Chapter Text
The air in the lowest levels of Gringotts was heavy with centuries-old enchantments, the metallic scent of goblin gold, and the cool dampness found only deep underground. It was a place where light existed only if one conjured it.
Hermione Granger stood before the massive portal of Vault 904. Her wand moved through the darkness with precise, almost mathematical accuracy. A soft, amber glow emanated from the tip, revealing the fine threads of an ancient Egyptian Decay Curse that lay over the lock like a spider's web.
She appeared completely focused. The years following the war had entirely erased the gaunt, almost fragile appearance that had characterised her whilst on the run across the country. Her physique was now that of a woman who viewed her body as a honed tool. She was athletic, though not wiry; beneath her practical clothing, feminine curves were apparent, testifying to her strength and health. Her skin was deeply tanned—a souvenir from her recent three-month assignment in the ruins of Knossos—and freckles danced across her nose and shoulders, gleaming like tiny flecks of gold in the pallid light of the vaults.
Her clothing was a perfectly balanced blend of functionality and protection. She wore close-fitting trousers of reinforced dragon hide, immune to both physical cuts and minor curse splashes, paired with a simple, sleeveless top made of magically woven silk. Her hair was pulled back into a practical, severe ponytail so that no stray curl could obstruct her vision.
"Deconstruction in three… two… one," she muttered.
With one fluid motion, her wand sliced through the air. A sharp crack, akin to splintering ice, echoed down the stone corridor. The purple threads of the curse dissolved into silvery dust, and the portal swung open silently.
"Efficient as always, Miss Granger," a voice croaked behind her.
Hermione did not turn around immediately. She stowed her wand in a holster on her forearm before turning to face the level's Head Curse-Breaker, a goblin named Ragnok. She met his gaze at eye level, lacking the usual wizarding arrogance, but with a firmness that brooked no argument.
"That was a truly simple endeavour today. The curse was unstable, Ragnok. I've neutralised the anchor in the stonework so the gold won't corrode, and access should be straightforward from now on," she explained coolly.
Ragnok nodded slowly. Amongst the goblins, Hermione enjoyed a reputation that extended far beyond her role as a war heroine. They respected her intellect, her thoroughness, and above all, the fact that she treated magic like a science.
"The fee will be credited to your Gringotts account," he said, handing her a small leather folder containing her documents. As she turned to leave, he held up a narrow piece of parchment bearing a familiar seal. "This arrived by express owl this morning. They requested it be handed to you personally upon the completion of your shift."
Hermione accepted the parchment; the Black family crest was emblazoned on the wax.
She broke the seal whilst still in the lift taking her back to the surface. Her brow furrowed as she read the brief, almost desperate-looking lines:
Hermione, I need your help. It's about Draco. Please, come as quickly as you can.
A shadow crossed Hermione's face. Draco Malfoy. A name she had scarcely heard since the end of the trials for those involved in the Second Wizarding War. She had testified in Draco's defence at the time; even if he had been her schoolyard tormentor, in the end, he had simply been a misguided child. Following his two-week trial, he had walked away with probation, a wand restriction for three years, and the obligation to sit his N.E.W.T.s.
As she left the marble banking hall of Gringotts, the late summer sun beat down on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. It was the 22nd of September 2007, and the air already carried the first hint of the autumnal shift.
She paused briefly, withdrew a blank piece of parchment from her pocket, and penned a concise reply as she navigated through the crowd of shoppers:
Andromeda, I will be with you tomorrow morning to discuss everything further. H.
She whistled softly, and a tawny owl that had been waiting on the roof of Eeylops Owl Emporium swooped down. Slipping two Sickles into the small leather pouch on its leg, Hermione attached the letter and watched the bird as it vanished over the rooftops of London.
____
The next morning greeted London with a fine, grey drizzle. Yet as Hermione crossed the threshold of Andromeda's small terraced house in a quiet suburb, she was immediately met with the warmth of a true home. It smelt of cinnamon and buttered toast. It reminded her a little of her own childhood home; even if it shared no visual similarities, it radiated the warm magic of a real home rather than just a place that served as lodgings.
