Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - The Agreement
March 2004
It had been seven years since the Second Wizarding War. Seven fucking years since Draco Malfoy – ex-Death Eater – was put on house arrest in Malfoy Manor.
Today, Draco arrived at the Ministry well before his scheduled hearing time. His floo was reconnected only for this day and only to the Ministry.
He stood tall, clad in a three-piece black suit with a crisp white button up and his hair hanging just above his shoulders. He needed to show them, everyone, society and the Wizengamot, that he's reformed, needed to show them he wasn't his father, Lucius Malfoy. He needed to show them he did in fact do well on his Muggle Studies curriculum. So much, he even began studying Muggle artifacts in his spare time.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Kingsley Shacklebolt called his name, causing Draco to put aside his thoughts. He lifted his head looking at the Minister for Magic. “It's been seven years since your sentencing to house arrest,” Shacklebolt looked down at the document in front of him, flipping to another set of parchment. “We have been informed on more than one occasion that you have exceeded the necessary requirements of your rehabilitation. This, to be quite frank, is surprising…considering your lineage and who your father was to Voldemort.”
Draco waited – his fate was in the Minister's hands – he wouldn't dare interrupt now or show his smugness or contempt. He did in fact exceed all the requirements. His need to distance himself from his father and to reform the Malfoy name ran deep in his bones. His father was in Azkaban, leaving Draco to his own volition, so he flew head first. The first year was the hardest, having only the cold stones of the Manor to look at. With time, and of course, money, he was able to reconstruct the Manor to represent something new, something reborn. No longer were the walls stained with the dark magic and snake skin oil. No longer did it house the coldest days of the winter, never to be warm again.
Draco would admit that he worked hard and smart.
“As of today, the Ministry has decided to release you from your house arrest –”
Draco lips formed a small smile.
“On the conditions that you will become an artifact consultant for the Ministry and Auror Department,” Shacklebolt’s dark eyes finally looked at Draco, whose smile quickly fell.
“Pardon?” Draco mumbled in dismay, staring back at the Minister. Shock and confusion flashed over his face.
“It took some time, but the Auror Department has finally received their funds to sort through every past artifact that was sold or stolen during the War. They have requested help,” Shacklebolt began to smile, “and with your level of expertise and from what it looks like, knowledge of Muggle artifacts as well… We'd like to offer you this deal. For the next eighteen months, you will work under Auror Hermione Granger. She will report your work to us and all your assignments will go through her. If she feels you have truly been reformed and can re-enter society – I don't see a reason this court will hold you any longer.”
Work with Granger? For Granger? Life was cruel, but this was crueler. He would have to work under the women he tormented for years. He was certain she'd make him wipe the bottom of her shoe with her assignments.
“Make no mistake, Mr. Malfoy. One bad report will send you back to this room. Two bad reports and you will be placed back under house arrest until your twenty-seventh birthday,” Shacklebolt raised his hand as the room erupted in confusion. They silenced as they noticed his hand, and waited for the Minister to speak again.
“Do we have a deal?” Shacklebolt moved his quill over a document, eyes narrowed at Draco.
Draco gulped before speaking, spending another two years in house arrest would be torture. He was bored. Bored of the same library, bored of the same three people who visited, and bored of his mother whining from France about how she couldn’t see him. His future was already decided for him before he had a chance.
He arched his shoulders back, hearing a small crack on his spine. He leveled his eyes with the Minister.
“Deal,” he replied, calmly and coolly. He placed his hands in his pockets, making sure no one saw how clammy and sweaty he was from this whole ordeal.
“Wonderful!” The Minister clapped his hands. “You begin Monday. I suggest you get your things in order. At the stroke of midnight on Sunday, your house arrest will be lifted,” Shackbolt looked down at his parchment. “Auror Granger has one request.”
“A first of many,” mumbled Draco under his breath, making sure no one heard him.
“You are to be on time, unless you are in the surgery room at St. Mungo's. There is no other exception,” Shacklebolt smiled looking back up at Draco. “I believe you can thrive here, Draco. And who knows, maybe you'll make some new friends along the way.”
Shackbolt stood up, hitting his gravel on the podium. He nodded to his cohorts as he walked out of the room.
“Come,” an older wizard in his black Auror uniform spoke beside him. Draco nodded as he turned, looking back at the podium one last time before he disappeared into the hallway of the Ministry.
Freedom was so close, all he had to do was take orders from Granger…the biggest, most irritating swot he has ever known. He could do this, for a little over one year, he could do this .
