Chapter Text
“You never told me you were going to be there!” Hermione was livid, she felt like she was Incendio personified. She had hoped by the time Malfoy returned to London her emotions would have thawed. But things still felt incredibly raw five days later. The edges of her vision were beginning to grow scarlet, her skin prickled and was taut with tension. She attempted to alleviate her agitation by pacing across the length of her small lounge.
Malfoy snorted and leaned back into her sofa. “You never asked!” She shot him a glare and he quickly amended, “Or rather, you asked far too late, as it happened. You should have purchased a mobile when I asked you to a few years ago. A simple text and -”
Hermione shook her head, her hair expanding in fury. “Malfoy,” her hands shook in rage and it aggravated her further. She clenched them by her sides. “Seeing you in Glencoe was -”
Malfoy interrupted her. “A big fucking mistake.”
Hermione growled and tossed her unruly hair back away from her face. Her fingers snagged in her tightening curls. “That is somehow an under exaggeration, if you can believe it.”
“Look, Granger…” Malfoy said as he folded himself forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. Hermione continued to prowl in the space around them. “Granger!” he barked. “Can you just sit down? I can’t stand all the pacing. You’re acting just like Sn-”
She felt her heart squeeze at Malfoy’s intended reference. “Don’t finish that sentence,” Hermione warned through her teeth. She crossed the room and sat heavily in her chair. Malfoy held up a hand in surrender, and pressed his lips together. Hermione propped an elbow on the arm rest and held her head in her hand.
Several long minutes passed in silence other than Hermione’s loud irate breathing. Malfoy spoke softly and slowly, as if Hermione was a flighty Mooncalf, “I am assuming, based on this reaction, it did not go well.”
Hermione tensed her jaw and it cracked under the pressure. “No.”
Malfoy’s shoulders deflated. Regret was laced in his voice’s undertones, “Granger, I didn’t mean to -”
“To ruin my life?” Hermione winced immediately. She hadn’t meant that but she was so damn angry over this mess. She might have had a chance at something with Severus and now the entire idea was unapproachable. It was her own bloody fault, she knew; Snape was right. She often thought she knew what was best for people, and she had acted so without taking his opinions or feelings into account.
“You don’t mean that,” Malfoy muttered, quickly dismissing her barb. “You’re just cross right now. And -” he hurried on at Hermione’s indignant snort, “- you have every right to be. You’re correct, of course. I should have told you when I was visiting the production, especially as you’re investigating it.”
After a beat, Hermione uttered morosely, “Was investigating.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, asking the question nonverbally.
As Hermione spoke, the tension slowly left her frame, “This was going to be my last assignment anyway. I’m burnt out, Malfoy. I have been for some time. But I haven’t seen Snape since Glencoe and what’s the point of staying on now… the fun is gone. I resigned today. Used the ‘wanting to explore something new’ excuse.”
Malfoy appraised her with his grey eyes, pity swirling in their depths. “You really did like him, didn’t you, Hermione?”
She sunk further into her chair at the use of her first name. She sighed, “Would you make a snarky comment if I said I did?”
“No,” Malfoy answered simply. “I am just sorry that my actions created a rift between you.”
“It’s more than a rift, it’s like a bloody bottomless crevasse.” Malfoy flinched at her assessment. She rushed to reassure him, “I will never regret helping you, Draco. I just… I guess I wanted both. To continue to be your friend and to be something more with Severus. But I did not approach it correctly and I have paid for my mistake. I betrayed him by not telling him about us right from the very beginning. In his eyes, it’s as if I cast an actual Unforgivable.” Distressingly, she felt her voice growing thick, “I am unpardonable in his eyes.”
Malfoy looked at her pensively, as he twisted his hands together. “No,” he repeated. “Give him a little more faith than that.”
Hermione’s voice cracked as it wafted out into the room, “I don’t think he could ever forgive me.”
His steady gaze pinned hers. “Granger, you’re a Gryffindor. You didn’t give up on me. Don’t give up on him.”
She shook her head. “Oh, but Malfoy, you never had to forgive me. It was the other way around, remember?” Hermione smiled sadly at him.
“You are deserving of receiving forgiveness, and I want you to be -”
“Malfoy,” Hermione interrupted, raising a stiff hand. “If you say ‘happy’ next, I will assume you’ve been polyjuiced and I will hex you, Ms Szimonetta be damned.”
He relaxed back into her sofa, the mood shifting slightly. “Can’t a friend just say something nice in your house without old ladies having to be damned?”
“Very funny.” Drained, Hermione rubbed her forehead.
“Chin up, Granger, things will sort themselves out.” Malfoy dug out his mobile from his pocket and began to fiddle with it. “And I’m serious about giving Uncle some time,” he said without looking over at her. “By the end of the year he could very well be swish and flicking you, if you know what I mean.”
