#Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue/EWE

[softone-ao3]

Trust Me, Trust You - by softone.

After the war, Hermione Granger is no stranger to impossible missions, but infiltrating the remnants of the Death Eaters requires more than courage—it requires her to work alongside someone she never thought she'd have to see again. Draco Malfoy - a man she has every reason to hate and no reason to trust.

Thrown together in a world of deception and danger, their partnership is anything but easy. Each mission pushes them closer to their breaking points, forcing them to rely on one another in ways neither of them is prepared for. Between tense standoffs, moments of vulnerability, and secrets they can’t afford to share, lines begin to blur.

What starts as hatred simmers into something neither of them can name—a connection that feels as dangerous as the world they’re trying to take down. But in a game where every lie could be their last, is trust the most dangerous weapon of all?

Enemies. Partners. Lovers. In the end, they’ll have to decide where they stand—and whether they’ll stand together.

Chapter 1: The Devil You Know

The meeting room was cramped, the air heavy with the exhaustion of too many late nights. The small, round table was cluttered with mugs of lukewarm coffee and half-empty bowls of stale biscuits. Hermione sat at the edge, arms crossed, staring at the map of wizarding hotspots spread across the table. The murmurs of her colleagues filled the room, but nothing seemed to settle the storm inside her.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Auror Jenkins asked, his voice tight with disbelief. “We can’t go in blind again. The Ministry’s been doing this for months—if we don’t have more intel, this whole thing will blow up in our faces.”

“I know, I know.” Harry’s voice was strained, an edge of frustration beneath his calm exterior. “But the Intelligence Division is tied up with the bigger players. We’re on our own for this one.”

Hermione shifted in her chair, her eyes narrowing. The situation had grown more volatile by the day, but it felt like they were circling a problem that no one had the courage to face head-on.

“What’s the real issue here, Harry?” she asked, her voice cutting through the rising tension. “We’ve been chasing shadows for months, and we still don’t have anything concrete. The Death Eaters are regrouping, but we can’t even figure out who’s leading them. This isn’t just a logistical problem—it’s political.”

She could feel everyone’s gaze on her, the subtle shift in the room as her words landed. It wasn’t just the information that was missing—it was the trust. Who could they rely on when the walls were closing in?

“We’ll deal with that when we know what we’re up against.” Harry rubbed his temples, frustration visible on his face.

He let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. “But plans have changed. Again. We’re not getting the reinforcements we expected, and the timelines have moved up.”

The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch. A few Aurors exchanged uneasy glances; others muttered curses under their breath.

“So what, we wing it?” Jenkins snapped, his face red. “We’re supposed to be the Ministry’s first line of defense, and they’re treating us like bloody house-elves fetching their tea!”

“Enough!” Harry’s voice cracked like a whip, cutting through the noise. “I know you’re angry. I am too. But sitting here and griping about it isn’t going to solve anything.”

The room fell quiet, though it wasn’t calm. Jenkins dropped into his seat, arms crossed, his glare fixed firmly on the tabletop.

Hermione leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “What exactly has changed, Harry? What are we walking into this time?”

Harry hesitated, glancing down at the pile of reports in front of him. The pause was brief but heavy, as though he was trying to find a way to soften the blow. When he looked back up, there was no softness in his expression though, and Hermione wondered if she had imagined it.

“We’ve got confirmation that the Death Eater remnants aren’t just a scattered threat anymore,” he said grimly. “They’ve reorganized under someone new. And whoever it is, they’re smart. They’ve managed to evade every probe we’ve sent their way. Every lead dries up before we can act on it.”

“Brilliant,” muttered an Auror at the back. “So we’re fighting a ghost.”

Hermione’s jaw tightened. “What’s the plan, then?”

Harry’s gaze landed on her, and for a moment, she felt the weight of it pressing down on her chest. “We need someone inside. Someone who can earn their trust, gather information, and figure out who’s pulling the strings.”

The silence that followed was deafening, his stare pointed. Hermione could feel the shift in the room as every eye turned to her. She didn’t need Harry to spell it out.

“Absolutely not,” Jenkins barked, shoving his chair back. “You’re talking about sending one of our own into the middle of that mess on her own? It’s suicide!”

“It’s not suicide,” Harry shot back, his tone icy. “It’s necessary. And it’s not just her. There’s already someone embedded in the network. Someone with experience.”

Hermione frowned. “Who?”

Harry hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. The pause was long enough to make Hermione’s stomach churn.

“Draco Malfoy.”

The name dropped like a boulder in the room. Jenkins let out a bark of laughter, though there was no humor in it.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not,” Harry said firmly. “He’s been working as a double agent for months now. And whether you like it or not, he’s our best shot at cracking this thing open.”

Hermione’s chest tightened. Memories of the war, of battles fought on opposing sides, flashed in her mind. She forced herself to breathe.

“Does he know I’m being brought in?” she asked, her voice calm despite the feelings raging inside her.

“He does,” Harry replied. “And he’s not thrilled about it either. But like the rest of us, he doesn’t have a choice.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Jenkins slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the room. “This is madness.”

“It’s what we’ve got,” Harry said sharply. “And it’s happening. So if anyone else has something useful to contribute, speak now. Otherwise, get to work. Dismissed.”

The room erupted into movement, chairs scraping against the floor as Aurors grabbed their things and filed out. Hermione stayed seated, her thoughts racing.

After a few short moments that seemed to stretch into forever with how busy she was inside her own mind, she noticed that Harry lingered behind, watching her carefully. “You alright?”

She met his gaze and squared her shoulders, her expression unreadable. “I will be.” ***** Hermione stayed seated as the room emptied, watching the other Aurors file out with a mix of frustration and exhaustion etched across their faces. Jenkins muttered something under his breath as he passed her, but she didn’t bother to catch it. Her thoughts were already miles away.

Draco Malfoy.

Of all the names Harry could have dropped, his was the last she’d expected. The war had ended years ago, but Malfoy was still a tangle of contradictions in her mind—arrogant, cowardly, redeemable, and infuriating in equal measure. Her stomach churned with an acidic mix of anger and unease. Memories she had buried deep—cold floors, jeering laughter, and the sound of Bellatrix’s voice—threatened to surface.

She clenched her fists under the table, her nails biting into her palms. No. She wouldn’t let herself spiral. Not here. Not now.

Harry sat down across from her, his tired eyes scanning her face. “You’re not going to back out, are you?”

She shook her head sharply. “No. But I need to know—can we trust him?”

Harry leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Trust isn’t the right word. He’s useful, and so far, he’s delivered results. But he’s still Malfoy. He’s not doing this out of the goodness of his heart.”

“Then why is he doing it?” she pressed, her voice tight.

“Self-preservation, mostly,” Harry admitted. “And maybe a shred of guilt, though I wouldn’t count on it. He’s walking a fine line, Hermione, and if he slips... Well, let’s just say it won’t end well for him.”

