Chapter 10
”Don’t even think about it,” Potter warned, raking a hand through his already unruly hair. “Let Seamus handle the interrogation first.”
They stood in an open cubicle at the Auror headquarters, the sterile glow of enchanted torches casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. Scattered tables were strewn with case files, half-empty coffee cups, and remnants of late-night stakeouts. A large board dominated one side of the room, plastered with moving photographs of sneering, raging Dark Wizards—each one a reminder of the Death Eaters that could be after Granger.
Yaxley and Dolohov were already locked away in high-security holding cells, awaiting questioning.
Draco exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. “Fine. But if Seamus doesn’t get anything useful about what the fuck they want with Granger, I’m stepping in.”
His fingers itched as he reached for his mobile, the need to hear from her, to make sure she was safe, overriding all logic. But before he could send a message, Potter caught his eye—steady, reassuring.
“She’s fine,” he said. “She’s at her office. I already warned her.”
That should have been enough. But it wasn’t. The fear twisting in Draco’s gut was like an old memory, when he feared for his family. He’d faced danger more times than he could count, had walked into the fire without hesitation—but the thought of Death Eaters circling Granger made his stomach churn.
Potter clapped a hand on his shoulder, breaking his spiraling thoughts. “Right. I’m going to assist Seamus with the questioning.”
Then he was gone, leaving Draco standing there, pulse pounding, his grip tightening around the mobile.
Weasley cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “You really care about her, don’t you?”
Draco’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “No shit, Weasel,” he drawled, his patience wearing dangerously thin. He wasn’t in the mood for chit chat.
Weasley let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Doesn’t surprise me, really,” he admitted. His voice was quieter now, almost thoughtful. “She’s… easy to love.”
Draco recognised that dreamy expression all too well—it was the same one he caught himself wearing whenever his thoughts strayed to Granger. He wouldn’t blame the redheaded git if he was still pining for her.
Before he could stop himself, the question slipped out. “What happened between you two—if you don’t mind me asking?”
Back at Hogwarts, he wasn’t sure why he cared, but he could never fathom what Granger had seen in Weasley. And though he hadn’t acknowledged it at the time, when he’d first heard of their breakup, he’d felt an inexplicable pang of relief.
“She dumped me, of course,” Weasley scoffed, though there was no real bitterness in his tone. “To be fair, she was dealing with a lot after the war. She lost so much. And I…” He exhaled heavily. “I was drowning in my own grief, trying to cope after losing Fred. I didn’t see it then, but she lost her family too.”
Draco frowned. “I didn’t know she lost her family. What happened?”
He combed through his memories, trying to piece together anything about Granger’s parents. He knew the fucking psychopath who must not be named had ordered them to be found and tortured—but as far as he was aware, no one had ever succeeded in carrying it out. Or at least, that’s what he had always assumed.
Weasley’s expression darkened, regret flickering in his eyes. He hesitated before shaking his head. “It’s not my story to tell.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, a simmering guilt settling in his chest. He should have looked into what happened to Granger’s parents after the war—should have cared enough to find out. What if it had been his father who had hunted them down? What if his name was tied to whatever had happened?
The thought made his stomach churn, bile rising in his throat.
Weasley sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Mione… wasn’t the same. She doesn’t let people in easily—not anymore. And for us, by the time I realised that, it was too late. I know she’ll always love me… but as a friend. And I’ll always love her too.” His lips twitched into a small, wistful smile. “Just not in the way we thought we would.”
“So you just gave up on her?” Draco asked with disbelief. “The same boy who screamed to take her place when my aunt was torturing her?” His eyes narrowed. “I find it hard to believe you’d just walk away.”
Ron’s jaw tightened, but he met Draco’s gaze head-on. “I’d still give my life for her,” he said firmly, his chin lifting in quiet defiance. “And I have a feeling you would too.”
Draco said nothing.
Raking a hand through his messy ginger hair, the Weasel spoke again. “The truth is… I couldn’t keep up with her,” he admitted. “You know how she is—brilliant, relentless, always ten steps ahead of everyone. She’s the best at everything she does, and me? Eventually, I would’ve just held her back.”
