Chapter 1: THE REQUEST
Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Rating: T
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 1 - THE REQUEST
Hermione woke up with the sunrise as she always did. It mattered little that today was her only day free from Ministry work. Unlike the general population, who thought it best to enjoy a good sleep-in, she preferred to enjoy the day to the fullest. Besides, she hated having to go to bed and leave a good story halfway. An early start meant a whole book finished.
With a flick of her wand, she set the water to heat and moved into the shower. It was positively muggle, but nothing helped her get the day running like a good splash of warm water. Scorching water was for sadists and cold water for the unlucky. With magic and the right amount of money available to her after the last Wizarding War, the stream always met her preferences.
The teapot whistled and she made another hand motion to turn off the stove. Bagels or waffles, the witch wondered as she washed her hair. Sausage would be better than eggs, she nodded as she applied some conditioner. The green of kiwi or the red of strawberries would give a hint of color and sweetness. A pleased hum left her and she quickly rinsed the soap off. Today, she was feeling quite good. Thus, she knew she could use a few extra minutes to make herself something tasty rather than just to appease her hunger. She rarely ate very healthily because of the daily rush, and with time it would come to bite her in the ass. Magic or not, the body needed to be taken care of.
Finally having a somewhat decent idea of what to eat, she turned off the shower, covered her hair with a towel, and then wordlessly dried her body. Then, she moved to the room to find comfortable underwear and a large shirt. Her hair was still dripping a bit as she walked to the kitchen but it was Sunday; she could let it be free and rest today. Merlin knew her poor mane of wild curls suffered restrictions often enough.
The breakfast operation was interrupted when an unfamiliar owl appeared at her window. After pondering the flying visitor and her mood for a moment, she allowed it inside her flat and exchanged the bird's letter for a small piece of sausage. It stayed in a corner and waited for her to read it, and possibly for her reply. With a little sigh, Hermione quickly opened the small parchment and frowned. She turned to the owl accusingly but after thinking it over a few moments decided to reply. "Safe trip." The owl hooted pleasantly and flew away.
A small grimace replaced her cheery disposition. "Books. We will need to re-schedule our appointment," she shared gloomily.
xxoOoxx
Hermione walked to the northern part of Diagon Alley. She wore a white blouse, dark pants, boots, and a coat. Her voluminous hair was tied in a low ponytail, the abused ends reaching her hips. Her latest hair theory was that with enough weight, her curls would have less frizz. It had worked somewhat, though she still experienced occasional headaches as her roots adjusted to the new length.
An invitation to Gringotts was unexpected. Her vault had been confiscated after Harry, Ron, and she broke into the bank years ago. To add to the horror, when Voldemort discovered what happened at the Lestrange Vault, he killed all the goblins working that day as punishment. The goblin-bank had suffered a terrible loss of face—being ransacked by teenage children meant it was no longer considered impenetrable.
Why was only her vault confiscated? This question crossed her mind often. Perhaps because she had masterminded the plan—the stolen wand, polyjuiced identity, dragon theft—she had committed quite a few misdeeds that day. Or maybe it was because she was a woman, a know-it-all who meddled in everything regarding magical creatures. She felt ashamed of the consequences the goblin-folk suffered during the battle against Voldemort. This shame was the only reason she decided not to take the confiscation matter to the Wizengamot. She could wait for the goblins to forgive her.
After a deep breath, she entered the white, marble-decorated bank. The guards at the door nodded respectfully, and she hid her hands in her pockets, nodding back. Standing at the end of the hall, she glanced around the room nostalgically. The interior had been redecorated with the same white colors from the outside. Intricate magical designs in gold adorned the floor, and the goblin desks featured similar ornamentation. Hermione approached the closest available teller and waited for him to acknowledge her. Gringotts now appeared more welcoming thanks to the witches and wizards employed part-time to make it cleaner and friendlier, but dealing with a goblin still reminded visitors how sharp and intimidating they could be—perhaps a childish impression that lingered throughout every witch and wizard's life.
"Miss Granger," drawled the goblin as he wrote on the parchment before him. "It has been a long time since Gringotts last saw you." He placed his pen on its base and adjusted his glasses.
She sensed he silently added that it was still too soon for her to be in their presence, but she tried to ignore his tone in favor of a more sympathetic outcome. She felt remorseful about everything that had happened five years ago and hoped their relationship could mend. After all, her vault housed many family memories. Like the eager child she was, she had stored her grandmother's jewelry and cherished keepsakes from her childhood there. Due to desperate circumstances, she had Obliviated her parents and lost them forever when no one could reverse the spell. That had been a devastating blow. Instead of saving them, she had effectively erased them. Having access to her vault meant holding onto her parents' mementos—a small comfort, but sometimes small steps made the long journey possible.
"Let me escort you to Blordak," the goblin continued when he realized she was not going to say anything. He jumped from his high chair and began to walk to the back of the hall. Hermione followed silently, her hands still deep in her pockets. He escorted her to a spacious office and motioned for her to sit. The young woman did as told and crossed her legs, placed her hands over her thighs, straightened her spine, and tried to keep her mind at ease after she heard the door shut softly.
The office looked professional, the papers on the desk were neat, and the pen appeared expensive. There was a bookcase filled with what Hermione assumed were files of vault owners. The lighting in the office was weak, but it was a soft white, which helped her feel more at ease than if it had been yellow. Unable to help herself, she clenched her hands as her leg began to tap while she waited. The soft sound of the door opening and closing made her sigh in relief. She heard only two steps and waited for a few seconds, but the person did not move again. Concerned, she turned, and her lips parted in surprise. Her whole body tensed, and she stood from the chair. She did not draw her wand, but she couldn't remain seated or give her back to the newcomer.
A tall, slim, ex-Death Eater wizard stood next to the door. He had changed much, but she would never forget him. His beard was trimmed and well-groomed, his once long hair had been cut short and styled upwards. His eyes were alert but calm, and he wore a long, buttoned dark shirt and pants. The sleeves were rolled up mid-arm, revealing the remains of the Dark Mark still visible on his left forearm. "Dolohov." She nodded her head stiffly.
The older wizard favored her with a nod of his own, his eyes locking with hers searchingly. Perhaps he was looking for the little, wounded girl she had been. He would not find that teenage witch. Instead, he would find a cautious, dangerous witch. Dolohov no longer haunted her nightmares. Those were reserved for Bellatrix's Cruciatus, Fenrir's foul-smelling tongue, and her parents' forgotten memories now. Did she fear him? A fair bit. Would she cower if she needed to duel him? Not at all.
The door opened once more, and a short goblin with white hair and a dark suit wobbled inside. "Greetings, Antonin," said the bank representative as he walked past the wizard and to his desk. "Nice to see you again, Miss Granger."
The witch knew her smile was a bit forced, but she did her best to avoid glaring; she hoped it was enough. "Greetings..."
"Blordak," he supplied with a politician's smile as he sat in his chair. He shuffled the papers on the desk and put them aside, opened a drawer, and took out a brown envelope. "I was the teller who helped first years open their vaults. I helped your parents establish the Granger Vault, if you don't remember."
The memory was a fond one, and it made Hermione smile. She could remember the clueless looks they had all given each other as they tried to understand the rules and regulations of a goblin-administered bank. Her father, who had always been very good with finances, had squirmed as he listened to the goblin teller, while she babbled about the bank's history with her mother. "I'm sure we must have been a challenging group back then."
Blordak smiled, and he looked feral. Friendly-looking goblins were impossible to find, she was sure. When they tried to appear friendly, it reminded her of the evil monsters in children's books. "Not at all. You were a smart family used to business."
Hermione chuckled. "Indeed." Then she decided to sit now that the goblin was here; she didn't want to be disrespectful, and after these last peaceful minutes, she doubted Dolohov planned to attack her. "Tell me, Blordak, what can I do for you?"
The goblin pushed the envelope towards her. After a deep breath, she opened the offered piece of paper. She skimmed over the information before needing to go back to read it more carefully. She was finished in one minute, took another to settle her thoughts, and then her spine straightened. "To make sure I understand. You want me to try to steal from Gringotts."
The goblin nodded his head slowly and sat more comfortably in his chair when he didn't receive an instantaneous refusal. "Yes."
"Why?" asked the witch confusedly. After a moment, she stretched her legs and rested her booted heels on the floor. Her hands held the paper as she went over it again.
"We have been reinforcing security at the bank," he shared with a secretive smile. "We have adjusted to include some of the concerns the wizard-folk seemed to have. Only you, who have successfully broken into Gringotts before, can validate the efficiency of our new additions."
The witch chuckled darkly. "Cannot," she muttered. "I've been working at an office these last three years. I fear my wandwork and reflexes are not up to this task. Besides, this seems like a perilous idea, and Hermione Granger is trying to live her life as anxiety-free as possible."
"Antonin, our best Curse-Breaker, will accompany you as your bodyguard to protect your life." The gleam in the goblin's eyes was confusing. "Of course he will not stop all the other non-life-threatening, but otherwise dangerous tricks you may encounter." He finalized this with a proud nod.
Hermione snorted. Did people still think she wanted to put her life in danger? Her Hogwarts house was Gryffindor, yes. Because of her ideals, she had joined Harry Potter in the war to defeat the Dark Lord and to survive as a muggle-born witch. She had to fight because it was the right thing. Risking her life to ensure the Gringotts bank was safe was not on her priority list. "Why doesn't he check the security?" she asked as she pointed at Dolohov behind her with her thumb.
Blordak looked at her as if she was the dumbest witch of her age. "Because he designed most of the security system. Also, the newspapers will know that Hermione Granger could not outsmart the new security measures Gringotts has implemented."
With a tilt of her head, she glared at the goblin for long moments. "I don't see why I should risk my life over this. Especially since I don't even have access to my vault."
This time the goblin's smile held terrible intentions and a lot of teeth. "But of course, Miss Granger. Payment will be provided."
The witch eyed the eager goblin carefully. "I doubt you could tempt me."
He took it as the challenge it was. His smile widened impossibly more, and he stood from his chair and walked towards her. "If you reach the first vault, the familiar to you Lestrange Vault, we will grant access to the Granger Vault, and Gringotts will cover the funding for your Medical Facility for Magical Creatures." She heard him chuckle and realized her mouth was hanging open. She had been hunting for the funds for almost a year with little success. These galleons would indeed be very helpful. "If you also reach the second Vault, which is Vault 713—which had been accessed without permission by a dark wizard in 1991—you will find the contact information of a healer."
Hermione clenched her hands. "What kind of healer?"
Blordak didn't even try to hide his glee. "A goblin healer who specializes in mind magic."
It couldn't be helped. A whimper escaped her tightly pressed lips.
To be continued
Chapter 2: REFORMED
Notes:
JeniNeji's Note:
Thanks for reading!
Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Rating: M
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 2 - REFORMED
Hermione Granger walked out of the goblin's office and stopped. Her thoughts were jumbled and overwhelming. Magical creature healers were an avenue she had not considered before, and it was foolish of her. Wasn't she always working with magical creatures? There were many creatures with different magic available that could help her restore her parents' memories. However, breaking into Gringotts was so risky. Goblins rarely lost. If they offered a contract, they were sure they would win. This time she was betting her life. The last time she had been down in the Lestrange Vault she had almost died thrice—the Geminio charm, the guards, and the dragon. That's ignoring the Thief's Downfall, which nearly dropped her to her death.