"Hermione! Look, I'm a Hippogriff!"
Before she could even remove her wet cloak, a nine-year-old whirlwind with bright neon-pink hair shot out of the sitting room. Teddy flapped his arms mid-jump, let out a squawking noise, and landed with a dull thud right at her feet—only to trip over his own shoelaces the very next moment.
"Teddy! Careful!" Andromeda called from the kitchen, as Hermione just managed to catch the boy by the arm before he planted his nose on the floorboards.
"I've got you," Hermione laughed, helping him up. Teddy's hair colour instantly changed to a triumphant grass green. "An impressive dive, Teddy. But I believe Hippogriffs usually wear their shoelaces tied."
"They were tied just a second ago, wizard's honour," Teddy announced precociously. He snatched a piece of toast from the table and dashed off again, his ears suddenly taking the shape of pointed dog ears.
Andromeda stepped into the hallway, a tired but warm smile on her lips. She wore a simple cardigan, and the resemblance to her sister Bellatrix had almost completely vanished behind a maternal softness. "Thank you for coming so quickly, Hermione. Sit down, the tea is ready."
They sat on the slightly sagging but cosy sofa. Drawings, Chocolate Frog Cards, and Teddy's socks were scattered everywhere—a stark contrast to her own flat. This house felt truly lived-in.
"How are Harry and Ginny?" asked Andromeda, pouring the tea.
"Fine. A little overwhelmed with the new school for James, but fine," Hermione replied, taking the cup. "But you wrote about Draco. What exactly has happened, Andromeda?"
Andromeda sighed and brushed a grey curl from her forehead. "He withdrew completely about eighteen months ago. At first, I thought it was the usual melancholy. You know how difficult he found it after the war. Then his father's death in Azkaban, and his mother's shortly thereafter. On top of that, the Ministry pressured him to give up his seat on the Wizengamot, the social ostracism... Hermione, he really wasn't well. He just seemed empty. Depressed."
She paused briefly as Teddy loudly attempted to tame a replica toy Snitch with a cushion in the background.
"He has sold almost all of the Malfoy and Black properties," Andromeda continued more quietly. "The townhouses, the lands in France. Everything except a small, remote hunting lodge in the Highlands. He left Teddy and me more than enough gold and transferred the title of Black heiress to me—all that gold is probably enough for three lifetimes, Hermione. The whole thing feels so strange... almost as if he were putting his affairs in order."
Hermione sipped her tea thoughtfully. "Perhaps he just wanted to get away from it all? A fresh start without the burden of the old names?"
"I told myself the same thing," Andromeda said, looking out of the window into the rain. "But I haven't heard a word from him in twelve months. No reply to owls, no response to official letters. Draco would never ignore Teddy for so long, not since we were finally able to build a bond after the war. He loved the boy, in his own quiet way. He wouldn't just disappear like that."
"Don't get me wrong... but I'm a Curse-Breaker, Andromeda, not a private investigator," Hermione interjected gently. "If he doesn't want to be found, perhaps he's simply... gone into hiding. Perhaps he just needs time."
"I must sound mad..." Andromeda's voice grew more urgent. "I can feel it. Something isn't right. I have the feeling that he's stuck out there—or worse."
At that moment, Teddy slid across the rug with a loud squeak, collided with the coffee table, and momentarily transformed his nose into a pig's snout to make Hermione laugh.
"Will you help me?" Andromeda asked with a sad smile. "Teddy misses his cousin. And I have no one else I can trust to be discreet, or who has the necessary power to break through the protective enchantments on the property. I'm not asking you to bring him back or to persuade him. Just to check that things are alright and perhaps tell him that we miss him and are worried."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment with coordinates neatly written on it. "Please, Hermione. As a commission. I will pay whatever price you and Gringotts ask."
