an: Thank you for the support. I appreciate ya!

When Hermione and Draco returned to their office, they were immediately greeted by the sight of Blaise, Theo, and Harry who had clearly having been waiting for them. Blaise, ever the picture of relaxed indifference, was spinning lazily in Draco's chair, Theo leaned against the doorframe, while Harry stood at the center of the room, arms crossed, his face focused.

"You're back!" Blaise exclaimed, a touch too enthusiastically, as he smoothly rose from Draco's chair, as if he hadn't been making himself entirely too comfortable.

Draco looked at him pointedly. "Hope you made yourself at home, Blaise."

"Oh, I did, thanks for asking," Blaise replied, a wide, innocent grin spreading across his face.

"We've got news," Harry said, his voice firm, his hand gesturing briefly towards Theo.

Theo pushed off the doorframe, his usual relaxed posture replaced by a more serious stance. "The potion found at Mrs. Birbeck's," he began, his voice now more formal, "it's been confirmed. It's the Nullis Elixir."

The air in the room grew heavier with the weight of that revelation. Nullis Elixir was barely available in wizarding black markets, highly illegal, and incredibly dangerous. The fact that it had shown up in this case only deepened the mystery.

Draco crossed his arms, letting out a low whistle. "Well, that complicates things."

Hermione's brow furrowed as she tried to piece together the puzzle. "This case just isn't making sense." she said with frustration, rubbing her temples. "Why would a muggle have a potion that takes away a person's magic?"

Harry nodded in agreement, his expression equally tense. "Exactly. And if this is connected to the wider investigation, we need to approach it differently. It's no longer just about Mrs. Birbeck. This goes deeper, possibly much deeper."

Draco glanced between Harry and Hermione. "So what's the plan?" he asked.

Harry exchanged a look with Theo before answering. "We've talked it over, and we think it's best to combine efforts. All four of you working the case together. There's too much at stake for us to handle this separately."

Theo let out a dramatic sigh, complete with a theatrical roll of his eyes and a hand placed dramatically over his forehead. "Brilliant. Maybe now I can finally get a break from Blaise's endless talk about Margaux. Honestly, it's been every five minutes."

Draco's gaze immediately shifting to Blaise. "Wait—Margaux? You? Really?"

Hermione's mouth opened slightly as she turned towards him, Harry's eyebrows shooting up in surprise beside her. Blaise, however, didn't even blink. "I don't see why you're all so shocked. She's perfect."

Theo scoffed, shaking his head slightly, his expression torn between amusement and disbelief. "You've known her for what, a week?"

Blaise gave a casual half-shrug, his grin widening. "Doesn't matter. There's just something about her. I can't explain it."

"Well, let's hope your distraction with Margaux doesn't get in the way of solving this case," Harry quipped, a hint of amusement in his voice, though his eyes remained serious.

Draco let out a small laugh. "I mean, Margaux? Really, Blaise?" he said, shaking his head incredulously.

Blaise just smiled wider, unfazed by the teasing. "You'll see."

The lighthearted atmosphere quickly dissolved as Harry steered the conversation back to the case. "So," he started, "is there anything else that anyone knows that they think is important to share with the group?"

Hermione felt her stomach tighten. Across the room, her eyes instinctively found Draco's. She could tell by the subtle tension in his posture that he was thinking the same thing she was—the encounter with Marcus Belby. But she wasn't ready to bring it up in front of the group, not yet. Especially not with Harry in the room, considering how much of the conversation tied back to Cormac.

Hermione's fingers fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt as she glanced at Draco, a silent plea in her eyes.

Draco's gaze lingered on her, his expression unreadable as he seemed to weigh something in his mind. After a moment, he spoke, his voice cool. "No," he said. "Nothing else."

With that, everyone made to return to their work spaces, filing out slowly. Blaise and Theo chatted casually while Harry gave them all a brief nod before heading off. As the office emptied, the silence grew, and throughout it all, Draco's eyes stayed on Hermione's as he leaned against his desk, arms crossed.

Hermione felt a cold weight settle in her chest, as the door clicked shut.

"Do you think Belby and McLaggen are involved?" he asked, his words hanging in the air.

"I..." Hermione began, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to find the right words. "I know Cormac has done some awful things." She paused, her breath catching. "He's manipulative, controlling, and... not a good person." Her hands trembled slightly as they rested on the desk. "But murder? Physically hurting someone?" She shook her head, disbelief clouding her expression. "I never thought he was capable of that ."

Draco leaned forward, his tone gentler but still laced with urgency. "You might not want to believe it, Hermione, but think about it. Cormac knows where you lived—there are no other wizards in that apartment complex. What if he gave that information to Belby who brought the potion?"

"But Marcus was arrested the day before Mrs. Birbeck was killed. He was still in a holding cell," she said shaking her head.

Draco leaned back slightly, his brow furrowing as he considered her point. "You're right, but that doesn't clear Cormac. What if he set something in motion before that? Maybe he gave Belby the information, and someone else acted on it."

Hermione went still, her breath catching in her throat. "But... why Mrs. Birbeck?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Why would anyone target her?"