It was madness.
She could recover her parents' stolen memories. But what good would their memories of her do if she died while trying to get them back? She would have to make a will or something forcing the goblins to make the healer meet her obliviated parents even if she died.
There was no other option but to try. The witch would never forgive herself for not trying; she sighed, and her shoulders dropped. She meant to recline back against the door to sort her thoughts, but she missed it badly. Instead, her body fell against a warm chest. A humorous chuckle made her squeal, and she quickly moved away. Embarrassed and blushing, she hissed, "Dolohov!"
"Miss Granger," he returned with dark, mischievous eyes, "A pleasure to serve as support and not only protection."
"Protection," she murmured with a disbelieving look. The witch watched him narrow his eyes at her tone and stand straighter. "Can I believe you will really protect me?"
The taller man tilted his head. "It is my duty to the Gringotts bank." His eyes seemed to sober and his jaw clenched a bit. It seemed as if being questioned about it made him uncomfortable.
Hermione shook her head, her hair ends waving around her shorter form, and reclined against the opposite wall. "It sounds as if Gringotts Bank is your... new master." Her eyes bore into his searchingly.
The older wizard didn't seem to mind the comment. "I live to serve," he said simply and then frowned. "Now I have many masters. It's complicated to please them all. However, it does make it an exciting puzzle."
It was strange that he viewed the world in such a simple way since he was known to be brilliant, creative, and diligent. He had the characteristics of a leader rather than a follower, but perhaps following was ingrained in him since childhood. Maybe he only felt at ease while serving a cause—be it slaughtering muggleborns or protecting the bank's assets. Some people didn't like to feel the pressure of making important decisions.
"You are the same," he shared after a moment of silence. "You followed Harry Potter and Dumbledore," the reminder made her frown, "Now you serve the Ministry." Her eyes widened a bit as his words hit home. No one was ever on top, and no one was completely free.
It was enlightening, and concerning, to realize that for all the simplicity with which he seemed to view the world, he was still a brilliant wizard indeed; just like her.
xxoOoxx
That Sunday, Hermione decided to visit the Burrow. Some weekends she favored time to herself; others she opted to spend with her surrogate family. She sat in the corner of the balcony with a cup of tea and watched her family calmly.
Fleur and Bill's daughter Victoire was four now and a master veela manipulator. Dominique wasn't far behind her sister, both in regular competition to be Arthur's favorite granddaughter. Fleur's insistence that she also wanted a son made Hermione suspect that a third child would soon be on the way. If there was something Fleur had in abundance, it was determination. If there was something Bill had in abundance, it was love for his wife. It was amazing how two different half-creatures could get along so well and have such abundant progeny. So far, the Veela traits were overshadowing the werewolf aspects, but that was to be expected since werewolf characteristics weren't hereditary. At least, up to date—who knew what new research could find?
Angelina, George, and Fred II were the fireworks at the party. Loud, hyperactive, obnoxious, but the first to make everyone smile. If there was an odd noise, they were the cause. Roxanne, the youngest menace of that joke shop family, was quieter but still a funny George offspring. The perfect mix of Roxanne's skin colors and George's wide, cute it-was-not-me eyes. This pair of kids would be amazing at Quidditch if their gene pool were to be taken into account.
Percy, Audrey, and baby Molly were quiet, polite, and most of the time the easiest for Hermione to join for a chat. Audrey was expecting another baby girl soon and was glowing with happiness. Molly had inherited her grandmother's hair color, and Audrey was hoping this new baby would come with her family's darker hair. Hermione squeezed her hand and supported her with a half-grin. She personally doubted it, but life was always full of surprises. Going back to the Quidditch matter, she suspected these girls would be gifted more books than brooms by their parents, so only time would tell if they would enjoy the family sport.
Demelza née Robins and Ron were pregnant and very happy about it. Their relationship started two years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Demelza was captain of the Gryffindor team in her last year of school. Ever since Ron started his Auror training, she had been pursuing him, sending chocolates and little tidbits. Ron was very dense, but after a lot of blunt seduction and plenty of butterbeer and firewhiskey, he finally understood. Her tenacity and excellent bludger-dodging skills finally won him over a year—and many owl letters—later. This was definitely a Quidditch baby too.
Ginny was also expecting Harry's first child with an extra bounce to her step. With this timing, Audrey's, Ron's, and Harry's children would likely attend Hogwarts the same year. They might even play on the same Quidditch team. There had been discussions about forming a full Weasley Family Quidditch Team in the future. In Hermione's mind, they certainly could—there were enough family members to create "The Weasley Reds." After the war, with Ginny's connections to the Harpies and the Prophet, they could probably make it happen. Surprisingly, Hermione found herself interested in the prospect. For the first time ever, she might actually care about Quidditch—something she never thought possible.
Merlin! The Weasley family was truly remarkable. Hermione often wondered how they managed to overcome so much adversity yet keep moving forward. It was extraordinary how they remained so full of joy. Though the war had caused immense pain, moments like these—seeing what they'd gained by defeating Voldemort—made everything feel worthwhile. They were alive, healthy, and happy. There was peace. There was a future.
"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, playfully messing up her hair. "So nice to see you!" His Auror job left him little free time, and caring for a pregnant wife filled what remained of his schedule. Hermione understood completely, helped when possible, and cheered him on from the sidelines. After growing up in an abusive home and enduring Voldemort's constant threats, the Boy-Who-Lived was finally radiating happiness. "What's new?"
The witch nodded in greeting and sipped her tea. "Everything is fine," she began with a gentle smile. "I may have a new lead on how to fix my parents' memories." A full smile graced her lips.
"That's amazing, Hermione!" cheered the messy-haired wizard as he sat on the couch beside her. The thud of footsteps on the stairs made Harry glance up, and he quickly invited Ron over. The redhead grinned and squeezed Hermione's hand as he passed her.
"Hermione thinks there may be a new way to heal her parents!" Harry announced.
"Blimey! That's great news." Ron smiled widely and turned to her. His hand was rough from Quidditch and Auror duties. The Auror training had done wonders for him—he was now muscular and moved with a veteran's confidence. "Who is the new healer?"
Hermione set her teacup on the side table and straightened. "The Gringotts goblins offered me the services of a Goblin healer if I help them check the new security renovations they made to the bank. Since, you know, I broke in and can thus 'validate' they're much more protected now than last time."
Harry and Ron glanced at each other before grinning. "That brings back memories," said Harry with a chuckle. "That multiplying charm was terrifying, and then when Griphook left us behind to fend for ourselves... the little devil."
"The dragon was the coolest thing," Ron added. "If it weren't for Hermione, we would've been dead and never ridden a dragon." He reclined against the couch and gazed at the ceiling. "That was a nice memory."
"Harry," Hermione called softly, "how is the rehabilitation of the Death Eaters going?" Her hands began to fidget. "How do you feel they've adapted? Have they truly integrated into our society?" At his piercing look, she shrugged and looked away. "You know I have mixed feelings about them. I'm sure many had no choice, but I also believe they're more prone to violence than most people."
Ron and Harry shared a confused look. Ron began, "After Voldemort died and they spent that first year in Azkaban, many were very open to the idea of redeeming themselves. Remember that many had spent half their lives in prison by then."
"They have a lockdown on their magic," the messy-haired wizard reminded her. "They can only use—"
"Yes. The ex-Death Eaters can only use their magic for serious injuries or at their workplace," she interrupted with a slight glare. Then she sighed, realizing she was being obnoxious. "I mean... what do you feel? Do you think the program is working?"
Harry shrugged. "Most folks I've worked with seemed easy-going and appreciative enough," shared the savior of the Wizarding World.
"Same," agreed Ron. "They all have their quirks, of course, but nothing unusual. Besides, we're all a little more forceful than previous generations after the war. Many of us have killed." A heavy silence filled the room as they remembered those dark times they'd overcome. The nightmares had lasted for months—for some, years—before they could sleep through the night again.
"I'm glad then," Hermione smiled and crossed her legs. "I'm glad those witches and wizards have a second chance." In a way, at least. Part of her felt they should have stayed in prison, but that wouldn't help any part of the Wizarding World. The most dangerous served longer sentences in Azkaban before rehabilitation. If they accepted the terms, they could reintegrate into society, though their magic would remain limited. Younger offenders received probation and, depending on their progress, could eventually regain full magical abilities.
"Why do you ask?" Harry questioned suspiciously. The Auror in him knew she was aware of everything happening at the Ministry. It was strange for her to ask for their field opinions. After the War, Hermione had returned to Hogwarts and declined to join Auror training. She wanted a simple life without constant alertness or danger, which he understood and supported. This curiosity, however, required explanation.
Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly, knowing they wouldn't let the matter drop. They remained protective of her, though thankfully respected her independence. "I met Dolohov today," she shrugged. "He was cordial and seemed... calm. I just wanted to know how the reform project was truly going."
Ron sat straighter. "Are you alright?" He placed his elbows on his knees. At her nod, he continued, "He didn't say anything offensive, did he?" She shook her head.
"He was one of the easiest to adjust," Harry informed her. "He has a very straightforward view of the world. Last I heard, he's been working well at Gringotts." Dolohov had been imprisoned for three years under tight surveillance before being offered rehabilitation. He was among the few remaining wizards who'd spent more years in prison than in polite society.
The witch nodded. "That's what I thought too. I was just surprised because I didn't feel any hostility at all." That had been her biggest shock. Someone like Antonin Dolohov, who'd been part of Voldemort's inner circle and fought in two wars to eradicate Muggle-borns, should have shown more malice. But there was nothing—not even indifference. On the contrary, he seemed curious about her. There was simply no hate or anger.
"Perhaps he didn't join Voldemort because of blood prejudice," offered Harry with solemn eyes. "Many shared with Ministry nurses why they followed Tom Riddle. I've heard some rather unusual stories—he could be one of those."
Ron sighed. "Let's talk about something else. You know I have issues with him because of my family, and I don't want to get angry about it."
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances but nodded in agreement. Five years ago, Ron couldn't even hear the wizard's name without rage. He'd even tried to kill the man once. The younger Weasley had improved tremendously over the half-decade.
"Hermione," Harry called with a broad smile and playful tone, "Ginny and I were talking a few days ago, and we... want you to be our baby's godmother. What do you say?"
The witch's smile widened, and with a little squeal, she moved to Harry and hugged him tightly. "Of course I will! I'd gladly be the Godmother! I'll give the baby lots of books! I swear!"
That brought a collective fit of laughter and good-natured teasing about her bookworm tendencies.
xxoOoxx
That night Hermione sat at her flat in Muggle London and pondered how to best break through those superior Gringotts' defenses. Perhaps the goblins weren't sure what they were asking of her. At the same time, this was a delicate balance to maintain.
Bloodmania had diminished considerably after the battle of 1998. However, there was no need to make the wizarding folk rethink their new beliefs. Did she want to alert the goblins to other possible vulnerabilities in their system? Harry, Ron, and she had a lot of luck last time, and besides, times were so harsh back then that it would explain Gringotts' fragility. Now, she really doubted anyone was trying to break into the bank—there was no need for such suicidal missions. Well... one never knew these things for certain.
The brunette witch sighed as she wrote things to remember on the parchment. Spells, charms, candies, jokes, jinxes, potions... would it be a good idea to take a muggle gun too? It would be hellish to be aware that she was the cause the wizarding world decided to take the fight to the muggles again.
