Chapter Text
A week after the battle at Hogwarts and Hermione finds herself cursing her naivete at having thought that once Voldemort was dead everything would calm down and they could go back to something resembling normalcy.
In the days immediately following the battle they’d been busy with healing the wounded, patching up the worst bits of Hogwarts, and helping the aurors escort the captives off of school grounds. Then, right as she’d begun to think that they were going to be finally able to take some time to rest and take care of their other responsibilities, aurors had pulled them all aside and explained that they had to go in for questioning.
She’d forgotten to consider bureaucracy into her timeline when figuring out how much longer she had until they could sleep.
“For what?” Ron huffed, forehead furrowed deeply with his displeasure as he frowned at the small group of aurors who had pulled them aside, Minister Kingsley Shacklebot—newly appointed—at the forefront of the group. The man stood unaffected by the tangible displeasure of the three teens as they glared and stewed over the demand disguised as a request.
“I thought you would have questions,” He hummed, hands behind his back and shoulders relaxed, radiating an aura of competence and ease that was already working to soothe their frayed nerves. “It’s why I wanted to make sure I was here. We need to question you on what happened over the past year, and I do mean everything that has happened over the past year.”
“We defeated Voldemort. That’s it.” Harry stated flatly, arms crossed over his chest and face closed off. Kingsley stared at him evenly until the newly crowned “Savior of Magic” breathed out heavily and relaxed enough to loosen the tight knot of his arms.
“And we need to know how.”
“Why? What’s it matter what we did?” Ron bit out, still not swayed by Kingsley’s presence. Hermione grimaced as her friend bristled and scowled, hand rubbing the ache in the center of her forehead. All three of them were at different stages of exhaustion and frustration, having worked non-stop over the past three days to help with the wounded before they were taken to St. Mungo’s, and then helping to clear out all of the rubble and then with the many repairs Hogwarts needed. That, plus having to dodge the constant bombardment of other people trying to get closer to them just for the sake of saying they could, left them all drained beyond reason from more than just exhaustion.
They certainly didn’t need anything additional, but here it was anyways.
“We need to know because what if even a single thing the three of you did or discovered can help us stop more evils for being acted out in the future? What if it can help us find the secrets the Death Eaters have hidden away, the dangers they have prepared for us? We learn from our history, from how the evil men of our past have terrorized us so that we can never allow it to happen again. Would you really keep what you learned from us, would you really risk not giving us a fighting chance at stopping such things in the future?”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all deflated, their anger and ire evaporating when faced with the firm, unrelenting belief Kingsley’s words held.
Hermione sighed and put her hands on her hips, and wished that she didn’t look like she was wearing two day old clothes and drenched in sweat. Though, she knew that she had to look like that because she was wearing two days clothes and was dripping sweat and felt all around disgusting. But even still, she wished they could take a shower, have a nap and a full meal, and then have a discussion about how much they wanted everyone else to know.
Though, she did feel a little bit guilty about thinking about hiding things after Kingsley’s speech, and so because of that she had to figure that he’d do very well as Minister.
She looked over to Harry and saw him watching Kingsley carefully, face blank as he thought everything he’d been presented with over carefully. Then, as she watched, his shoulders relaxed and he looked at the man with a mixture of respect and trust.
“The truth, then.” Harry declared, “All of it.”
And this, she knew, was why Kingsley had come. Not to ease them, but to give Harry someone to trust in to be able to give them what they wanted. The man was smart, he had to be in order to have the career he’d had, but Hermione didn’t like how smart he was being here.
Harry always had such a hard time seeing manipulations when they came from people he decided to trust, as she could knowingly attest.
“The truth.” She agreed, already quietly tucking little secrets away, just in case.
They were escorted out of the room and down the hall toward the front door. The few dozen or so people who had remained at Hogwarts to help where they could were scattered around, and those that saw them called out or watched with concern as they were escorted out by their collection of aurors.
Hermione’s eyes caught on a familiar figure standing off to the side, attention diverted toward him all too easily as it always seemed to since those moments alone in the bathroom.
Since their kiss.
Draco and his family had stayed at Hogwarts, told by the aurors on the first day that they couldn’t go to their manor until it had been thoroughly searched, which had left them with nowhere to really go. She had rarely seen the elder Malfoys over the past few days, but she’d assumed they were lurking around and being watched by the aurors that had remained. Draco, however, had taken to helping with some of the magical reconstruction, surprising everyone with the fact that he seemed to be doing something that didn’t directly benefit him.
Hermione, though, could feel the frustration that radiated off of the rigid line of his shoulders, could see the bottled up anger and restless energy in his eyes, and she imagined that had they been able to steal any time away from everyone else she would have been able to taste the fact that after everything he just felt so lost on his lips.
