sit right with her. No need to alarm the man for something that might as well turn out to be nothing.

As she made her way back, preferring the walk over a quick Apparition from down a dark alley, the aroma of coffee whiffed from a coffee shop right around the corner. The smell of it making her almost moan with the reminder that in her hurry she'd missed her morning coffee. Coffee, the nectar of Gods. Exactly the kind of pick me up she needed before she could recoup and decide on her next step.

The interior was well-lit as to be expected from a shop situated in a commercial neighborhood of these likes. She placed her order absentmindedly her eyes already scanning for an undisturbed corner and she found it. "Iced-americano, no sugar please." she said barely registering the girl taking her order, her mind was already reeling.

The coffee was strong, just as she liked it. Hermione let herself breathe calming her mind down. This was probably nothing, she told herself. Absolutely nothing. But even as she was telling herself that- at that very moment- that was when everything stopped- Hermione's world stilled.

Fingers ran through perfectly styled platinum blonde hair his grey eyes were fixed on the menu behind the barista who's cheeks colored red in a flustered blush. He leaned towards her as if he knew exactly the effect he had on her and Hermione couldn't blame the poor girl, her breath caught in her chest- he had ditched his robes, instead now sporting a suit. Tailored to a perfect fit of course, lest nothing less be expected of a Malfoy. His shirt inside was black, as was the tie he wore, the belt some Muggle designer Hermione never paid attention towards. He's certainly filled out since the last time she'd seen him- also perhaps grown a foot taller. The last time she'd seen him- her mind reeled. During the aftermath of the War, at the Wizengamot for his sentencing. More like when she'd sentenced him to exile. Which, a little voice in her head quipped up, was still a blessing in comparison to the fate that would've awaited the Malfoys at Azkaban.

It was at that moment that Draco's gaze swept through the cafe in a chance glance before he did a double take, his eyes widening as he stared at her rather unabashedly. His mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something. But he did not. He promptly picked up his order, and walked right out of the door though not before throwing the shocked witch a second glance.

Hermione was too stunned to react immediately. Why was he doing back in England much less in a Muggle coffee shop, and why the suit? What could he possible be doing that warranted him dress up in mundane clothings and not some ridiculously expensive custom made robe from Madame Delacroix herself? Her curiosity got the better of her, and with not a second to think it through, she decided to follow him.

Outside, Hermione's gaze darted around, but Draco Malfoy was nowhere in sight. She couldn't have been mistaken; it was undoubtedly him. She saw him turn right up this alley. She was too slow, she reckoned. He'd probably left already- apparated.

Before she could ponder further, now regretting the perfect cup of iced coffee she'd left behind for this fruitless endeavor, she felt a breeze that blew her eyes closed and her carefully straightened hair to her sides and he appeared out of thin air right beside her. Her heart raced.

He smirked, his gray eyes narrowing. "Why are you following me, Granger?" Draco regarded her with an arched eyebrow. "Or should I say Mrs. Weasley."

"You tell me, Malfoy," Hermione spat out, her voice steady despite her surprise. "What are you doing in a Muggle coffee shop of all places dressed like that?"

Draco let out an exasperated laugh. "Did you not know? The Malfoy family has been shunned. Disgraced. Exiled out of the Wizarding World. I work nearby. And this is where I grab my coffee in the morning. One thing the Muggles got right." he sipped on his coffee he'd held in his hand all along, "You of all, should be satisfied with the karma."

Hermione's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and frustration. There were a lot of things she wanted ask him like she thought he'd left for America or wait- did he mention work? As in, Muggle work? But instead she opted for a roll of her eyes and a- "Satisfied by your karma? You've always been an arrogant jerk, Malfoy."

He smirked, and with a hint of a challenge, he leaned closer. "Aren't you? Is it not entertaining to see the fall of your enemies? Surely even you aren't above that. Not after all that my family did to you."

She shoved at his shoulder but he didn't budge instead staring her down and as much as the witch wanted to back away from his piercingly steel gaze- she did not, instead Hermione glared right back at him. Memories stirred within her. She had cried, screamed, begged, pleaded for help that never came. And he'd stood there watching. He did nothing. He watched as his Aunt tortured her. He was right; this served him right. She should be happy that karma did him exactly as he deserved. But for some reason Hermione didn't feel satisfaction coursing through her, instead all she felt was emptiness and perhaps a tinge of pity.

"If you knew me Malfoy, you'd know I would never rejoice over one's ill fate, no matter how well deserved I believe it to be. After all you were only a boy. Just as much a victim of the world around us as I was."

"Quite a Gryffindor way of seeing things," he stated in an almost amused tone of voice, his gaze not leaving hers, "but you see, that's where you're wrong. We all made our choices."

Before he could say anything more her Wand found its way to his throat. His Adam's Apple bobbed at the realization with something akin to a challenge in his eyes. Hex me, I dare you, he seemed to say. And she met it with just the right bit of pressure that caused him to back away from her, his jaws clenched.

"Drawing your wand at the defenseless." he spat the word out as if he was taunting her. "Is this what's become of Gryffindors courage?"

"Whatever do you mean by that Malfoy?"

He only looked at her gobsmacked for once. "You don't even remember." he spoke so low it was almost a whisper.

Hermione's expression hardened at that, she hadn't the faintest what he was speaking of. But before she could say anything else, Draco drew away from her before disappearing with a swift Apparation. And for some reason the lingering look of bitterness and hatred written on his face was something she knew would linger on in her memory for days to come.

He watched her disappear, on foot, from the vantage point of his office. Draco couldn't help but wonder why she bothered while he was pretty darn sure the Brightest Witch of an Age would have no problem mastering the art of Apparation.

However, this was no time to ponder on her magical skills or it's lack there of. Instead he spoke with a mixture of obedience and irritation. "I've dealt with Granger for now, Father." he lied. "Besides she's found nothing. Our operations are safe."

Lucius Malfoy's voice was stern and unforgiving. "No, you haven't, you stupid boy. It was your mistake that had us almost compromised. Almost." he spat out. "But you will. You will deal with Granger. Hear me boy? You will not make a mockery of me in front of the Sovereign."

"As you will it, Father."

And as Lucius left, Draco sank into the chair loosening his tie that had begun to feel more and more like a noose around his neck these days. He breathed out. He had to do this, he steeled himself. He had no choice. He'd let his emotions get the better of him at the sight of her, but no more, he swore to himself. He had recognized her immediately, and it stirred a mixture of emotions within him. Of all his sins. And if there was one thing he knew about Hermione Granger- Weasley- he corrected himself, if she had a scent of something she was worse than a blood hound, she'd not give up. Draco had his fingers run through his hair again before he punched the wall. There was no room for error. He could not afford it. Not when he was this close.

Hermione stood beside her drawing board, deep in thought. Crookshanks had at some point got onto her lap and refused to get off so she now stood there with him in her arms staring at the red threads, pictures and newspaper clippings. She hadn't paid much attention to the Malfoys before this. She'd vaguely known they'd left the shunning of the Wizarding World to try their luck in Muggle Business abroad. Well, the Malfoys already had significant Muggle Business going on for them, even enough to turn the tide of English Elections with their wealth and support, just that they preferred to keep it on the down low despite perpetuating the view they were too good to deal with anyone not Purebred. Hypocrites she fumed.

But now, Hermione was sure there was something going on at Malfoy Consolidated, and her encounter with Draco Malfoy, so near the Elleswood Inn, had only intensified her determination to uncover whatever it may be. The past had resurfaced in unexpected ways, and for some reason this felt like she was on the brink of something, she wasn't sure what exactly yet but it surely was.. something.