TO BE CONTINUED
Chapter 3: INFILTRATOR
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Rating: M
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 3 - INFILTRATOR
The sky was orange, with only a few minutes before the sun disappeared into the horizon. Hermione jogged back from the park to her flat. Two weeks had passed since she spoke with the goblins, and it was time for her to take action. She had been reading about newly published spells in recent months but hadn't found anything related to security. The goblins would keep such matters hush-hush anyway if they had implemented them. This goblin adventure would be an intelligence race against Dolohov.
Potions studies were on the rise lately as many people still suffered from the ill-effects of dark spells used during the war. Defense spells were more readily accepted, and one could find several newly developed ones. Dark Arts were slowly being reintroduced to society, albeit cautiously. The previous prohibition of this information had left many on the light side unable to defend themselves, as they remained unaware of what dark spells could do. Only old, pureblooded families had retained this knowledge, giving them a clear advantage.
The witch finally arrived home and climbed the stairs—the final challenge to her routine. Out of breath and groaning in pain, she reached her door and, once inside, sat on the floor. "Merlin, my lungs!" Her chest felt as if it would burst. She was certainly not eighteen anymore.
A hooting sound made her open her eyes. A small, white owl waited for her at the dining table. It was unfamiliar and cute. She considered dragging her body toward the table but decided that would be impolite and childish, even if only the owl would see her. If she hoped to break into Gringotts, she needed to do better than this.
With wobbling legs, shaking thighs, and weary arms, she moved toward the owl. The bird looked at the witch dubiously for a few moments, but when she finally sat, it hopped closer and offered its leg.
"Thanks." Hermione opened the scroll and blinked as she read the short letter. Dolohov asked that she inform him of the day and time of her Gringotts excursion so he could assist in her protection. Hazel eyes studied the small doodles and stars adorning the corners of the parchment for a few seconds with a raised eyebrow. Dismissing the possible reasons for such embellishments, she searched for paper and scribbled, "Understood," before giving it to the owl. "Have a safe trip."
xxoOoxx
Hermione walked inside Gringotts under the Invisibility Cloak which still reached her feet, a cushioning charm hiding her footsteps and an assortment of candies in her pockets. The witch moved behind the leading goblin and waited for someone to open the door. It was a long wait, but she had so many worries in her mind that it served to put her thoughts in order. So far, so good.
Hermione followed an unknown goblin and found the hall empty. Perfect. "Imperio," she whispered, and the goblin stopped for a moment before continuing with a smile. After a few minutes, they were riding the cart. The goblin maintained his smile as the wagon moved at an unhealthy speed, forcing her to hurriedly store the cloak inside her bag. Hazel-colored eyes moved to the alarm on the cart. "Evanesco." Hermione caught the back of the goblin's shirt and, with her other hand, fished for Fizzing Whizzbees in her pocket. As soon as the Thief's Waterfall touched them, the cart stopped. They fell forward from the impact, but there was no alarm. Hermione quickly ate the candies and slowly levitated down, aided by the goblin's weight. As soon as they touched the rocky floor, Hermione threw the raging goblin aside. Shaking her head, she took a small bag from her pocket and threw it against the goblin's face. His eyes rolled, and he fell to the floor unconscious. Hermione grinned. Muggle sleeping drugs did work on magical creatures.
The witch eyed the frozen cart and decided she needed to hurry. Quickly she removed her wet clothes—except her underwear—and knelt by her bag. She pushed her arms inside. "Accio robe." Instantly the garment flew to her hand. She stuffed her wet clothes inside the bag and stood.
"You're early. But I still made it at the perfect time," called a voice nearby. It was intense, husky, and masculine.
Shivers ran up her arms, probably from the cold air touching her mostly naked body. She didn't turn; she knew who it was. There was no need to show her front after he had seen her back. Hermione bent forward slightly to get her legs inside the robe, pulled it up, and adjusted the neck so it fell comfortably. She left her wet hair tied in a large bun. "Dolohov."
The wizard smirked and moved closer. Dark eyes looked her over as he took a deep breath and released it slowly. "That was unexpected. I may need a moment to concentrate again."
Hermione ignored his words and looked up to watch the cart move away. It would likely trigger an alarm soon. "What's the problem, Dolohov? Never seen a witch modeling Muggle underwear?"
A dark chuckle escaped his throat. "Modeling, yes. Robbing a bank and knocking out goblins in underwear, no."
When she heard him shift behind her, she turned and smirked upon seeing his pants seemed a little tight. "Sorry for making you uncomfortable," she said, then once again dug into her bag. The end of the railroad should be just a few minutes more. Was there a security check midway?
The wizard's short hair made him look young, and his gleaming eyes revealed passion and excitement boiling inside. "This uncomfortable, I don't mind." He grinned, placed his hands in his pockets, and waited for her next move.
Hermione smirked again. Hazel-colored eyes shone with excitement. She had broken into the bank, which was a victory in itself. Wand in hand, she opened her bag again. "Accio Canary Creams." Her hand circled the small flask and moved it to her pocket. "Accio Dungbomb." The same process repeated.
Antonin followed her as she made it to an opening in the wall. "What are those?" The wizard had imagined to exhaustion every little trick she could try to get inside the vaults, but this was not something he expected.
"Wizard Wheezes," was the only thing she offered. She cast a notice-me-not and cushioning charm and raced up the tunnel. Dolohov cursed but mimicked her actions and followed after her.
The short witch stopped as she came to the place where the dragon had once been. Crouching down, she moved closer until she was able to see what occupied the new space. It was a pleasant surprise to see a sphinx instead of a dragon. Sphinxes, of course, are dangerous, and this was a considerably big one. Since she was trying to test Gringotts' defenses, it was better to try to bypass the creature altogether.
Hermione refreshed her spells and slowly moved up the small steps toward the circular altar. She stopped at the entrance and considered her chances. Practically tip-toeing, she moved forward and closer to the Lestrange Vault.
"Welcome, thief," the sphinx said slowly with a sort of mechanical voice. It stood and walked closer to the notice-me-not witch. "You need to defeat me to move forward."
Hermione sighed, dropped her charms, and studied the beast. It was taller than her, with a copper lion body and a small brown tuft at the end of the tail. It had a beautiful woman's face with almond-shaped dark eyes. The beast watched her for long moments and then turned to gaze at Antonin. "Welcome to my abode, goblin's slave."
The dark-haired wizard made a small bow. "Greetings." After ten seconds, the wizard righted himself and stood with a straight back. "This witch is an uninvited guest. Do as you must."
The sphinx's eyes glowed for a moment. Then it sat as it gazed at the witch intending to steal from its treasures. "A riddle is customary," it explained, "Although other actions, including violence, are allowed. The privilege of age, the care to salvage the pride, the unrelenting will to guard all treasures."
Hermione crossed her arms and stood in a relaxed manner to allow for freedom of movement. "Before, how did you find me?" She hadn't read that sphinxes could sense magic or had advanced senses. The spells had made her practically invisible.
"Boredom allows for sharper sense, keener mind, glee for the opportunity, and sharp intuition." The beast spoke and even hinted at emotions, but the face remained cold and impassive. Sphinxes, like vampires and goblins, possessed logical thoughts and, as such, had human-like attributes. Some creatures resisted the idea of being compared to wizards and witches and preferred to be considered beasts. Such was the case of the sphinxes, although their violent nature put them more in the beast than creature category in the eyes of the Wizarding World. Private ownership of a sphinx was illegal, but this was Gringotts, and special privileges were allowed.
"I will share the riddle." The beast waited for confirmation.
"If I don't have the answer?" questioned the witch, still with arms crossed. The weight of her wet hair was starting to give her a headache. She cast a drying charm.
"You will not pass," confirmed the sphinx.
"If I have the answer," Hermione's eyes were fixed on the beast without blinking.
"You will not pass," confirmed the beast with a swish of its tail.
Hermione's fists came to her hips. "Delightful. Let's hear the riddle, just for curiosity's sake."
xxoOoxx
Pain, overwhelming pain, brought her awake, and a moan escaped her lips. "It hurts," she spat. Her chest hurt; she could barely breathe. They were moving, Dolohov was carrying her. She couldn't move her head to look at anything. It bounced with his sharp, uneven movements. "You are hurt."
"I'm fine," he whispered harshly. He shifted her body higher to move more easily. "We are almost out of here."
It smelled of blood. Lots of it. "I don't feel my body. I can't see you." Somehow that should have terrified her, but it didn't. There was no energy to waste on worry right now. Dimly she realized she must be gravely injured if her body was using all available power just to keep her alive. "You said you would protect me."
The wizard choked. "We are almost there. I can't use my magic in this tunnel, but we're getting to the exit." His fingers dug into her arms and legs. "You are a crazy Gryffindor, little thing."
"I don't remember what happened. Was it the sphinx?" she asked softly. She needed to talk, to think, to remember, or she would pass out again. "The pixies?" The diabolical things had been everywhere. How did they evade her charms? Could it have been their little clothes? Did those protect them against magic?
"The matagots did a number on you and me before you managed to trap them," he shared. "I suspect this is the Mortis Bat's poison. I told you to stop and give up." He growled now and paused to catch his breath for a few moments. His arms shook, as did his legs. "Can't stop, not now. Can't stop. Can't stop." These words, he whispered like a mantra, like the essence of his life.
Hermione waited. Again she tried to move her neck, to look at him, but couldn't. "I don't think I can help. I can't move." It would have been kind of her to be able to help him. Plus, if she helped him, she helped herself as well. She had no idea what had happened, but it seemed like he did try to save her. "I have the Canary Creams; you can turn me into a canary. It's in my pocket." Right now, her mind was spinning in a single memory, where she was just running and running. She might make sense of it later, but sometimes, when she awoke mid-dream, this would happen to her. Her mind would just ramble in circles.
Dolohov sat down when his legs couldn't hold him anymore but still held her firmly. "I can keep going. Transfiguring you could be dangerous in your current condition," he whispered after a disturbing silence. His arms started to shake. "I am strong; smart; I can do this." There was a choking noise, followed by a groan and another choking cry. He was sobbing now. His body shook as he took deep gulps of air, his voice breaking into gibberish. His back arched backward, and he screamed angrily at the ceiling.
Hermione's heart clenched. If she could move, she would have tried to comfort him. That tone of voice—she recognized it from Harry during those last months. Lost, afraid, and weakened by doubts. It sounded as if he was the one in the tent about to walk to his death. He was dying, or felt like it. His fingers holding her were anchoring him. This feeling of helplessness transported her back to that same tent. To that nagging fear that told her they would not survive, that hope was gone. Dumbledore was dead. Ron had left them. They were alone and helpless; they didn't know where to go or what to do. It was the end.
Tears flowed down her cheeks. It was impossible to sob with the pain in her chest. She still couldn't move. "Dolohov," she called softly. You can do it, Harry. "You can do it." We can do it. "You're not alone. I'm here. Please, save us." Dumbledore believed in you, Harry, in us. We can defeat Voldemort together. "I know you can, Dolohov. You said it's only a little further." His sobs began to ebb, but still, he wasn't moving. His fingers began to relax.
"You... do you still hate me?" whispered the ex-Death Eater. It was so soft that Hermione wouldn't have heard him if she hadn't been paying complete attention.
"No." It was the truth. At first, she had been terrified of him, Merlin; she was scared until she heard he had been captured and locked in Azkaban. Then, she started to heal. She understood. She hurt and feared less. "Only a little further, Antonin. Let's get out of this together."
