Unspoken

Her whole body was humming with apprehension as Draco resumed his Legilimency. Without dropping her guard stance, Hermione whipped her head to look around her office for a vial or a suitable object to transfigure. Her eyes settled on the delicate glass globe that had broken the previous week and immediately summoned it. It flew from its wooden stand into her free hand with a little too fervor, causing her to almost drop it as soon as she caught it.

Hermione took a breath to steady her nerves and settle her mind. She rolled the small globe in her hand, running through spells to determine which incantation would be the most appropriate, when she noticed a singular crack along the glass. 

She held it up and squinted at the thin line. Hadn’t she repaired this? Her spellwork was impeccable so what could have caused such a crack?

“Granger!” barked Draco.

Ignoring the crack, Hermione spun the ball midair with her wand and watched as the globe morphed itself into a glass bottle, complete with a glass stopper. She twisted it in her fingers, but there were no imperfections. 

“Here,” she said quickly, shoving it toward his waiting hand. 

With a very gentle touch, Draco set his wand against Jefferies’ temple and delicately pulled away a string of memory, directing with much difficulty into the bottle. Hermione watched the process with awe and a tinge of distress.

“I didn’t know you could retrieve someone else’s memories,” she mentioned, her voice a trifle alarmed. 

Draco didn’t answer until the string of memory broke away from the auror and was completely collected with the container. He shoved the stopper on and wrapped his hand tightly around the memory, moving to his feet.

As he checked on Jefferies’ condition, he murmured dully, “Most people don’t, because it’s almost impossible to do. It requires… well, again, let’s just say I have the qualifications.”

Hermione sucked in a small breath. If it was possible to retrieve a memory from an unwilling participant, was it possible to remove them as well?

“Draco… what is in that memory?” Her voice was now raspy with dread.

The wizard turned and held up the bottle between his forefinger and thumb so that it caught the light from the magical windows. Inside the glass, a murky grey substance slid up the interior of the bottle before falling back into a ominous swirl of fog. 

“Fuck Achlys’ eternal night,” gasped Hermione, “Is that…”

“Yes.”

She wanted to step back away from it, from Draco. Everything about the situation had suddenly changed, her whole world shifted and-

Jefferies’ stirred lightly. Before she had time to say anything, Draco had wordlessly enveloped himself within his cloaking charms and disappeared from her view. Hermione dashed back to her desk chair, rolling her ankle slightly as she took her place just as Jefferies’ blinked back into consciousness. 

“You must be very tired. I don’t know how working parents do it all.” she quipped, keeping her hands beneath the desk so he wouldn’t see the tremors of anxiety.

“Forgive me, I don’t know what came over me…” he murmured, his brows drawing together as he rubbed a temple furiously, the one that Draco had extracted the memory from.

“What’s the name of your youngest? Was that his photograph I saw on your desk?” Hermione asked quickly, her heart thumping. 

“Jeremy. And yes, from his first birthday.”

“Sweet.” She hoped she sounded sincere. “Well, Jefferies, thanks for your insight on the security protocols, I really appreciate you coming down here.”

“Of- of course.” he said, reaching out to take her offered hand and shake it.

“I hope Jeremy lets you and your wife sleep tonight. Let me see you out.”

The auror smiled and Hermione was able to genuinely smile back with relief.

But as placed her hand on the doorknob, the door swung outward to reveal Painswick and Elizabeth just on the other side of the door. The older wizard was red in the face.

“Painswick!” she said in surprise.

“Secretary Painswick,” her boss growled at her. 

“Apologies Secretary, I wasn’t aware you wished to meet with me today. Jefferies, thank you for coming down, we won’t keep you any longer.” Hermione took a few steps to the side, forcing Painswick back and creating an opening for the auror to leave.

“Why was he down here? What did you discuss?” demanded Painswick before Jefferies was even out of sight.

“Security protocols,” said Hermione lightly, turning her back on Painswick and picking up some paperwork from her inbox to hide her expression. Draco was still inside but he wouldn’t be able to leave with this small crowd. She wanted that memory out of her office and safely stashed somewhere away from the Ministry.