Hermione laughed in spite of the ridiculous prediction. Malfoy’s responding smirk was feral, and very Slytherin. It would have made her take pause in almost any other circumstance but today… she was just too emotionally fatigued to care if he was plotting. Malfoy had seemed certain that Snape would eventually forgive her. Hermione, while knowing that it was futile, couldn’t help but wonder if there really was a glimmer of hope for a future friendship with Snape.
---
Severus returned to work a week after Glencoe. Although time had passed, he still felt deeply wounded by both Granger and Draco’s betrayals. He had thought a week off, convalescing at home, would have dulled the edges of his anger and grief. It hadn’t. If anything, the isolation and lack of routine made things worse. Severus hadn’t slept well, barely ate, and found no pleasure in his independent projects. Upon his return to the Ministry, his skin itched in apprehension. Severus would continue to avoid Hermione as long as he could. He wasn’t sure if he would blow up at her again, or end up forgiving her for her transgressions. Not knowing which way his temper was leaning toward terrified him. A co-debrief with Murphy would be inevitable but he wasn’t going to seek Granger out in the meantime. As he stealthy passed her workroom, he didn’t see her untameable brown hair amongst the cubicles, and bit back a sigh of relief.
As Severus approached his cubicle, something on his desk caught his attention. It was a box, about the size that his dragonhide boots had always been shipped in. As he stepped closer, his cubicle neighbour, Porter, rose from his seat and leaned against the partition. “What do you think it is, Snape?”
“A box,” Severus muttered, shrugging out of his outer robe and laying it over his chair’s backrest.
“No, my good fellow,” Porter said as if Severus had simply misunderstood. “I meant what do you think is in the box?”
Severus, used to Porter’s incessant prying, said evenly, “Well, that would be impossible to know without opening it.”
“Yes, well,” Porter said bouncing on his feet slightly, his shorter frame barely allowing his eyes to see over the partition. “I am awfully curious.” The other man pressed his glasses up his nose.
Severus most definitely didn’t want to share what was in the box. He had an idea as to who it was from; his notebook was practically vibrating with the energy of dozens of unread messages next to it. It was predictable really: Gryffindors and their legendary insistence on arguing a point ad nauseam, even when they were wrong. For a fleeting moment Severus considered just setting his entire desk on fire and paying for the damages out of his wages. “Porter,” he drawled, intending to spook his neighbour into retreating back to his own space. “You are familiar with my past, correct?”
“Of course, but we all know that you were instrumental in -”
“Yes, yes,” Severus waved his hand, dismissing the hollow accolades. He tapped the top of the box with two fingers. “This might have something to do with my time before I embraced the light, and perhaps it’s best for you to not bear witness to it.”
“Oh,” Porter squeaked, his face growing pale. “Right. Good thinking. You’ll let me know what it is later?”
“If I can,” Snape murmured as he sat in his chair. He shrugged elegantly. “You know how things are.”
“Right, right,” Porter said as he peeked inquisitively at the box one more time before slipping out of sight.
Severus waited a beat to make sure Porter wasn’t going to pop back over uninvited. Deciding to grant himself an extra level of privacy he cast an altered Muffliato, ensconcing himself in a hazy bubble.
He rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers. Severus’ gaze flickered between the notebook and the box. The notebook would, more than likely, explain what was in the box, but it was also probably full of melodramatic messages he’d rather not read. However, if he wanted to appear competent at the debriefing, he was going to have to read it. Severus felt his shoulders tighten, and he rolled them trying to find relief.
Electing to treat this unpleasant experience like ripping off a plaster, Severus slapped open the notebook before he could change his mind.
/
G: When you arrive, I’d like to talk.
/
G: I can reserve a conference room.
/
G: Are you in yet?
/
G: How about now?
/
G: Severus, I am sorry I didn’t tell you from the very beginning. At first, I was just having fun playing the part. s things became more serious I realised that you should know about our involvement, but I felt protective of Draco. I thought he must have had a good reason for it if he never told you about what he was up to. And then I was never able to properly ask him to allow me to include you. By the time we went to Glencoe it was too late. Obviously.
/
G: I admit my deceit was a very self-righteous Gryffindor thing to do, but it came from a good place. Draco was in rough shape five years ago. I was worried he’d backslide if I betrayed his trust. Unfortunately, that meant that I had to betray yours.
/
G: Are you in and avoiding me or are you really not in yet? It’s almost noon.
/
G: I walked by your cubicle. Porter said he hadn’t seen you yet today. Then he went on about his investigation into an Imp infestation. When I asked why he didn’t just distract them with Wizard Crackers he acted like I had just presented him with an Order of Merlin. How do you put up with him? I’m rather sure I’d have hexed him already myself.
/
G: It’s time to go home. I’ll try again tomorrow.
/
/
G: Are you in?
/
G: Severus?
/
G: I asked Murphy and she said you asked for some time off. How long did you ask for?
/
G: I suppose it was stupid of me to ask that since you aren’t here. It’s not like you’d take this notebook home.