His hands closed around her firmly. "You... said my name." The feel of his chest expanding as he took a deep breath was reassuring. He repeated the process a few times. "Only you." She heard as he took a deep breath and stood. He grunted in pain, and warm liquid fell on her chest. After another deep, painful inhale, he began to move again. The scent of blood intensified.
Hermione's heart thundered in her chest. "Antonin, what was that?" she asked and once again tried to move. "Is that—"
"I will succeed," Antonin interrupted as he continued walking. "It will be better than not failing. I will succeed." He grunted with each step he took.
TO BE CONTINUED
Notes:
JeniNeji's Note:
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 4: AFTERMATH
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 4 - AFTERMATH
The sound of a page rustling was the first thing Hermione noticed as she became aware of her surroundings. Fatigue weighed heavily on her body and eyes. However, there was a calm to her mind that she was afraid to let go of and face the day. Something prompted her to simply relax and enjoy it.
Another page turned. Hermione took a deep breath, and the smell of medicine hit her. There was no sound apart from the book, and the scent of muggle cleansing products was missing. It wasn't hard to guess she was in St. Mungo's in a soundproofed room. If she was here, everything should be alright. Besides, she was awake, so any danger must have passed.
The first step to wellness—moving and counting her fingers. It was good to see she had all her digits where they should be.
Another page, followed by a happy hum. Who would be reading so contentedly? Of all the Weasleys who might visit her, she could only think of Percy, which she doubted, or maybe Ginny with a magazine. But that couldn't be either since Ginny was pregnant. Harry wouldn't let her stay for long at St. Mungo's. The man-who-lived was too overprotective and doting to allow her to overstrain herself.
Finally, Hermione decided to make an effort to open her eyes. They still felt so tired, as if they wanted to rest more. Merlin, what could have exhausted her body like this? A grunt escaped her as she tried to will her body to obedience.
"Miss Granger?" It was a small, sweet voice—possibly that of a young girl.
The need to know who was at her bedside urged her to redouble her efforts. Her caramel-colored eyes blinked and focused on her unknown companion. Six, maybe seven years old. Black, silky hair reaching mid-back. Crystal blue eyes, fair skin. "Hi?" Out of the hundred questions and comments that crossed her mind, she opted for something tranquil and peaceful. No need for terrors, yet.
A wide smile lit the girl's lips, and her eyes seemed to shine. "Good morning, Miss Granger," the girl said excitedly. The small slip of a girl closed her book and passed it to her stuffed unicorn sitting at the foot of the bed. "Are you feeling better? Should I go and find a healer?" The girl's eyes dimmed, and her delicate eyebrows lowered with concern.
Hermione watched the girl for a few long moments. "I think I'm okay," she revealed softly, then glanced around. The room was average, and when her eyes fell on the empty potion bottles, there didn't seem to be anything strange.
"Mr. Potter was here a while ago," the girl said slowly, eyes fixed on Hermione's. "He said to tell you he will be back after work." The girl looked happy and proud to share the message.
It was impossible to resist a small smile at that. "I don't think we've met before," Hermione said carefully and turned a bit toward the girl. At first, her body resisted the movement, but when it finally complied, she was glad to find only the tiniest soreness. "Why are you here?"
The girl's cheeks colored slightly, and her eyes widened comically. "I am so sorry," she cried as she fidgeted with her fingers. "My name is Vera, Vera Dolohov."
After hearing the name, Hermione unconsciously flinched. The newfound information caused her to study the girl more carefully. The dark hair of Dolohov, but those eyes—they definitely must be her mother's. The girl's lips were slightly open and guarded after witnessing Hermione's reaction to her last name. "Nice to meet you," the older witch tried to amend. "I am Hermione Granger." It was silly, but she offered her hand in a gesture of goodwill. After all, this was just a girl.
Vera glanced at the offered hand for two seconds before carefully putting hers over it with a frown, perhaps waiting for a kiss. Hermione grinned and shook the small hand. The girl quickly caught up and returned the gesture. "I... I've wanted to meet you for a long time," whispered the girl with an awed look. "You are so smart! And Papa says you are powerful too. I want to be like you when I grow up." Vera stopped and watched Hermione consideringly for long moments. "I told Papa I wanted to be Gryffindor like you, but I am not sure if I am brave enough."
Hermione couldn't help but smile. This girl was becoming impossible to resist. How could she be so adorable? Hermione ignored the urge to hug the girl tightly and simply grinned at her. "What did your Papa say to that?"
The girl's smile widened. "He didn't say anything about me being like you; about being a Gryffindor, he just looked at me funny." The girl began to shift from side to side in her chair with excitement. "My Papa studied at Durmstrang, so he doesn't mind much about the Houses of Hogwarts, but he believes I'll be in Ravenclaw because I'm nice and like to study a lot. But! You're brilliant, and you were in Gryffindor... I don't know how you did it." As she explained, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully before she trailed off, swept away in her theories.
Hermione's cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "Well, you have time to find the bravery. If not, there's a little trick to the hat. I'm sure that a smart girl like you will discover it instantly. You'll see." After sharing this hint—not wanting to spoil the Sorting Hat's surprise—Hermione pushed herself upward to sit on the bed.
Vera watched nervously until the older witch finally settled. "Alright. I will find the secret. I promise." The girl turned in her seat to face Hermione. "You don't mind if I visit you, do you?" At Hermione's blank look, she quickly added, "Papa is here too, but he's asleep. Now that you're better, he will get better soon too, but while he gets better, can I visit you?"
There was no other possible answer that could appease her Gryffindor heart. "Of course you can come here. After all, I think your father saved me." Blurry images of Gringotts, dressed pixies and bats suddenly flashed in her mind, and the witch frowned. "Is he alright?"
Vera tilted her head to the side. "I think he will get better faster now. Papa explained to me a long time ago that his magic always protects you first." Vera stretched and took her stuffed unicorn. "So now that you're better, he will get better."
It was Hermione's turn to tilt her head. Protected her first? "That's strange. Why would that happen?" The frown remained firmly on her face. Vague memories flitted through her mind. She remembered answering the sphinx's riddle, but the beast had refused to part from her treasure. There were various sphinxes inside Gringotts, and as the leading sphinx, she could deny entry regardless of the traditional rules. A battle had ensued, and with the help of the Weasley's Dungbombs, Hermione had managed to distract the sphinx enough to stun it and put it to sleep. Until then, everything had been fine.
"Rowle said it happened after your duel with Papa," Vera shared as she drummed her fingers over the unicorn, trying to recall their words. "Papa said so too."
"The Department of Mysteries?" Hermione remembered it, of course. It had been years since she had felt any pain. The witch didn't even remember feeling anything about it for a long time now. She dismissed it with a shrug. "Rowle?"
"Yes!" chirped the girl. "We live with Thorfinn. But he is working right now, so I came to be with Papa, but he is sleeping too. So, I came here instead."
Hermione blinked as she considered this. Again, no mention of a mother. Vera was the daughter of an ex-Death Eater, being raised by two of them. Hermione Jean Granger was the person this little girl wanted to be like in the future. It was humbling and, at the same time, felt like such a huge responsibility. She needed to keep living and be an example to girls like these—the same way she had followed and looked up to her idols as a child. Who could have guessed it would come to this?
"Say," the witch began conversationally, "do you know what happened to us in Gringotts? Did your Papa say anything?"
The girl shook her head, black hair flying around her with the movement. "Papa didn't say anything. There was an envelope for you from Gringotts—I know the seal because Papa works there—but Mr. Potter took it and said he would give it to you later."
"Alright," she chuckled nervously, "I can wait a bit for Harry." Then her hands touched her hair, and her eyes widened when she realized that it was loose and wild. "Oh, no."
Vera's eyes narrowed until they disappeared as she laughed at the older witch's crestfallen face. Soon both of them were laughing, and the little girl offered to help tame Hermione's hair into a braid.
xxoOoxx
It came as a surprise, though it shouldn't, to Hermione when later in the afternoon, Thorfinn Rowle walked into her room. He stopped at the entrance and shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Vera?" he called, and when the little girl turned to him, his shoulders relaxed. He opened his mouth to ask her something but then decided against it. "Granger," he greeted with a nervous glance. "I hope Vera didn't cause you trouble."
He looked very much like the last time she saw him: tall, broad shoulders, cropped hair, and assessing blue eyes. "Not at all. Little Vera has been very helpful." She watched as the concern in his body seemed to leave.
"That's good. Thank you for taking care of her even while you're recovering from your wounds." He made a hand gesture to Vera, and the girl took her unicorn and book and jumped from the seat. She gave Hermione a broad smile and a short bow before walking toward the blonde ex-Death Eater. "Again, thank you." His eyes had lost their guarded nature, and he was now looking at her curiously.
"Thank you, Miss Granger," the girl offered and hugged her unicorn. "I hope I can see you again sometime."
Wide, slightly panicked blue eyes turned to her, asking silently. Hermione almost chuckled. "If I'm still here, you're welcome to visit." Vera gave a little excited jump, and Rowle looked grateful. "Take care." After a few more pleasantries, the pair left the healing witch to her thoughts.
Dolohov had a daughter named Vera whose mother was still a mystery. She could be related to Rowle, unless the two men had simply stayed together due to their friendship after being released from Azkaban. Though Vera and Thorfinn's eyes were that same arctic blue, so perhaps they were family after all. Hermione didn't know if Thorfinn had siblings.
Vera seemed like a lovely girl—an innocent child who could have grown up alone if her family had remained in Azkaban. She must have been born shortly after Dolohov's first escape from Azkaban and before his second capture. A war offspring. That must have been incredibly difficult in many ways, both for her mother and father. Still, such a sweet girl! The way Thorfinn was protective of her and how she spoke with such admiration of her father showed they must be very good to her. Hermione sincerely hoped this new generation would grow up happy and carefree, regardless of whose children they were. There was no need to burden them with their parents' sins or repeat the mistakes of the past.
"Hermione!" Harry moved to her side with three strides of his long legs and hugged her. "I was so worried! What crazy shit did you do?" His voice was scolding as he moved the seat closer to her and sat with an emerald glare. "When you told me you were going to check the security system, you didn't say it was going to be a field trip! I thought it was just talking and papers!"
A bubble of laughter escaped Hermione at his evident anger, and she was reminded of their school days when he was always the reckless one, with her trailing behind, scolding him. It was so liberating to be on the other side of the coin. "I'm sorry, Harry! I didn't even think about it. I just did it." She moved a bit and got more comfortable on the bed.
Harry hurried to help her move the pillows behind her. "Still! You could have died! Who would be James' godmother?!" He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.
Again, Hermione laughed. "Oh, Harry! Don't be silly. I was going to be fine," her lips lowered a bit as more shadowed memories tried to resurface. "Actually, I don't remember much of what happened. Dolohov was with me to help protect me." She trailed off and tilted her head searchingly.
The dark-haired Auror scoffed. "Dolohov! I heard. I can't believe you were alright with that. Why didn't you tell me?" He shook his head as he thought over the question. "Don't answer that. I know you're a worrier, and with Ginny expecting, I know you wouldn't have let me come because you believe you're the only one with a Gryffindor heart. But I must tell you that if Dolohov hadn't been there, you would have died." Harry's voice became more and more severe as he finished speaking, and the way his eyes blazed made Hermione shiver. "We could have lost you, Hermione."