He needed to do something, needed to feel like he was accomplishing something as he and his parents were forced to stay stagnant, and she could understand that more than anything.
He was standing before the stairs in the main hallway, and she assumed he was taking a break from repairing the steps. As soon as he saw that she was the one everyone was making a big deal out of, and that she was being escorted by aurors he stood at attention, face going rigid as his wand-hand twitched at his side.
She subtly motioned for him to stay back, hand hidden from the rest of her group at her side. Her relief was almost overwhelming when he stood back, his face still thunderous as she, Harry, and Ron were escorted out of Hogwarts and to the nearest apparition point.
They arrived at the recaptured ministry to a degree of fanfare none of them were in the right mind to handle, all of the workers taking a moment to stop their repairs and changes to murmur and speak amongst themselves, staring and applauding as they were escorted through the halls to their interrogation rooms.
Their separate interrogation rooms.
The three of them shared a wry look, all of them already exasperated and annoyed with a process that hadn’t even started yet.
Hermione was walked into her room by a female auror, and she assumed by the way the woman smiled reassuringly at her it was in order to comfort her or something pandering like that. With a sniff she sat in the offered chair with as much dignity as she could in spite of her ratty, dirt covered clothes and body.
“Just a few questions for you,” The auror demurred, before starting to ask the first of what seemed to be several hundred questions.
We know you infiltrated the ministry, tell us why. Where did you stay while you were on the run? What did you do? Where did you go? Where had you intended to go? What were you searching for? Tell us about the horcruxes.
Two hours in and Hermione was exhausted, and she knew that they weren’t even half way through because they hadn’t even gotten to what Hermione suspected was the main attraction.
“And how did you start working with Draco Malfoy?” The auror—Miriam—asked just as casually as she’d asked all of the other questions she’d lobbed at the girl so far.
“Last year, by the order of Dumbledore.” Giving the deceased man any credit for the situation left a bad taste in her mouth, but as the leader of the Order his command would be respected. “I also worked with Minerva McGonagall in order to feed information to the Order about the Death Eaters.”
And so a new round of questions started.
What information was provided? When were you told? How did Mr. Malfoy begin his role as a spy? Was there any information that you fed him? Was there any bad information that you were given?
Hermione was careful not to mention the legilimency or any of the shared memories, feeling so viciously protective over those moments that she refused to let them be in some report somewhere, but tried to be truthful about everything else since she wanted to make sure they had as much information about what Draco had done as possible.
After two more hours of question after question they seemed to be getting to the end of it, Miriam just asking a few final clarifying questions and the self-writing quill making notes of their conversation at her side.
“And one last thing, Ms. Granger,” Miriam smiled again, trying so hard to look trustworthy and it only made Hermione want to claw at her because she was tired and hungry and needed a bath and hadn’t been able to change her clothes in two days and she wanted to leave.
“Yes?” She gritted out.
“You stated that you were communicating with Mister Malfoy with the use of a coin you spelled, correct?”
“Correct.” She agreed cautiously, not quite liking where it seemed this line of questioning was going.
“We would like to be provided that coin, in order to keep it as evidence and to study it, if you please.” She said so nicely, as if she wasn’t asking for the very thing Hermione had held onto so desperately all these long months. Like she wasn’t asking for the one thing that had kept her connected to Draco in spite of distance and circumstances.
“Sure.” Hermione found herself saying before the silence could stretch too suspiciously long. But she didn’t reach for the coin that lay pressed to the skin over her chest, hidden as it always was beneath her shirt. Instead she pulled out a similar coin from her pocket, though one that had been made long before it.
“Here,” Hermione laid the coin she’d made for the DA meetings on the table, having gotten it out after the fighting since Neville had reminded her of its existence in her bag, wondering if there would be any more messages shared by the members.
“Thank you,” Miriam smiled, standing up in what Hermione could only hope was a signal that she was about to leave.
And then Kingsley walked in.
“Minister,” The auror inclined her head before stepping out of the room, leaving a fuming Hermione behind with the man.
“Minister Shacklebolt, I thought your only purpose in meeting us today was to get us to come to answer questions. I didn’t know that you were going to be part of the interrogation as well.” Hermione grit out, eyes narrowing at the amused look the man gave her.
“I also wanted to share some news with you of some things that have had to happen while you were being questioned.” He said, sitting down smoothly in the chair across from her that his auror had just vacated.
Hermione’s panicked mind immediately thought of a hundred horrible possibilities of what could have gone wrong in the two hours she had been absent, more than a few revolving around the possibility of Voldemort coming back again.
Though she knew Kingsley would not nearly be so relaxed if it was something like that, so she tried to calm down a bit.
“While you three were being questioned the Malfoy family was brought in for their own round of questioning, likely the first of many with how deep into the inner circle the Malfoy’s were. All to better prepare for the trials that will come.”