Hermione exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus on the facts. “And you’re sure I’m the right person for this? No one else can do it?”

“You’re the best we’ve got,” Harry said simply. “Smart, resourceful, and more importantly, you’re not blinded by grudges. You’ll see things clearly, even with Malfoy in the picture.”

Clearly? Hermione nearly laughed. There was nothing clear about the tidal wave of emotions threatening to consume her. Anger, revulsion, fear—but also, strangely, a thread of grim determination. She’d survived worse than working with Draco Malfoy. She would survive this too.

“When do I meet him?” she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Harry glanced at his watch. “He’s in the briefing room now. I thought it’d be better to rip the bandage off sooner rather than later.”

“Brilliant,” she muttered, standing up.

As she followed Harry down the corridor, the weight of the mission settled heavily on her shoulders. She’d known this job would demand sacrifices, but working with Malfoy? That was going to take every ounce of restraint she had. The walls of the Ministry seemed to close in around her as they approached the briefing room. Her breath quickened despite her attempts to control it.

The door loomed ahead, and Harry opened it without hesitation. Hermione stepped inside, her heart pounding, and there he was.

Draco Malfoy leaned against the far wall, arms crossed and an expression of faint irritation on his face. He was dressed in dark, nondescript robes, his pale hair tied back neatly. Time had refined him—his features sharper, his posture more composed—but it was unmistakably him.

The air seemed to leave the room. Her vision narrowed, the edges blurring as her mind betrayed her with flashes of the past. Malfoy Manor. Her screams echoing off cold stone. Bellatrix’s wild eyes. The way he’d stood there, frozen, watching. Not stopping it. Not even trying.

“Granger,” he drawled, his voice pulling her violently back to the present. The sound was smoother than she remembered, but it still carried that same grating arrogance. “This should be... interesting.”

Hermione’s chest tightened, a flush of heat rising to her cheeks. She could feel the weight of Harry’s gaze on her, but she couldn’t look away from Malfoy. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to walk out, to refuse. Instead, she forced her lips to move.

“Malfoy.” The single word was cold, clipped, but it was enough.

Harry stepped between them, his tone sharp. “Don't start. You don’t have to like each other, but you do have to work together. Understood?”

Malfoy smirked faintly, but he nodded. Hermione’s hands were trembling, so she crossed her arms to hide them. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

The room felt colder with Malfoy in it, though she couldn’t tell if it was him or the memories he dredged up. Even as Harry launched into the briefing, Hermione’s mind snagged on the details—Malfoy’s stance, the faint curl of his lip when Harry spoke, the way his eyes flicked briefly to hers and then away, like a predator taking measure of its prey.

His hands were too still, clasped loosely in front of him, and she hated that she noticed. Was it calm, or was it calculation? He was always a puzzle, one she’d long since stopped trying to solve, but now the pieces were forced into her hands again.

“Hermione,” Harry’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

She blinked, her focus snapping back to the present. “Sorry, what?”

“I said you’ll be taking the lead on this mission,” Harry repeated, his tone patient but firm. “Malfoy will provide the intel and support you need, but the strategy is up to you. He’s already embedded, which means—”

“You’ll be stepping into my world, Granger,” Malfoy interrupted smoothly, his voice like silk stretched over steel.

Hermione stiffened, her jaw clenching. “I’m well aware, Malfoy.”

“Good,” he said, his lips curling into a ghost of a smirk. “I’d hate for you to fall behind.”

Her fingers itched to hex the smugness off his face, but she forced herself to remain still. Instead, she let her gaze drift to the folder Harry had placed on the table—a thick stack of parchment bristling with clipped-on photos and hastily scrawled notes. She focused on the top photo, a grainy image of a cloaked figure slipping into a dimly lit alley, and let its details ground her.

The world narrowed to ink and paper. The curve of a streetlamp, the glint of a wand in the figure’s hand. She noted the angle of their stride, the way they seemed to favor their left leg.

“Do we have confirmation on their identity?” she asked, her voice steady now, crisp.

Harry nodded. “We believe it’s Caleb Mulciber. He’s been recruiting heavily in the north. This operation is our best chance to cut him off before he consolidates power.”

“And I assume he’s dangerous?” she pressed.

Malfoy chuckled softly, and she bristled at the sound. “Granger, if he weren’t dangerous, we wouldn’t be here.”

Her head snapped up, and their eyes locked. For a moment, she forgot about the photos, the mission, even Harry’s presence. All she saw was the man who had stood silent while she screamed, who had watched her break and had done nothing.

But he wasn’t that boy anymore. His face was harder now, his gaze sharper. There was something fractured in him, too, she realized—a shadow behind his arrogance that hadn’t been there before.

She looked away first, her stomach twisting.

“Right,” she said briskly, turning back to Harry. “Then we’d better not waste time.”

[cherry-pop-elf]

“Want to grab a bite?”

I’m telling you, THIS FANFIC CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY SO DAMN MUCH! Istg I am not the same person I was when went into it. I’ve re read or so much. Dude dude READ IT! It’s so good 😭

@galaxostars YOU ARE A BRILLIANT WRITER NEVER LET ANYONE ELSE TELL YOU OTHERWISE!

READ THE FIC YALL

[dewitty1]

I'll Play Your Game

JayseHasNoGrace @jaysehasnograce

Chapters: 16/16 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Past Harry/Ginny, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Cho Chang/Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Original Female Character/Original Nonbinary Character Characters: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Weasley Family (Harry Potter), Original Characters, a very tempermental owl Additional Tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Post-Hogwarts, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Magical Tattoos, Tattooed Draco Malfoy, apothecary assistant Harry, Desi Harry Potter, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Domestic Fluff, Mild Smut, (minimal) and mostly just, sexually suggestive content, mild homophobia, accidental outing (to Muggles), mild displays of PTSD, Disabled Characters, queer/disabled author

Summary:

After quitting the Auror department at the ripe old age of twenty two, Harry Potter finds a nice, uneventful job in an apothecary. At least, it's uneventful until his old rival Draco Malfoy comes into the shop. They strike up an unlikely friendship, which evolves into an increasingly convoluted scheme, which then snowballs spectacularly out of control into a tangle of lies and blurred lines. They'd agreed to a fake relationship — in Harry's case, to get the wizarding world to take him off his 'perfect saviour' pedestal, and in Draco's case, just to be given a chance in wizarding society at all — but neither of them expected just how difficult that might really turn out to be. Especially when the stakes grow ever higher, and they both start falling for each other. Just a little bit.

Excerpt:

"I still don't know why you think this is going to change anything. They're surely just going to make it into another 'friends' thing." He shut the front door, knowing that wouldn't help much, considering his was the front, ground floor flat, so the press could see right in through the windows if they wished.

Harry made a frustrated noise. "Then we won't let them. We've been trying way too long at this, this is ridiculous."

"Well what do you want me to do, make out with you?" Draco said sarcastically.

Harry was silent.