“What security protocols?” The man was practically frothing at the mouth with fury.

Hermione snapped a professional, shit-eating grin to her face and turned back to Painswick. “I was just about to head to the Hall to review them. Why don’t you join me and I’ll go over them with you? Elizabeth, bring the inventory and report and join us.”

Her assistant blinked but jumped to it, summoning a few items from the desk including a huge pheasant feather quill that Hermione had gifted her as a thank you for her work during her absence. Hermione nodded her approval to the younger witch and then turned on her heel to walk quickly to the Hall of Prophecy without waiting for Painswick.

The older wizard huffed and puffed loudly behind her about the repair budget and how security protocols had done nothing to prevent this from happening in the first place. She ignored his grousing, going over the current state of the wards and the difficulties of keeping the remaining prophecies in place without the Keeper.

The protections were weakening every day. Moving the prophecies was exceedingly difficult given the limitations on who could handle them. But Hermione thought she may have found a way to move them to another location until the Hall could be rebuilt and the wards reset. 

“There’s no room! No place we can put them!” announced Painswick, staring at his reflection in one of the larger prophecies that had survived the explosion. 

“I heard there is a section of the Department that may be available post the war?”

Painswick’s chin quivered and he drew himself up to stand over Hermione and Elizabeth. It was rather ridiculous as he only had a few inches on his under-secretary, but her assistant quailed under the intimidation tactic and swiftly hid herself behind her boss. Hermione thought briefly of charming her heels so that she was taller but her ankle still smarted.

Her musing was interrupted by an absolute screech from Painswick. “Who said that, who told you?! There is no room! NONE TO BE HAD. The budget had no room for additional offices or additional staff. Get it done and get it done in this space, Granger!”

“Under-secretary Granger.”

“Excuse me?!”

Taking a chance and stepping forward, Hermione repeated, “You may be the Secretary, sir, but the Minister appointed me personally to this position. He trusts in my knowledge, my judgment, and my skill. If budget is the only problem, Secretary, then I’ll simply have to do something about the budget, won’t I?”

It was gratifying to see Painswick rendered speechless. Her boss sputtered and exited the hall without another word. Behind Hermione, Elizabeth let out a deep breath.

“Do you really think you can do something about the budget, Hermione?” asked the younger witch.

A smug smile crossed her lips. “Painswick is a pompous, small-pricked pinhead, but even Voldemort couldn’t stop me so neither can he.” 

-------

Hermione was furious and agitated in equal measure. After returning to her office, Draco was gone, which meant he had been able to escape without catching the notice of anyone else. In fact, he had left the Ministry completely according to Goldstein. She had expected an owl or a note, but not only did she not hear from him for the remainder of the work day, nothing, not even a Patronus, arrived for her that evening at her home.

Should she try to floo call the Manor? But his reaction to her presence there made Hermione hesitate. The continued silence made her fretful, both for Draco’s safety as well as to whether she had been right to trust him all this while. 

Thursday morning, Hermione arrived at six in the morning to work. The Atrium was empty save a few maintenance workers putting up holiday decor. She rushed through the security protocols, hoping to find Draco doing an early shift at the Brain Room, but it was empty save for the swimming brains. She trudged back to her desk, surprised to find her assistant already there.

“Why on earth are you here so early? I’ve adjusted my hours, you shouldn’t be in for another two hours.” she admonished Elizabeth as she set her things down in her office.

“A good assistant is in when her boss is.” stated Elizabeth as though she was reading off a manual.

Hermione rolled her eyes, thanked her for the tea, and told her to let her know once Draco was in the office. 

She tried to concentrate on personnel profiles that sat in a huge pile on her desk. She still had several weeks until the next Muggleborn Recovery Council meeting, but Hermione wanted to at least preview the files so that she could identify any candidates for promotion and watch their work more closely over the month before she made any official recommendations. The names and moving photographs all blurred together despite her best efforts.