Hermione looked at the coordinates. She glanced at Teddy, who was currently attempting to return his face to normal, and then back to Andromeda. The professional part of her brain was already calculating the risks, but her heart—the old, loyal heart of a Gryffindor—had already made the decision.
"Keep your gold, Andromeda," Hermione said, accepting the parchment. "I'll look into it. If he's there, I'll find him and tell him you're looking for him."
Andromeda exhaled deeply, as if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Thank you, Hermione."
____
The Potters' house in Godric's Hollow practically vibrated with life, which was usually a polite euphemism for the absolute chaos that two young boys could cause. As Hermione stepped through the door that evening, she was greeted not with a formal welcome, but with a flying toy dragon that whizzed narrowly past her head.
"James Sirius Potter! If that dragon sails down the hallway one more time without my express flying permission, I'll confiscate it until Christmas!" Ginny's voice called from the kitchen.
"He only wanted to say hello to Hermione, Mum!" came the reply, followed by the rhythmic thumping of little feet on the wooden floorboards.
Hermione laughed, caught the dragon mid-flight, and stepped into the sitting room. Harry was sitting on the rug with little Albus on his lap, who was devotedly trying to eat his father's glasses. Harry looked tired—the dark circles beneath his eyes spoke of long nights at the Auror Office—but his smile was genuine when he saw Hermione.
"Are you rescuing me?" he asked hopefully.
"Only if there's wine," she replied with a smirk, pressing a kiss to his cheek before gently wresting the glasses from Albus.
Dinner was a lively affair. They had shepherd's pie, and whilst James attempted to conduct his peas with his father's wand (which Harry put an immediate stop to) and Albus experimented with his mash, the room filled with that familiar sense of safety.
"Right, then," Ginny said, exchanging a telling glance with Harry as she stroked a hand over her stomach. She looked radiant despite the commotion. "We have news. We were actually going to wait, but James practically told the whole world at nursery today."
Hermione paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Ginny?"
"Number three is on the way," Ginny said with a broad grin. "And this time... the Healer has confirmed I'm finally getting reinforcements. It's a girl."
Hermione let out a shriek of joy, jumped up, and pulled her best friend into a fierce embrace. "A girl!"
"Best of luck to the boy who wants to take her out for the first time," Harry grumbled, though his eyes shone with pride. "I'll start polishing my Auror kit now, just as a deterrent."
Once the excitement had settled a bit and the children were finally in bed...after three rounds of The Fountain of Fair Fortune as a bedtime story...a quieter atmosphere descended. They sat in the garden with glasses of wine; the air was mild.
"I'll be away for a few days, starting tomorrow," Hermione dropped casually into the silence. "A private commission."
Harry, who had just been leaning back comfortably against his chair, instantly perked up. He adopted his 'Auror expression', a reflex he could scarcely switch off anymore. "Where to? And since when do you take private commissions? Hadn't Gringotts scheduled you for the Egyptian chambers next month?"
"Andromeda asked for my help," Hermione explained calmly. "It's about Draco."
The mention of the name caused the mood to shift abruptly. Ginny raised an eyebrow and took a sip of her water. Harry leant forward.
"Malfoy?" asked Harry. "He dropped off the radar a year ago. We have a file on him at the office, which we closed six months ago because there was absolutely no evidence of foul play. He just... left. The Ministry was keen on his seats in the Wizengamot. He gave one to Andromeda, but the Malfoy seat is vacant. That's the only reason we know about his disappearance. He has completely ignored every single owl."
"He's in an old Malfoy hunting lodge in the Highlands," Hermione said. "Andromeda believes he's stuck there... or that something has happened to him."
"Or he's holed up there because he doesn't want to see the world anymore," Ginny interjected dryly. "Honestly, Hermione, Malfoy was always a specialist in self-pity. Perhaps he doesn't want to be rescued at all. Have you thought about that? Maybe this is his way of doing penance—by playing the hermit."
"Perhaps," Hermione conceded. "But Andromeda is worried for Teddy's sake—he misses his cousin. I don't really see it as a proper commission. I'll travel there, see if and how I can get through the protective enchantments, and tell him that Andromeda wants to see him. Done."