/
/
G: It’s Wednesday. Severus, it’s obvious I’ve hurt you quite badly because it is very unlike you to not come into work. Didn’t you come in with a case of the flu last year?
/
/
G: Severus, I am leaving you a box on Friday, unless you come in today. It will have everything you need for a proper debriefing with Murphy and your files. You were right that night on my terrace, about me needing a break. I don’t want to work here anymore. I’d like to talk with you before I leave. I hope you come in.
/
G: Please come in.
/
/
G: Snape, on your desk you will find a box. Enclosed is a doctored journal of a fabricated student who detailed her life at Hogwarts while Harry attended.
All you need to do is hand it in and file it correctly with Artifacts. Tell Murphy I found it in a production office this week while you were out. It’s untraceable, so it won’t come back to me or Draco. The simple statement that the Muggles ran across it, assumed it was fiction, and then created an app and film based on it, should be enough to satisfy the Ministry. Based on the naivety of the average Muggle media-consumer, they can be assured that there will be little suspicion that the app and film are sourced from real events. Patil isn’t as thorough as Shacklebolt so it should be enough to satisfy her to accept it at face value.
Next, you’ll find a partner evaluation. It’s exemplary in detailing your performance. I always keep my promises, Snape. And even though I have no future plans to toll away in the Department of Mysteries anymore, I hope this gives you the leverage you need to be successful if you do.
Don’t hex too much without me.
/
Severus opened the box and removed the journal. He flipped through it. As he did, he vaguely remembered this student, the impressions of her appearing on the outskirts of his mind. Severus closed the journal immediately. He should have figured that she’d cover her tracks in more ways than one. Hermione must have figured out a potion based on Falsa Memoriae and had the pages dipped in it. If he’d wager, it would keep its potency for weeks, months perhaps, definitely enough time to hoodwink the Ministry into believing the ruse.
Under the journal was an impeccably filled out partner evaluation. Severus traced his name written in her tidy script with a finger. He flipped through it to find no falsehoods. She hadn’t overexaggerated his contributions nor let her emotions seep into the verbiage.
He was about to slip the top of the box back into place but his gaze caught one more thing at the bottom. Severus suddenly felt very cold and alone. Something in his chest began to writhe, twisting on itself and exploding into stinging tendrils all the way down into his belly and up his neck. Severus gasped in pain. Immediately, he began to Occlude. He dulled everything, he didn’t want to feel anything anymore. Severus violently pushed the box away to the back of his desk.
Merlin, this hurt. Severus stood, pushing his chair back. He stared at the box as his eyes grew dimmer and darker, as the Occlusion took hold of him and his senses. Severus leaned on the desk with one hand and rubbed his chin roughly with the other. When he had done a sufficient job of muffling his inner turmoil he snatched the evaluation and journal. As Severus stalked to Murphy’s office he briefly considered following through on his initial threat to set fire to his desk, and therefore the box and its contents.
He didn’t want to return to the box on his desk. Not while it held his copy of Love Does Not Stop at Red Lights.
---
Well, Draco thought as the door shut in his face, it was a good thing I cast Silencio. He heard his godfather curse on the other side of the threshold over the disappointing thud the bewitched door made rather than the expected satisfying slam. Draco waited a beat before he slipped his wand out of his sleeve. A gentle wave and the door unlatched and opened inward. He took a steadying breath, and nudged the door with his toe. A lazy hex came spinning around the frame. It was deflected easily.
“Really, Uncle?” Draco called from behind the door. “Haven’t you had enough target practice, lately?”
Snape’s dark baritone rippled out into the corridor. “It was only a warning, Draco. The next time I won’t miss.”
“No, I suppose if that were to happen, I'd have doubts as to your reflexes,” Draco easily volleyed back.
“Is this,” Snape drawled, “a visit of actual importance or are you here to continue your lies to me?”
“Ouch,” Draco muttered as he toed the door open a little further. “Have some faith in me, please.”
“I admit, I have wondered lately if I have misplaced it.”
Draco didn’t respond, letting the words settle in the space between them. It was obvious that his godfather was hurting over what he considered to be a deep betrayal. By tradition, Malfoys don’t grovel but he might very well have to make an exception here. Especially, if on the scale of Snape’s wrath, his side was tipped lower than Granger’s. Draco pushed the door the rest of the way open. He scanned the dark flat, and was relieved to see that nothing seemed out of sorts. His Uncle was sitting rigidly in a plush chair near the door leading to the courtyard. “Is the dark really necessary?” he asked as he nonverbally strengthened his shield. Draco wasn’t daft, and he didn’t want to be caught completely unaware if his godfather had decided to teach him a lesson.
“It fits my mood,” was the reply. “As if that isn’t obvious.”
“Oh no, it is rather obvious,” Draco agreed quickly. “I just wonder, if perhaps, it’s a bit immature.”
“Draco -” Snape growled.