A pressure suddenly hit her nose, and her eyes began to burn. "I—"
"Bloody hell, Hermione. We thought Dolohov was going to die. He lost so much blood! I didn't even see him when he was wounded, just when I got called here, but the healers said it was bad. They don't even know how he's alive at all."
"I don't remember what happened," her nose still burned. "I don't know why."
Harry sighed and dropped his head back. After a moment, his hand came to his coat, and he pulled out an envelope. "The goblins did something," he shared as he handed her the open letter. "So you couldn't share the new security with anyone. Something like a Confundus charm, I imagine."
Hermione's eyes widened as she read the letter and considered the information. "I won't remember." She didn't care about the new security upgrades; she wanted to know if she got to the Vaults. Find out what happened and why Dolohov was hurt and protected her so ruthlessly. As she came to the end of the letter, tears began to fall down her cheeks.
Harry yelped and ran his hands up and down her arms with concern. "Hermione, why are you crying?" he whispered as he squeezed her shoulders. "You got to the Vault. The Goblins congratulated you."
The tears doubled, and she bawled as she hugged him close. Harry complained a bit at the strength of her embrace, but knowing she seemed so negatively affected, he allowed it and used his hand to draw soothing circles on her back. The Auror whispered nonsense to help her calm down, and after a few minutes, she seemed to lose her energy and fell back onto the bed, eyes red.
"Hermione," he begged, truly afraid, "talk to me."
After a long moment where she fought a new wave of tears, she pressed her hands to her eyes and let it go. "I got to the Lestrange Vault, Harry! Only the Lestrange Vault. I didn't get to the other one, the one for my parents' healer contact."
TO BE CONTINUED
Notes:
JeniNeji's Notes:
Thanks for reading! I am changing a bit the fandom portrayal of Thorfinn and Dolohov. Please, tell me what you think!
Chapter 5: SAVORED
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 5 - SAVORED
"Hermione."
Tightly closed eyes opened, and the witch gasped as the darkness from her dream slowly released her. She found herself under the dim lights of St. Mungo's. Her hand was suspended in the air; she clenched it and brought it down again.
I threw the bottle. In her dream, a man had offered her a healing potion, and in her fuzzy state, instead of drinking it, she'd thrown it away.
"Hermione." The voice called again, softly, with a hint of a smirk.
The witch blinked and focused on the man at her bedside. "Ron." Her greeting was even and confused. "What are you doing here?" She nervously smoothed her hospital sheet. What time was it? Being confined to a room made timekeeping difficult. It should be morning.
The redhead rolled his eyes. "Checking on you." He settled more comfortably in the chair, his blue eyes hardening as they assessed her face. "You look better." He crossed his arms over his chest, resting his legs on the foot of her bed.
"I guess," she said, touching her hair to confirm it was still in a braid. "I feel alright." She wondered how much time had passed. Vera had told her yesterday she'd been unconscious for one day. Was this the third day, then?
"I don't mean the wounds," Ron explained, still staring, "You woke up blushing. It's been years since anything affected your emotions to that degree. That must have been an interesting dream."
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione growled, rolling her eyes. Death would be better than admitting she thought it had been a fuzzy memory rather than a dream. A blush stained her cheeks again. "I get plenty angry. I am very emotional."
His eyes blazed with anger at her denial. "You can't trick me, witch." He uncrossed his arms and lowered his boots to the floor, placing his elbows on her bed. "I know you inside and out, and you can't lie to me about your emotions. You've been cold with all of us for years now."
"Awkward, Ron!" She growled again and kicked at his arms. "You're married!" They were friends, but it had taken time for the embarrassment to fade. There was no desire to rekindle anything between them, but there were some private details she considered not his business that he still felt entitled to point out too often. He was a mixture of friend, teasing ex, and judging father.
His hand caught her furious legs. "And faithful. This isn't about that; this is me worried about a friend. You've been alive like one of those muggle robots but not living, and I don't know why, but seeing you like this today—it makes me relieved to see you're still in there somewhere." He started tickling her bare feet in punishment.
"Ron," she whined-laughed, kicking more forcefully to try to escape him. He laughed at her, eyes shining like a twelve-year-old boy again. When their breathing normalized, she felt nervous and very lost for a moment. "You are a prat." Her hands came to his, and she released her leg from his grip, unwilling to think about the things he said. There was a part of her that agreed with him, but another just chalked it up to the consequences of living through a stressful magical childhood. "I—"
"Don't think about it, Hermione," he advised with resignation, "You'll just get stressed." He sighed, stood, and gave her a last glance. "Whatever you were dreaming about, you need to pay attention to it. I guess it had to do with one of your many war traumas, and that one seems to be what you need to work on to fix yourself. And! Auror work is calling me." With a silly salute, he began to walk away.
"But I am okay," she whispered to his retreating back, "and I don't remember my dream anymore."
xxoOoxx
The afternoon found Hermione sitting on the bed with Vera, reciting what she knew from "Hogwarts: A History" from her years at school. She explained that each edition changed some details, and that it wouldn't be bad to learn about prior versions so Vera could be even better prepared for her studies. Vera had gleefully nodded her acceptance, and the day had passed in the blink of an eye.
Again, Thorfinn waited at the door as Vera packed her belongings during the afternoon. The girl patted Hermione's braid one last time to ensure it stayed in place. "Evening, Rowle. How's Antonin?" Hermione asked the taller man conversationally.
"Still sleeping," commented the ex-Death Eater as he took the small, pink bag from Vera. "The healers are confident he will make a full recovery soon. He works too much and sleeps too little. These vacations will do him good."
"Vacations?" Hermione wasn't one to take many days off either, but she was quite sure these wouldn't count as vacations. She shook her head with a smile and waved goodbye to Vera. Then she blinked, "Rowle! See if you can find a new 'Hogwarts: A History' or a book on Magical Creatures for Children."
Rowle raised both eyebrows but nodded. "I'll see what I can do." After that, he left the room, and Hermione endured the silence. Vera had been a welcome distraction, and so far the hospital stay wasn't nerve-wracking thanks to the girl. But now, facing her lonely room, Hermione's anxiety grew.
Would the goblins allow her to try the Vaults again? Would they offer the healer's contact in exchange for money? Or a favor? Technically, now that she knew where to look, she could find other healers too. Perhaps having lost wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she could still get the goblin contact some other way.
Her mind began to circle as she tried to solve this issue. Soon everything around her disappeared, and she was left with unending worry until Harry Potter arrived in the evening to distract her for a while.
xxoOoxx
A strong heartbeat awoke her in the middle of the night. It was slightly painful but more than anything, it was demanding. She sat on her bed and after a long moment stood. The floor was somewhat cold, but not uncomfortable. It was grounding.
The witch moved to the door and opened it. The hallway was quiet as she wandered until she decided on a goal. A few minutes later she found a mediwitch and learned which room was Dolohov's. It was close to hers, and she stopped in front of it for a long moment.
He had saved her. She owed him at least a check on his condition. Besides, it would be good to see how he was doing in case he came up tomorrow as she talked with Vera. Perhaps he could remember what happened to them during her mission. He was a Gringotts employee. It would be unproductive to confound him when it was his job to ensure everything worked correctly.
Gryffindor courage and Slytherin logic allowed her to push open the door and face her savior. It was ironic that Dolohov scared her both as an enemy and as a savior. It probably was because she did not understand him or his motivations. He was always a quiet wizard and no one had managed to make complete sense of him. There had not been a need for her to try before either. Years ago they were wholly separated entities, happy with the knowledge that there was no need to cohabit. Now, things had changed a bit.
Something in the back of her brain had always itched when dealing with him. A small voice telling her their destinies were somehow intertwined. Logic had helped her ignore such a notion, but time had not eliminated this discomfort. This wizard was connected to her, to her magic, somehow. Was it the curse? Was it something from before? Why would his magic protect her?
"You always smell nice," the raspy statement broke the silence of the room.
If Hermione had been more awake, she might have startled, but right now she existed in a confused numbness. She merely blinked and sat in the small chair in the corner. It didn't look very comfortable. "You're awake."
His lips stretched, and she could see a small smile under the dim lights. "You survived." He sighed and willed himself to open his eyes. After a moment they did, and his dark gaze fell on her—first her face, then her body as he checked for wounds. "How long has it been?"
"Today will be the fourth day," Hermione confessed. When she saw his eyes widen, she added, "Vera is fine."
Surprise made him blink. Then he smirked. "That girl is brilliant. She may end up a Slytherin like her mother." A fond look settled over his features. "She always speaks of you and of being smart and brave as you are. She would never miss this chance to meet you."
The witch joined his mirth. "Because she hasn't seen me angry or being obnoxious." It was easy to see the woman who dared fight against the dark lord, or her N.E.W.T scores, or the witch who wanted to better the treatment of creatures, but in the privacy of her home and with her friends, she was a difficult woman to get along with on a daily basis. She was bossy, blunt, and demanding.
His eyes bore into hers, as if he was trying to read her soul. On his bed and over white sheets, his skin looked golden, his messy short hair looked inviting, and his mouth seemed to call to her. His hand was tangled in the sheet and his magic seemed to be pulsing, full of life.
"Why did you protect me like this?" The question was open, and she didn't even think about it. It just flowed from her lips. The intensity in his eyes was making her nervous, a tingle in her body warning her of changes in her life. Of want and need and magic. "You almost died because of my stubbornness."
"Because my life, and magic, is yours," he whispered, like a prayer. He extended his right hand and closed it around her cheek. "Because it's you."
Gravity was pulling her toward him. Her body had a will of its own. She didn't understand, but in her confusion, she found no strength to resist. She flowed closer like a breeze. His hand drew her near with the softest of pulls. His eyes did most of the work of drawing her in.
Warm lips pressed against her cold ones. The pressure was soft, the feel like silk, his beard tickled. His left hand cradled the back of her neck as he pulled her closer. His dark eyes remained firmly on hers—asking, begging, hoping. She had no heart to deny him.
She captured his lips with hers and consumed the exhale that left him. His hand trembled against her cheek and his lips formed what she thought was the word "please." Consideration, gratitude, and wonder prompted her to try again, and this time he took it for the permission it was. He captured her lips fiercely between his and parted her mouth, venturing inside. He pulled her close and sat up as he savored her for the first time.
TO BE CONTINUED
Notes:
JeniNeji's Note:
Sorry for the delay! Work has been impossibly busy. I even hurt my right wrist because of the long hours working on the computer and writing hurts. I hope you liked this chapter! Let me know what you think!
Chapter 6: BELIEVE
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 6 - BELIEVE
It felt good.
There was no other thought in Hermione's mind. The brunette sat on her bed with her hair half loose from the braid Vera had done yesterday. She barely remembered her robotic walk from Dolohov's room to hers or tucking herself into bed.
It shouldn't have felt right. Antonin had been a Death Eater. He had tried to kill her and her friends; he had cursed her. She shouldn't have wanted to kiss him.
But she did, and it had felt right.
His lips on hers felt like they belonged, like it was meant to be. It was like the refreshing aftertaste of mint after brushing your teeth, or the spark of relief after drinking lemonade on a hot day. She craved more.
Should she?
Her heart said yes, her mind said no, her body agreed with her heart, and her hormones were having a crazy party somewhere in her body unknown to her—or was that her magic? What did Dolohov mean when he said they were connected? Were they under a spell? Did his curse do something to her other than harm?
