The Reports
Hermione struggled to catch her breath, leaning against her bookshelves for support after Malfoy left her office. Every move he made confused her more, still drawing her in like a moth to a flame.
Even his clothes were confusing. He showed up today wearing a muggle watch with his black suit and outer robes flowing behind him. No witch or wizard she knew wore a watch, outside of herself, choosing instead to cast tempus charms when needing to know the time. One wizard even explained to her how unreliable the timekeepers were.
She waved her hand, closing her door quietly to finally sag into her reading chair in peace. She couldn’t remember the reason why she was trying to rush out of her office in the first place. Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest as she looked around her office, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Shaking, she rested her head in her hands, closing her eyes and praying to Merlin for the unbearable heat between her thighs to subside.
Reaching for her wand, she cast a quick cooling charm over her entire body before stopping to consider her arm. The last time she had seen Malfoy, the scar had throbbed painfully. Pulling up her sleeve to examine it, it actually seemed better, yet another item of confusion.
Struggling to organize and compartmentalize, Hermione decided to face the issue head-on, leaving her head down, she closed her eyes allowing herself to retreat into the library of her mind.
“I care because someone should,” he’d spat the words at her like he was angry. But it didn’t seem like he was angry at her. She knew she should take better care of herself, she allowed far too much time to get sucked into working and doing everything for everyone else. It was easier to forget about the pain of her past when she was babysitting for Harry and Ginny, or throwing herself into her work. Still, on some level, he understood how she worked and tried to take care of her. Even with every insult she threw his way.
And his threat. Her entire body shivered just thinking of it. Malfoy was fuming the second she had referred to herself as a mudblood. Between that and his watch, it was like he really had flipped a coin with his thinking. He no longer sneered at her just for existing. He had apologized.
Hermione’s breath stopped, he had apologized. No, it wasn’t the most stellar apology, but it was sincere. Like he was angry at himself and his parents for the fucked up line of thought they had implanted into him.
She froze, face in her hands, “We are courting,” “Just because you haven’t signed any paperwork attesting to that, doesn’t make it any less true,” His words echoed throughout her head as she spotted the contract lying on her desk still. With shaky hands she picked it up, it was a simple two-part contract.
I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, attest to the commitment to pursue and enter into a soul binding with Hermione Jean Granger. Regardless of outstanding circumstances or prior agreements, I commit to marry Hermione Jean Granger and withdraw any prior agreements I currently have standing. I will henceforth become involved with no one, other than Hermione Jean Granger, and commit to being faithful during the courting process as well as throughout the lifetime of soulbonding I have committed to.
Hermione ran her fingers over his signature, feeling her heart nearly stop as she fully realized the meaning of the document, the seriousness of Malfoy’s intentions asserting themselves again. Maybe Gin was right and she should take this more seriously, the niggling voice in the back of her head made itself known. Maybe she should go stay with Harry and Ginny until it blows over. Regardless, she couldn’t just stop going to work and go into hiding, and it’s not like he knew where she lived. She shivered at the idea of him showing up on her doorstep, leaning over her while he walked through her flat as though he owned it. Merlin, he might for all she knew, she’d never actually met the owners she was renting from.
She shook the thoughts from her head, struggling to recenter herself and focus after Malfoy’s visit. A glance at her watch told her she’d taken too long lost in her own head. She gathered her files, running off on her delayed investigation down to the Department of Magical Creatures to inquire about the missing reports.
The illegal portkey deposited Draco into the Scottish countryside directly outside of his wards. Striding along the steep cliff, the waves crashing below him. The wards echoed as he stepped past only to find the cave he had guarded.
His temper flared thinking back on his conversation. She thought he was like all the rest. The girl he had seen walk out of his courtroom paled in comparison to the woman she had grown into. The brave Griffyndor girl willing to throw herself into every task she found now seemed battle-weary and distrustful of everyone. He ached to curse the Weasel and all the men approaching her, making her think her only worth was in her current status rather than her ever-growing number of achievements. Every movement she made was for the good of everyone else, but she couldn’t trust anyone to ask for help when she needed it.