"Oh. Oh Merlin, is that really your idea?"

"I don't know that we need to do all that," Harry laughed nervously. "Just kiss me. If you're okay with it, that is?"

Draco sighed. "I don't have much of a choice if we want them to ever catch on, do I?"

He quickly stepped forward and tilted his head down slightly to kiss Harry before he could overthink it. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders, slipping one hand into the back of his hair. He was certainly prepared for this show then, Draco thought.

Draco backed up a bit and broke away slightly to mutter, "Should probably get more in front of the window," before Harry was kissing him again. And then suddenly the crowd of reporters outside was the last thing Draco was thinking about, caught up in the feeling of Harry against him — focusing on the feel of his lips and how he felt under Draco's hands as he slid a hand down his chest and over his back.

Draco felt the cold glass of the windowpane abruptly pressed against his back, and he grabbed the windowsill to steady himself as he was shoved violently back into reality. 

Right, this was just a performance.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ(ू•ᴗ•ू❁)

[shiviswriting]

Do you hold memories that those would flash and make you smile in your deathbed? Hermione witnesses one such memory with her adorable three year old Rose Granger-Malfoy and her husband Draco Malfoy.

[fadinggalaxysalad]

We deny the existence of the epilogue in this house. I refuse to believe abused and distrustful of authority figures Harry “You Don’t Have To Call Me Sir” Potter signed up after years of fighting to just fight even more for a Ministry that called him a crazy liar for years. Fuck that bullshit. 

[thegreenaardvark]

Don't Wait Up (Dramonie)

"I don't know about this Draco..."

"It'll be fine Hermione, alright?"

Hermione hadn't been back to Malfoy Manor since the war, and while she had agreed to come with him, it didn't mean that she had any real desire to set foot inside of the house. 

"Can't we just walk the grounds? I know you said she couldn't leave the property, but surely..."

"Hermione...it's November. Nothing is going to happen, alright? The DMLE has said she's doing well with their social rehabilitation program, she alone in there, and she doesn't even have a wand. We'll be fine. Now will you come inside? It's fucking freezing."

Hermione removed the hand he had been holding from his grasp. The scar on her forearm was itching more than ever as she grasped the cuff of her jacket in her fist. 

Draco was already up the steps and standing in the open doorway, but Hermione's feet refused to move as she rubbed at her forearm; trying to will away the itch she knew fully well wasn't really there. 

Draco took a deep breath of the cold fall air before pulling his coat further around himself and walking back down towards Hermione. He pulled her scarred arm towards him and traced the letters underneath her coat over the material of her sleeve. 

"You want to go home," he sighed. It wasn't the question she had expected it to sound like. Just a blunt statement of fact, "Fine, just," he said waving his hand dismissively, "I'll meet you at home then."

"Maybe next month..."

"Right, sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She said defensively.

"You know what I mean," Draco bit back.

"Look, I'm trying..."

"No, your not!"

"Why do you even care!"

"Because she's my mother Hermione! I want my mother and my wife to be able to sit in the same fucking room."

"And I want my husband  to think about what he asking of me!"

Draco sighed, "Don't be melodramatic Hermione..."

"I'm being melodramatic?! Do you not remember the last time I set foot in that house?"

Hermione knew it was a mistake immediately after it spilled from her, but it was too late to take her the words back in. Draco was staring at her disbelievingly.

"You think I could forget my abusive, lunatic of an aunt carving into you in that fucking drawing room? Do you seriously think I could fucking forget that?! Because I don't recall being confunded as of late."

"You wouldn't actually recall being confunded...sorry." Hermione muttered.

Draco stared down at her angrily, "Really?!"

"Habit."

"Yes, I seem to recall you quite used to enjoy being an insufferable know-it-all..."

"And I seem to recall you at one point being a ferret." Hermione snapped before crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'll be late tonight. Don't bother waiting up."

She knew he had probably intended to sound irate, but they had been together for ten years, and Hermione could pick out the small hint of woundedness in his tone. 

[jovialobservationanchor]

The gentle blue light of the illusions reminded Harry of Patronuses in an aching way. He liked the soft glow of them on Draco’s face. Draco, for all his theatrics in Hagrid’s Magical Creatures class and his more understated shyness of Luna’s animals, regarded them with an unguarded awe. He liked clever magic. How had Harry never noticed what a boffin he was?

They were standing in front of a jackalope when Draco turned to meet Harry’s stare. His eyebrows lifted in inquiry.

Harry felt his face heat, but he was still tipsy from the beer and was, after all, an alumnus of Gryffindor. He leaned in to kiss Draco.

Title: Wont

(A holiday-flavored sequel to Knead, my coffeeshop AU set in Oregon!)

By: laughingd0g

Length: 37k

Summary: This is what happens after.

Tags: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter EWE, AU, coffee shops and cafes, farm/ranch, slice of life, Portland Oregon, Ex-Auror Harry Potter, Baker Draco Malfoy, Muggle life, established relationship, banter, friendship, drinking, wine, food pr0n, fluff, stress baking, kitchen sex, miscommunication, minor Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving dinner, vegetarians and vegans, food fight, Christmas Eve, Christmas, Boxing Day, New Year’s Eve

Read on AO3

I was going to wait till I’d released the short epilogue to make this Tumblr post, but I can’t wait any longer to share this beautiful artwork by my dear @rama-thorn. Merry Christmas, friends.

(The epilogue is coming, though! 🥰 )

[dhr-advent]

Eves and Ends by HeyJude19

Eves and Ends (4992 words) by HeyJude19 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: D/Hr Advent 2024, D/Hr Advent, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Time Loop, Time Shenanigans, Post-War, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Explicit Sexual Content, First Dates, Getting Together, Getting Together Again and Again and Again, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining, Romance Summary:

Draco does not care how he landed in this situation. Whether curse or coma or hallucination, he has no desire to know what has trapped him in his present circumstance. There’s nothing at all stopping him from reliving Christmas Eve with Granger for the rest of time.

Written for D/Hr Advent 2024.

[hd-erised]

H/D Erised Fic: At Night All Birds Are Black

Author: veradubhghoill Recipient: IzRoan Pairing(s): Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ronald Weasley, mild Pansy Parkinson/Neville Longbottom Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~51,700 Tags: Dark Magic, Ghosts, Casefic, Pining, Potions, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Forced Proximity, Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Child Abuse, Body Horror, Gore, They’re in Love Your Honour, Alcohol, Death of a Child (OC), Kidnapping of a Child (OC), Pregnancy of a Minor Character, Previous Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Additional Warnings in Author's Notes

Summary: Harry loves being an Auror—the long hours, adrenaline-fuelled chases, and even the paperwork. But when a haunting leads to his suspension, he’s forced to continue his investigation in secret. As he unravels the murder of a young girl, he turns to the one person he never expected he’d need: Draco Malfoy.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

At Night All Birds Are Black

[hd-tarot]

🔮 [FIC] The Superfluous Man (E, 24.1k words) by Anonymous 🃏

A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life.

Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, One Night Stands, Getting Together, Drarry in their 30s, Head Auror Harry Potter, failson draco malfoy, Draco Malfoy-centric, drive-by numerology, Potions, ugly baby names, bad marriage proposals, bald lies, balding men, Alcohol, Magical Creatures, and a truly cursed tag, thregnancy

Tarot Card: The Wheel of Fortune

Notes: Written for prompt X. The Wheel of Fortune — change, cycles, fate, decisive moments, luck, fortune, unexpected events. Thank you to the mods of HD Tarot Fest for your vision, patience, and generosity.

✧ Read HERE on AO3 ��

[hd-wireless]

🎶 H/D Wireless Fic 🎶

📻 When the Flood Comes 

🎵 Explicit, 10,340  ❗ Warnings/Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, The Ministry of Magic is Corrupt (Harry Potter), Auror Harry Potter, Lawyer Draco Malfoy, Inspired by Persuasion, Mystery, Alternate Timelines, Politics, Magical Creatures, references to workplace sexual harassment, References to Suicide, nothing graphic  🎵 Song Prompt: Eat Your Young by Hozier 

🎵 Summary: 

Nine years on from the war, Auror Potter is upholding the Ministry of Magic's rule of law.  Senior legal counsel Draco Malfoy is challenging it.  And absolutely nothing is as it seems.

Read on AO3

[softone-ao3]

Chapter 3: Cracks in the Armor

The midday sunlight streamed through the towering windows of the Ministry conference room, casting a golden glow on the table where Hermione sat, her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She glanced at Draco Malfoy, who lounged in his chair as if they were here to discuss the latest office gossip rather than a life-or-death mission.

Harry stood at the head of the table, his expression grave. “Three days.” His voice broke the tense silence. “That’s how long you’ve got before we need you both undercover. The window to infiltrate this group is narrow, and we can’t afford to wait.”

Hermione straightened in her seat, her fingers twitching to take notes. “Three days? That’s hardly enough time to—”

“It’s what we have,” Harry interrupted, his tone clipped but apologetic. “The Minister wants results, and the intel suggests their next meeting is imminent. If we miss this, we might not get another chance.”

Malfoy tilted his head, his expression equal parts amused and disinterested. “I take it we’re not allowed to say no to this brilliant plan?”

“No,” Harry replied flatly, his gaze narrowing. “You’re not. And you both know why.”

Hermione’s jaw tightened, but she held her tongue. Malfoy, of course, didn’t.

“Well,” he drawled, glancing at Hermione, “I suppose Granger’s got her spreadsheets ready. Shouldn’t be too hard for her to conjure up a whole new personality, right? Something delightfully boring, no doubt.”

Before Hermione could snap back, Harry gave Malfoy a sharp look. "There is a reason the Minister decided to bring in Hermione as a second set of eyes and ears."

Malfoy tilted his head, his expression equal parts amused and disinterested. “Right. Because a mission like this needs two people instead of just the one who’s already been doing it.”

Harry’s gaze hardened. “Your cover is intact, Malfoy, but we need someone on the inside who isn’t… you.”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to smirk. But Malfoy caught the flicker of amusement on her face.

“Well,” he drawled, glancing at her, “if I’m stuck with a partner, at least it’s someone who’ll keep the paperwork organized. I’m sure Granger’s already got color-coded plans for every eventuality.”

She shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “At least I’ll be prepared, unlike you, who’ll probably just charm your way through and hope no one notices your total lack of substance.”

Draco smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Charming people is a skill, Granger. Maybe I’ll give you a lesson or two—if you ask nicely.”

“Enough,” Harry cut in, raising a hand to silence them both. “You’ve got your assignments. Hermione, I need your undercover identity finalized and submitted for approval by six tonight. Malfoy, you’re assisting her with this.”

Hermione’s head snapped toward Harry. “What?”

Harry met her incredulous stare without flinching. “You heard me. He’s got more experience with deception than you do, and you’ll need all the help you can get.”

Malfoy’s smirk widened. “Finally, some recognition for my talents.”

Hermione groaned inwardly, already dreading the hours ahead.

*****

The office Harry had assigned them was cramped, with walls painted a drab shade of grey and a single desk barely large enough for two people. Hermione sat at one end, a quill in her hand, furiously scribbling notes in her journal. Malfoy, of course, was draped lazily across the only chair with a decent cushion, twirling his wand between his fingers.

“You’ve been staring at that page for twenty minutes, Granger. Surely you’ve come up with something by now.”

“I’m brainstorming,” Hermione snapped without looking up.

“Oh, I can see that. Very inspiring. The furious scribbling really screams ‘master of deception.’”

She slammed the quill down, spinning to face him. “Unlike you, Malfoy, I don’t rely on snide remarks and a trust fund to get through life. Some of us actually put in the effort.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re calling this? Effort? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re preparing for an interview at Flourish and Blotts, not infiltrating a group of criminals.”

Hermione clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to throw something at him. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“I am helping. I’m helping by pointing out that your current approach is rubbish.” He leaned forward, his tone softening slightly, though the smirk remained. “Look, this isn’t about being the cleverest witch in the room. It’s about being convincing. What kind of person do you think these people would trust?”

Hermione hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. She hated to admit it, but he had a point.

“Well,” she said slowly, “My alias needs to have a rich backstory—where I grew up, my favorite dessert, maybe even a pet. I was thinking she’s from an academic family in Edinburgh—”

Malfoy groaned, cutting her off. “Merlin, Granger, you’re not writing a novel. Just pick a name and don’t talk about books for five minutes. It’ll be an improvement.”

She flushed, glaring daggers at him. “Would you like me to hex your mouth shut, or are you actually going to contribute something useful?”

Malfoy smirked. “I’d like to see you try, but let’s stay focused, shall we? They’re criminals, not Ravenclaws. They’re not looking for ‘intelligent’ or ‘resourceful.’ They’re looking for someone who fits in. Someone who can talk their way out of a tight spot without resorting to a textbook definition.”

Hermione’s cheeks burned, but she refused to let him see her falter. “Fine,” she said curtly. “What do you suggest, then?”

Malfoy’s smirk widened. “Let’s see… How about you try being someone a little less… Hermione Granger? Give them a reason to let their guard down. Start small, listen to the great master of deception in the room because he tires of repeating himself and give me a name.”

Hermione stared at him, contemplating to turn his stupid face green, and then looked down at her notebook. A name. That seemed easy enough. Except every suggestion that came to mind sounded ridiculous. She hated feeling this unprepared.

“Fine,” she muttered after a pause. “Call me… Eliza Carter.”

Malfoy snorted. “Eliza Carter? Sounds like someone who sells overpriced cauldrons on Diagon Alley. Try again.”

“Then what would you suggest?”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully, his expression far too smug for her liking. “Something simpler. Less posh. How about Eva Blake?”