A sudden bang of the door bursting open made them both jolt. Potter stormed in, his already messy hair somehow even more disheveled, frustration radiating off him in waves.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “I knew this would be tough, but they’re bloody stonewalls. Most of them are expert Occlumens, and they’re not cracking, and Veritaserum isn’t strong enough for these bastards. They’ve been trained for years to resist it.”
Draco was on his feet in an instant. “That’s it, I’m stepping in.”
“Don’t you dare!” Potter barked, spinning to face him. “This is all your fucking fault, you wanker! We could’ve had more information if you hadn’t gone full berserker and dragged Yaxley in before we had the full picture.”
Draco’s eyes burned with fury. “How the fuck did you expect me to wait there and listen to them talk about her like that? The things they were planning—” His hands clenched into fists, his voice rising. “How was I supposed to just do nothing?”
Potter exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his own temper in check. “Look, I get it, Malfoy. My blood was boiling too.” His voice softened slightly, though the edge of frustration still lingered. “But you know we should have waited. We needed to get the bigger picture.”
Draco scoffed, pacing the room like a caged predator.
Potter crossed his arms. “And if you storm in there now, with your bloody temper, you’ll fry their brains before we get anything useful. Hestia Jones is on her way—she’s the best Legilimens we have.” His green eyes locked onto Draco’s. “Let her do her job.”
”What about the cottage search? Anything useful?” Draco asked with impatience.
Potter cleaned his glasses, a gesture he did every time he was anxious. “You’re not going to like this…” He hesitated before continuing, “They had photos of her—dozens. Mostly taken in Cambridge. Her routine, her schedule, even a pamphlet of her Pilates studio. They were tracking her every move, gathering everything they could.”
Draco’s stomach twisted, his throat suddenly dry. “Any indication of who else might be involved?”
Potter sighed, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, nothing concrete.”
Weasley cut in. “I’m not waiting around any longer. We need to start shadowing Mione from now on. She’s going to hate it, but I don’t give a damn—I’m not taking any risks.”
Draco’s head snapped toward him, his expression dark. “I’ll be the one chaperoning her to her Pilates classes,” he said sharply. “We already know they’ve got her schedule down, and they’re planning something. I’m not letting those bastards get anywhere near her.”
”Robards is setting up a task force to keep an eye on her,” Harry said, grimacing. “He’s sending Cormac to her office as we speak. I don’t like the wanker, but he’s a decent Auror.”
Weasley let out a long-suffering groan. “Brilliant. She’s going to hex us.”
Draco froze, his jaw tightening. “Cormac fucking McLaggen?” His grip on his coat tightened as he swung it over his shoulders.
“You’d better head home, Malfoy. You’ve been here all night—you need rest,” Potter called after him, his exasperation evident.
“Absolutely not,” he snarled and stormed out of the room, leaving Potter’s frustrated shouts behind him.
****
”That is absolutely ridiculous!” Granger’s voice echoed down the corridor as Draco approached her office.
“Robards himself assigned me to your protection, Hermione. There’s not much you can do about it,” McLaggen drawled, a note of smug satisfaction lacing his words. “I’ll be escorting you throughout your day.”
Draco’s grip tightened at his side.
“But…” Granger sighed, clearly trying to rein in her frustration. “I’m in my office. Inside the Ministry. How exactly am I in danger here? I’ll be at my desk all day, and this is one of the most secure buildings in the country. Surely, there’s a better use of your time than playing my personal shadow.”
“I agree,” Draco interjected smoothly, crossing his arms as he leaned lazily against the doorframe.
Granger’s head snapped toward him, her eyes lighting up in surprise. “Draco!” she beamed, and fuck, if that didn’t send a jolt straight to his chest. His first name, paired with that smile, was downright lethal.
“Thank you! Finally, someone with common sense.” She added.
His smirk deepened. “I agree you should get out of here, McLaggen. I’ll be the one escorting Granger from now on.”
The smile vanished.
