Puzzling Pursuits

From her comfortable desk chair, Hermione stared out her office window. Not that it showed anything real, as being in the Ministry of Magic meant being underground for the majority of her day. Her window had been charmed, like all the other windows, to show a peaceful outdoor scene. Various managers said this was to keep people happy, but something about it made Hermione feel melancholy. Today she had chosen a bright and sunny beach, families and couples lounging on sapphire blue chairs enjoying the sun, surf, and sand. Lovers walking up and down the shore holding hands, children building sand castles, elderly men napping in lounge chairs with triangles of sunscreen coating their noses. Hermione had been at the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures since finishing her eighth year at Hogwarts. She used to love it. She used to love crafting policy to change the Wizarding World for the better, but lately she felt… nothing. She'd dedicated her life to her job, now she was wondering if there was more to life than just the next piece of legislation. She pulled her gray wool cardigan around herself and sighed wistfully.

“Knock, Knock!”

“What can I do for you, Roberts?” Hermione said, before she even turned to face her second-in-command at the DRCMC. He was the only one who ever said “Knock, Knock” without actually knocking.

“Just need your signature on the final policy for the new dragon preserve in Scotland.” Alfie Roberts slapped a thick pile of parchment on her desk and perched himself on the plush chair opposite her. Hermione swiveled in her chair to face him and grabbed her favorite quill. “The first dragon preserve in the United Kingdom! You must be very proud!”

“I am, but I honestly couldn’t have done this one alone.” Convincing the locals to let dragons back into Scotland after they eradicated them hundreds of years ago was next to impossible. Thank goodness for Charlie Weasley and the rest of this department for convincing the locals that the environment would thrive soon after reintroducing a natural predator.

“Nonsense,” Roberts replied. “You rose to the top of this department within five years of leaving Hogwarts and pushed through so many reforms I’ve lost count! You could have secured this preserve with one arm tied behind your back!”

“You’re laying it on a bit thick, Roberts.” Though Hermione smirked at him. She had trained him well and he could probably run the department by himself.

Roberts turned a bit pink and had the good sense to change the subject. “Did you see The Prophet this morning?”

“Not yet.” Hermione usually saved it for her first break of the morning when she visited the coffee cart in the Atrium of the Ministry.

“Opulentum is giving away his fortune, well not really giving it away, but offering it as a prize in some mysterious competition.”

Hermione’s eyebrows went up. “Really? I wonder what inspired this scheme?”

“Apparently he’s in need of an heir. Two heirs, I guess. In order to compete you have to form a team of two.”

“Interesting.” Hermione quickly finished signing the policy and handed the large stack of parchment back to Alfie. She slipped on her sensible black pumps, stood up, straightened her gray knee-length pencil skirt, and tugged her cardigan down.

“I think it’s about time for my coffee break.”

Draco was late, not late late, but late enough that Tonks was going to have words with him when he showed up to his desk. Probably not nice words like “How ‘bout a raise, Malfoy?”

He was walking quickly through the Atrium, just in front of the lifts when a familiar head of curly brown hair elegantly done up in a French twist appeared in front of him stepping off the lift. Before he had time to stop he had barreled into her. Only sharp reflexes born from years of playing Quidditch saved her as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him in a very awkward embrace. They locked eyes for just a moment while Hermione regained her footing and then quickly stepped apart. Her brown eyes were shocked and then freshly annoyed with the blonde Auror.

“Merlin, Malfoy, watch where you’re going!”

“Apologies, Granger, Official Auror business, quite urgent!” He took off running to the express lift reserved for emergencies. His being late for work wasn't technically an “emergency,” but it was “emergency adjacent” enough to warrant certain liberties with policies and procedures. He punched the button for the Auror office and watched as she glared at him from the coffee cart line. Arms crossed, looking at him like Madam Pince used to when he dog eared her library books. He flashed a wide smirk at her, just to watch her roll her eyes at him as the lift doors closed.

It'd been almost eight years since the battle of Hogwarts and he still wasn’t quite sure if she’d entirely forgiven him. She worked in the DRCMC, so they rarely had cause to interact. He considered the other two members of the “Golden Trio” mates now, good Aurors, and especially fun after a few drinks at the pub. But Hermione rarely joined in, when they did happen to cross paths he could not resist teasing her, which she, surprisingly, did not seem to enjoy.

It was just an unfortunate coincidence, for her, that he happened to be arriving at work when she was taking her first break of the day.