Draco stepped fully into his godfather’s flat and closed the door behind him with his foot. Despite the danger it presented to himself, Draco couldn’t resist in baiting the other man. “Now, Uncle. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, your own godson. So, your threats mean very little.”
Snape’s voice could have withered an entire vine of Mistletoe. “Not every hex leaves physical scars.”
“Mother would be disappointed -”
Snape interrupted immediately, “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Now, Uncle -” Draco began as he took a step into the lounge.
Snape snapped out of the chair to his full height. He took several steps closer to loom menacingly over the shorter man. “Tell me why you came before I send you back to your Manor in less than one perfectly polished piece. And if it has anything to do with Hermione -”
“Ah!” Draco exclaimed, eyes glittering in the dark room. “It’s Hermione now, is it?” He heard Snape’s clenched jaw crack. Ignoring the waves of anger wafting off his godfather, Draco continued on, “You know, she is quite the -” but he was interrupted by a surprising warning shrouded as a demand.
“If you end that sentence with anything less than a positive description I will -”
“My goodness,” Draco said, teeth flashing with his smile. “You are quite fond of her aren’t you, godfather?”
There was only silence from the other man. While Draco knew that he had unearthed a raw nerve, he was also satisfied that he was able to goad his godfather’s true feelings on the matter out into the open. To be completely honest, he was glad he did. Granger had taken Snape’s condemnation quite badly. If Draco could plant a seed of forgiveness here and now, maybe he could at least get them to be amicable towards each other again. Draco kept steady eye contact until Snape finally broke their stand-off by turning to pace around the space. His godfather now safely occupied, Draco finally entered into the lounge properly and lowered himself onto the sofa.
“Again,” Snape ran a hand through his loose hair as he marched to the area in front of the empty hearth. “Why have you come exactly?”
“It wasn’t her fault, you know,” Malfoy said softly, as if he was making simple Sunday Dinner conversation. “None of it, actually.”
“No,” Snape muttered, crossing in front of Draco. “She explained that you ran into each other one day after you had -”
“Another spectacularly bad interview, yes. People certainly weren’t very accepting then. Even now, it’s still forced politeness.” Draco shrugged, rolling the feelings of rejection down his back. “She saved me that day. I was ready to give it all up. She gave me the means to pursue a second chance.”
“I could have helped you.” Snape’s voice dropped low, “I did help you.”
A ribbon of irritation was laced in Draco’s undertone, “Do you realise how demoralising it is to ask for help all the time, Uncle? This was my chance to stop finally asking for handouts.”
Snape sighed, coming to a halt in front of him. “But was this the only viable option the two of you came up with? Something that flies so obnoxiously in the face of the Statute of Secrecy?”
“I trust she gave you the doctored journal?” At Snape’s nod Draco continued, “Good. That is the source material for everything. Wizarding and Muggle laws overlap a lot more than people realise. Swish and Flick is technically a parody. Which means it’s protected. And therefore I am protected. There is not any way to trace any of this back to me or Granger. We’re knee-deep in aliases.” He cocked an eyebrow in challenge. “You probably weren’t even able to dig very deep into the company.”
“No, it was basically a dead-end from the start.” Snape groaned before he snarled, “Rodoca Flamy.”
Draco barked out a laugh and leaned back into the couch. He gestured to himself as he exclaimed, “Yes, that’s me! The anagrams were just covers, but legally we have layers of pseudonyms. Hermione is wicked smart.” Draco didn’t even try to stop the hint of awe in his voice, “She is… she is bloody brilliant, Uncle. And without her I really wouldn’t be here.” He looked up at Snape, pointedly catching his gaze.
Shocked, Snape sat gingerly next to Draco on the sofa. He leaned on his knees, interlacing his hands. Snape spoke low, “Are you implying that you were -”
Draco cut him off gently, “There was no point in living. I was unable to provide for my family. My name was a disgrace. I had no future prospects. Until she came.” Draco looked away, focusing his gaze out the window into the courtyard.
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t come to me for help.”
Draco shrugged. “I was tired, Uncle. I was tired of everything. And I was ashamed. I already had borrowed too much from you that I was unable to pay back. Granger not only gave me the funds to pursue our idea but she had the Muggle know-how to make it work. I didn’t feel forced to stay in Wizarding society like I did with the avenues you presented to me. Isn’t it a tad ironic?” Draco chuckled. “How a Muggleborn saved the Malfoy estate? Something poetic in that, I think.” He sighed, turning back to face his godfather. “She didn’t even want any compensation beyond her initial investment back. I had to finally convince her to an escrow account so if she wanted the money in the future she would have access to it. She only asked for it after you both started investigating the production. She figured her time in the Mysteries was short.”
“I still don’t think she should have -”
Draco’s hard eyes snagged onto Snape’s. His voice was cutting, “Don’t tell me you’d prefer me dead than me operating a successful and satisfying business.”
