After two days of strained civility with Draco, exhaustion pressed down on Hermione. The clock showed past midnight, yet she remained at her desk. The office was eerily silent, the usual bustle long gone, her lamp casting long shadows across the room.
Hermione shifted slightly in her chair, feeling an ache in her muscles from hours of intense concentration. She stole a glance at Draco, who remained deeply absorbed in his work, his quill moving rapidly across the parchment. The fatigue was evident in the lines of his face, but she knew that, like her, he was too stubborn to call it a night. The only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the clock, each second slipping away in the late-night quiet, until a soft flutter of wings disturbed the silence.
With a soft rush of wings, an owl descended into the room, breaking the spell of quiet as it dropped a parcel onto Draco's desk. Hermione watched as the bird took its payment and silently departed.
Draco carefully untied the string around the parcel, his fingers lingering for a moment as he removed the newspaper within. Without glancing at the front page, he set it aside, his attention drawn instead to the folded letter attached to it. He unfolded the parchment, his face giving nothing away as he scanned the lines.
"My mother wants to know if I've seen tomorrow's preview of the Daily Prophet." He paused, his gaze shifting to the untouched newspaper on the desk. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the newspaper. His eyes widened slightly as he read the headline. "'Harry's Golden Girl Returns to the Wizarding World. But where has she been hiding?' Of course, it had to be Skeeter."
Hermione's breath caught. A sudden wave of anger, sharp and burning, flooded her senses. It was all happening too quickly. Just a week into her new job, and she was already plastered across the front page of the Prophet.
Draco met her gaze, a flicker of something akin to sympathy softening his usually sharp features. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I know how it feels to be under that kind of scrutiny."
A bitter laugh escaped Hermione's lips. "Are you suddenly playing the concerned colleague, Malfoy?" she snapped, her voice laced with exasperation. The unspoken tension that had hung between them for too long finally snapped. "One minute you run off at the crime scene, then you try to ridicule me in front of Nott, you give me the cold shoulder for days, and now you're pretending to care? Which is it? I'm exhausted trying to figure it out." Her eyes flashed with anger.
Draco held her gaze, his aristocratic features remaining composed. "I don't know how to deal with you, Granger," he admitted, the words hanging in the air between them.
Hermione almost laughed, the sheer ridiculousness of his words momentarily eclipsing her anger. The tension was suffocating. "And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?" she challenged, her voice tight.
Draco hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a fleeting moment before returning to hers. "It means," he said, his voice softer now, "I don't know whether we're supposed to acknowledge that the only reason I'm a free man and not rotting in Azkaban is because you testified on my behalf. I don't know how to talk to you because I'm still trying to figure out how to thank you for quite literally, saving my life."
The weight of his confession hung in the air, raw and unpolished, leaving an unexpected silence between them. Hermione's mind replayed the scene in the Room of Requirements, the memory suddenly vivid.
"Please, it was nothing," Hermione said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You helped. We were even."
"It was not nothing to me," Draco countered, his voice firmer now. "And it was certainly not nothing for my mother." He paused, as if weighing his next words carefully. "And I'm sorry if you felt I undermined you in front of Theo. I'm just… not used to working with a partner."
The sincerity in his apology surprised her, and Hermione felt the knot of tension in her chest begin to loosen. Perhaps, she thought, Draco was genuinely trying to find a way forward. This awkward dance they were doing was clearly as uncomfortable for him as it was for her.
"Apology accepted," Hermione said, her tone softening as she met his gaze. "And I should probably apologize for blowing up at you. This whole Daily Prophet affair has really gotten to me."
For a moment the silence lingered. Then, Draco began to laugh softly, a surprising sound that broke the tension.
"What?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing in confusion at his sudden shift in his demeanor.
His laughter deepened, and he shook his head, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "If you'd told me back at Hogwarts that we'd be having this conversation, I'd have thought you were mad."
Hermione chuckled. "Yeah, I guess times have changed."
"I guess they have," Draco agreed, finally taking a deep breath and relaxing.
"How is your mother, by the way?" Hermione asked, nodding towards the parchment on Draco's desk.
"She's good," Draco responded with a faint smile. "She keeps herself busy by refurbishing the manor. It's her way of moving forward, I suppose." There was a softness in his voice when he spoke about her.
The Manor, and the memory of Bellatrix's cruel laughter echoing through its halls, flashed through Hermione's mind like a shard of ice. She pressed a hand to her scar, pushing the phantom pain away. "That's good to hear."
Draco's eyes dropped to the documents before him, a flicker of understanding in his gaze. He didn't press the issue, instead picking up a photograph and studying it intently. "That was actually why I was at Mildred's furniture shop," he stated, his tone casual as he continued, "My mother had been insisting on finding just the right piece for the manor."
Hermione blinked, the memory of Draco mentioning his visit returning to her. "Was she there when you went?"
