Chapter Text
On the morning of Hermione’s release from house arrest, Kingsley and an Auror named Garrison Taylor arrived through the newly opened Floo. Kinglsey handed her her wand, and gave her a stern glare. “Hopefully the next time we see each other will be for a social call, Hermione.”
“Does that mean we can still be friends, Kings?” Hermione cheeked, feeling a flood of endorphins when her wand was back in her hands. Too often lately she’d been separated from her magical conduit.
“Don’t push it, Aphrodite,” Kingsley said with a smirk under his breath while Auror Taylor was distracted by throwing Floo powder into the fire. “Although you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve been in contact with MACUSA about Davenport’s operation, and have been urging them through the International Magical Cooperation to take action. Ashley’s testimony helped, and we’re holding MACUSA accountable.”
“Good,” Hermione said with a sigh of relief. “That’s good, Kings. Keep up the good fight.”
“Stay out of trouble, Hermione.”
It was all of two minutes before Hermione was stepping through the Floo herself once Kinglsey and Auror Taylor were gone. Yanny popped into the travel parlor the instant she arrived in the hearth, tears swimming in his green eyes and wringing his hands.
“Mistress Hermione is home. Yanny has missed Mistress. Yanny will make blackberry tarts.”
“Yanny, that’s not necessary!” Hermione called, but the elf had already disappeared with a pop.
She smiled, walking through the familiar corridors of Malfoy Manor, chasing the voices she heard coming from one of the larger sitting rooms, ones that boasted floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the grounds. Hermione was already looking forward to taking tea in her favorite sun room, with the windows open and a soft, spring breeze blowing through. Maybe Pansy would like to join her.
Hermione stepped into the room to find all of the Vipers in there, in various states of their morning routines. Blaise was handing Ashley a cup of coffee, as she looked up at him with utter adoration in her eyes. Theo was on a sofa, an arm draped around Dean’s shoulders who was, to no surprise, reading something on his laptop.
Pansy was perched on the table, still in her nightgown and swinging her legs as she picked apart a croissant, watching whatever it was that Neville and Draco were doing.
“Hi,” Hermione said quietly, attempting to be casual but the grin on her face was making her cheeks hurt. She hadn’t seen any of them but Draco, Blaise, and Ashley for six months and had missed them all desperately.
Draco was laying on what looked like a medical table and jolted at her words, but Neville yelled at him to sit still. What were they doing? Was he injured?
“Hermione!” Theo cried, depositing his coffee on the side table and shoving off Dean to wrap her in a big hug. “Oh, fuck, you’re home! I thought it wasn’t until noon!”
“Surprise,” she said sheepishly, hugging him back just as tightly. “I missed you, Theo.”
“Hey Hermione,” Dean said, approaching her next for a hug. His long arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she settled against his chest, feeling warmer by the minute and more complete now that she was back.
Blaise and Ashley were next, although their greetings were less enthusiastic, as she’d seen them a few times since they made a formal offer on Grimmauld Place. She simply hugged Blaise around the middle as he passed her a coffee of her own and kissed her temple.
“Thank fuck you’re back,” Pansy said with relief, surprising Hermione in the way she clung to her almost desperately. “I’ve missed you. No one is a good enough sparring partner,” she joked. Pansy had a tough exterior, hardened and capable, but there was a softness in her eyes that told Hermione she didn’t only miss grappling on the mats with her.
“I’m looking forward to kicking your arse soon, Pans,” Hermione cheeked.
Pansy barked out a laugh and shook her head before nudging her towards Draco and Neville. It was then Hermione realized what was happening. Draco’s lower half was bare, save for his boxer briefs, and Neville was pouring inks into small pots and a tattoo gun resting on the table next to him.
“I’ll hug you in a moment, Hermione,” Neville said while maintaining his concentration on what he was doing.
“Hi sweet girl,” Draco said when Hermione finally paid him her attention. He snaked an arm around her waist and kissed her chastely, having only left her a few hours prior. “You’re out early. I would have stayed had I known.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” Hermione shrugged. “What are you doing?”
“Something special, it’s a surprise for you too,” Draco said with a squeeze.
“I didn’t know you tattooed, Neville.”
Neville made a noise of agreement as he picked up the tattoo gun. “Dean and I both do, except Dean isn’t allowed to tattoo Draco anymore, after the Hippogriff incident.”
Hermione looked at Draco with confusion and he sighed theatrically. “Dean tattooed a Hippogriff on my arse, because he thought it would be funny.”
“It was funny!” Dean yelled front the sofa and Hermione begun giggling.
“Sorry, how have I never seen it?” She was mentally cataloguing all of Draco’s tattoos. His back and arms and chest were all covered, so it wasn’t entirely surprising that she hadn’t noticed something, but surely she thought she would have noticed a Hippogriff.
“It’s very tiny, and not at all important,” Draco said dismissively. “In fact, I implore you to never look for it,” he said with a stern look. Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing full well that as soon as Draco was finished in the chair, she’d be dragging him somewhere private to see this fabled Hippogriff tattoo.
Hermione settled into a chair, watching with rapt attention as Neville began inking colors into Draco’s thigh, reds and oranges and yellows into a familiar shape. Hermione understood the significance, on a larger scale, but she wondered from the naked, soft expression Draco was giving her when she realized what Neville was tattooing on him, just what the significance meant to him.
Later, when they were alone in Draco’s bedroom, Hermione traced her fingers along the fresh lines of the bright phoenix tattoo on his thigh. It was beautiful, wings extended gloriously and burning in the flames. A larger piece, too, staring just above his knee and covering the thick muscle all the way to the edge of his underwear.