“No,” Snape said, shoulders deflating. “I just don’t appreciate being blindsided.”
This was the opening that Draco had been waiting for. It was time to tend to this rift between two people he cared deeply about. “Granger mentioned that. She was very upset about the entire thing.”
“She could have said something to me.” Snape cut his gaze away from Draco’s.
“And if Hermione did?” Draco asked. “Would you have been somehow more understanding weeks ago?” Draco shook his head knowing the answer. “Besides,” he said. “It wasn’t her confession to make, was it? I was the man behind the curtain, not she and she is ridiculously loyal.”
Snape snorted. “That is an understatement.”
The pair sat in brittle silence for several moments. “I apologise,” Draco finally said a bit stiffly, yanking the sleeves down on his suit jacket. He began to fiddle with the cufflinks. “I wasn’t truthful with you for quite a few years. Frankly, I knew you would take it badly. You did all you could to keep me out of Azkaban, even if you couldn’t save Father and I knew you’d consider a parody of the War as a personal slap in the face after all that. I didn’t want to disappoint you yet again. It was simply easier to mislead you regarding my career path.” Snape didn’t respond. Draco shrugged, releasing some of the tension running through his shoulders. “I’m happy now in my chosen career, if that’s worth anything.”
Snape’s eyes swivelled back to Draco. He gave him a look as if he was judging Draco’s level of genuineness. Finally, Snape asked, “Truly?”
“Yes,” Draco confirmed. “I run a business that provides for my family. I work with people who have no idea of my past. I am fulfilled professionally. I can walk around Muggle London without a glamour and live a good life.” Draco shifted on the sofa. “So, I ask you to not be angry at Hermione. She feels guilty over what she did. And dare I make the assumption on her part that she misses you.”
Snape bent himself forward, elbows resting on his thighs. His hair had fallen between them, covering his face. “I’m rather afraid that bridge is burnt now.”
“Perhaps,” Draco said, pouring a determination into his voice. “But she’s worth rebuilding it, Uncle. Even if it takes time.”
---
“How is your godfather doing?” Granger asked as the pair were looking over expense reports. This task wasn’t something that Draco explicitly needed help with as he had become quite accustomed to the intricacies of Muggle economics in the past several years, but he had wanted to see his de facto partner in crime. Granger had squirrelled herself away the last several weeks—ever since she quit the Mysteries—and had appeared to be avoiding the world at large.
Prior to his visit, Draco had sent his first text to Granger’s recently purchased mobile of an aubergine followed by a question mark but didn’t get a response. He had half expected some kind of long-suffering reply but Draco did have to concede she might not yet realize what the vegetable icon truly meant. Granger could have thought he was growing senile for all he knew because she had stubbornly remained silent. Finally, Draco resorted to showing up at her flat unannounced feigning panic over numbers, and thrusting a pile of paperwork at her just to confirm that she was still among the living.
“He’s fine, Granger,” he answered as he took a sip of his tea. “Still as much of a stubborn git as you remember him.”
She breathed out a laugh. “He really wasn’t much of one, to be honest. I really did like working with him.”
Draco hummed but didn’t say anything more. Over his cup, he glanced at her sitting on the floor on the other side of her coffee table. Granger was a fucking mess. Her hair was a tangled rat’s nest piled up on her head, and she was wearing crumpled checkered pyjamas that seemed to have dried and crusted egg dribbled down the front.
“Hermione,” Draco said gently. Her head tipped up immediately, her finger marking her space on the grid of numbers. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Granger’s eyes immediately narrowed, “but when is the last time you bathed?”
She harrumphed. “It wasn’t that long ago, Malfoy,” Granger snarled, obviously offended by the question. “It was…” her expression dropped slowly. “It was… oh, Circe.”
“Granger, how about you take a shower and I make you something to eat in the meantime?”
“You don’t cook, Malfoy.”
He amended quickly, “Call for takeaway, then.” Draco leaned forward and pointed at the form. “These can wait a little while.”
While it concerned him that she didn’t put up more of a fight, Draco was thankful he didn’t have to forcibly push Granger into the shower. Where did that fiery Gryffindor indignation go? he wondered as he scrolled through his phone to call the Thai place around the corner. He would give her his counsellor’s office’s number, Draco decided. Granger probably wouldn’t like it, but it would be good for her, and she wasn’t a daft moo. She would let him bully her into making the call. After all, she couldn’t continue to isolate herself like this.
---
Later that evening Draco found himself at his godfather’s flat for a visit.
As he rose from the sofa to cross the room to the trolley that held his godfather’s impressive alcohol collection Snape asked from his chair, “Another already, Draco?”
Draco sighed. “It was a particularly long day.”
“Ah, yes, schmoozing with the rich and famous can really take it out of you, or so I’ve heard.”
Despite the jab, Draco smirked. “No, it was all business today. Granger and I had to go over some expense reports.” Was it a play of the light or did his godfather’s spine suddenly get a little straighter?