“Trial?” Hermione asked through stiff lips, not certain what to react to first. “He spied for the Order, though.”
“Yes, and that will be taken into account.” Kingsley allowed, though his eyes were stern and unyielding as they stared her down. “But too many people used their money or influence to get out of sentencing the last time, and I will not allow it. Anyone who participated in the Death Eater’s crimes will go to trial in order to make sure that no crime goes unpunished, and there is no exception for Draco Malfoy even if he was a great asset during the war.” Seeing the vicious protest about to burst out of the young woman in front of him, Kingsley raised a cautioning hand to stay her words.
“What Draco did was a great help to us, and he saved many lives. But I will hold him to the same standard as everyone else, even if in all likelihood the trial will declare him absolved from his crimes due to his assistance during the war.”
Hermione stood so abruptly that her chair toppled backwards, fists clenched at her sides and chest moving quickly with her angered breaths as she glared down at the man who was now the most powerful wizard in all of Britain due to his position.
“He’d better be free by the end of all of this, Kingsley. You won’t make it so I lied to him.” She declared, voice shaking because even if a small part of her could understand the reasoning she was so furious that it didn’t matter.
She whirled away and stomped out of the thankfully unlocked door.
“He’s in interrogation room seven.” Kingsley calmly called after her, and even as she fumed she turned on her heel to stomp down the hallway to wait outside the room.
Harry and Ron, she learned after a bit from a junior auror who had apparently been tasked by Kinglsey to bring her tea and information, had already gotten done with their interviews and had been told to leave since Hermione’s interview was always going take much longer due to her work with Draco.
She’d dozed off, exhausted after the days of work in Hogwarts and the months she’d been on the run before the battle, jerking immediately awake at the sound of the door across from her clicking open.
Draco, when he stepped out, looked even more exhausted than she felt, deep bruises under his eyes, skin pale and almost thin looking, the image he gave off one of almost fragility. It felt strange, like she was seeing something she didn’t want to. It reminded her so much of those first few moments in the bathroom a year ago, him sobbing beneath the weight of it all and her frightened by the shattering of her expectations.
He looked up, saw her waiting, and the darkness in his eyes receded a bit to show that hidden bit of warmth that would go unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know him well enough.
“Granger.” He greeted imperiously, eyes warily flicking up to watch the auror who had been in the interrogation room with him stand a little off to the side, obviously waiting to escort them out.
“Malfoy,” She tiredly greeted back, offering a wan smile as she stood. “I was waiting for you to be done before I left.” She explained, and they fell in step with one another, the auror hovering just behind as they went to the apparition point, a respectable distance between them as they walked, not looking at one another but both extremely aware that the other was just within reach.
It was comforting and a bit teasing, and Hermione couldn’t help but play with the idea of reaching out and taking his hand or arm. She didn’t really want to, all too aware of the strangers around them keeping a watchful eye on them, but she wanted to think about it. To wonder at what Draco’s reaction would be.
The greetings and jubilation she had received upon her arrival was muted or gone entirely now that she had Draco by her side, she couldn’t help but note, lips pressing tightly together as she marched resolutely forward with the heavy weight of a dozen eyes on her back.
“We can manage from here.” Draco declared imperiously to the auror, looking down his nose at the man like the entitled asshole he’d been raised to be. Hermione wanted to roll her eyes but held off, knowing it would damage whatever kind of performance was going on.
Draco carefully grabbed her elbow and within moments she felt the familiar tug of apparition, allowing herself to fall back into it, opening her eyes to look up and see the dark halls of the ministry had gone and been replaced by the dusky sky and the lights of Hogwarts beckoning up the hill.
This far away and with the deepening-darkness hiding it’s faults, you could barely tell the school had been left in ruins.
She breathed deeply, the air brisk with the oncoming night and it was a relief after the stuffiness of bureaucracy, and looked over to see that Draco was basically dead on his feet.
“Come on,” She murmured, slipping her arm out of his hand to switch places, tugging him forward a step. “We both need to sleep.”
“No list of incessant and annoying questions? Really, Granger, one would think you were a completely different person.” He managed to get out halfway convincingly. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued to pull him along up the hill.
“Trust me, there will be plenty of them once I’ve gotten enough sleep to start functioning again.” She stated dryly, earning herself a slight twist of his lips into what could have been a shadow of a smile.
“If only we didn’t have to sleep in broken, dusty classrooms.” Draco muttered, pulling Hermione to a stop.
She’d forgotten that some of the structural damage the school had taken had led to a hole in one of the walls in the slytherin dorms, leading to the whole thing being flooded. It was going to take weeks of intensive magic to fix, and no one had gotten to it just yet, which meant that the Slytherin students that had stayed as the school to help with repairs—which, admittedly were not many—were forced to sleep in some of the busted up classrooms.