The presence of an altered memory - of an auror no less - was, well it was disquieting. Frightening. Hermione didn’t know what to make of the information, and she hadn’t even witnessed the ‘nightmare’ yet, as Draco had called it when first talking to her about his research into the phenomena. And suddenly it was tied into everything going on with her memory loss and the stolen prophecies. Rather than give her any leads, this new evidence only created more questions.

Five cups of strong black tea later and Hermione was practically buzzing in her office chair from caffeine and concern. Her office clock rang out the tenth morning hour and she groaned, lightly slamming her head down onto her desk.

“... Hermione?” Elizabeth was at her door.

“Yesh?” she answered, voice muffled by her dragonhide desk blotter.

“Is everything alright?”

“Mphfphlmenen…” muttered Hermione. 

“I think I just saw Malfoy walk past from the staff room-”

“Really?!” asked Hermione, raising her head up.

She grabbed her wand and immediately set out towards the Brain Room, in such a rush that she missed whatever question her assistant had been shouting after her. When Hermione didn’t find her quarry there, she marched over to the office suite designated for the researchers. Several of the Unspeakables looked miffed at the unexpected appearance of their boss, while several others squeaked and hid. She almost passed Draco, who had his head down and was in a furious, whispered argument with Goldstein.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked, standing in the entrance to their desk space and raising an eyebrow imperiously. Had he been here this whole morning? And didn’t come to talk to her about yesterday?

Draco sighed and Goldstein threw up his hands, turning away from his partner with a scowl on his face. A large scroll was on the desk next to Draco; it appeared to be the object of their disagreement.

“What is that?” inquired Hermione, stepping into the space and turning an expectant expression to the blonde wizard who was grinding his teeth.

“It’s the proposal.” answered Draco in a low tone. 

“The proposal for…?”

He raised his eyes up to her, a flash of warning in them.

Ah. That proposal.

“I am asking Goldstein not to submit it.” he said, moving his harsh gaze onto Goldstein. 

The dark-haired wizard crossed his arms. “If you would tell me why, I might agree.”

Draco glanced back at Hermione, lifting an eyebrow. She chewed on her bottom lip and shrugged a little shoulder to indicate it was his call.

“Demeter be damned, Malfoy, just tell me.” whispered Goldstein, leaning back into their previous, secretive position. 

“Goldstein… this is to keep you safe. You and Parvati and Jessminda.” said Draco in a strained voice.

“What are you talking about?” whispered Goldstein, looking from his partner to Hermione.

“Anthony… please just let this go?” asked Hermione softly.

“Can’t you trust me?” he asked.

I don’t know who to trust, she thought bitterly.

“You know this is not about trust, damn you!” hissed Draco, “I’m telling you that this proposal is dangerous and we need to pitch it. Please.”

Goldstein closed his eyes resignedly. “Fine.”

A swish of Draco’s wand and the scroll Vanished. Hermione let out a huge sigh of relief that did not go unnoticed by Goldstein. He stared at her for a few moments.

“Parvati is convinced that you are dating someone, Hermione.”

He pointedly slid his eyes from her to Draco.

“What, where would she have gotten the idea? I’m single. Very, very… single.”

Godrick, it was depressing to say it aloud like that.

“Maybe because her best friend is the premier gossip columnist for Witch Weekly?” answered Goldstein with a significant look. 

Lavender. 

“I am not dating anyone.” 

“I’m not a gossip. I don’t plan on saying anything to Parvati about… whatever this is.” he promised, pointing at them both. “I want to get back to the project we do have funded, so if you could excuse yourselves and take your ‘whatever-this-is’ elsewhere?”

He shooed them out with the wave of his wand, wind literally pushing the two of them out of the cubicle space and into the hallway of the office suite.

“Why didn’t you owl me?” she derided Draco almost immediately.

A few heads popped out of their work spaces and stared at her, eyes wide. Immediately, she could hear a barrage of whispers.

“About… the project.” she amended.

It was obvious from the gawking that rumor of the two of them dating was going to be widespread. Probably headline in every magical news source by the weekend. Harry would probably send a Howler.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, we’re not dating!” she shouted at the nosey researchers. 

The heads immediately disappeared and the whispering halted.