“I love it,” Hermione said reverently. “But why a phoenix?”
Draco tugged her by the wrist so she could nestle against him from where he lay against the headboard.
“Do you know the legend of Prometheus?” Hermione shook her head and Draco continued, tracing a soft path on her upper arm. “He was a champion of humanity. His greatest feat was stealing fire from Mount Olympus and giving it to man. He was highly intelligent, and by giving this gift to mankind, he paved the way for the world we know now.”
Draco sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “He was punished for his transgressions. Zeus chained him to a rock and came down upon him in eagle form, eating his liver. Prometheus’s liver would grow back overnight, only for Zeus to exact the same torture on him again and again. He sacrificed himself for the humans he loved so dearly. He gave up everything, just so they could flourish, prosper.”
“It’s Harry,” Hermione said through choked tears. “You did it for Harry.”
“I did,” Draco said, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I like to think that whatever our afterlife looks like, he’s not having his liver eaten by a vengeful god masquerading as an eagle, but what Harry did…” he paused, and Hermione heard him sniff quietly.
“There are not enough ways to honor Harry James Potter. The world will never know another like him, and that bloody man sacrificed himself time and time again. He was the most selfless person I ever had the pleasure to know.”
Tears were flowing freely down Hermione’s cheeks as she stared at the tattoo on Draco’s leg. The edges were a bit blurred, which she recognized as a glamor charm. A quick wave of her wand had it removed, revealing what Draco hadn’t shown her before. There, along the edges of the flames, was ‘HJP’ and his birth and death dates.
“You…” Hermione said, running her finger over his birthday. “You gave him a Viper name. You made him one of us.”
“It was, quite literally, the very least I could do.”
Hermione laughed through her tears. “He’d absolutely hate that, you know.”
“Oh, certainly. Probably cursing me from wherever he is right now for daring to make him a Viper postmortem. But, this is to honor the man in a small way, for all that he’s done. Most importantly, all he did for you.”
Hermione closed her eyes, letting Draco continue.
“Not only did he save your life, more than once, but he kept you in his heart for longer than any of us ever realized. He loved you, Hermione, in a way you deserve and he was a good man. I can only thank him for that, for loving you. I’m not a good man, hardly what you deserve, but I promise I’ll love you fiercely forever and make sure that Harry knows you’re in capable hands.”
“Thank you,” Hermione whispered, kissing Draco’s chest. “Thank you, Draco.”
—
Eight Months Later
“Alpha team, check in,” Draco’s voice rumbled through the earpiece.
“Hades here, south of the front door and eyes on main entrance,” Theo said, the excitement edged in his voice. “Atlas too, but, well, he can’t talk.”
Hermione could see Theo’s black clad form through her scope and the shape of Blaise’s large Animagus form at his feet.
“Hermes, with visual on all security cameras. The target is drinking scotch in his lounge. Fair warning, he’s in the nude.”
Hermione wrinkled her nose while Pansy made a gagging noise through her comms.
“Nyx in position, back door. No signs of security here.”
“Helios, with Hermes.”
“Aphrodite, in position. Neighboring roof, clean shot of the front door,” Hermione whispered, holding her position.
“Fuck, I bet you look phenomenal all kitted out and ready to snipe some arseholes,” Theo said playfully.
“That’s my wife, Hades,” Draco growled, and Hermione stifled her laughter so she didn’t jostle the scope.
“And I’m still painfully gay, Ares. Relax. This is your run of the mill human trafficker job, relax.”
“I’ll relax when we’re done. Ares in position, Hades, Atlas, move out.”
Hermione watched as the large dog slipped through the hole in the gate Theo made, doing a stealthy lap around the property. Their target, Warren Jones, was a ringleader for a sect of wealthy elite trafficking young women from the Mediterranean. One of them had managed to escape, and as it turned out, her equally wealthy father did not take kindly to human trafficking and made a call to the Viper Security Group.
This was the first major job they’d taken since Davenport, and everyone was simmering with anticipation for being back in the field.
Blaise returned to Theo, the two of them must have worked out a signal because Theo spoke next. “Grounds clear. Don’t know what the fuck happened to his security or his damned dogs, but we’re alone.”
“A trap?” Pansy whispered.
Dean laughed. “I set the alarms off at the warehouse, they’re otherwise occupied. There might be two guards inside, but we can handle them quickly. These cocky arseholes never think about leaving themselves exposed.”
“Hades, next move.”
“I’m gonna draw them out,” Theo said and Draco made an indignant noise through the earpiece. “Let Aphrodite get a shot.”
Hermione grinned—they had discovered through their extensive training that Hermione was a remarkable shot, once they’d taken the training wheels off with the charmed bullets. From there, Theo had helped set up a sniper range and she and Draco had spent weeks on their bellies, practicing long range attacks.
Theo set off a small smoke bomb that elicited an explosive noise and counted into the earpiece. It took seventy-two seconds for the guards to emerge, weapons drawn and looking for the cause of the disturbance. It took Hermione four seconds to get the first shot off, and nine for the second.
“Well done,” Draco said evenly. “Nyx, on you.”
“I swear to Salazar, he better have put clothes on,” Pansy grumbled but she was quiet as she slipped in through the back door. The only things Hermione heard was the panicked yell from Jones, followed by what sounded like amusement when he saw the tiny little assassin in his living room.
“Hello, Warren,” Pansy purred.
The silenced gunshot was the last thing Hermione heard.
“Clean up and move out, let’s get home.”
THE END