Hermione frowned and blinked. Her mind returned to the present as she met Harry's aqua eyes watching her. She blushed to her ears. "Harry! What are you doing here?!"
His chuckle was like family, and even though she was embarrassed to be caught in her daydreams, she relaxed and laughed alongside him. "I was visiting you, silly witch."
"I'm sorry," she smiled and rearranged the blankets so she was more comfortable. "I was lost in thought."
"Hmm?" prompted Harry as he leaned back into the chair. It must be early in the morning still, and he must have come to visit before going to work. Sometimes she was amazed at his thoughtfulness.
"I kissed Dolohov last night," the words suddenly left her mouth. She tilted her head in surprise, "It felt good." Her caramel-colored eyes found him, and she saw both of his eyebrows hiding under his hairline. A chuckle escaped her.
"I think... that's more scandalous than seeing Ron running to the bathroom naked that one time." Then he laughed at seeing her reddened cheeks and groans of embarrassment. After a while and a pair of swats, they calmed down slightly. "I have to admit I never saw that one coming. You need to explain this, Hermione."
The short witch deflated a bit, and her eyes sobered. Small hands grabbed the sheets and began to fidget with them. "I'm not sure, Harry," she started with a soft, unsure voice. "I couldn't sleep and went to his room to see if he was awake, you know, because he saved me and I can't remember how or what happened." She started to speak much faster as she babbled, "He was awake, and we talked, and I just felt like getting closer, and he looked so... starved Harry," her eyes bore into his. Her hands clenched, "As if he needed me to breathe, to exist, and I think our magic urged us closer and I just... did it and it felt right. I can't explain it."
Harry reached out to her and ran his hands up and down her arms comfortingly. The way she seemed to panic and lock into herself was too natural a response to her after-war reaction for him to be comfortable. He knew the witch was prone to overthinking things all the time, and because of this, dealing with her emotions turned out to be very hard for her. She could easily rationalize everything, but getting over whatever it was proved very difficult. To Hermione, trusting her gut feeling was like reading a published article with a small sample and huge conclusions. She couldn't deal with the anxiety. "Sometimes, things don't need to make sense, Hermione. If the world always made sense, then you should have been the chosen one." He chuckled at that.
Hermione rolled her eyes, then bit her lip. "I'm scared."
Harry's mouth hung open a bit. It was the first time she had voiced such a feeling. Hermione Granger was always brave and knew everything. Ever since the accident with her parents, something had shifted in her confidence. There was pain, doubt, and alertness to her movements, to her eyes. It was understandable after everything, but at the same time, he loathed seeing her so withdrawn into herself. For the first time since then, something was moving, urging her. Finally, her magic was pushing again, and if that helped get some of the old Hermione back, he was going to help. "I am here if you need me." He moved closer and kissed her forehead. "But I trust you. I think you will be fine."
xxoOoxx
Hermione moved around the room slowly, following the directions of the healers. After a few diagnostic spells and some stretching exercises, she was allowed to return home.
Home, she thought blankly. What was she going to do when she went home?
The door of the room opened abruptly, and Vera ran inside. "Miss Hermione! Pappa is awake! I brought the books you asked Thorfinn to buy. We can read them together with Pappa!" The girl cried happily and hugged the witch tightly. For someone so small, her hug packed a punch. "You should come to see him! We can tell him everything we have been doing and keep him company and..." The girl's arctic blue eyes scanned the room and turned once again to the older woman. "You... you are leaving." The nurses had packed her belongings this morning.
The girl released Hermione from the choking hug and took a step back. "That's good. It means you are better."
Hermione could hear Vera's heart breaking into pieces as the words left her small lips. Somehow, she could feel hers doing the same. "We will visit your father," Hermione said softly. "I must offer my thanks." Again, she silently added. She couldn't leave Vera like this, and some closure might do the pair some good. They had clicked well in such a short amount of time. She was going to miss her.
Vera nodded and grabbed her unicorn plushie tighter while Hermione grabbed her bags and shrunk them into a pocket. Vera blinked in surprise, and when the older witch offered her hand, she took it with a beaming smile. "Lead the way."
Vera nodded and euphorically pulled her along, babbling the entire time as they walked toward her father's room. She began with how much better Antonin looked, how much of his breakfast he ate, and how happy he seemed. Then she hopped to wondering which book would be better for them to read—the one about magical creatures or the one about Hogwarts.
Hermione's head spun with nerves at the idea of seeing Antonin again and could hardly pay attention to everything the girl was saying. Harry's words hung in the back of her mind. Was it true? Was magic capable of this? Of pushing, pulling, and suggesting? Should she trust her instincts? Did Harry feel the same way with Ginny?
Hermione blinked when she found herself sitting in the corner chair, and she watched as Vera sat on the bed with Antonin. "Good morning." It was a bit late, but the wall of politeness saves a million people a day. Perhaps it could save Hermione Granger today.
Antonin smiled and squeezed Vera's shoulder. "Good morning, Miss Granger. It is good to see you are well."
The witch felt her cheeks burn as she followed his lips as they curved upwards and lowered her gaze before he could notice. "I've been released from St. Mungo's today so I can go home now. I'm sorry for everything that happened at Gringotts. It was very irresponsible of me." She fidgeted with her fingers while she spoke. It was true—she had almost killed them that day and Vera would have been left alone.
"You are a Gryffindor," he said as if that excused everything. "The House of the Brave and Reckless, no?" He tilted his head as he wondered if he had gotten it correctly.
Hermione smiled. "Those are standards of children. As we grow, we take some qualities from other houses and leave some from ours. I had hoped that Hermione Granger had left all the recklessness behind, but apparently not." Her voice was fond as she remembered the few goods from her youth. Back then she really was a focused person, always pushing forward no matter what. Perhaps that was a Hermione thing and not a Gryffindor thing.
"I'll find that number," Antonin promised as he hugged Vera closer. "It's the least I can do." When she blinked at him in confusion, he smiled. "I can only hope that if this were to happen to Vera, she would display as much bravery as you did. The war is over, but the pain is still very much alive. I will try to help you get your parents back."
Hermione's eyes blurred, and unbidden tears began to fall. There was no controlling the sea of sobs that followed. But among the pain, she felt Vera's small arms around her, and she wondered how someone so little could share so much warmth in her hug. Antonin didn't touch her, but there was no need. His magic was in the room, hugging hers.
For the first time after so many years, Hermione felt free to hope. To believe.
To be continued...
Notes:
JeniNeji's Note:
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story. Who is your favorite character so far?
Chapter 7: NEGOTIATION
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Rating: M
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 7: NEGOTIATION
Returning home turned out to be lonely. It was quiet and unchanged. Hermione needed something different, needed change. Sameness felt asphyxiating. Waiting, waiting, waiting…
She felt somewhat better now. She had been home for two days and was still on leave from her Ministry work, which had made her high-strung with anxiety. How could she help recover her parents' memories? Should she even try? What could she do to ease her parents back to their memories? How would she explain everything? How would she rebuild her relationship with them? How could she regain their trust?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a now familiar owl tapping at her window. It took her a moment to calm her racing heartbeat, break free from her cycling thoughts, and open the door to greet the owl. "Morning, precious," she said. The small owl hooted happily and, flying next to her, offered the parchment tied to its leg.
Hermione read over the note quietly and felt her heart clench. Vera told her she was in the second chapter of Hogwarts: A History, but found it quite complicated to read. She did mention, however, that she was able to finish the book on magical creatures and found it fascinating. The little girl described her day at home while Antonin and Thorfinn worked, and how she spent her time with her house elf Mina. The last part squeezed Hermione's heart even more when Vera wrote that she hoped Hermione felt better and told her how happy she was to have met her.
Hermione blinked back her stinging eyes and looked at the quiet owl watching her. "You have a beautiful master," said Hermione, and the owl quickly puffed her feathers and began to nip at her fingers. "Wait for my reply," said the witch while she offered the owl some treats.
xxoOoxx
The Floo whooshed as it opened.
"Shakespeare’s Abode?" asked a tiny voice. "Where is this, Thorfinn?" The voice took on a bit of laughter. All laughter died when Vera entered the room and looked around. A sob escaped her throat as she ran and embraced Hermione.
Seeing the emotions in the little girl's eyes, Hermione's own tears fell as she murmured assurances and ran her hands up and down Vera's back. "Come on... we shouldn't be crying... it's a happy day," Hermione assured her.
Thorfinn stood frozen by the Floo, holding Vera's book and her pink unicorn bag as he stared at the witches, dumbfounded. He watched as Vera slowly regained her composure, her sobs turning to sniffles. Then he watched as Granger dried her tears. "Ah... I hope everything is all right... if this is a bad moment..." he broke the silence uncertainly.
Both witches laughed and cried at the same time, making the hulking wizard even more confused.
"Everything is fine," assured Hermione. "I was driving myself batty sitting here all by myself. I'm sure that with Vera here my day is going to be very exciting. Besides, we didn't have the chance for a proper goodbye or manage to finish the books. Promises are made to be upheld."
Vera nodded enthusiastically and jumped at Thorfinn to gather her things. "Yes, Thorfinn, just go to work. I am fine... I am at Hermione's home!" she screeched excitedly at the end. "It's so pretty!"
Thorfinn took a step or two back and, after watching the witches walk into the house speaking excitedly, disappeared through the Floo Network.
Witches.
xxoOoxx
Antonin sat at Blordak's desk and waited patiently for the goblin to arrive. He did not move, just sat taking as much space as possible. He had done a lot for Gringotts Bank for years now. He had always been complacent, but now he found himself wanting to please someone even more than his workplace. Gringotts was now secondary to his need to please Hermione Granger, or family as he could say.
He had always tried to complete his missions, once because it would cost him his life and then because he enjoyed creating new things—proving he was still alive and capable. Vera had been many things in his life: a blessing, a curse, a hostage. Through it all, she had survived and kept striving every day. For a long time, he had feared his influence would only corrupt her, mislead her. He had taken care of her but hadn't connected as he should. Imagine his surprise when the little girl had grown and campaigned around the house all the time: about the garden gnomes, about her wardrobe, and about Hermione Granger. He wasn't sure where she got all of her ideas, but they seemed to give her purpose and happiness—and he found that her happiness was important to him.
However, most of the time Thorfinn and himself would look at each other and glance at the tornado that was witches' emotions with fear in their eyes. It was a blessing that Mina, the Rowle family elf, was with them and guided the little girl most of the time. But it was not the same, he thought, when he remembered seeing Vera and Hermione speaking in his hospital room. The way their eyes shone with warmth and connection. He realized then he had been lacking in caring for Vera.
"Antonin!" called Blordak, and he saw the goblin looking at him from his desk. "You still seem to be out of sorts! Are you sure you want—"
"Yes, I want the healer’s contact information," he said, slipping the brown envelope over Blordak's desk toward him. A surprised yelp escaped the goblin.
"Is this the one?" Antonin asked as his eyes glanced over the most important information.
"Yes," came the petulant reply. "I still don't know why—"
"Help me set up an international Portkey for Australia. One week should be about right?" Antonin said as he stood up and glanced at Blordak with a grin. "You always know how to make a brilliant negotiation. Let's work together for many years more."
"Antonin!" screeched the goblin as he followed the ex-Death Eater out of the office.