He fumed thinking about it, his mother had mentioned a “Messy breakup” but he hadn’t been able to find any further information about it. Understandably, she tried her best to avoid the vultures in the press as much as possible. Theo let him know about a gala last year, showing him an article from Skeeter herself with a photo of Hermione cursing the Weasel on the ballroom dance floor. GOLDEN GIRL ASSULTS WELL-WISHERS AT AUCTION FOR THE EDUCATION OF LESS FORTUNATE CHILDREN. Draco winces at the memory of the article Theo dug up, in Skeeter’s words Ronald Weasley and Ernie McMillon Junior had some kind words with Granger before she took out her wand and needlessly cursed them both before being arrested by Aurors. He rolled his eyes, the real story had to be far from whatever owl dung Skeeter had gotten published, especially considering the fact that she was still employed as the department executive of the Internal Affairs and Corruption at the Aurors office.
Every person in society seemed like they wanted to use Hermione for the “next big story”, to boost their status, or to solve internal corruption that shouldn’t exist with the right hiring practices and policies in place, no wonder she had so many issues trusting people now. Anger burned through his veins at everyone using her for their own gain and he made up his mind he would put a stop to it. To hell with her telling him he couldn’t.
Draco looked away from the cliffside, turning his attention back to the cave poised in front of him as a great black beast exited. He did his best to let his anger go as the dragon approached him. Very few things put a smile on his face like the ridiculous beast that he had raised over the past year and a half. The adolescent was already flying around the countryside gathering his own food, regardless, Draco had brought about a hundred pounds of sheep to keep him happy.
When the Hebridean Black had hatched on his lab bench, he’d nearly jumped out of his skin. He’d left the entire batch of illegal dragon eggs in an incubator for nearly three months just in case any more were viable embryos.
He chuckled, feeling the last of his anger flow away as Severus nudged him for attention like a cat. He patted the affectionate creature’s nose, “We’re going to need to move you soon, Bud,” he had been outfitting a new den for the dragon on the Malfoy Manor property, moving a dragon from their chosen den has taken more research then he would be willing to admit, apparently they are famously picky about where they choose to live, “And hopefully, you have a new mum soon,”
Draco didn’t think the dragon could understand him, but the beast still seemed to give his head a shake at this, blowing a plume of smoke into the air.
Draco laughed at Severus’s response, “Don’t be like that, you’ll like her, I promise,”
There was no one Draco felt safe telling his hopes to in the world, getting a live dragon to take care of had been worse than a child, but a blessing nonetheless. Severus seemed to listen to him as he grew, more now that he was nearly a full-fledged adult as compared to his adolescence, but it gave Draco someone to talk to.
Severus nudged him again with his snout, sniffing at his robes, he flapped his wings aggressively at Draco, pawing at the ground until Draco pulled the package of meat out of his pocket, “This what you want?”
The dragon danced around in front of him, anxious for another meal, until Draco finally cast the expansion charm on the meat, allowing the massive amount of sheep to fall to the ground in front of him. Severus jumped into his food, nearly burying his head in the pile like he was starving. Draco laughed as Severus devoured his meal, settling down to sit next to him while he ate, taking the time to stare off the cliff and take stock of his life currently.
The reality was that he didn’t care for the Malfoy name anymore, it had proved to be more of a burden than a blessing, but he wanted his mother taken care of and happy. So he worked his fingers to the bone to try and restore his wealth and the family name to its former greatness. Luckily, ever since the war, his parents had been so amenable to changing their ways that they’ve become pillars of the blood-purist conversion to massive muggleborn supporters. His mother had gone so far as to start a charity to start opening up magical education for muggleborn children and their parents, so they could begin learning about magic at a younger age and ease the process of entering into a magical society.
He’d always thought Karma would get him back for all his terrible deeds in the past, but luck was apparently on his side. His family was together again, his relationship with his father was slowly healing, his mother was safe and continuing her escapades in high society, and the woman he had unknowingly fallen in love with was out and open for his taking.
A snorted chuckle left him as he fell back into the grass and Severus laid his head down next to Draco’s having finished his meal. Draco ran his hand down the dragon’s scales, “It’s all coming together,” he rubbed his hand down his face, completely in awe of his luck. Now, all he had to do was convince his witch to give him a chance.