Hermione pulled out her own photo of Mildred from the file, holding it up to examine it closely. The girl in the picture was strikingly pretty, with an innocent charm. Her rosy cheeks radiated youth and vitality, a stark contrast to the lifeless, greyed body Hermione had seen earlier that week.
Draco's gaze lingered on the photo, "Yeah, she was lovely. So kind. She actually sat down with me and went over the manor's blueprints, suggesting different designs. We talked for ages. Not once did she bring up… any of that."
"Malfoy, if this case is too personal for you, we can go to Harry tomorrow and ask to switch with Zabini and Nott. It's still early days."
Draco managed a weak smile, though his eyes remained shadowed. "It's alright," he said, his voice flat. "Three years of being an Auror and you get used to seeing familiar faces… gone." His gaze settled on Mildred's photo.
Hermione searched Draco's face, her brow furrowed with worry. "Are you sure?" she asked softly.
"Don't worry about me, Granger," Draco replied, giving her a small nod.
The office door opened abruptly, and Blaise leaned in, his usual easy grin in place. "Hey, Draco, you still up for Friday night pints?" he asked.
Draco glanced up, a faint smile touching his lips as he rose from his chair and reached for his jacket. "Yeah, I'll meet you and Theo there," he said, with a quick gesture for Blaise to leave.
Blaise gave a quick nod, his friendly grin now directed at Hermione. "Care to join?" he quipped.
Hermione smiled in response but shook her head. "I'm exhausted, but thank you for the invitation. Maybe another time."
Blaise's smile broadened as he gave a curt nod, then turned on his heel and exited the office, leaving Draco and Hermione to wrap things up.
Draco gathered his belongings and quickly tidied his desk, casting one last glance around the office before turning to Hermione. "Right, well, I'm off to meet some Slytherins. You should get some rest." He paused, a hint of concern on his face. "Are you sure you'll be okay getting home? With Rita Skeeter putting you on blast, I don't know if muggle transportation is the best idea."
Hermione gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. Say hi to Theo from me."
Draco nodded, a subtle smile appearing as he turned and headed for the exit. "See you tomorrow, Granger," he called back, his voice light. He paused in the doorway, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips. "Oh, and about you trying to arrest me last week. Don't worry. I'm not mad at you."
Hermione's jaw dropped, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You're not mad at me?" she repeated incredulously. "That's rich, Malfoy."
He merely shrugged, as he put on his jacket, a picture of unbothered ease.
"On my first day on the job, I find a man skulking around with his hood pulled up, covering his face, and trying —and failing, might I add—to cast spells in an alleyway behind the Ministry. I think you can understand why I might have been just a bit suspicious."
Draco's smirk widened into a genuine smile as he watched her reaction. "I can only imagine how disappointed you were when you realized it was me."
"Maybe I should have left you there," she responded, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Bye, Granger. Thanks for the robes," Draco said, offering a final, almost imperceptible nod before stepping into the corridor, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
After finishing her work for the night, Hermione gathered her things, a sense of weary satisfaction settling over her as she prepared to leave. Stepping into the visitors' telephone box, she emerged onto the quiet main street. With a sigh of relief, she slid into the driver's seat of her car, the leather cool beneath her fingertips. The drive home was soothing after the long day, the only sounds were the gentle hum of the engine and the soft whoosh of tires on the pavement. By the time she reached her apartment building, the clock on her dashboard read just past one a.m., and the streets around her were quiet and bathed in the soft glow of streetlights.
As Hermione was about to step out of her car, she noticed a peculiar shimmer in her rear-view mirror. The distortion was subtle but unmistakable—a faint, wavering outline that hinted at someone trying to use a disillusionment charm. It was a poorly executed charm, its effects not quite blending seamlessly with the surroundings.
She froze. The clumsy charm revealed just enough to make her cautious. She hesitated, her hand still on the car door, scanning the dimly lit street for any sign of movement or threat, but Hermione knew all too well the risks of using magic in Muggle areas.
Trying to steady her nerves, she took a deep breath and decided that her best course of action was to get inside her apartment, which was warded, as quickly and discreetly as possible. She moved with deliberate calm, opening the car door and stepping out while maintaining a facade of normalcy.
Her senses sharpened, every rustle of leaves, amplifying into a potential threat as she walked. The feeling of being watched intensified, a heavy weight pressing on her back. At the entrance to her building, her hand shook as she pulled out her keys, the sharp edges digging into her palm. The lock seemed to resist her touch, each click echoing loudly in the stillness. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
With forced steadiness, Hermione pushed the door open and stepped into the dim entryway. The click of the door latch echoed behind her, a small sound amplified by the sudden quiet. She whirled around, wand drawn, her breath catching in her throat. Just as the door was about to click shut, she heard it—a low, almost imperceptible creak as it was pushed open again. The pursuer was close.