The lift chimed and he stepped off into the crowded rows of cubicles, past a giant bulletin board of moving photographs of the current at-large baddies. Tonks, Head of the Auror Department, was making her rounds checking in on everyone’s cases. Today she was sporting long purple hair, at least that was a sign she was in a good mood. He slowed his footsteps, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

“Have a bit of a lie-in, eh Malfoy?” came a voice suddenly from behind him. Shit, how did she do that?

“No ma'am,” Draco replied, walking towards his cubicle, sitting down in his chair and swiveling towards Tonks. “Just coming back from the loo.”

“Liar,” Tonks laughed, “but you get points for confidence.” She tossed him a copy of The Daily Prophet. “You see this yet?”

Draco peered at the headline and quickly skimmed the article. “Hmm, do you think Opulentum is actually worth billions?”

“He must be, almost everyone has a Quirky Qwerty. You're not thinking of going after it are you?” She reached down and grabbed her newspaper out of his hands. “You might want to consider it if I end up sacking you for being late one too many times.” She started walking down the row toward her office and called over her shoulder, “Be late again and I'll dock your pay!”

The courts had taken everything from the Malfoys after the war. The manor was gone, the fortune confiscated, and his father died in Azkaban one year into his life sentence. His mother, slippery Slytherin that she was, had fucked off to France after convincing the Ministry not to confiscate their property in Provence as compensation for preventing Voldemort from killing Potter. Draco himself had gotten off light, mostly due to the testimony of Potter, Weasley, and Granger, that he had refused to identify them at Malfoy Manor. One year on probation, reduced to 6 months if he agreed to work for the ministry doing their bidding as an Auror. After probation was up he found he enjoyed the job well enough to stay on. That, and he now needed a steady income.

Malfoy’s fate was not dissimilar to his friends, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. And in the spirit of togetherness and unity (*ahem,* necessity) they had pooled what little resources they had and rented a flat in Diagon Alley. It was a long way from the manors of their childhoods, but it served their purposes. They had each reluctantly secured jobs and got on with living, best they could.

“Have I ever mentioned that you're my most favorite cousin?” he called sweetly to Tonks’ back.

“I'm your only cousin, asshat, now get to work,” she shot back without turning around.

Meet for an early lunch? 11:30? Hermione scribbled out the message to Harry and Ron on their page of her Quirky Qwerty. She had devoured The Prophet article on her break and was eager to discuss it with them. She’d even considered sending a message to Lavender to ask her for any additional details she might have left out of her article. Hermione was excited — she’d never even taken a vacation longer than three days and hadn’t left the UK since that summer vacation to France with her parents. “You work too hard,” was a familiar chorus from her friends. Well, finally, something had interested her enough to make her reevaluate her whole career trajectory.

Sounds great, let’s meet at that falafel place just down the road- Harry
Curry Chips! See ya then- Ron

Hermione was, of course, the first to arrive at the restaurant. She ordered their favorites, making sure to order extra curry chips for Ron. She was just sitting down in a booth when Ron and Harry walked in.

“I love this place,” Ron said as he slid into the booth next to Hermione and Harry took the seat opposite them. “Their chips are the best.”

Hermione grinned; Ron was so predictable. She loved that quality in him as a friend, but she no longer lied to herself about it being one of the reasons they hadn’t worked romantically.

“I ordered you extra, of course.”

“Sweet, thanks ‘Mione.”

“So, what’s this lunch meeting about?” Harry was never one to beat around the bush and Hermione never just met for lunch on a work day. She usually grabbed a quick meal in the Ministry’s cafeteria and ate at her desk.

“Did you see The Prophet this morning?” Harry shook his head and Hermione tossed her bent copy of the paper on the table in front of him. He opened it and glanced over the article, then handed it to Ron.

Harry looked at Hermione, “You can’t be thinking of joining this insanity? I know it’s a lot of money, but I dunno. Seems a bit dangerous. Doesn’t being head of your Department pay well?”

“Less dangerous than chasing a homicidal psychopath intent on achieving immortality?” Hermione sat back against the cushion of the booth as the server brought over their order of falafel, pita, hummus, and curry chips. “My job is fine, but I feel like it's not where I'm supposed to be. Roberts could probably run it better than me at this point. My heart isn’t in it anymore. This challenge, this money, I could do anything I wanted!”

Ron dug into his food, but between bites he paused. “Hermione, you’ve been at a desk job since, what, 2000? That's eight years since you’ve been in the field. The most dangerous thing you’ve encountered at the Ministry is a papercut!”