Hermione frowned, turning the name over in her mind. It wasn’t bad, she had to admit. But she wasn’t about to let him win this easily. “Fine. Eva Blake. But if you mock me one more time—”

“Yes, you'll hex my mouth shut, I remember.” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Please, Granger, as if you’d waste that level of effort on me.”

She exhaled sharply, muttering under her breath as she returned to her notes. “Three days,” she murmured. “We’ll see who’s laughing when this mission is over.”

From his chair, Malfoy’s soft chuckle lingered in the air. “Looking forward to it, Eva.”

*****

The briefing room was pleasantly quiet, save for the soft shuffle of parchment and the ticking of an old clock in the corner. Kingsley Shacklebolt sat at the head of the table, his broad shoulders filling the chair, his usual calm demeanor betraying no hint of the tension in the air. Hermione sat across from him, her hands gripping her spreadsheet paper so tightly that the edges curled. Malfoy stood beside her, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable.

"Alright, Granger," Kingsley said, his deep voice cutting through the stillness. "Present your identity."

Hermione nodded stiffly, her throat dry. She had worked hard on this, and yet, now that the moment had come, she felt unprepared. She’d been given until 6 p.m. to present her identity—less than six hours—and though the identity was solid—she and Malfoy had devised it carefully—it still felt like she was about to walk into a lion’s den with nothing but her nerves to help her. They weren't being very helpful currently.

"Her name is Eva Blake," Hermione began, her words coming out a little too quickly. She cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. "She’s... a freelance consultant working in the darker corners of magical commerce. She’s... not well-known, but she’s... connected. She deals in rare and, uh, dangerous artifacts. People who don’t ask questions come to her for their needs."

Her mind raced as she tried to remember the rest of what she'd worked out with Malfoy. She felt like her mouth was moving faster than her brain. "She’s not one of them—she’s not a known sympathizer, but she’s known to work with Death Eater sympathizers. She’s not someone you’d notice, but if you need something dark, you know who to ask."

Kingsley’s eyes never left her face, and the weight of his gaze made her throat tighten. "And how does she operate? How does she survive?" he asked.

Hermione blinked, forcing herself to focus. She had to get this right. There was no turning back now.

"She’s adaptable. She’s... always moving between the cracks," Hermione continued. "She knows how to avoid being noticed, how to manipulate situations. She’s... cutthroat when she has to be. She’s been involved in shady dealings before, and she’s not afraid of... using violence if necessary."

Kingsley nodded slowly, clearly assessing the weight of her words. He gave a brief glance to Malfoy, then back to Hermione. "What does she have to gain from becoming a part of their organisation? And how do we know that ‘Eva Blake’ won’t blow our cover the moment she steps into the field?"

Before Hermione could respond, Malfoy’s voice cut in, his tone dismissive and dry. "With how uptight and nervous she sounds, she’ll blow our cover before we even make it out the door," he said, his eyes flicking to Hermione with thinly veiled annoyance.

Hermione’s jaw tightened. "Excuse me?" she snapped, giving him a sharp look.

Malfoy didn't smile, but it was clear he was unfazed by her outcry, amused, even. "You can’t go pretending to be Eva Blake with that much bloody uncertainty in your voice. People will smell the doubt from a mile away."

Hermione clenched her fists, but she held her ground. "If you're so high and mighty, how about you give me some actual pointers instead of spewing bloody mockery all day?" Oh, how she wished to strangle him in that moment.

Kingsley cleared his throat, interrupting before the argument could escalate further. "That’s enough," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Granger, you’ve given us the basics, but Malfoy’s right. You need to be more convincing." He glanced between them, his gaze lingering for a moment on the tension brewing between the two. "Get it right. You’ve got two more days until the mission starts."

Hermione nodded stiffly, swallowing her frustration. She could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her as she turned to leave, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

Once they were in the corridor, Hermione didn’t wait for him to catch up before she started walking. He had to jog to match her pace, a small satisfaction. Her thoughts were racing as she tried to focus. She wasn’t sure she could pull this off, but she didn't have a choice. She had to get convincing, fast.

After they turned a third corner, Malfoy glanced over at her, his expression unreadable, and broke the silence. "You’ve got a long way to go before you’re ready to walk into a room full of people who would kill you for a single slip-up, Granger," he said, his voice low but sharp. "You need to be Eva Blake. Not just her name, but her attitude. Her... everything."

Hermione clenched her jaw. He was right and she knew it, but she was far too annoyed with him to give him even an inch right now. "And I’m supposed to do that in a couple of days? Get real, Malfoy."

"Yes, that’s the plan," he said, not breaking stride. "You don’t have a choice."

Hermione felt a surge of irritation. "Don’t you dare tell me what I can or can’t do." She knew she was being nonsensical, but she couldn't stop her mouth from moving.

Malfoy didn’t flinch. "Well, I’m telling you now. If you don’t get it together, we’re both as good as dead."

She swallowed the retort she wanted to fire off. There were certain boundaries she wasn't angry enough to cross yet. She shot him a withering look instead.

Malfoy, in turn, quirked his eyebrow, but seemed to also consider his words. Hermione felt a small sense of relief at the thought of him shutting up for once, before he spoke again. She didn't suppress her eyeroll.

"Granger," Malfoy muttered, quickening his pace. "You need to practice. You’ve got two days to make yourself unrecognizable to anyone who isn’t a Death Eater."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Malfoy," she retorted, but her voice lacked the bite she had had a few moments ago. 

He used the opening she had given him with that. "Apologies, I wouldn't want to take over your job for you." She scowled at him.

Malfoy must have finally gotten tired of her half-run through the Ministry, as she suddenly got halted to a stop by his hand grabbing her by the elbow. She recoiled and immediately ripped her arm free from his grasp. "Don't touch me, Malfoy."

Malfoy raised both hands in mock surrender, his smirk faltering for just a moment. A flicker of something—surprise, maybe?—passed through his eyes at her sharp reaction. He recovered quickly, though, his usual air of indifference snapping back into place. "Relax, Granger," he said smoothly. "No need to get your knickers in a twist."

Hermione scowled, her pulse hammering in her ears. She didn’t trust herself to respond without snapping, so she stayed silent. This had escalated enough already. The last thing she needed was to lose control in front of Malfoy.

Unfazed, Malfoy filled the silence, his tone irritatingly light. "For someone so desperate to save the world, you’ve got a funny way of making allies." He crossed his arms, feigning a thoughtful expression. "But fine. No touching. Message received."

He stepped back, giving her space, though his gaze remained fixed on her. "Look," he said, his tone hardening again, "you’re not going to bluff your way through this mission with sheer indignation. You're not me. You need help."

Hermione let out a short laugh, entirely devoid of humor. "Help from you? You’ve got to be joking. All you've been doing is crack jokes. Unfunny ones, by the way."