When he had walked out of her office earlier, she was stunning. She had submitted to him so deliciously every time he touched her. Their magics had clashed and danced above their heads in a way that had never existed with anyone else. The fact that he pulled himself away was a miracle. Her lips kiss-swollen as soon as he grasped for whatever self-control he had, gasping for breath, hair disheveled, and holding the bookshelf for balance. One touch and his brain couldn’t focus on anything else, he had to occlude just to hold a coherent conversation with her. Based on her reactions, the same mesmerism came over her.
Severus snorted, drawing Draco out of his thoughts, hand stroking down his scales. He threw his head back, throwing more smoke into the air. “Alright, you wild beast,” Draco chuckled, picking himself off the grass, feeling as his grin widened even more, “Let’s go for a ride,”
Draco climbed on Severus, for him to climb to his feet before striding to the cliff and jumping off in one giant stride.
“Ms. Granger, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
Hermione stared down John Dawlish as she entered his office, clearly unhappy to see her. She can’t blame him, she had never asked Kingsley to demote him, but based on his prior work and lack of convictions within the Corruption division, it was reasonable he wasn’t doing what he should have been. There had never been any evidence against him for outward wrongdoing, but her skin crawled when she was around him.
“Mr. Dawlish, I just need to follow up on a few reports I received,” she crossed her arms looking at the ornery man, files clenched in one hand, “I’m sure there’s nothing, but I just have to make sure,” she gave him a strained smile.
“Whatever I can do to help,” Dawlish drawled, waving his hand at the chair in front of his desk. Every hair she had stood on end as she watched the elder man reclining in his chair.
Hermione took a seat, “I’m looking for a few more reports, they seem to have been omitted from the information I was given on a few files, one on dragon eggs, one on mermaids, and the last on some confiscated murtlap venom,”
She saw a spark of recognition in his eyes and he readjusted his posture, uncrossing his legs.
“What type of reports?” he leaned his forearms against the table.
She eyed him suspiciously, “The diagnostics charms reports are missing,” A bead of sweat formed on the man's temple, his cheeks reddening slightly.
His hands shook, but he shrugged his shoulders, leaning back again trying his best to look unbothered, “I’m sure you’re aware that diagnostic charms are not always required for the specimens we receive Ms. Granger,”
Her eyes narrowed at him, “Of course, Mr. Dawlish, for specimens coming in that are clearly dead from natural causes, that would make sense. However, for, say, mermaids? Dying of species-specific diseases, that I know for a fact that this department is supposed to track, wouldn’t diagnostics be performed to confirm the disease? And yet, there is no mention of the specific disease noted to have killed the mermaid in the file I’m questioning,” She opened up the file, putting it on the table in front of him, “Just ‘species-specific disease’,”
She waited for his reaction, watching his Adams apple bob looking at the picture of the specimen in question.
“Strange, isn’t it?” she eyed him.
Dawlish stayed silent, moving to pick up the file in front of him.
She gently took the file from his hands, “So if these are files that you have, I would appreciate them,”
“I-it must have been an oversight on our part,” his nerves were palpable on the air.
She nodded, leaning back, “So, you didn’t even diagnose the illness before determining that was what killed the mermaid?”
Dawlish’s eyes went wide, “As I said, a massive oversight, I will find those responsible and make sure it isn’t repeated,”
“Mmhmm, and these dragon eggs? I can see where they were declared ‘non-viable’ after they were destroyed, but nothing about the diagnostics used to determine this?”
“A-a mistake, Ms.Granger,” she could see the sweat on his brow now.
“A mistake?” her eyebrow raised.
“Yes, a mistake, determining the viability of dragon eggs is not an exact science,”
“Yes, but there are diagnostic spells associated with it, yes?”
“Y-yes,” his voice was nearly a whisper.
“And am I right in saying you don’t have these reports on hand either?” her eyebrows furrowed, her agitation with the weaselly man rising.
“No, we don’t have such reports on hand,” he looked down to his lap.
Hermione sighed, knowing exactly where this was going, “Would you like to look again, just to be sure?”