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe she saw something she shouldn't have. Maybe she caught someone—Belby or even Cormac—trying to break through your wards. It doesn't change the fact that they were in the area for a reason. And Cormac... well, his involvement is looking more and more likely."

She swallowed hard, her throat dry as the realization hit her. "But using your logic, that means they might have been trying to get to me ."

Draco met her gaze, his expression hard. "I don't think we can rule that out, Hermione."

A heavy silence filled the room as Hermione absorbed the weight of his words. Her mind raced, replaying every interaction she'd had with Cormac, every red flag she'd ignored. "But that still doesn't explain the link between Mrs. Birbeck's murder and the Nullis Elixir," she said quietly. "Or how the potion ended up in her house."

Draco exhaled sharply, frustration evident in his voice. "It doesn't explain everything. But this is the closest we've been to a solid lead. Cormac might be the key to all of this, whether directly or indirectly."

Hermione stayed quiet for a long moment, her thoughts swirling as Draco's explanation began to settle in. It made sense—too much sense. "If Belby is involved with the Nullis Elixir case, and he's friends with Cormac... if one of them was trying to get through my wards and Mrs. Birbeck caught them... they could've killed her. Maybe they left the potion behind in their rush."

The color drained from Hermione's face as the full implications of the situation became clear. Why would they bring the Nullis Elixir to her building in the first place? Could they have planned to use it on her? The idea was horrifying. Nullis Elixir—an elixir that could strip someone of their magic. Without her magic, she'd be defenseless. Easier to manipulate, easier to control, easier to get rid of.

He leaned back slightly in his chair, still watching her intently. "I don't want to push you to talk to Harry," he said, his voice gentle, "but... I think it's the right thing to do. It could help us move this case forward."

Hermione looked up at him, her lips pressing together briefly before she let out a quiet exhale. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

In a daze, Hermione stood, her mind foggy with the weight of her realization. She barely registered her legs carrying her toward the door, her heart thudding in her chest. She had to tell Harry—had to figure out what this all meant—but she wasn't even sure how to begin. Her hand trembled slightly as it reached for the doorknob.

Before her fingers touched the metal, she felt his presence beside her. A feather-light touch on her shoulder. Draco's voice, barely a whisper, said, "I can come with you. If you want."

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Okay."

Without another word, Draco opened the door, and together, they stepped into the hallway, making their way toward Harry's office. The corridors of the Ministry seemed longer than usual, the usually bustling atmosphere muted by the storm brewing in Hermione's thoughts.

They reached Harry's door, and Hermione knocked softly, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Come in," Harry's familiar voice called out from within.

Draco opened the door for her, and as she stepped inside, Harry's expression immediately shifted to one of deep concern as he stood up. He could sense something was wrong.

"Hermione, is everything okay?" Harry asked, his tone urgent as he flicked his wand, clearing two chairs in his office for them to sit.

Hermione hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. The weight of what she was about to share pressed down on her, making it difficult to breathe. Finally, she sank into the chair, her hands gripping the edge so tightly her knuckles turned white. "No," she said quietly.

It was one of the hardest conversations of her life, each word was a struggle. She spoke of Cormac, of the initial rush of adoration, the intoxicating illusion of being understood. Then, the darkness spilled out. His possessiveness, a suffocating blanket. His cruelty, a slow poison. His manipulation, a web woven so tightly she hadn't seen the strands until it was too late. She revealed how he'd turned her parents' vulnerability into a weapon, binding her to him. The truth of their time together, a truth she'd buried deep, was finally being unearthed.

Harry sat in stunned silence as she spoke, his face going pale as the truth slowly unfolded. His eyes, wide and unblinking, were fixed on Hermione, but he couldn't seem to see her anymore.

Whenever her voice faltered, she looked to Draco, his eyes silently encouraged her to keep going, reassuring her. He listened, his own expression hardening with each new detail, his jaw clenching.

"I had no idea," Harry whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Hermione... I'm so sorry. I should've—"

"It wasn't your fault," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible. She wrung her hands, her fingers twisting together nervously. Her gaze dropped to the table, avoiding his eyes. "I didn't want anyone to know… I thought I had everything under control," she admitted, the words laced with regret.

Harry looked at Hermione, his eyes glistening. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. He just shook his head slowly, a single tear escaping and tracing a slow path down his cheek.

Draco shifted in his chair, leaning forward and clearing his throat. "We've uncovered some information," he said, his voice calm, "that suggests a connection between Cormac McLaggen and Marcus Belby."

Harry blinked, as if surfacing from a deep trance. The tears still clung to his lashes, but his expression sharpened. "How so?" he asked, his voice regaining its usual intensity.

Draco glanced at Hermione, a silent question in his eyes. When she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, he turned back to Harry. "We know McLaggen stalked Hermione," he began, his voice measured. "He knew where she lived. We also know he's been sharing information about her with Belby." He paused, letting the implications sink in. "What if," he continued, his gaze meeting Harry's, "the real target was Hermione, using the Nullis Elixir – which Belby supplies to McLaggen? But she wasn't there. And in their attempt to bypass the wards, her neighbor, Kirsty Birbeck, heard them and intervened. They chased her, killed her in her flat, and panicked, leaving evidence behind."