“Oh, really?” Snape asked smoothly before turning his attention to the stack of books beside him. “And how is Granger doing?” he asked without looking at the younger man. “Still her strong-willed insufferable self?”
“Well, not exactly,” Draco said carefully. Snape stilled at his answer. Interesting, Draco thought. “But you needn’t worry about her, godfather.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “I don’t worry about her. I don’t even think about her anymore.”
Sure you don’t.
---
Four weeks passed and Draco was sitting across the table from Granger at a cafe. They were meeting for breakfast before he had to visit the production for the day. Filming was coming to an end and soon they would be in post-production. If Draco could keep things moving swiftly he could potentially have a film released during the winter hols next year. He felt a little jittery at the prospect; he didn’t like feeling nervous. I’m not doing this horse and pony show again, Draco thought as he slathered butter on his toast. Managing an app was easier with fewer moving parts and allowed him to keep to his introverted nature. Indeed, Draco was looking forward to stepping back into the life of a country-manor aristo… at least for a little while.
“Sickle for your thoughts?” Granger asked as she carefully placed her coffee cup on the table.
“I’m tired,” he admitted. “This has been a monumental effort that I wasn’t quite prepared for.”
“Ah,” she said with a smirk. “It’s not easy to work for your supper, is it?”
“Very funny, Granger.” Draco bit the corner off his toast more savagely than he intended.
Granger reached across the table and squeezed his wrist in comfort. “It’ll be over soon, Malfoy, and you’ll be able to go back to breeding prize-winning peacocks or whatever it is that your family made its fortune from.”
“Mostly the labour from others’ backs.” Draco quickly clarified at the dark look Granger shot him, “We used to race Granians.”
She snorted. “Winged horses. Somehow I am not surprised.”
“Grandfather was the last stable owner. Father, on the other hand, while one to enjoy the spoils, did not have a head for business. I don’t consider myself much better but -”
“Times demanded a change,” Granger finished for him. “Yes. You’ve done good for your family, Draco. Never doubt it.”
He smirked at her. “Complimenting me now, Granger? If I were the suspicious type I’d begin to think that you were after something.”
“Always suspicious, are you?” It pleased him to see the warmth in her eyes return over the last few weeks.
“I am a Slytherin. Uncle would be disappointed if he were to hear that I was slipping.”
Granger’s eyes flicked down to his plate. “Have you seen Severus lately? How is he?” She fiddled absentmindedly with her napkin.
Draco found himself suddenly done playing this game. Both Granger and his Uncle had been remotely waltzing around each other for months, using him as some sort of grudging dance instructor. They brought up each other in every conversation; it was obvious that whatever relationship they had before, even if it was just professional in nature, was missed.
“You could ask him yourself.” Granger’s head whipped up quickly and it only confirmed Draco’s suspicions about her level of interest. “Come with me the next time I visit.”
“Oh no, no I don’t think so.” Granger turned to look out the window, her eyes becoming glassy. “He was pretty clear about how he felt three months ago.”
“Maybe things have changed, Hermione. Time heals wounds, you know.”
“As I’ve learned in therapy, time also exacerbates them,” she replied without looking at him, effectively shutting down the conversation.
This will not do, Draco decided with finality. This will not do at all.
---
December came breezing into London like the exhaust of an Anemoi’s chariot. Hermione tightened her blue woolly scarf around her neck as she walked down the street. She has had a busy day. She started with her bi-monthly appointment with a Squib counsellor. She was finding healthier ways to deal with her grief over Theo, which she discovered to be partially rooted in her grief over her own lost childhood. It had been a startling realisation at the time, but it made perfect sense in hindsight. Happily, she had just finished another type of therapy: retail therapy. She had been holiday shopping in Diagon Alley and was now en route to the Muggle equivalent, Leadenhall Market.
On the way, she passed a cinema with a poster in the front display of a young man holding a wand with a scar slashed across his forehead. Underneath the title, Barry Pots & The Dark One, was a release date of Winter 2019. Hermione smiled a little, happy for Malfoy’s continued success. He had really put a lot of effort into getting the film into post-production. But it was bittersweet. It was thrilling to trample around the sets and spy on famous film stars, but it had imploded a relationship she had grown to really enjoy.
Even though she felt like she asked after Severus often, Malfoy thankfully never seemed to mind. He said that his godfather was well, in good health, and still as acidic as usual. Hermione tried to take comfort in that. Sometimes she imagined she saw him walking through London. But whenever she swerved back for a second look, he was never there. She wasn’t even sure if Severus still worked at the Ministry. Perhaps he had finally moved on to greener pastures too. Maybe he had cut his hair and grew a moustache. The absurd thought forced Hermione to explode in titters.
“Something funny?” a familiar low voice drawled beside her.
She whipped around to face the man. “Malfoy! What are you doing here?”