To be continued
Chapter 8: LEAVING ON A JET PLAIN
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 8 - LEAVING ON A JET PLAIN
"Hermione! Snap out of it!" called Harry as he shook the distracted witch who was staring at the wall. He pressed his hand over her forehead. "Are you sure you're not ill?"
Ron chuckled from where he sat on her sofa eating peanuts. "Dolohov broke her. Never thought I'd see the day."
Between Harry's insistent shaking and Ron's words, Hermione blushed, blinked her eyes, and threw a sock at Ron. "Stop this! Awkward!"
Harry laughed as Ron fell back to the floor, his hand desperately trying to remove the sock from his person. "Hermione, focus. Focus! You're going to Australia today... you need to focus! You can't go like this... you'll get lost or hurt or..."
"Harry! A Portkey is a perfectly safe method of transportation!" screeched Hermione as she continued to put things in her beaded bag. Recently published papers, work from the Ministry, an invitation to Weasley Wheezes' second shop opening, more socks.
"Hermione! Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? I'm sure Ginny can stay with Molly for one or two days!" Harry followed her and helped her pack, handing her a hairbrush, a pack of Sleekeazy's, and her toothbrush.
"That was gross, Hermione," snapped Ron as he moved to stand by the wall, arms crossed. "I don't know why I even bother to wish you farewell. Smelly socks for Ron, all my love for Dolohov!" Ron snickered and quickly dodged when a hex collided against the wall.
"Hermione!" Harry gasped in horror.
"Harry!" she snapped back and took her summer dresses from his arms and shoved them into her bag. "Don't Hermioneee me! Ron's being insufferable, and if he doesn't drop it, I'm going to make poor Demelza a widow before her first son is even born!"
The Floo whooshed to life and the pair heard a "good luck Hermione!" followed by Ron's chuckles as he escaped the house.
Hermione roared and glared at Harry.
"Easy, Hermione! Ron is gone, this is me—Harry, your friend. Let's get you all packed. The portkey leaves in one hour. You'll go to Australia, then register, then take the Magic Kangaroo Bus and get to the town where your parents live and—"
xxoOoxx
Hermione sat on a sofa in the Department of Magical Transportation, her beaded bag in hand and wand securely in her holster. Her leg bounced nervously as she waited. With a flick of her wand, she confirmed she still had 20 minutes until her assigned portkey’s activation. She stood by the door and watched as another group left for their destination. She had dismissed Harry a few minutes before, afraid he would hold on to her and end up in Australia.
She chuckled at how unbelievably Harry had taken over the role of mother hen for this trip. She had always been the one mothering them, so this role reversal was ridiculous. How could she have almost forgotten her toothbrush? Worse still, on the day she was going to meet her parents!
Her parents.
"Your portkey leaves in 15 minutes," a voice startled Hermione, and she was surprised to see Antonin in the small room beside her. She gasped and blushed when her eyes met his, feeling the same connection she did every time.
A sense of ease washed over her body when his hand grabbed her smaller one, and her eyes moved to it automatically. She gave his a tentative squeeze. "Hermione," he called, and she looked up, "Be strong. Sometimes these things take time... and you won't see results immediately." Hermione's lips parted in surprise at his words and her eyes trembled as he squeezed her hand. "Sometimes... these things work too fast and bring a lot of hurt." His finger caressed her hand. "Be brave like a Gryffindor. Flow like a Slytherin. Be patient like a Hufflepuff, and be wise like a Ravenclaw." His forehead touched hers, and the warmth made her nose itch and her eyes clench. She opened her arms, pulled him closer, and burrowed her face in his chest.
They stayed like that for a moment before one of the clerks called for Hermione Granger.
Slowly, Antonin pushed her away and kissed her forehead. "I wish you well. I wish your parents a fast recovery," and with a bittersweet grin added, "And I'll be waiting. Maybe, just maybe, life will allow us a chance."
Hermione grabbed his long sleeves. "I—"
"Do not," interrupted Antonin with a smile. "You have something to take care of. Do not tie your future yet. I am a patient man; life has made sure I learn that lesson. Take your time."
Hermione's eyes narrowed in anger and hurt. She stood on her tiptoes and moved to kiss him, but he moved an inch away. "Hermione," he said with a hint of apprehension, but she knew from the nuance of his voice and the flow of their magic that there was also deep regret and fear. And so, she held him firmly, pulled him down by the sleeves, and captured his lips with hers.
She swallowed his moan, her eyes firmly on his as she bit his lower lip. The fire in her eyes told him that she would not be denied. He opened his mouth, disbelief in his eyes, his hands hesitating, not knowing whether to pull or push. Hermione took care of that—she pushed him to the wall and deepened the kiss. A moment later, she felt his hands embrace her closer, grab her neck. She grabbed his hip and his neck as well, pulling him to the height she wanted and then ran her hand through his hair. Antonin opened his mouth and drew in a deep breath. "What are you doing, witch?" he growled as he once again claimed her lips. "The portkey, the portkey!" he whispered harshly as he gave her quick kisses.
Hermione captured his lips in that last kiss, deepened until she knew he will never forget it, and then laughed. She moved away and laughed again as she watched him leaning against the wall, his legs slightly bent to accommodate her height and his hair all disheveled. His eyes looked a bit owlish as he looked at her, and his lips were slightly red. She laughed again and ran to platform that will take her to Asutralia. To her parents. That will take her one step closer to the future.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Notes:
JeniNeji's Notes:
Thanks for reading!
Does the chapter title sounds familiar to you?
Chapter 9: AUSTRALIA
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Notes:
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
Rating: M
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 9 - AUSTRALIA
Hermione was sitting in the garden, a big hat protecting her from the summer sun. She wore comfy long pants and a simple white shirt. Her arms were bare, and if you had the sight, you could see a barely-there white line on her arm—a torture scar. A word that she once thought would define her future.
But the future is not set in stone. It's not decided by others. It is ours—if we're brave enough to believe it and fight for it.
"Hermione dear," said an older woman as she drank lemonade on the balcony, her clothes stained by grass as well. "I think one of those funny birds is coming."
Hermione glanced at the sky and indeed, an owl was flying closer to her. The large bird settled quietly on the white porch and puffed its chest as it watched her. It gave a hoot of greeting. Hermione smiled and walked to the bird, which pressed its head to her hand needily before finally offering its letter. "Thank you, Dobby." The owl hooted again and pressed its head against her hands as she read the letter. A small smile touched her lips. "It's from Harry. Ginny is pregnant again."
"Oh ho," laughed Mrs. Granger, "That was fast! James will definitely need his Godmother soon, else he feels lonely." Then she turned to the house, "Honey! Dobby is here... get his treats!" A muffled answer sounded from the house and Dobby, the Granger’s family owl, immediately took flight and went inside. "That owl is so needy!"
Hermione laughed and with a wave of her wand collected all the gardening tools from the garden. She sent them to her mother who was taking them from the air and storing them into their respective boxes. It was surreal to Hermione to imagine what life would bring. To watch her mother embrace magic, to watch her father cuddle Dobby as if he were a cat. To have them remember, accept and forgive her for what she had done.
It was short of a miracle, or of magic. Sometimes we think only a miracle would give us what we want. But she knew it was more than that. It was the will, the effort, the energy and love. It was the tears of a mistake, it was the love in a fight, it was the hold on a feeling.
xxoOoxx
It was fast, the return of her parents' memories.
Once she found their house, she and the disillusioned goblin stood at the front door. After a minute where both got their feelings under control, she knocked. Her father opened the door, ice cream cup in hand, and smiled in welcome. But a moment later his eyes widened and he looked her up and down. His ice cream fell and he clenched his hand around his chest with a grunt.
Panic exploded in Hermione's heart. She gasped and tried to scream, to hold her father, to make sure he didn't hurt himself. But she was frozen. Hermione's mother, hearing her husband, moved to the door and looked at her, and it was as if time stopped.
Hermione felt her magic expand, cocooning them in safety as her senses connected with her mother. It was as if a wall frame was shifted and set right. Colors seemed to pass between her mother's breath and hers. It was art and family and belonging.
"Why does my heart feel like there is a hole in it," her father said softly as he stepped near her and put one hand on her shoulder and another on her cheek. "It feels... just here but I... don't know." His eyes stayed on hers.
Her mother glanced between the two and tears fell from her eyes. "We will help," she said brokenly. "I feel like I must say this, we can help." She stepped between father and daughter and hugged her. "Please, stay. We will protect you."
It was a mere moment, and then everyone was crying and holding each other. Between tears, confused glances were exchanged, before being brushed aside and enveloped into another hug. Hermione tried to speak, to move, to do anything, but her sobs wouldn't let her. She could hardly breathe between the tears, and then she felt her eyes grow heavy.
Next time she awoke, she was on a couch and watched as the goblin healer muttered over her sleeping parents, a medallion dangling from her hand. "Impressive magic," whispered the goblin. "Mind connected in spaces by themselves."
Hermione stood and fell back down sitting on the couch. "Stay," warned the goblin. "Magic is healing. Do not go between." Hermione watched as the goblin worked and a hum-like song permeated the room. Both of her parents seemed relaxed and in a deep sleep.
The goblin moved closer to Hermione after some more minutes of work. "Parents have big intuition. Big magic sensibility. They seek connections in the world and in the magic. As if it were a book, like a years-old teaching. This makes roads connect with familiarity."
It took a few moments for Hermione to process, but still it was hard to understand. "My parents remember me? Was it... time? Did the spell weaken?" It would be a relief if that was the case, for it would make things easier, she guessed.
"No," the female goblin said. "It is an emptiness. A missing echo, sometimes it hurts. Hurt promotes feeling. Feelings seek connection, connections form paths, and paths give guide to find healing." The goblin looked at Hermione. "Parents have big connection to you. Big love. I just guided the memories out of the safe you created." The goblin waited while Hermione's tears fell. "Now we wait, for paths to form, and I guide."
It took weeks, but the paths in her parents' once-obliviated minds were carefully settled by the goblin healer. Her parents responded well to the healing, with relief being the most prevalent emotion. By the end of the process, they only cried once or twice a day, Hermione included. It was a raw reunion, filled with regrets, sadness, and frustration.
"We knew what was going on in the magical world," her mother had told Hermione when they were starting their healing, her hand holding onto her daughter as she cried. "We always knew, but we thought you didn't want us to know, so we didn't tell you. Professor Remus Lupin would visit our house every year after your third year, when you returned early to school and stayed with the Weasleys. He always came on the first day of school and had dinner with us. We even hired him to help at the clinic," her mother cried. "We knew you were in danger, we knew we were in danger, but Professor Lupin was going to help. We had some money and got a flat for you, as a hideout." This made Hermione cry and hug her mother.
"We shouldn't have kept quiet," her father had admitted one day as they sat talking about those dark times. "We thought we were lifting a weight from your shoulders when we only added to it." He looked at Hermione for a long moment. "Professor Lupin… he's not around anymore, is he?" Another wave of tears overwhelmed them as Hermione confessed her favorite professor's fate.
Life with her parents slowly regained a sense of balance as they resumed their homely lives from the past. Her parents, now retired, spent most of their time researching and reading about new advances in dentistry and occasionally consulting with others. They also enjoyed spending time in the gardens and exploring town for new restaurants. It was pleasant.
Yet this sometimes filled Hermione with guilt. "How could you just… forgive me like this?" she asked once as they dined.
Her parents glanced at each other for a long moment and turned to her with eyes full of love. "Because we love you," said her mother with a gentle laugh.