“That’s not even remotely close to true, Ronald” Hermione exclaimed shrilly. “Need I remind you about all the magical creatures I came into contact with on a regular basis before I was made department head?” Those creatures certainly had put her through her paces — she shuddered thinking about all the Ashwinders she’d had to deal with. She had gotten so good at stunning spells she had even given Harry and Ron a tutorial when they had to pass a certification test for their Auror’s license.

“The article says you need a partner. Who are you thinking would join you?” Harry sent her a pointed look.

“Well, I was hoping one of the two of you would be interested. It is a lot of money.” Hermione dipped a curry chip in the special sauce and waited for their response.

Harry looked at Hermione for a long moment before saying, “Ginny is pregnant.” Harry took a chip, “And even if she wasn’t, I’ve had quite my fill of adventure and near-death, hell, death experiences. Sorry, Hermione, I'm not interested. Sounds to me like some grown up version of the triwizard tournament and we all know how that turned out.”

“Congratulations, Harry!” She did a terrible job of keeping the disappointment out of her voice, even though she was thrilled for him.

Hermione looked hopefully toward Ron, who was shoving a falafel into his mouth, after he swallowed he said, “Don’t look at me like that, Hermione. I chase the bad guys, I don’t chase trouble for myself.”

Well, she thought, crossing her arms. These two clearly had gone soft.

She was going to have to think about this.

No one ever mentioned to Draco in his training the ridiculous amounts of grunt work you had to do as an Auror. And on top of that, Tonks seemed determined to have him prove himself worthy by giving him the worst cases. Chasing down stolen brooms from mischievous children, settling feuds between dueling neighbors, and issuing citations for improper use of magic on animals, he cringed just thinking about it. But it was the paperwork that nearly drove him mad — it was so boring. By lunchtime he was surprised he could keep his eyes open.

Malfoy rested his elbow on his desk and slumped his chin into his hand, while his mind drifted to the life he could lead if his fortune was restored. He could rebuild the manor and his family’s good name. Good might be pushing it, but he could make progress toward good. It was the idea of a partner that gave him pause. Pansy was sharp as tack, but reckless. Blaise was an excellent Curse Breaker for Gringotts, but had seen too much and was almost scared of his own shadow. And Theo was a menace. A clutz of epic proportions, always getting into scrapes. Draco didn’t even consider him, even if he was one of the smartest wizards in England.

“Tonks catch you sneaking in late again?” Weasley appeared next to him holding a bag of lime-green pistachios in one hand, while throwing a single nut in the air with the other, catching it expertly in his mouth.

“Unfortunately,” he drawled as he leaned back in his desk chair. “Can I ask what exactly brought you to my desk, Weasley? Very important paperwork to get to. The ministry would absolutely fall apart if I don't file my report on…” He studied the paper in front of him. “...a rash of broom thefts in Thetford.”

“Those damn 10-year-olds are at it again!” Ron chuckled and then looked at Malfoy. “You know you only get the lamest cases because you half arse your work. You could be a great Auror, Malfoy, but you’ve got to get your act together. No more being late, no more whineging about the grunt work.” Ron tossed a nut towards Malfoy’s face, which he caught left-handed easily. “But that's not the real reason I lowered myself to come talk to you. Hermione is thinking of joining the hunt for that nut's inheritance.”

Draco's right eyebrow raised in surprise. “Really? What brought this on? Being an exceptional ministry employee isn’t enough for her?”

“She’s bored, apparently. She met Harry and me for lunch and had that look in her eyes— the one that means trouble.” Ron tossed another pistachio into the air and this time it missed his open mouth, dropped to the floor, and rolled away. “Damn.”

Granger was bored; he wasn’t surprised. With all her smarts he would have thought she’d accomplished something truly spectacular by now, like cure lycanthropy or something.

“What about you, Weasley? You going to round out her team? And ‘go for the gold' as it were?”

“Ha! I get enough danger on the job.”

“So who is her partner? Potter?”

“Not sure. Harry’s out, Gin’s expecting again. Not even sure if she knows yet who she’ll rope into this.” Ron leaned on Draco's cubicle wall, then immediately stood back up as it began to teeter. “But if I know Hermione, once an idea takes hold it'll take an army to convince her otherwise.”

Draco leaned back and twirled his Quill in the fingers of his right hand. The Golden Girl on the treasure hunt of a lifetime. Now that was something interesting to think about.