“Fuck it, I have a headache.” Hermione turned to go.

“I might have something for that, come with me.” he said, dragging her away from the office suite and into an empty corridor.

While Draco was summoning a pain potion from his medical kit, Hermione grumbled, “I’ve been paying too much attention to you.”

“I beg to differ,” he said, handing her a small brown bottle. It was similar to what he’d given her for her shoulder, with the little handwritten label. “Take this.”

She downed it, choking a little against the menthol rush. “This is so much better than whatever they have at the hospital.”

“Why do you think I homebrew my potions?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“You said-”

“Why didn’t you contact me? Do you know how worried I was?”  she asked, shoving the empty bottle back at him. “Do you know what it’s taken me to trust you, to confide in you, and that you just disappear after… you know.”

Hermione glanced up and down the hallways, and then threw up a Muffling Charm.

“Ah, fuck.”

“‘Ah, fuck?’ ‘AH FUCK?’ Is that all you have to say to me? An uninspiring epitaph?” 

“Granger-”

“OH, don’t Granger me, Draco-”

“Hermione-”

“That’s better.”

Draco signed and pressed his palms into his eyes. “Look. Um. I lied.”

Her heart stopped beating. Everything from her fingertips down to her toes went cold with horror. Hermione wasn’t even capable of thought, unsure what she even expected from his confession, but it struck her dumb. 

When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “I lied about where I got those vials. It wasn’t from a colleague at the hospital, and I do know the connection between all of them.” 

“Does Anthony-”

“Goldstein doesn’t know. I- I didn’t want to bias the process, and I didn’t know how else to get the funding.”

Hermione took a few steadying breaths, trying to reconcile what she had just been told with the situation they were in. Her gut was still untwisting itself and she took a moment to lead against the corridor wall. Her heart screamed at her to be outraged at this deception but her brain whispered, Aren’t you hiding something even bigger?

“I understand.” she said finally.

“You do?” he asked with uncertainty.

“What’s the connection, Draco?”

Now was not the time to be thinking with feelings. She needed answers, and Draco had just said he said some. The tone of her voice - clipped and emotionless - made the wizard wince.

“I can’t tell you.”

Hermione couldn’t even bring herself to respond. She moved to push off the wall to walk away, but Draco caught her by her wrist and pinned her so she couldn’t leave. His body was pressed closely against hers, trapping her in with his other hand pressing the wall near the shoulder. Golden bangs swung down over his eyes so she couldn’t read his expression.

“I’m begging you to trust me.”

She turned her head, refusing to look at him.

“You have to understand, I promised some else first that I wouldn’t betray their trust. I’m asking you to give me time, give me a chance to ask them to share with you so that we can start to make sense of this all. So that everyone stays safe.”

His voice was soft but determined. The only movement Draco made was to slowly place his forehead against the top of her head. His breath tickled her eyelashes. A knot formed in Hermione’s throat.

“Hermione.”

He let go of the wrist he had pinned next to her waist and brought his fingers up to touch the mess of hairs that framed her face. Heat rushed through her, flushing her face as Draco trailed his fingers through her tresses and onto her shoulder. Her lips began to quiver, betraying her feeling of indecision.

With the softest touch imaginable, he placed a finger under her chin and turned her gently to look back at him. 

“Please trust me.”

“Mmm hmm.” Hermione couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth, to say words. Her throat was dry, her head was spinning but she managed a tiny nod and Draco’s whole body relaxed against hers.

“Um… Hermione?”

Draco stiffened and pushed off the wall, and down the corridor stood Elizabeth with a clipboard and a bright red expression, her eyes on the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but her boss. 

Hermione died a second time.

Once she returned to her body, she quickly straightened her work robes and nodded to Draco. “Owl me, please.”

He nodded, eyes cutting at Elizabeth, and walked back to his office suite.

Her assistant didn’t move any closer, so once Hermione felt sufficiently less embarrassed, she walked over to her assistant. 

“We got an emergency request from the Unspeakable in residence at Stonehenge…” 

She followed Elizabeth back to her office, wondering if she’d be able to wait until Draco owled her.