"Because we are all alive," added her father. "We're living a golden life in this beach town in Australia. We have the means to survive, money to sit back and enjoy… and we have you."
"Magic or not," said her mother, "we are a family, and we are connected—that's something nothing can make us entirely forget. And we have a future, a future we can enjoy together."
xxoOoxx
It had been almost a year now. Her relationship with her parents had mended, and she felt confident that it would grow from now on. It was strange to have exchanged her once all-consuming worry about her parents' memories for the wonder of possibilities that lay ahead.
For the wonder of tomorrow.
Hermione sat on her bed, Dobby cuddling at her shoulder, revisiting her favorite letters from London.
I have finished Hogwarts: A History. My favorite part is about the Giant Squid—do you think he will want to be my friend? - Vera
Did you know there's a branch of Gringotts in Australia? Perhaps Australian goblins are kinder than their London counterparts. - Antonin
Uncle Thorfinn has a girlfriend, Katie Bell. Don't you think her last name is funny? - Vera
Hermione, if you ever want to return, remember we miss you very much and would be happy to give you your post, with a higher salary. Please return to work with us. - The Ministry
Hermione! Come to the Burrow, there are so many babies that we need more arms to help. I'll make your favorite food. I am glad to hear your parents are doing much better—bring them too. - Molly
Hermione, James is teething and crying all the time. Save me! - Harry
Hermione and Dolohov, sitting under the Thieves' Waterfall… - Ron
We have plenty of jobs available for someone with your capabilities and connections. If you are ever in need of employment, contact us! P.S.: And tell Antonin to stay here with us—we will negotiate a good stipend for you both. - Blordak, Gringotts Bank, London.
Send me some references about pregnancy and Quidditch, Hermione. I can play until I'm six months or so, I'm certain of that. Help me! Someone must have done research into that… right? - Ginny
Hi! I've heard that the last Ness monster baby is living in Australia. If you find any clues, let me know. - Luna
My birthday is coming soon. I always celebrate with Thorfinn, Mina and Pappa, but I would like it if you could come. - Vera
Hermione lay back on her bed, letters and parchment slips scattered all around her. Dobby hooted his complaints before settling by her pillow and her hair.
Hermione caressed the small parchment in her hands and smiled at the scratchy handwriting. It was so simple that it was entirely Antonin.
She had to admit that being in Australia, with its many distractions and responsibilities to her family, had given her space to sort through her feelings. She missed how she felt when she was near Antonin, how her magic hummed with joy. She liked trying to understand what secrets his eyes were hiding, and interpreting his subtle facial expressions. She enjoyed how he made her feel, and how good his kisses felt. She was also confident that Antonin would be her intellectual equal, and had imagined countless discussions, debates, and theories they could explore together. But... there was this tiny part of her that was afraid. Afraid they might not match as she hoped they would, afraid of their age gap and different life experiences. Afraid of their differing moral compasses.
I hope you are doing well. I wish you all the happiness. You deserve it. - Antonin
"Now," she whispered, "what's next on the path to happiness?" Or, like Harry liked to joke sometimes, Happiness doesn't come without fighting for it. If happiness was a gift we wouldn't appreciate it.
The question was, "Do I dare?" Well, she was a Gryffindor.
TO BE CONTINUED
Chapter 10: A Chance
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
CHAPTER 10 - A CHANCE
Hermione stepped out of the Department of Transportation in England, glancing around with a broad grin. The air smelled of London. She was back home.
Thorfinn was impossible to miss in the crowd—tall and pacing as if the world was about to end. She approached the wizard, who hadn't even noticed her, and greeted Katie Bell with a hug. "Katie. I am so glad to see you well."
The older witch smiled softly, her age having accentuated her beautiful features even more with the years. "Hermione," she greeted warmly, "I hear we are sister souls with this pair of misfit wizards."
Hermione laughed and turned to look at the stricken Thorfinn. "Thorfinn, anyone would think you committed murder, for Merlin's sake. You only kept a tiny secret from Vera and Antonin, for a surprise visit to a surprise party. Should I find the word surprise in the dictionary for you?"
Katie laughed beside Hermione and gave the tall wizard a side hug, which helped relax him. "I'm positive they know I'm hiding something. They always look at me like this. Ugh. Well, I for one am happy you made it back on time, healthy and in one piece," he finished with a relieved breath, hands in his pockets.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Hermione laughed, and Thorfinn groaned as he led the witches to the Floos.
xxoOoxx
"It has been a long journey, Antonin." The sound of a pen scratching against paper filled the silence. The office was decorated with soft yellows and abundant plants. "It's been almost a year since Hermione left. I believe your initial feelings have settled, and you've had time to adjust to the possibility of a new life. How do you feel about that? Do you think you deserve this?"
Antonin Dolohov sat on a chaise and looked out the window. The magical window displayed a white-sanded beach with calm waves under a blue sky. After staring for a full minute, he turned to meet Susan Bones' eyes. "Feeling deserving of anything seems very new to me." The dark-haired man opened and closed his fist a few times, watching the movement. "It's still surprising that the family curse that plagued me since birth is gone. Sometimes I wake up in fear, thinking it's returned and will take Vera away. Or... her."
Susan gave him a moment as he shifted to get more comfortable on the chaise. "I understand your concerns," she said softly, setting her papers aside. "The curse is gone now. You're freer than you were before. You no longer need to fear letting your magic connect with others. He is dead, and the family curse is broken. He can't recognize those your magic considers yours or harm them. I understand you kept all magic locked inside before and denied yourself, but now it's safe to let go. It's the only way to heal and to enjoy your life."
Antonin gave her a quick glance and relaxed slightly, as if absorbing her words and trying to inscribe them into his thoughts and heart.
"You can be yourself now. You can give yourself this chance to know Hermione Granger. Besides," she chuckled, "if Hermione Granger thinks you're worth it, then believe her. After all, she is the Brightest Witch of our Age."
They both laughed, and somehow, a great weight seemed to lift from the room.
xxoOoxx
It was almost midnight when Vera finally fell asleep. Hermione sat beside her with "Hogwarts: A History" closed on her lap. The girl had been over the moon when she saw Hermione at her 7-year-old birthday party and had clung to the witch like a niffler with its favorite gold coin.
The party had been filled with laughter, delicious elf-made cake, and plenty of funky dancing. Though only three other children attended, the small quidditch pitch behind the house provided ample entertainment for the afternoon. Since a proper quidditch match wasn't possible with such a small group, Thorfinn and Katie had prepared a set of hoop games for the children—which, in Hermione's opinion, was a complete success.
During the birthday party, Dolohov and Hermione had exchanged shy glances, but he had given her space to mingle with the partygoers and Vera. It was only now, as she stood at Vera's bedroom door, that he finally made his presence more open and welcoming.
"Welcome to London," he said softly, arms crossed as he waited by the door. He watched as she tucked Vera into bed and stepped aside so she could exit the room. He gently closed the door behind them after ensuring Vera was sound asleep, then motioned for Hermione to follow him downstairs to a small sitting room where tea and snacks awaited.
Hermione sat with a smile and accepted the offered tea, relaxing into the comfortable silence. She noticed Antonin doing the same, though his eyes never left her, following her with an apprehensive intensity. She closed her eyes for a few moments as she sipped her tea and gathered her thoughts.
"I'm back," she said, and when she opened her eyes they glowed with happiness. "My parents are safe and happy. My godson grows every day, and I can finally look toward the future. Or at least, I'm working on that." She chuckled softly. For years, her life had revolved around guilt and worry about her parents. The absence of that weight now felt almost unbelievable—and even a bit frightening.
"Future, huh," pondered Antonin as he nibbled on a snack. "I guess... I wasn't one to think about the future much either." He locked eyes with her. "Thinking of tomorrow was hard. Survival focuses on the present. It's... damaging to think only of survival every day for... so many years."
Hermione lowered her eyes and pursed her lips. "Our generation of wizards and witches... will forever be marked by this conflict. I do hope the next one is free of it," she said as they shared a meaningful glance.
Dolohov nodded and slowly moved his hand across the table, palm facing up, then let it rest. "Hermione Granger, I would like... to get to know you. And give you the chance to know me. I know we have a magical resonance, but... that's not everything in a... relationship. I think it would be nice to see if there's resonance in other areas of our lives as well. Would you... like the same?"
Hermione looked at his hand for a long moment, then met his eyes—steady and attentive as they gazed at her. She placed her hand over his. "I would like that as well." She smiled and pulled him closer until she could kiss him—the way she had wanted to since arriving earlier that day.
To be continued…
Notes:
JeniNeji’s Note: Thanks for reading!
Chapter 11: Epilogue
Summary:
Summary: After her break-in at Gringotts, Hermione Granger's vault was confiscated. Five years later, she receives an invitation to mend their strained relationship in exchange for her services. [Hermione/Antonin]
Chapter Text
THE GRANGER VAULT
EPILOGUE
Murmurs rippled through the crowd around her, making it difficult to breathe evenly as she had been taught. The air hummed with expectation and fear.
Remain calm. Even breaths. Chin high. You belong here.
Fear gripped her, but what if...
"Bulstrode, Amelia," called Deputy Headmaster Filius Flitwick from where he stood, a few inches shorter than the old chair with its worn brown Hat sitting atop it.
The sudden hush in the Great Hall was broken by uneven footsteps.
I belong here. I belong here. I received a letter for Hogwarts.
"Hufflepuff!" cried the old Hat, and people clapped enthusiastically.
"Collin, Cassandra." This student walked more confidently after seeing what had just happened.
She was worrying for nothing. Slowly, Vera felt her heartbeat return to a comfortable pace. The buzzing in her ears subsided, and she could breathe again. Warmth spread throughout her chest.
She remembered the wild party last night at the Burrow—all the kids playing Exploding Snap and gorging on chocolate frogs. James had given her a warm hug as he cried about being left behind. Molly had embraced her and given her a charm that would magically change to the color of her house when she was sorted.
She also remembered Hermione's kind eyes as she kissed her forehead goodbye at Platform 9¾. "Know that we love you and we will still love you no matter where the Hat sorts you." The words made Vera feel warm inside. She had given Hermione a soft hug and said goodbye to the baby bump in Hermione’s belly. She also remembered her father's strong embrace, his eyes suspiciously watery as he kissed her forehead and slipped some galleons into her hands, whispering, "For the Honeydukes Express trolley uncle Thorfinn told you about."
Her family was growing. They were happy, and she was happy.
"Dolohov, Vera," the Deputy Headmaster called.
Vera took a deep breath and walked one step, then two... and sat down in the creaky chair. She didn't flinch when the Hat was placed on her head.
"Ah, I see inside your mind... a very bright mind, able to learn so much! But this! Admiration and heart! I know where you will flourish... yes... Let your new home be—"
As Vera took her seat among her new housemates, she felt something her parents had often described to her—the sense of finding where you truly belong. It wasn't just about the House colors or the dormitory she would sleep in. It was about carrying forward the courage her parents had shown in finding their way to each other across all barriers.
She knew their story wasn't perfect. There had been pain, loss, and difficult choices. But looking at them as they waved at her from Platform 9¾—Vera understood that the best endings weren't really endings at all.
They were just new beginnings.
This was hers.
The End
Notes:
JeniNeji's Note:
Thank you for reading this short, sweet story with me. I hope you enjoyed it.
Until we meet again.
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