A week before
Hermione sat in one of the chairs in front of the Minister’s desk. She wore her Auror uniform, black short sleeve top with black trousers and her leather boots. Her hair was braided back, the tail end reaching between her shoulder blades. She looked at her muggle watch, checking the time.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was late. This wasn't unusual from the Minister, but she was becoming anxious with the wait. She had to speak to him as only he knew about the project she finally accomplished. Sure, it took longer than anticipated, and she did have to keep this to herself while still maintaining her day job. She also had to maintain being the Golden Girl and that meant attending meetings and galas that she truly despised.
She sighed for what felt like the hundredth time.
The door swung behind her as Kingsley Shacklebolt strolled in. He wore green robes that rivaled McGonagall’s with its elegant gold stitching.
“Hermione,” he placed his folder on his desk. Sitting down in his chair, he leaned his head back on the neck of the chair. “Do yourself a favour, don't become Minister.”
Hermione held back her smile. She watched as he waved his hand, summoning afternoon tea. She allowed him to add the four sugar cubes and the milk before lifting her spoon and stirring it.
He finally leaned up, sitting straight as he magically poured himself some tea as well.
“How can I help you today?” He stirred in his own milk.
Hermione looked him over. Kingsley had aged. His black hair had some white specks to it now. He had wrinkles, frown lines, and tiredness lingering in his eyes.
“Well,” she took a sip of her tea, steeling her nerves. “You know that task you asked me to complete all those years ago? The one with the artifacts?” She watched Kingsley's eyes widen at the realisation of her statement. She knew she could talk freely as he always cast a silencing charm when entering his office, regardless of who was there.
“Merlin's beard, is it done?” He replied.
Hermione relished in having the undivided attention from the Minister himself. Her smile grew.
“They have officially been catalogued. Now removing the dark magic is going to be tricky. Most of them hold magic I can't account for as I am a muggleborn,” she sighed, taking another sip of her tea. “I'm here to ask for help. I know this is probably a Curse Breaker or an Unspeakable job, but I'd like to make it a full time thing.”
Truthfully, Hermione was at the end of her rope with field work. She was tired, she needed to leave the field work behind. Harry was now the Head of the Auror Department. While working under him, she had cut back on her hours in the field. However this task would give her the opportunity to work with her mind again. Not having to constantly check over her shoulder or monitor herself for curses when she walked through the doors of the department would allow her to breathe just a bit easier. She simply lost her passion for the fight, and thus she was worried about losing herself.
“How long do you think this will take?” Kingsley stirred his tea again.
She bit her lip in thought. “Give or take a year.”
Kingsley nodded. “If we do this, this information will go public. You will receive a lot of backlash. Many families believe these things were lost in the war.”
Hermione nodded, too. “I'm aware. My house is unplotted. There's no information about where I live. I check the wards daily…” She set her cup down as her hands began to shake. She leveled his gaze, not letting her nerves take over. She uncrossed her legs and recrossed them with her foot over her left ankle.
“Kingsley, I need this,” she wasn't above pleading, begging.
“If you are confident we could do this…it’s fine by me. I'll direct some of the budget for the Auror Department directly to you.”
Hermione smiled at the result. She watched Kingsley smile back, bringing the tea cup back up to his lips.
“There's just one more thing,” she responded. She stood up, summoning a file with a wave of her hand. “I need a partner.”
“Fine,” he eyed the folder in her hands, curiosity fiddling his features.
“I found the right person for the job,” she placed the file on his desk, tapping her fingers on the cover. “He'd be perfect for it. I'm sure you can agree to this. If he becomes a consultant for me, his skill could at least be useful here. He won't legally put you in a bind as he won't be an official Auror.”
Hermione moved the file, sliding across his desk. She did her research. She had followed Draco Malfoy's case since her first year in the Department. She knew he was smart but he excelled even her knowledge now in artifacts. Her years on the field held her back from her studies. He also possessed something she needed – his ancient pureblood magic. The artifacts wouldn’t hurt him if he touched them and he could dismantle the wards for her.
“You can't be serious?” Kingsley opened the file, his eyes skimming the pages. His photograph was clipped to one side.
“A little over a year, Kingsley. I'll take full responsibility for him. If anything goes wrong, it's on me.” She shrugged. She was confident they could work together…maybe after a duel … or three.
Kingsley closed the file. “I'll offer him the deal at our next meeting.”
Hermione beamed, standing tall and adjusting her uniform. “My only request is for him to never be late, unless he's dying in St. Mungo's, of course.” She turned on her heels, opening the door to his office. She turned back with a quick, “Thank you for the tea.”
Kingsley nodded in response as he let out a sigh and placed his hands behind his head. He was left deep in thought as she stepped out.
Hermione smiled as she made her way back up to the Auror Department.
“Hermione, are you out of your mind ?” Harry questioned, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.