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his untidy hair. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Breaking protective enchantments without permission is mildly illegal. With the suspicion of imminent danger, it would be a legal grey area. Perhaps best not to shout it from the rooftops..."
"That's why I'm going," Hermione said firmly. "Not in an official capacity. Andromeda tried to get a Curse-Breaker through the Ministry, but wasn't successful."
"Be careful," Harry said seriously. "I remember all too well when we cleared out all the Malfoy and Black properties after the war. There were some nasty curses and tricky artefacts on site. I can't honestly remember a lodge in the Highlands, though."
Ginny snorted softly. "With the lack of sleep we're getting right now, it's a miracle you remember your own name, darling. Just come back in one piece, Hermione. I need someone to help me teach Lily how to properly hex the boys."
Hermione smiled and raised her glass. "You can count on it."
____
Hermione’s studio flat in London was a reflection of her mind: organised chaos that only appeared untidy to outsiders. Her equipment lay ready on the solid oak table. She checked the contents of her beaded bag one last time, which she had modified with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Provisions for a week, a set of the finest silver measuring instruments (a gift from the goblins after she had passed her Curse-Breaker exams in record time and with top marks), her reliable Pocket Sneakoscope, and an array of phials containing antidotes of all sorts. She snapped the bag shut and brushed a stray curl from her face. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the old, rusty key on the table—her Portkey.
The familiar, uncomfortable jerk behind her navel wrenched her away from the familiarity of London.
Seconds later, her boots landed on damp moss. The air up here in the Highlands was sharp, tasting of pine needles and approaching rain. Ahead of her, the air shimmered imperceptibly—the boundary of the protective enchantments. Hermione drew her wand, the muscles in her arms tensing beneath her dragon-hide gear, ready for a resistance that never came.
She took a cautious step forward. The barrier offered no resistance; she slipped through it as if through warm water. For a moment, the magic pulsed behind her in a deep, warning blue before fading back into invisibility. It was almost as if the grounds had invited her in.
The property was a small, hidden idyll. A narrow strip of a deep blue loch extended into the protected area, the water as smooth as glass. An overgrown kitchen garden nestled against the edge of a dense wood. Apple trees bowed beneath the weight of unpicked fruit, and weeds crept up amongst parched herb beds. The small log cabin in the centre looked rustic, almost lost in the vastness of nature.
All this just needs a bit of love, Hermione thought involuntarily as she crossed the garden. Everything here looked as though it were merely waiting for someone to trim the hedges and coax out the charm beneath the neglect.
No sign of Draco.
The door to the cabin was unlocked. It swung open with a soft creak. The interior was tiny and housed everything at once: a massive double bed with heavy, rumpled blankets in one corner, which seemed entirely out of proportion for the room, a simple wooden table with two chairs, and a small kitchenette where a few dirty plates were stacked. In front of the cold fireplace sat a sagging leather sofa that had seen better days. A single, closed door on the back wall suggested a tiny bathroom.
Hermione stepped inside, her senses heightened. It smelt of stale smoke and sandalwood. Her impression was repeated in here: it was functional, but unloved.
She did not put her wand away as she approached a narrow bookcase standing next to the window. Her fingers brushed over a few spines—old classics, a couple of legal tomes, and, to her surprise, a well-worn copy of a book on Scottish flora.
Suddenly, the lock on the bathroom door clicked.
Hermione spun around, her wand raised instinctively. The door swung open and a billow of steam spilled into the cool room. Draco Malfoy stepped out. He was wearing only a pair of dark trousers. His bare chest was gaunt, yet the muscles were sinewy and defined beneath his pale skin. His platinum-blond hair was wet and clung to his temples, making his face appear even sharper and more angular.
He stopped short when he saw her. His grey eyes widened, first in shock, before a dangerous mixture of disbelief and fury flashed within them.
"What in Merlin's bloody beard are you doing here, Granger?"