Extracurriculars

Draco and Hermione moved through the forest in silence, the shadows of trees swallowing their footsteps as they crept back toward camp. Hermione’s heart still pounded from the tense encounter in the cottage. Every nerve felt raw, buzzing with the memory of wards and curses unraveling around them, the close calls, and the rush of discovery as they’d pieced together clues from the hidden ledger.

She could still feel the weight of that book tucked inside her bag, as if it pulsed with the same dark energy they’d encountered in the cottage. And despite everything, part of her couldn’t shake the feeling of accomplishment. The evidence they’d found could bring them closer to understanding the mysterious illness and, ultimately, helping her patients. But as the tents came into view, her confidence began to dissolve, replaced by a gnawing sense of dread.

Harry was waiting. Even in the dim morning light, his stance was unmistakable—arms crossed, back straight, a silhouette of tension and disapproval.

“Malfoy. Hermione,” he said, voice barely above a whisper but carrying all the weight of a shout. “Care to explain where you’ve been?”

Draco stepped forward, his expression cool but wary. “We needed answers. We went in and—”

“You went in?” Harry’s voice was a harsh whisper, and Hermione could see the spark of anger in his eyes. “Without backup, without alerting me, and without any consideration for what it might mean for this mission?”

“We didn’t have time to waste,” Draco said sharply. “This investigation has been dragging for weeks, and we’d gotten close enough. If we’d waited until morning, we’d have lost the chance.”

“Lost the chance?” Harry’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice controlled but barely. “You tripped an alarm ward—a sophisticated one that’s now rendered that entire cottage off-limits. We’re all compromised because you two couldn’t wait a few more hours.”

Hermione felt the words like a blow, her chest tightening as the weight of Harry’s accusation settled over her. “Harry, we… we didn’t know. We thought if we just…”

Harry cut her off, his tone still harsh but tinged with something close to disappointment. “And what were you thinking, Hermione? You’re a healer, not an Auror. This isn’t just about what you could find. It’s about following protocol and keeping the team safe.” Hurt and guilt sparked painfully in her chest at his words.

Draco’s jaw clenched, and his voice took on a sarcastic edge. “Maybe next time, assign Granger an Auror who’s skilled enough to notice when she’s sneaking out of the camp. Or, even better, someone who would’ve kept her chained to her bedroll.”

Harry’s expression hardened, his voice low and measured. “Watch it, Malfoy. Protocol exists for a reason, and you both crossed a line.”

Hermione’s guilt flared into anger, though it was mostly directed at herself. She was the one who’d insisted on going, driven by the urge to make progress—by her need to help her patients, to justify the long hours and the sacrifices she’d made. But Malfoy’s words felt like a slap, a reminder that her recklessness had cost him, too. She swallowed back her retort, focusing on the ground as Harry spoke again.

“When we get back, I’ll have to report this to Tonks. It’s out of my hands now.” He looked between them, his gaze unreadable. “And I hope you understand what that means.”

Malfoy’s face hardened, his hands at his sides clenching into fists. He didn’t respond, simply turning away from Harry and walking back toward the tents without a word. Hermione stood frozen for a moment, her heart pounding as she watched him go, an ache settling in her chest that had nothing to do with the mission.

The following morning was tense, the camp shrouded in silence as they packed up and prepared to return to the Ministry. Malfoy was distant, his usual clipped remarks gone, replaced by a brooding silence that made Hermione feel as though a wall had gone up between them. Harry kept his distance, too, his expression steely and unreadable as he led them back.

By the time they reached the Ministry, the tension was nearly unbearable. Harry had already sent a message to Tonks, who was waiting for them in her office, her face set in a hard, unreadable expression.

“Sit,” she said shortly, her gaze moving over Hermione and Malfoy with barely concealed frustration. “I want to hear every detail.”

Hermione and Malfoy relayed the events, their explanations halting and clipped, their words weighed down by guilt and resentment. Tonks listened in silence, her arms crossed, her gaze flickering between them as they spoke. When they finished, she let out a slow, heavy sigh.

“You triggered an alarm that has now flagged the entire cottage. We can’t touch it without going through a process that could take weeks,” she said, her voice tight with barely controlled anger. “Do you realize how much you’ve compromised?”

Malfoy’s eyes flashed, a rare spark of defiance in his gaze. “We gathered information that could bring us closer to a cure. Isn’t that what this mission is about?”

Tonks leaned forward, her voice lowering dangerously. “This mission is about teamwork, and following protocols that keep our people safe. You’re an Auror, Malfoy. You know better. And that means you know what comes next.”