“Harry, I'm just telling you as a precaution. Kingsley already approved it,” she stabbed the chicken in her salad, bringing it to her mouth. She chewed while she waited for him to reply.
“This is….” Harry sighed hard. “Why must it be him?” He replied, pushing his glasses back up his nose
“He's done a lot of work since the war, Harry. He could be useful. Besides, his magic is older than yours and mine combined. The artifacts might not bite him,” she explained, putting her fork down and wiping her mouth with the napkin.
A few years after the war, when things didn't work with Ron, Harry made it an attempt to have dinner with her weekly. When things didn't work out with Ginny, their dinners became a daily thing. Sometimes they would meet at Grimmauld, sometimes they would meet in her cabin, and sometimes on days like today, they would meet in Muggle London.
Hermione decided on today's restaurant so Harry couldn't possibly yell at her in public. She knew he would have his own issues working with Malfoy, but she truly couldn't be bothered. She loved her best friend and she hoped he could understand this was strictly professional.
“Hermione, you know I love you…” he sighed, shifting in his seat. “I trust you. Just make sure to hex him into the next universe if he pulls something.”
Hermione barked a laugh, grabbing her wine from the table. “You got it.” Harry raised his glass as well, they clinked the ends before taking a sip.
“Why didn't you tell me you were working on this?” Harry put his glass down, looking at her in disbelief.
Hermione sighed. “Kingsley didn't think it would be wise for the public to know. After all, if you knew a muggleborn was handling pureblood ancient items…how would that have gone over?” She rolled her eyes. She began poking at her salad again, seemingly losing her appetite.
“I'm checking your wards weekly. I'll get a ward expert if I need to," Harry remarked, his tone riddled with concern. She knew if she looked at him, his face would say the same. She's worked with him for too long. At first, he was her partner in all things, especially after Ron decided to leave the Auror program. Now, Harry was her boss and the look in his eyes when he sent her on missions with others could break anyone's heart.
“Well, isn't this lovely,” a voice she could hardly register distracted her from her salad. She looked up to find one Theodore Nott smirking at them. He wore what would probably be considered casual for a pureblood – simple gray trousers with a black jumper and a coat over it. He was dressed very muggle, which shouldn't have come as a surprise as the restaurant was in Muggle London, but it still shocked her. She hadn’t seen many of her classmates outside of working with them in the department . Her best girl friend, Ginny was off with her Quidditch Team, barely ever home. Their conversations, short and simple, as their lives always moved faster than they could keep up. Hermione may have spotted Pansy Parkinson once or twice, seemingly deciding to zoom past the witch and disappearing without looking back. The witch still gave Hermione an anxiety issue she wasn't ready to deal with.
“Theo, good to see you,” Harry nodded at the wizard. He had definitely grown up. Hermione assumed Theo was slightly taller than Harry from where she sat.
She tilted her head in assessment of her best friend. Since when did he use a Slytherin's first name? Harry had gotten up off his chair, saying something she couldn't quite catch.
“Yes, well, we're just grabbing some food for the old chap. He quite likes this place, makes me get him food from here or else he'll spend weeks pouting about,” Theo chuckled at his words. He tapped Harry on the shoulder. Theo faced her, “See you around, Golden Girl.” He gave her a quick wink before disappearing.
As Harry sat down, she was still staring at him, wondering what that interaction was about. Harry seemed to have been ignoring her, taking a sip of his wine.
“This is good wine,” he didn't bother looking as he spoke. She could tell there was a small flush blooming on his cheeks. She couldn't tell if it was from the wine or the gaze she was still holding on him.
“What are you not telling me?” She replied, narrowing her eyes at him.
Harry coughed, clearing his throat. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” The flush had deepened now on his cheeks and began to dapper on his neck, disappearing under his u-neck jumper.
“Psh, yeah…you forgot, Harry. I'm the brightest witch of our age,” she heard him chuckle at her. “I will find out. Don't go lying to me.”
“By all means, go on,” Harry smiled, his arms crossed over his chest waiting on her. He motioned for her to continue as the smile grew more mischievous.
Hermione wanted to hit him with her napkin before remembering they were in a public setting, in a fancy restaurant – okay, fancy by her standards, and they weren't exactly children. She rolled her eyes, picking up her own glass and polishing off the red wine.
“I hate you,” she remarked in a playful tone.
“Love you too,” Harry chuckled, respectfully going back to focus on whatever portion was left of his food. She waved him off. It was nice to still have someone to talk to and she loved Harry even though he could annoy her to no end.
Seemingly done with her chicken salad, Hermione looked at the spot Theo disappeared from. A small part of her wondered if Theo was talking about Malfoy.