A muscle twitched in Harry's cheek. He took a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze fixed on some point beyond the wall. "We need to get Cormac in for questioning. If he's behind any of this, he's not getting away with it."

Hermione shook her head sharply, "He won't willingly walk into an interrogation. He's too smart for that, and he knows I'm an Auror. He'll see this coming a mile away."

Harry stood up and began to pace the room, his steps restless. He stopped abruptly, turning to Hermione. "If he won't come willingly," he said, his voice tight, "how do we get him to talk?"

She paused, letting the silence hang in the air before meeting Harry's eyes. "You can't," she said, emphasizing the words. "But I can. I can get him to talk. Just the two of us. Alone."

Draco was on his feet instantly. "Absolutely no way," he said, his tone urgent. "We are not leaving you two alone."

Hermione lifted her chin slightly, her gaze holding his. "It's the only way," she repeated, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Draco's eyes searched hers. "And what if he's the one who wants to hurt you, Hermione?" he said, his voice low. "If we're right, you could be in serious dange–"

Harry raised his hand, cutting off Draco's words mid-sentence. "What if you went undercover?" he interjected, his voice decisive. The idea had clearly just occurred to him.

Draco turned to Harry, his expression incredulous. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice sharp.

Harry quickly settled back into his chair. He snatched a quill and parchment, his movements quick and purposeful. "Think about it," he exclaimed, as began to scribble furiously, outlining his plan. "If he won't talk in an interrogation room, we create a situation where he will talk. The anniversary ball for the Second Wizarding War is coming up in a week. He'll be there, and so will the entire Auror team."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "You want me to invite him to the ball?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed, his voice reassuring. "But only if you're completely on board with this. We'll have you bugged with the new micro-Extendable Ears from the Weasleys – we'll hear everything. And you'll be in a public place, surrounded by on-duty Aurors. It's the safest way to do this, but," he emphasized, his gaze meeting hers, "if you feel uncomfortable for even a second, we pull the plug. No questions asked."

Draco shook his head slowly, his expression skeptical. "Do you really think he's going to buy that?" he asked. "He's going to believe that Granger, after ditching him, is suddenly eager to spend an evening in his charming company?"

Hermione closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. When she opened her eyes, they were filled with determination. She looked at Draco. "I'll play the part," she said, her voice calm and calculated. "I'll say exactly what he wants to hear."

With the details finalized and the team briefed, Hermione and Draco returned to their office. Hermione sank into her chair, the leather creaking softly. Draco, already at the supply cupboard, pulled out a sheet of heavy parchment and a quill. He placed them on Hermione's desk, along with an inkwell. Hermione picked up the quill, her fingers tracing the smooth wood.

"How should I start it?" she asked, tapping the quill against the desk nervously.

"Dear Cormac," Draco said flatly, the words sounding forced and unenthusiastic. He sat at his own desk, his posture stiff, clearly unhappy with the task.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Draco, that's really helpful."

Twenty minutes passed, the silence broken only by the scratching of Hermione's quill. Draco watched her intently as she wrote, his gaze never leaving her. When she finally looked up, he met her eyes.

Hermione hesitated, "Can I… can I run it by you?" she asked, her voice uncertain.

"Of course," Draco responded, this time with more sympathy. He walked over and stood behind her, placing a hand lightly on the back of her chair. He leaned down slightly, his eyes scanning the letter, giving her his undivided attention.

Hermione took a deep breath before reading the draft aloud. "Dear Cormac, You were right. Leaving you was one of the biggest regrets of my life. I know that you must resent me, but I would do anything to have the chance to see you again. So many things have been happening in my life, and I just need someone to protect me from it all. I was wondering if you had a date for the Wizarding Ball next week? Love, Hermie."

Draco was silent for a moment, a mixture of thoughts and emotions swirling through his mind as he re-read the letter.

"What?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, his voice slow and deliberate.

Hermione looked directly at Draco, his face mere inches from hers. "Yes," she said, her voice firm.

A sad smile touched Draco's lips, his gaze distant as he looked at her. "I don't know what version of you he thinks he knows," he murmured. "but that's not the Hermione I know."

Hermione was silent for a moment, then said softly, "He doesn't know the real me."

"Hm," he exhaled softly, seemingly preoccupied.

Hermione felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck, a sensation that momentarily pulled her focus from the parchment. She glanced sideways at Draco who seemed deep in thought, his profile sharp and defined, his grey eyes – more blue than she'd ever noticed. She quickly looked away, a slight flush rising on her neck as she focussed instead on finding an envelope to seal the letter.

As if catching himself daydreaming, his posture shifted, his back straightening. "You phrased it perfectly," he said, his voice crisp. "He'll see himself as your knight in shining armor, and you'll be his damsel in distress. This might actually work."

Hermione gave a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Draco."

Draco turned away from Hermione, a newfound energy in his movements. He returned to his desk, leaving behind the faint, refreshing scent of spearmint. A small, satisfied smile played on his lips as he sat down. He picked up a dart from his desk, and with a practiced flick of his wrist, sent it soaring towards the dartboard.

"Bullseye," he said as the dart struck its mark.