His smirk returned, wider now. "Oh, of course. I find nothing more amusing than the prospect of getting killed because you can’t act your way out of a paper bag. The funniest thing to happen to me all year." He paused, his tone dropping. "This isn’t a joke, Granger. You need to pull it together."

Her fists clenched at her sides. "I’m working on it, Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth. "But forgive me if pretending to be someone who associates with Death Eaters isn’t second nature to me."

Malfoy’s eyes darkened, his voice turning colder. "You think it’s second nature to me?" he said, stepping closer. "You think I don’t have to fight every instinct telling me to get as far away from this as possible? This isn’t about what you’re comfortable with, Granger. It’s about what’s necessary. And right now, what’s necessary is you being convincing enough not to get us both killed."

The weight of his words hit her like a blow, leaving her breathless for a moment. Hermione forced herself to take a slow, deliberate breath. Her hands still trembled, but her voice was steady when she spoke. "Fine," she said, her tone clipped. "Then help me. But if you’re just going to keep acting like a prick, Malfoy, I swear—"

"Alright," he interrupted, his tone clipped. "Meet me tonight. Seven o’clock."

Her brow furrowed. "Where? Why?"

He hesitated, then shrugged. "The Leaky Cauldron. Public enough to keep things civil but private enough to work. You and I are going to practice."

Hermione stared at him, weighing her options. There weren’t many. She still hated the idea of relying on him, but he wasn’t wrong—she couldn’t afford to fail. "Fine," she said, more firmly this time. "But if you show up late—"

"You’ll what?" he interrupted, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Lecture me to death?"

Her glare could have melted steel. "Just be there on time," she snapped, turning sharply on her heel. She marched down the corridor, her footsteps echoing, determined not to let him get the last word.

Malfoy didn’t follow this time, but she could feel his gaze boring into her back. She refused to look back, not even once. Two days wasn’t long, but it would have to be enough. Failure wasn’t an option—not for her, not for this mission. And if it meant enduring Malfoy’s insufferable company to succeed, she would have to find a way to make it work.

*****

The cold bit at Hermione’s fingertips, and she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat. A biting November wind howled through Diagon Alley, pulling at her hair and stinging her cheeks. She stood just outside The Leaky Cauldron’s entrance, glancing at her watch for the third time in as many minutes. It was seven o’clock on the dot, and Malfoy, surprisingly, wasn’t late.

Of course, he wasn’t early, either.

She spotted him the moment he turned the corner, his unmistakable silhouette moving with infuriating ease through the bustling street. His scarf was perfectly knotted, his coat tailored to fit him like a second skin. He exuded the kind of effortless poise that Hermione had long since decided was both natural and deeply irritating.

Malfoy’s eyes met hers as he approached, his lips curling into a smirk. "Waiting out here in the cold, Granger? Were you that eager to see me?"

Hermione’s scowl deepened. "You’re right on time, Malfoy. Barely. Shall we?" She turned sharply on her heel, pushing open the pub’s door without waiting for a response.

The warmth of the Leaky Cauldron enveloped her instantly, though it did little to ease her annoyance. The pub was alive with chatter and the clinking of mugs, a haze of pipe smoke curling near the ceiling. Hermione made a beeline for a corner table, far enough from the other patrons to allow for some privacy.

Malfoy followed, shedding his coat and scarf with an exaggerated flourish before draping them over the back of his chair. "Cozy little spot you’ve picked," he remarked, sliding into the seat across from her.

"I’m not here for coziness," she replied tersely. "Let’s just get this over with."

"Ah, there’s that charm you’re so famous for." He leaned back in his chair, his smirk firmly in place. "Alright, Granger. Lesson one: you need to stop looking like you’re about to hex someone every time you speak. It’s not the most convincing act for someone trying to blend in with Death Eater sympathizers."

Hermione crossed her arms, her posture rigid. "Maybe if you explained how I’m supposed to act, instead of just criticizing me, we’d make some progress."

Malfoy’s smirk widened, and he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s simple. Confidence, Granger. You’re playing the part of someone who believes they belong. Someone who doesn’t flinch at the idea of… unsavory company."

"I don’t flinch," she shot back defensively.

"Really?" He arched a brow. "Let’s test that theory."

Without warning, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers where they rested on the tabletop. She snatched her hand back as though burned, her eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Are you demented? I said don’t touch me quite literally an hour ago," she hissed, her voice low but venomous.

Malfoy regarded her for a moment, his gaze sharper now. "You’re going to have to do better than that," he said, his tone cooling. "If you freeze up every time someone gets too close, we’re both as good as dead. Let’s try again. Pretend I’m an old friend. Someone you trust."

Hermione let out a humorless laugh. "Trust? With you? I take it back, you are funny."

She could swear he saw real enjoyment flash across his features. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and she wondered if she had imagined it. "Not me, Granger. Your role. Remember? This isn’t about what you feel. It’s about what they see."

She hated that he was right. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to meet his gaze, willing her voice to remain steady. "Fine. What do I say, then?"

Malfoy leaned forward, his expression a mixture of mockery and challenge. "You start by looking like you’re happy to see me. Smile, Granger. You remember how to do that, don’t you?"

The glare she shot him could have melted steel. But she plastered on a stiff, unconvincing smile, her jaw tight.

"Terrifying," he drawled, his lips twitching with barely concealed amusement. "Let’s try not to scare anyone off, shall we?"

The back-and-forth continued, with Hermione stumbling over phrases and Malfoy’s constant interruptions doing little to help. But by the time their drinks arrived—two pints he’d ordered without asking—Hermione was at least managing a passable imitation of someone who didn’t loathe the man sitting across from her.

"Not bad," Malfoy admitted grudgingly, raising his glass in a mock toast. "For a fourth attempt."

Hermione ignored the jab and raised her glass stiffly, her fingers tightening around the cold, condensation-slick surface. "Let’s not celebrate mediocrity," she muttered before taking a small sip, wincing at the bitter taste.

Malfoy grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "And let’s not downplay progress, either. Baby steps, Granger."

She set her glass down with a clink and leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Fine. What’s next, then? Are we moving on to practicing secret handshakes or—Merlin forbid—how to deliver Death Eater small talk?"

Malfoy’s grin widened, and he tilted his head as if considering her suggestion. "Tempting, but no. We’re sticking to the basics for now. The next lesson is about body language."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Body language?"

"Yes. Your posture screams ‘head girl on patrol.’ Straight-backed, arms crossed, chin raised. It’s very… authoritarian." He took a deliberate sip of his drink. "And very obvious."

Hermione resisted the urge to cross her arms more tightly. "What’s wrong with good posture?"

"Nothing, if you’re lecturing first-years about cauldron safety. But we’re aiming for subtlety here. Relax, Granger. Lean back. Look at me like you’re enjoying this conversation."

Her eyes narrowed. "That’s asking a lot."

"And yet, here you are," he quipped, gesturing for her to follow his lead.