“I assume the same as you,” he answered with a tilt of an eyebrow. “Shopping for the hols.”
“What do you think about this?” she asked as she tipped her head at the poster.
He shrugged. “It’s an alright likeness to Potter, I suppose. I heard he was quite upset about it.”
Hermione snorted. “Oh, he was livid alright. He filed a special acquisition form to view the notebook from Artifacts because I couldn’t tell him anything. Would you like to know what he said?” she asked with a roguish grin.
He slipped his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Go ahead and tell me, Granger.”
Her smile grew into something almost feral. “He said that Florence Fenton was an absolute doll to keep such meticulous records. And he wondered what she was up to these days.”
Malfoy laughed. Hermione couldn’t stop herself from joining him. Oh, she had wanted this for him for so long. Just to be able to live a life where he could laugh freely on the sidewalk in public.
After Hermione caught her breath she said, “I did mean about the film, though. How are you feeling about it? An actual film. Based on a silly idea we came up with over lunch all those years ago.”
“Oh, well, I can’t pretend to not like how ridiculously rich it’ll make me.” He extended his elbow to her and Hermione wrapped her gloved hand around it with pleasure. His grey eyes cut to hers as he continued, “And there is a certain joy in finding success after so many years of struggling.”
“You’ve come a long way, Malfoy. I’m happy for you, really.” She smiled warmly up to him.
With his opposite hand, he squeezed hers in appreciation. “Say,” he said as he gave her an inquisitive look. “I was going to get lunch at that Muggle sushi place nearby. Care to join me?”
“Who’s buying?” she teased.
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “It can be filed under a business expense, I’m sure.”
A quarter of an hour later, Hermione was harshly reminded that Slytherins do not play fair. Even though they had shared several meals throughout the years with no nefarious motives, she should have been on alert. But no, the very idea of onigiri and miso soup had her salivating before Malfoy had even finished the invitation. Perhaps it was a weakness amongst Gryffindors, she thought, to be led astray by their stomachs. She wouldn’t have accepted the invitation if she knew who Malfoy was meeting for lunch.
“Malfoy,” Hermione hissed as she stopped short in front of the hostess’ podium. She felt her hair begin to flare in panic. “You didn’t tell me you were having lunch with someone!”
“Now, now, Granger,” Malfoy pipped, ignoring her signs of distress. “Let’s not be rude.”
She attempted to get him to see reason. “Malfoy, this is - I cannot - he wouldn’t -”
Through a gritted smile he implored her, “Keep walking, Granger.”
Hermione felt like her feet were made of lead as Malfoy dragged her to the middle of the restaurant. She tried to look anywhere but at the wizard at the table. As the pair arrived, Malfoy greeted, “Uncle! Look who I found out on the sidewalk just now. And aren’t we lucky,” he said as he pressed Granger in a chair across from Snape, “that she was free for lunch?”
Even though Hermione’s gaze was firmly on her hands in her lap she could feel the force of Snape’s glare.
Malfoy pretended that this was not the awkward situation he had crafted and ordered a dozen rolls for the table. Snape must have thrown him a sceptical glance because Malfoy replied easily, “A business expense. Granger and I have already discussed it.”
Hermione raised her face and gave Severus a weak smile with a soft shrug. Snape’s dark eyes cut to her and they relaxed minutely, so quickly she’d have missed it if she weren’t paying attention, before they slid back to his godson.
“A business meeting,” he drawled in his familiar baritone. “I should excuse myself.”
Malfoy waved him off. “Oh, don’t be so rude, godfather. We won’t have to talk shop with you here. You’ve saved me from quite a boring conversation. Granger here -”
“Granger here, what?” Hermione asked with an edge. Her good cheer from shopping for her friends was quickly diminishing. She briefly wondered if she could return Malfoy’s gift.
“Is just the best work partner,” he said almost too quickly. “Wouldn’t you agree, Uncle?”
When Severus didn’t respond Hermione turned her head and caught him looking at her. Her eyes snagged on to his and Snape immediately turned his gaze back to Malfoy. “What?” he asked.
“I said,” a mischievous glint in Malfoy’s eyes, “Isn’t Granger an amenable work partner? I was wondering if we shared the same opinion.”
Severus turned again to Hermione, an eyebrow raised. She sputtered out, “You don’t have to answer. I certainly didn’t put him up to this.”
“You were…” he paused as if he were looking for the right word. “Adequate.”
That wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear. “Well, that is smashing to know,” Hermione replied with a bite to her tone. She turned to the man on her left. “Malfoy, this has been lovely but I must -”
Malfoy gave Snape a hard look and interrupted her, “Stay to eat, yes, I agree.”
Why was Malfoy pushing this so hard? Couldn’t he see how awkward this was? Hermione wanted to flee somewhere safer. She definitely wanted to burn Malfoy’s gift. Possibly in front of him. Severus’ opinion of her had obviously not changed with time, and frankly, she had no clue what Malfoy was trying to do with this little stunt.