Holding her breath, Hermione waited an extra second, her grip tightening around her wand. Then, with a sudden burst of action, she jumped out from the corner and confronted her assailant.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione exclaimed. The assailant's wand flew through the air and landed neatly in her hand, as their disillusionment fell to reveal a male figure. Hermione's breath caught as her eyes locked onto his.
"Cormac?" Hermione let out his name in disbelief, her eyes widening as she took in the familiar figure of Cormac McLaggen standing before her.
"How…?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "How did you find me?"
"Oh, don't be like that, Minnie," Cormac purred, a chilling smile spreading across his face. His voice dripped with a cloying familiarity that made Hermione's skin crawl. "Is that any way to greet your former boyfriend?"
"I told you to leave me alone," Hermione said through gritted teeth, her wand still raised defensively, though her back was now pressed against the wall.
"Now, now, no need to get all worked up," Cormac replied with a chilling calmness. He took a step closer to her, invading her personal space as his shadow fell over her. "I just came by to see you."
Hermione's heart hammered against her ribs, a cold dread settling in her stomach as the full weight of the situation crashed down on her. "Cormac," she said, her voice a strained whisper, each word forced out. "What are you doing here?"
"I've missed you in Sydney, Hermione," he said, his smile faltering for a moment, a flicker of something akin to hurt crossing his features before it was quickly replaced by a cold, hard look. "We were perfect together. And then you just… disappeared. That wasn't very… considerate, was it? Especially not for the 'Brightest Witch of our Age.'"
Hermione was speechless, a torrent of memories crashing over her: Cormac's sly manipulations, the sting of his cruel words, the suffocating weight of his possessiveness that sent shivers of revulsion down her spine. For years, she had endured it, trapped in the belief that she was unworthy of anything better, that his twisted affection was the only love she would ever know. But she knew now what she hadn't known then. He hadn't loved her. He had exploited her insecurities, using her own self-loathing as a cage to keep her captive in his warped world. And here he was, standing before her, the nightmare from her past that she had tried so hard to escape from was closing in once again.
"My turn to ask the questions," he murmured. A smile stretched his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Why would you leave me?"
"You never loved me, Cormac," Hermione said, her voice catching in her throat, a desperate plea.
Hermione's stomach clenched as she saw the familiar shift in his gaze—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes. The smile that had been playing on his lips dissolved, replaced by a chillingly blank expression that was far more terrifying. "Of course I loved you, Minnie," he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You loved the idea of me, Cormac, a version you made up in your head. I am not that person."
For a fraction of a second, she thought she saw something else in his eyes—a hint of sadness, perhaps, or even regret. But it was gone in an instant, consumed by a burning possessiveness that made his eyes gleam with unsettling intensity. "You are my Golden Girl," he said, his voice low and possessive, his gaze fixed on her as if she were an object he owned.
"We can work together to get your parents back," he added, his tone calculated, knowing exactly how to strike where it would hurt the most. The mention of her parents was like a knife twisting in an old wound, a sharp, agonizing pain that made her breath catch. She could see the strings he was trying to attach, the invisible threads of manipulation he was weaving around her heart to pull her back into his grasp.
Something inside Hermione snapped. "My parents," she said, her voice low and trembling with barely contained fury, "would hate you."
With a surge of determination, Hermione shoved Cormac back, the contact breaking the suffocating closeness between them. She stood her ground, her gaze locked on his, refusing to flinch despite the tremor of fear that ran through her.
"Is that the best you can do, Hermione?" he drawled, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked her up and down.
She held his gaze, unflinching. "You ruined me."
Cormac looked taken aback.
"I left because you terrorized me," she continued, her voice trembling, each word a painful confession. "I left because you used my name—my life —to get what you wanted." Her voice cracked, the sound raw with emotion. "I had to leave my parents, in Australia. My parents, who I had been working to help, have no memory of my existence. I had to leave all of that behind just to escape you." The final word was spat out with a force that made Cormac flinch, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features, as if he had never considered himself capable of such harm.
"It was all out of love, Minnie," Cormac said, his voice soft, almost pleading, as he took another step closer. A chillingly sincere expression settled on his face, as if he genuinely believed his own twisted logic.
"What do I have to do for you to leave?" Hermione cried out, her voice breaking.
Cormac's eyes were dark and hard, boring into her as if trying to see through her very being. "Look at me, Minnie," he commanded, his voice cold and unwavering. "If that's what you really want, then look at me in the eyes, and tell me to leave you alone."
She drew a shuddering breath, her eyelids fluttering closed for a brief moment as she gathered her strength. When she opened them, her gaze met his, unwavering and hard. "Leave, me, alone," she stated, each word sharp and precise.
"Okay," he said, his voice unnervingly even, a hint of something sinister lurking beneath the surface calm. "But just remember that you asked for this." He turned and walked away, the automatic lights flickering off as he crossed the threshold, plunging the entryway into sudden darkness.
The click of the closing door echoed through the sudden silence, and only then did Hermione's carefully constructed composure crumble. She sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands as the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over.