“Wait—what?!” Granger turned on him, her expression shifting from relief to absolute outrage. “No, Malfoy! That is not what I meant! This is bloody stupid!”
McLaggen, looking equally disgruntled, squared his shoulders. “I don’t take orders from you, Malfoy. Robards put me in charge of her security, and—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Draco cut him off with a dismissive wave. “Robards himself assigned you, blah blah. I don’t give a single fuck, McLaggen. You can go cry to him about it, but right now, you need to get the hell out of this office before I hex you with something particularly nasty.”
He pulled out his wand, aiming it directly at McLaggen’s chest.
“Malfoy!” Granger hissed, alarmed, stepping forward. “That won’t be necessary!” She turned to McLaggen with a sigh. “Just go, alright? Malfoy’s going to be here all day anyway.”
McLaggen’s nostrils flared as he processed the clear dismissal. He knew exactly what had just happened—Granger had chosen Draco over him. The realisation was a bitter pill, and Draco didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.
“Fine,” McLaggen ground out, his face twisted in irritation. “But I’ll be reporting this.”
Draco barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he stood his ground as McLaggen shoved past him, deliberately knocking their shoulders together.
Draco smirked. “Do that, McLaggen. Maybe Robards will even take you seriously for once.”
Granger fixed him with a murderous glare, her eyes flashing with irritation.
Draco, ever unfazed, raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me like that, love,” he cooed, stepping forward until he was close enough to catch the familiar scent of jasmine and parchment that always clung to her.
Leaning in, he let his breath ghost over her ear. “Still, I am rather pleased you prefer my company over McLaggen’s.”
Granger snorted, rolling her eyes. “I’d prefer the company of a wailing mandrake over him.”
Her gaze softened as she studied him, taking in the faint purple shadows beneath his eyes, the exhaustion etched into his features.
“I was worried about you,” she admitted quietly. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Draco scoffed lightly, trying to mask the way her words settled something uneasy inside him. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m sure Potter filled you in on our latest mission.” He swallowed, the familiar, unwelcome fear coiling in his chest—the same fear that had haunted him for years, the fear of losing someone he couldn’t afford to lose. His voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” It wasn’t a promise to her. It was a vow to himself.
She sighed, rubbing a hand over her temple. “I’m used to receiving threats, Draco. It comes with the job. I can protect myself.” Her eyes met his. “But… thank you. I appreciate you being here.”
With a flick of his wand, the door swung shut, sealing them in with a soft click as he cast a silencing charm.
“Now, Granger…” His voice was low, teasing, as he slid his hands around her waist, fingers tracing the curve of her hips. “I believe we have some… unfinished business.”
Before she could retort, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss. A small gasp escaped her before she melted into him, her hands flying to his neck, pulling him closer—desperate, needy.
Merlin, he loved when she was like this.
She broke the kiss, panting. “I’m working, Malfoy. I can’t do this right now.”
Yet, despite her words, her arms remained firmly hooked around his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair.
Draco smirked. “I’m working too,” he murmured before capturing her lips again, swallowing whatever protest she might have had.
His hands slid down, tracing the curves of her body, savoring the way her crisp white blouse hugged her torso, perfectly tucked into that sinfully tight pencil skirt. Merlin, she’s sexy.
A reckless thought took root in his mind—one that involved whisking her away, keeping her to himself on some secluded island, far from threats, far from curses, far from anyone who dared look at her the wrong way. Surely, that wasn’t a bad idea.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her jaw, his voice a murmur against her skin. “You should really consider a holiday, Granger… preferably somewhere no one but me can find you.”
She scoffed. “You know I can’t.” With a frustrated groan, she reluctantly untangled her arms from around his neck. “Now, be a good shadow and let me work—I have a ridiculous amount to get through.”
“Fine,” he conceded, stepping back with a smirk. “But from now on, Granger, you won’t be out of my sight. Not for a single bloody minute.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he simply arched a challenging brow. “It’s me or McLaggen.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing. He could practically see her weighing the options, and after a few tense seconds, she let out a long-suffering sigh.
“Fine. But don’t distract me.”
Draco grinned. “No promises, love.”