Hermione’s breath caught, guilt twisting her stomach. “It was my decision, Tonks. I pushed him to go with me.”

But Tonks shook her head, her gaze still on Draco. “You weren’t the one in charge, Hermione. Malfoy, I’m putting you on probation. Effective immediately. You’ll be assigned to lower-level cases until further notice.”

Malfoy’s face hardened, his jaw clenched as he stared at the floor. For a long moment, he said nothing, the weight of the punishment settling over him. When he finally looked up, his eyes were cold, and his voice was edged with bitterness.

Tonks shook her head, her disappointment clear. “I expect better from both of you. But this is your consequence, Malfoy. And, Hermione, you’re to stay out of the Auror department unless explicitly authorized. I’ll be monitoring your movements.”

With that, Tonks dismissed them, leaving Hermione and Malfoy to exit the office in silence. Hermione’s mind raced, guilt clawing at her with every step. She wanted to apologize, to explain, but the words stuck in her throat.

Malfoy didn’t wait for her, striding down the corridor with a stiff, unyielding posture. For a moment, she considered calling out to him, but something in his expression made her hesitate. He was hurt, more than he would ever admit, and her presence would only make it worse.

Back at St. Mungo’s, Hermione buried herself in work, channeling her guilt and frustration into caring for her patients with even more dedication. Every free moment, she returned to the book she’d taken from the cottage, poring over its pages with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Each note, each symbol, each carefully drawn diagram felt like a piece of the puzzle she’d been so desperate to solve.

But despite the book’s knowledge, progress was slow. The spells described were advanced, layered with dark magic that twisted and corrupted the magical core in ways she barely understood. It was clear now that whoever had created this disease had a mastery of curses and dark enchantments unlike anything she’d seen.

Late one evening, she sat alone in her office, the book open before her, its pages covered in spidery handwriting that seemed to pulse with an unsettling energy. She ran a hand over her face, exhaustion tugging at her, but she forced herself to continue reading. Each line was a reminder of why she’d gone to the cottage, why she’d risked so much.

A soft knock on her office door startled her from her thoughts. She looked up, distractedly, expecting to see one of her colleagues or perhaps Ginny, but was surprised to find Malfoy standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Malfoy,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What…what are you doing here?”

He stepped inside, his gaze flickering to the book open on her desk. “You’re still reading that, I see.”

Hermione closed the book carefully, her cheeks coloring. “There’s so much in here. It’s hard to even know where to start. I’ve been translating these runes for ages.”

He shrugged, his expression cold. “I’m sure it’s all very valuable.”

The words cut deep, and Hermione looked away, guilt tightening her throat. “I know. I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble. I just thought…if we could make a difference…”

Malfoy’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained guarded. “It’s done, Granger. I don’t regret it. I was never going to let you walk in there alone.” His tone was neutral, but there was an else there that left her feeling unsteady.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Hermione wanted to apologize again. Instead, she offered him a small, tentative smile.

“Do you still want to continue our lessons?” she asked quietly, hoping that their shared work could bridge the distance that had opened between them.

Malfoy hesitated, his gaze lingering on her before he finally nodded. “Might as well. Not much else I’m allowed to do right now.”

They met in one of the empty training rooms at St. Mungo’s the following day. The tension was thick as they exchanged stilted greetings, each one keenly aware of the strain between them. Hermione did her best to keep her focus on the lesson.

Malfoy’s movements were sharp, precise, each spell cast with a controlled intensity that hinted at his frustration. But despite the tension, their cooperation was smoother than before. They moved through a series of counter-curses, Hermione guiding him through each step, while Malfoy listened and absorbed her instructions with an almost grudging respect.

“Let’s try something from the book,” Hermione suggested, her voice soft but steady. She opened to a bookmarked page, pointing to a counter-curse she’d found in the margins. “It’s supposed to counteract prolonged curse effects. I thought it might be relevant to the disease.”

Malfoy’s gaze flickered over the page, his expression skeptical but intrigued. “Are you sure I’m the one you want to be testing new healing magic with? I’ve got about two months under my belt.”

Hermione nodded, “I’m the reason you’re stuck doing scut work all day, you deserve to be doing something worth your time. Besides, I’d probably be cursed to oblivion if you hadn’t gone into the cottage with me.”

They practiced the spell together, their movements synchronized as they worked through the complicated steps. There was a quiet rhythm to their work, a sense of mutual reliance that neither of them voiced but both felt.

By the time the lesson ended, the tension between them had softened. Malfoy’s frustration lingered, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes as he looked at her.

“See you next time,” he said quietly.

Hermione nodded, a small sense of relief washing over her as he left the room.