Dawlish hurriedly reached over his desk, pressing a button for the intercom, “F-Fiona, please check to see what diagnostic reports we have for dragon eggs on hand please and make copies of all of them,”
Hermione lifted her brows, looking at him expectantly, “And the mermaids and murtlap venom?” she suggested.
He nearly leaped out of his chair to go to the door to shout after his poor assistant, before returning to his seat.
“About the Murtlap venom, that’s a rare and classified substance, that was taken from the Auror evidence locker. Surely, there would not be an oversight to not run diagnostics on an alleged substance before formally classifying it,” Hermione frowned.
“I-I sign off on the reports myself, Ms. Granger,”
“Hmm, so did you sign off on any recently, say..,” she glanced at her file, “Wednesday, of last week?”
She could swear she heard his heart stop at the mention before he hastily shook his head.
“Hmm, understood,” Hermione sprang up from her chair, “I’ll send down my assistant to pick up all diagnostic reports from your department shortly, keep the copies of everything you need, and I will have Delores inventory all the specimens you are currently working on,”
Hermione distractedly took notes of everything she needed on the top of one of her files, “I’ll speak with you again soon regarding this, Mr. Dawlish,”
She snapped the file shut, looking over the stressed man one more time before turning on her heel and leaving.
The second Hermione sent Delores flustered and running to the Department of Regulation and Control of magical creatures, she stormed to Kingsley’s office, blowing past his assistant to burst through his door unannounced and uninvited.
“Kingsley, I need to speak with you urgently,” Hermione didn’t wait for an answer as she closed the door on his overwhelmed assistant.
The minister seemed confused himself, “Sure, what’s going on?”
“ I’ve been investigating the destroyed Dragon eggs, and the other cases that have been confusing me recently and noticed an odd connection between everything,” Hermione began to pace his office, looking up at Kingsley ever so often, “I found that throughout all the cases that have been collected for my investigation, none of them have had any diagnostic charms reported. So I went down to see John Dawlish, in the regulation of magical creatures, who would be able to explain their absence or overall locations, and something was very wrong, Kingsley,”
He leaned forward at his desk, rubbing at his chin, as he perked up at her words, “How do you mean?” Kingsley’s brows furrowed.
“The second I stepped into his office, he seemed incredibly nervous, and the more questions I asked, the more nervous he seemed to get. By the time I finished asking him about run-of-the-mill reports that he should have, he was sweating buckets,” Hermione’s pacing came to a stop as she turned to Kingsley, “ Something bigger is going on in that department, Kingsley, and I know for a fact Dawlish has something to do with it,”
Kingsley nodded, eyes widening at the implication, “Brilliant work, I have a few contacts within the department, I’ll ask around about any suspicious behavior from him,”
Hermoine nodded in agreement, “I have Delores pulling all the past diagnostic reports, I’m going to begin reviewing them for any incongruencies over the past few months. And a report will be made of any current specimens they are processing to monitor the department overall,”
“Perfect, let me know if anything stands out,” the Minister of Magic seemed deep in thought, as he waved his hand to dismiss her.
“Kingsley, would it be possible to have a sign-off for an auror tail on Dawlish? Due to the missing specimens and suspicious behavior, it would be reasonable he’s meeting up with someone outside the Ministry in order to hand off illicit substances,” Hermione squared her shoulders, ready for him to reject her request, as he was prone to do.
His eyes flashed back to hers as he leaned back in his chair, scratching his head deep in thought, “If there’s any case this could be warranted, it would be this one, Hermione,” he shook his head at her though, “However approval for this type of a request has to go before the Wizengamot. If you write up the request and send it to me as soon as possible, I will see what I can do about trying to get an emergency hearing for it,”
She clenched her fists in disappointment, nodding in understanding.
“I can’t make any promises, but now that you’ve approached him unknowingly, maybe we can convince the Wizengamot of the urgency of the situation, and have them approve it for a shorter period, in anticipation of trying to tip off his contact,” The minister tapped his lip, thinking out loud while Hermione watched on.
Her eyes widened, “I’ll get the request to you as soon as I can,”
Kingsley nodded, “Quickly. And send me a quill, for some reason mine keep disappearing,”
Hermione winced turning to the door, making a mental note to remove the hex from his office once he was out of sight.