Malfoy continued on, determined to keep the conversation going, “Uncle, how is your latest research?”
Snape didn’t reply, although Hermione saw his jaw tick.
However, the temptation to know proved to be too strong to resist for Hermione. “And what research is that?”
She wasn’t sure if Severus was actually going to reply but then she heard a thud from under the table which seemed to give Snape the encouragement to answer. “I’m exploring,” he said slowly, as his gaze fell back on her. “The correlation between Diricawl Lice and Vanishing Sickness.”
She saw the correlation immediately. “You think it’s the lice that is responsible for the Diricawl’s ability to Apparate?” Hermione was instantly curious at the possible avenues of this research.
A satisfied smirk crossed Severus’ face. “Not just think, Granger. I’ve confirmed it.”
Fascinated, she asked, “What made you even want to figure this out?”
He fell into an easy cadence, “My last case at the Ministry involved a tourist from South Africa who spontaneously Apparated when frightened. Naturally, he became more distressed the more he Apparated. As you can imagine, we needed to find the root cause if he wanted any semblance of his normal life back.”
“What made you think of lice, though?” she asked as she leaned slightly forward.
“He had mentioned he was at a Diricawl Sanctuary prior to his arrival. After a thorough medical exam, where the lice were discovered and removed, he stopped Apparating spontaneously.”
“And you think that Vanishing Sickness may be…” she trailed off allowing her mind to piece the puzzle together. “An allergic reaction of sorts?”
He shrugged elegantly. “The research is in its infancy but I know I’m on to something.”
“It would be a huge medical breakthrough if proven correct. Wouldn’t you agree, Malfoy?” she asked as she turned to face an empty chair. Malfoy had apparently taken it upon himself to leave when the two of them became engrossed in their conversation. She huffed. “That ruddy little ferret,” she muttered.
At that moment, the sushi that Malfoy had ordered arrived on a large long plate. Hermione ticked an eyebrow at the platter and Snape gestured with his hand. Hermione began to select pieces for herself.
After several moments of silence, Severus asked seriously, “Did he ambush you, or were you feigning ignorance?”
She gestured in the negative with her chopsticks. “I wouldn’t have done this to you. It was all him. I know your opinion of me isn’t -”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Severus warned, holding up a hand. After a pause, he said, “I understand why you helped Draco. Your aid to him should equate into a life debt, if life was fair.”
She shrugged easily as she replied, “He needed someone. Truthfully, I didn’t really think beyond that.”
“There is something I am unclear about, though,” Severus said quietly, leaning towards her.
“Oh?”
“Your motivation. You say that you did it out of the goodness of your righteous Gryffindor heart.” Hermione rolled her eyes at that assessment. “But was that it? Or was there something more?”
Hermione thought for a moment. “I would say it was a seventy-thirty split. The majority was me, once again, being an infuriating champion of the downtrodden. The remaining thirty, though? Well, it did feel particularly good to get a one-up on the Ministry, to be completely honest.” Severus nodded. After a pause, Hermione asked a bit unsure, “You’re done at the Ministry?”
Severus nodded again. “After our assignment together I found myself…” he trailed off, his gaze focusing on his plate. “Things weren’t as satisfying after that.”
“I am sorry, Severus.” She touched his sleeve briefly, seeking forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to ruin it for you.”
“If not you it would have inevitably been someone else.” His eyes flicked up to hers, the corner of his mouth ticking up. “And I’d have preferred it to be you.”
---
Later that evening, Hermione was sitting in her cosy office in her flat. She was absentmindedly swirling a glass of red wine as she thought back to the conversation she had with Severus over sushi. She had, at first, really wanted to maim Malfoy for surprising her like that. But it had actually turned out to be a rather wonderful afternoon.
Indeed, it had started out awkwardly but she and Severus had eaten most of the sushi and ended up staying there until mid-afternoon. It was delightful and it felt like, despite the time that stretched behind them, that they had simply picked up where they had left off.
Hermione tapped the letter from Malfoy against her leg with her free hand. It was simple and to the point in his formal script:
Do it.
-D
She knew exactly what he was on about. And she hoped that the wine would give her the courage she needed to follow through.
---
Severus stood in Old Deer Park, watching several birds soar overhead. He hoped he wasn’t setting himself up for more heartache. He was tired of a life of disappointments. But Severus wanted a chance for the type of gratification that Draco seemed to have found. It was interesting that the same woman could potentially help him as well. Severus slipped a letter out of his pocket and unfolded it to read again.
Severus -
I had a lovely afternoon with you. I would like to start over. If you share my feelings, meet me on Saturday at noon at the Obelisk in the park near my flat. And if you don’t, burn this and I won’t seek you out again.
- Hermione
He closed his eyes and deeply breathed in the crisp winter air. It smelled of pine and frost. But there was something else there. A hint of something comforting and intriguing... warm vanilla.
FIN