“You can sleep with me, if you’d like.” Hermione found herself offering absentmindedly, what she said only registering once she took in Draco’s wide eyes, the tips of his ears going a bit pink as he stared at her. “In the tent! I have a tent, and you can sleep in it, if you want. Not in my bed, a separate one. We’ve been staying in it so that we weren’t constantly being harassed by people wanting to talk to Harry.” She managed, face flaming as she stuttered her way through the minefield the conversation had become.
Draco sniffed, nose going up in the air like the prat he was. “I suppose that will work.” He said, looking off to the side to try and look impervious. Hermione stopped talking with an audible snap of her mouth closing, whipping her head around from where her embarrassment had forced her head to turn. She glared, fury rising in her like a tsunami that could do nothing but fizzle to a sprinkle at the sight of his ears—red now, no longer just pink—and the way he was decidedly facing away but his eyes couldn’t help but slide over toward her and make that increasingly familiar warmth spread so easily in her chest.
“You are such a dick.” She huffed, rolling her eyes at the smirk he gave and forcing down the smile that wanted to tease at the edges of her mouth.
“Like knows like.” She heard him murmur to himself and she gaped at him, about to offer back some scathing retort when she was cut off by Draco starting to walk towards the school again, slipping his hand into hers as he walked by so that he started to pull her along.
“Come along, Granger.” He sighed as they went, as if she had been inconveniencing him. But his hand was warm and and dry, and when she shifted her hand a bit so their fingers could link it felt so right she couldn’t help but smile as she sped up a bit to match their strides and walk side by side, grinning wider when she saw just how open his face looked, more relaxed than he’d been since that night they’d made out in the bathroom.
“You don’t even know where we’re going, Malfoy.” She pointed out gleefully, guiding him over toward their set up at the lakeside.
They had wards up to keep everyone outside of their trio away, and it took Hermione a few moments to edit them to allow Draco in. She guided him in, hands still comfortingly linked, and watched with a snicker as Draco took in the hodgepodge, aged interior of the tent.
“Home sweet home.” She said just to see him wince.
After a war, torture, and living with a genocidal maniac under his roof, it was honestly funny that he could still be stuck up about some ugly decor.
She pulled out one of the cots the tent had hidden away to be able to support the many Weasleys, and this at least Draco didn’t turn his nose up at, too relieved to be so close to sleep.
“That’s Harry and Ron’s,” She said, gesturing to their bunk, “And I took that bed.” She gestured at the cot on the other side of the room. “Where do you want to be? Or, I guess you can take another room, we just wanted to keep each other close throughout… Everything.” She shrugged, watching as he silently took the cot from her and moved it over near hers, barely half a foot separating the two beds.
“Close is good.” He said quietly, eyes meeting in the barely lit tent, breath catching at the quiet closeness.
Hermione nodded, grabbing some of her pajamas and stepping into another room to quickly change, scowling down at the faded and well worn purple flannel, suddenly realizing that she was going to have to go out there where Draco was, wearing a years old pajama set that she was just realizing would look childish and embarrassing. And it wasn’t like you wanted to kiss someone wearing too big flannel pajamas that their mother got for sale at the department store and that had originally had a heart patch on the pocket that she’d removed it before taking them to school fifth year because Lavender had started wearing pretty, feminine night gowns that were a bit short and Hermione would have rather been caught dead than have Lavender in her pretty nightgowns see that stupid patch.
And now, because she couldn’t go back out in the same clothes she had been wearing since she’d very noticeably went to change, she had to wear them in front of Draco.
Cursing under her breath Hermione quickly changed, angrily combing her fingers as she stomped back into the main room, head held high and almost ready to dare him to say anything.
Of course, he had to be laying down under the sheets already, trousers and shirt folded on the floor next to his bed and arm thrown over his eyes like he’d already fallen asleep, very rudely not allowing her to defend her favorite pajamas.
She huffed and quietly crawled into her own bed, tugging the sheets up and rolling over only to freeze when her eyes met Draco’s.
“Hi,” She whispered quite stupidly, surprised and unable to look away.
“Hi.” He whispered back, the both of them turning at the same time so that they were on their sides facing each other.
She whispered the spell to turn the lights out, but even in the darkness she knew he was right there watching her still.
So close, after all those nights wishing he was there.
“I got used to talking to you before I went to sleep.” She admitted, sliding her hand to the space between them and her breath catching at finding his there searching as well. Their fingers linked again, and Hermione could breathe just a bit easier.
“Well here I am, Granger. Talk.”
Silence, and the both of them couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Good night, Granger.” Draco murmured. Hermione smiled, heart fluttering a bit at that all too familiar sign off.
“Good night, Draco.” She whispered back, eyes drifting shut with the comforting weight of Draco’s hand in hers.