With a sigh that spoke volumes of her reluctance, Hermione leaned back in her chair, her shoulders stiff despite her best efforts. She forced herself to uncross her arms and rest them on the table instead.

"Better," Malfoy said, scrutinizing her with an almost unnerving intensity. "Now, soften the eyes a bit. You look like you’re planning my funeral."

"I might be," she muttered under her breath, earning a low chuckle from him.

"And relax your mouth," he added, ignoring her barb. "That tight little line is very… Hermione Granger. Not exactly what we’re going for."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes and instead took a deep breath, forcing her jaw to unclench. She felt ridiculous, like a schoolgirl practicing for a drama production.

"Much better," Malfoy said after a moment, leaning forward again. "See? You’re a natural."

She gave him a withering look. "I’m not sure I want to be a natural at pretending to enjoy your company."

"Then consider it an act of self-preservation," he said smoothly. "Because if you can’t sell this out there, they’ll eat you alive."

The words sent a chill down her spine, and for a moment, Hermione’s annoyance gave way to something heavier—fear, perhaps, or the weight of the task ahead. She glanced away, her fingers tracing the edge of her glass.

"Granger," Malfoy said, his tone softer now, though still edged with his trademark drawl. "You’ll do fine. You just need to get out of your own head."

Her gaze snapped back to his, and for once, she didn’t have a quick retort. She hated to admit it, but there was something oddly reassuring about his confidence, even if it was laced with smugness.

"Are you always this insufferable when you’re teaching someone?" she asked after a moment, her voice lighter now, almost teasing.

He smirked. "Only when the student is particularly hopeless."

Hermione snorted despite herself, shaking her head. "Hopeless, my arse. Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I’ve mastered this and leave you in the dust."

For a fleeting moment, Malfoy’s expression shifted—surprise flickering in his eyes, followed by something softer, though she couldn't figure out what it was. He lifted his glass, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he were fighting back a genuine smile. "I’ll hold you to that."

This time, Hermione didn’t hesitate to clink hers against his. The sound was small but significant, a brief truce amidst their endless sparring.

As the night wore on, their conversation shifted, the tension between them loosening just slightly. They were still far from friends—miles apart, even—but in that dim corner of the Leaky Cauldron, they found a fragile rhythm.

And for now, that would have to be enough.

*****

The chill in the air nipped at Hermione’s skin, and she couldn’t help but shiver slightly. They had made their way deep into Knockturn Alley, past its twisted, crooked shops and the shadowy figures who seemed to blend with the darkness. It felt like stepping far away from civilization, and Hermione’s every instinct told her she should be elsewhere, anywhere but here.

“This was a bad idea,” she muttered, pulling her cloak tighter around herself.

Malfoy, walking effortlessly beside her, didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were trained on the alleyway, his posture relaxed but alert. "You're fine," he finally said, though his tone held the slightest hint of amusement. "Just follow my lead, and you won’t have to worry about anything."

Hermione glanced at him sharply. “Yeah, because that worked so well earlier.”

He shrugged. “One step at a time, Granger.”

They passed a dark storefront that seemed abandoned, the windows shuttered but with faint glimmers of movement inside. Hermione was just about to comment when a sudden commotion from a nearby alley caught her attention. She paused, squinting into the shadows.

A group of men stood around a cart, its contents spilling out onto the cobblestones in an unsettling display. There were crates filled with various items—some of them in wrapped parcels that seemed far too neatly organized for anything legal. One of the men was holding up what looked like a bundle of potions, shaking them as if inspecting the quality.

Hermione’s breath hitched. She knew those potions—black market wares, easy to get if you knew the right people, but illegal nonetheless.

“Malfoy,” she whispered, her voice tense. “Those are—those are restricted potions. And that’s not even counting whatever else is in those crates.” She looked at him, her heart pounding. “We can’t just stand here. We should—”

“Don’t.” Malfoy's voice was low, but there was an undeniable authority in it. He reached out, grabbing her wrist before she could step forward.

She shot him a glare, her frustration mounting. “What do you mean, ‘don’t’?” She shook his hand off. “Those are illegal! We should be doing something.”

Malfoy's eyes flicked to the group, sizing them up quickly. The men were distracted, clearly too wrapped up in their business to notice the two of them. “What we should do,” he said softly, his tone steely, “is nothing. Not yet.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t rush in without knowing who you’re dealing with.” He glanced over at her, his expression darkening. “That lot? They’re exactly who we’re here to learn about. Making a scene won’t help us.”

“But we can’t just—”

“I know,” he cut her off, his voice barely a whisper. “It’s hard to just let this go. But we’re not here to play the hero, Granger. We’re here to gather intel and help you fit in so you don't get killed in two days, not make them suspicious.”

Hermione clenched her jaw, torn between her instinct to step in and her growing understanding that this wasn’t as simple as she'd hoped. She watched, frustration clawing at her chest, as one of the men tossed a handful of Galleons onto the cart in exchange for one of the potions.

The two of them stayed hidden in the shadows, watching as the transaction unfolded. The men exchanged a few more words, all of them gruff, one of them handing over a black leather pouch that jingled with the unmistakable sound of coins.

Hermione’s fingers itched to step in, to make sure something was done about it, but Malfoy's calmness anchored her. For now, they observed. She took a steadying breath and focused on observing their mannerisms, their way of speaking whenever she caught words that were carried over the wind.

She was nothing if not adaptable, she told herself. She could almost hear Malfoy's snort in her head as a response. Even if he hadn't actually done anything irritating right now, she still shot a glare at the back of his head, just because.

As the group of men began to disperse, Malfoy turned to Hermione, his expression now serious. “You’ll get your chance, Granger. But tonight, we walk away with information, not heroism.”

Hermione gritted her teeth but nodded. The adrenaline of wanting to act was still there, but she had to admit, he was right. They couldn’t afford to blow their cover before the mission had even begun.

*****

As they stepped back into the bustling heart of Diagon Alley, the sudden change in atmosphere was almost jarring. The dark, oppressive weight of Knockturn Alley seemed to lift, replaced by the familiar sounds of chatter and clinking glass from nearby shops. It was a world where nothing too dangerous seemed to be going on, at least on the surface.

Hermione couldn’t help but exhale, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. The air here was lighter, more predictable. People milled about, shopping for their potion ingredients or discussing the latest magical gossip, oblivious to the undercurrent of danger Hermione could still feel.

"Well," she said, turning toward Draco with a raised eyebrow, "that was certainly an... eye-opening experience."

Malfoy's lips quirked as he glanced around, clearly more at ease now. "Were you hoping for something a bit more exciting?" he teased, his tone light but his eyes sharp.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, I was hoping for a little less of that," she said, gesturing vaguely in the direction they’d just walked from. "I’m all for stopping dark magic, but sometimes I feel like I'm walking into a bloody hornet's nest."

He chuckled, the sound surprisingly genuine. "Yeah, well, that's sort of the point. You can't stop the hornets if you're too busy tiptoeing around their nest."

Hermione shot him a sidelong glance, her lips twitching. "And you know this from personal experience, do you? Should I be concerned?"

He looked at her, feigning innocence. "Only if you're afraid of getting stung."

She snorted, shaking her head. "You know, Malfoy, for someone who claims to be all relaxation all the time, you certainly have a way of talking like you’re the one leading this operation."

Malfoy grinned. "Someone’s got to take the reins around here, Granger. Besides, you’re not exactly a picture of calm and collected yourself."

Hermione crossed her arms, a challenge in her voice. "I am always calm and collected."

"Is that what you call that?" He gestured vaguely to her stiff posture and clenched jaw. "You were ready to hex someone back there."

She narrowed her eyes. "At least I don't look like I'm about to burst into a dramatic monologue at any given moment."

His smirk widened, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something like amusement?-Hermione was getting irritated at the amount of complex feelings she could see but not read on him.

"Touché. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure I was just as ready to hex someone."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief in her expression. "You? Really?"

"Shocking, isn’t it?" Draco said with a mock sigh. "I may have a reputation for being calm and collected, but every now and then, even I want to throw a good hex in there."

"Merlin forbid," Hermione quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "We wouldn't want anyone to think you're not polished."

"Ah, but it's all part of my charm, Granger." He grinned, the smirk still tugging at his lips. "Polished enough to not be too intimidating at first glance, but menace enough inside to get to where I need to be."

He paused, another unreadable look in his eyes. "You know, you're tougher than you look. Maybe you will actually survive this."

Hermione’s expression softened slightly, though she kept her guard up. "I’m not sure that’s saying much, Malfoy. I’m pretty sure you just insulted me, but I’ll let it slide."

He chuckled again. "You know, Granger, I think I’m starting to understand why people find you so... intimidating."

She stopped walking, turning to face him fully, and raised a questioning eyebrow. "More insults coming my way?"

He put a hand to his heart and feigned offense. "I wouldn't dare."

Her lips twitched as she fought back a smile. For a moment, she allowed herself to relax, the tension between them fading slightly. Then, as if remembering herself, she stiffened, her gaze shifting away.

"I think I’ve had enough for tonight," Hermione muttered, her voice suddenly colder than before.

Malfoy paused, looking at her quizzically. "What, no witty retort?"

She shook her head, turning toward the direction of the nearest apparition point. "No. Goodnight, Malfoy."

He stared at her, a flicker of something again crossing his face, but he said nothing as she walked away.

[flimsi]

on the divine agony of longing | Harry/Draco | 25k | Explicit

Speaking to Draco is like poking a beehive - and Harry is a glutton for punishment.

In which Harry makes some serious blunders and then tries to fix it. Somehow.

--

Draco’s eyes narrow and his mouth purses, pretty and pink and wet from whatever he’s been drinking. “Any mediocre time is better than whatever you can you offer, Head Auror Potter. We’ve had this conversation. I thought I made myself clear.”

--

AO3-Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE - Auror Harry Potter - Magically Powerful Harry Potter - Possessive Harry Potter - Draco Malfoy Has Long Hair - Slow Burn - Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy - Jealous Harry Potter - Getting Together - Explicit Sexual Content - Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

[hp-soulmates-secret-santa]

DRAMIONE DAY ❄️Confessions Under A Starry Sky ❄️for chaosophia RATING: Teen and Up LENGTH: 3,926 words TAGS: POV Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Fluff, Soulmates, Good Slytherins, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Song: Stargazing (Myles Smith), Post-Second Wizarding War with Voldemort (Harry Potter), Apologies SUMMARY: Hermione and Draco discover they are soulmates under a starry sky.

❄️Rare Discoveries❄️ for GimletSour RATING: General Audiences LENGTH: 1,896 words TAGS: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Archaeology, Magic + Archaeology, Fluff, Short & Sweet, Out of Character Draco Malfoy, Potentially Out of Character Hermione Granger SUMMARY: When a widespread epidemic seems to be taking over the British Wizarding community, Hermione is determined to figure out what it is. In the meantime, Draco is determined to figure out what she’s up to. ❄️Love is Blonde❄️ for SybilEvergreen RATING: Teen and Up LENGTH: 3,979 words TAGS: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban, Light Angst, Hermione Granger is Bad at Feelings, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Getting Together, Happy Ending SUMMARY: When Hermione wakes up on the morning of her eighteenth birthday with blonde hair, she learns that it means she has a soulmate. But that can't be true, because she only knows one person with this shade of white-blond hair and he hates her...right?

❄️Senses❄️ for StrixXinXiang RATING: General Audiences LENGTH: 3,412 words TAGS: AU, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel! Hermione, Guide! Draco, Background Relationships, Harry Potter/Pansy Parkinson - Freeform, pre-relationship Ron Weasley/Blaise Zabini SUMMARY: The last two names on the list made Hermione cringe: Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. She figured that the better one to start with was Blaise.

[sailtomarina]

She stared at him until his smile faded. “You don’t have to do that, you know?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend with me.”

He scoffed. “I don’t.”

“I see the way you look when you think others aren’t watching.” Her fingers tightened on his as he averted his gaze and tried to tug them away.

“I think it’s time we get you to bed now.”

“Did I ever tell you how relieved I was that you survived that wall?”

His breath caught, time seeming to slow as he raised his eyes to hers once more. “You might have, yeah.” He stayed still as she leaned in, still gripping his hand tight.

“Well, I’ll say it again. I’m glad you’re alive, Fred Weasley.”

And then she kissed him.

On the cheek.

Read the rest of In Absence of Wealth on AO3!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley Characters: Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Molly Weasley, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley Additional Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Adulthood, Light Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Language of Flowers, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Hermione Granger Needs a Hug, Protective Fred Weasley & George Weasley Summary:

A chance encounter in a pub and a single heart-to-heart later bring together a weary Hermione Granger and a jovial Fred Weasley, who, until recently, lived their lives much to the expectations of others. Now that they’ve gotten a glimpse of what it might be like to not wear those masks, can they continue on as they have before, or will they choose a different path?

[hd-fan-fair]

Title: Meet Me At Midnight Creator: Anonymous Prompt: #153 Muggle Theme: Ride-Share Driver Harry Potter Rating: Explicit Content Notes: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter; Uber Driver Harry Potter; Draco Malfoy in Muggle World; Clubs; Insomnia; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Slow Burn; Getting Together; Anal Sex; Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE; Post-Hogwarts Summary: Four Slytherins—including a drunk Malfoy with glitter in his hair from the clubs—have piled into Harry's car. It's shaping up to be a strange Uber shift. Or: when Harry and Draco found solace in long drives, midnights, and in each other, fourteen years after the war. Word Count: 16,710 Creator’s Notes: Thanks to Trishjames for this amusing prompt! My gratitude to M for the quick and detailed beta, and to the mods for organising the fest.

( Meet Me At Midnight )