Around The World With You

As being named the Wizarding world's best Tracker in over a century, Draco Malfoy was used to hunting down the worst of the worst. One morning, however, his entire world is flipped upside down when his newest assignment is to track down none other than the Head Auror's best friend: Hermione Granger. This was something he never expected.

Notes:

In response to a prompt by Boundbooks in the The Aurors Prompt-Fest collection.

Prompt: Draco never saw a world where he'd be the Auror assigned to hunt down Hermione Granger.
Writing this story has been an adventure all on its own, which is why it turned out to be four times longer than I had originally anticipated! Thanks to the mods for holding this fest, it has sparked a new love for Auror stories and I already have plot bunnies running around for my own series for Aurors!
A million thanks goes out to my wonderful beta lksnarry1 :D

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Encounter Number Zero
(7 April 2003)

Monday morning had proven to be a great start to the week thus far.

Draco Malfoy had awoken early enough to prepare himself for the day—without the pestering of the birds that generally loved to annoy him. He allowed himself a boastful smile as he put the responsibility of the success on himself and the potion he had sprayed last night outside his window. He had completely ignored the fact that it quite possibly could have been a sign that the tides were finally beginning to turn for him.

He called for his clothes from within the wardrobe and was pleased when they appeared wrinkle-free, despite the cramped conditions in the diminutive new closet. He still had not found the time to try enlarging the interior to magically offer more room; he never spent a large amount of time in his new flat.

Fortunately, his slightly long blond hair also seemed to have been cooperating faithfully that morning. Normally it would fight with him, sometimes even against the magic, as he would try getting the crazed strands to calm after his rough nights of sleep.

Draco was ready for his morning meeting; not just on time, but early, and he was ecstatic!

That morning was continuing to turn out even better than expected when he arrived at a coffee shop in Diagon Alley—one that he frequented most mornings when work called him to be out and about early—and there was an absence of the usual infuriating long line.

The young woman that was habitually there when he would decide on a morning drink, flirtatiously winked at him and rang up his order without asking what he wanted. Some things would never change and Draco seemed to like it that way.

With his steaming café au lait in one hand and a berry scone in the other, Draco walked proudly—passersby saw it as cockiness—down the paved street, eating away.

Everything that morning was going without a hitch and the blond continued to think of it as just a simply lucky morning. He assumed he would arrive to his meeting at the Ministry and would simply go about the rest of his day as normal.

Despite Draco Malfoy persistently being spotted at the Ministry, he did not work there. Not officially, at least. It was a complicated matter that eventually led him into turning the most dangerous criminals into the Ministry, but it had baffled Draco when he discovered that no one in the Ministry had ever hired him.

In the beginning, Draco had not been taking assignments from some unknown stranger, but instead had been working for himself.

Throughout the aftermath of the war, the Malfoy’s were able to make it by with the bare minimum punishment, all thanks to Harry and his supporters for coming to their defence. Draco had been the first one in his family to be cleared through the Ministry and had managed to squirm through without any repercussions—except for the whispers that had erupted in gossip.

At this point in the past, the blond boy had no idea if his father—or even his mother—would be able to escape from the existing punishment of being confined to the inside of Azkaban.

Anger began to grow and boil over and Draco left an unsure boy behind and he turned into a man. In one fell swoop, the former Slytherin commenced to acquire his revenge for the terror that had happened upon his family by beginning to capture fugitive Death Eaters. The skill and power he had his whole life strengthened at the thought of his family once again crumbling before his eyes. He was surprised when he had successfully caught up to Rodolphus Lestrange, one of the few that was already high on the Ministry’s priority list; ones that were able to slip away.

When he had recounted the story to his mother after her miraculous release, Draco failed to mention that the thought of making use of the Avada curse on him lingered murderously whilst he stared his uncle down over the end of his wand. At that instant, Draco had known he was better than the murderous bastard and refused to end up in Azkaban. Speaking to his mother, he had skipped right to the point where he had left him locked up in some abandoned warehouse and sent a message to the Ministry to pick him up. After that, he failed to rightly care what happened to Rodolphus, family or not.

His courage had only grown after he successfully captured his lunatic uncle only after a mere two months of tracking him down. Rodolphus Lestrange was honestly the only man that he had remembered over that whole year of capturing a poorly run organization of renegade Death Eaters. Once he had received the Daily Prophet one morning announcing to the Wizarding world that all escapees had been captured, Draco decided to settle down for a while.

That was four years ago. At almost twenty-three years of age, Draco never thought that he would be a well known and well-sought after Tracking Wizard.

Admittedly, he loved the attention and adventure that his ‘job’ gave him, hunting down only the toughest and hardest to find wizards—and occasionally a Muggle with Wizarding knowledge—but most of his assignments the past year had become very repetitive.

A folder would arrive in his home by owl from an anonymous source with details of a particular wizard or group of wizards that unfortunately the Aurors in the Ministry just couldn’t handle and the Hit Wizards apparently were unable to seize. Draco had his assumptions as to whom had been sending him these assignments the past four years, but there was never any proof to solidify his hypothesis. Instead of investigating and tracking the trail that would eventually give him the answer, Draco left the mystery alone.

Upon completion of an assignment, a notice would be sent by a different owl letting him know a large number of galleons had been deposited into his account at Gringotts.

Draco had scoffed at the notion of accepting galleons at first because everyone in the Wizarding world already knew the extent of the Malfoy fortune. They also knew that once he had turned eighteen and his family had been cleared after the war, the young Malfoy heir had been bestowed his inheritance. Thankfully, their fortune and all their belongings had been returned to the family. He had finally admitted the additions to his gold collection were definitely worthy to accept, especially when he never knew how long some assignments would keep him away.

Draco would constantly have meetings at the Ministry with the Aurors, Hit Wizards, the Heads of the departments, and sometimes even the Minister himself. Usually it was a meeting filled with gestures of thanks and shrewdly thought-out plans to obtain information about his tactics. Of course, no one would turn out as successful by use of cunning strategies against the King of Sly.

He suddenly laughed internally, thinking about the title that one random Ministry worker had called him in passing.

Arriving at the end of the cobblestone path, before the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, Draco threw away his empty discardable coffee cup—a wonderful Muggle invention finally adapted into the Wizarding world—and the bag that once held his scone.

Draco reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. It had been delivered to him yesterday and he was surprised it had come directly from Harry Potter. It had always been his secretary to send him owls with notices of a prospective meeting, so it had shocked the blond to discover the personal nature of the letter and his authenticated signature at the bottom.

At first, Draco had considered skiving off the meeting, not wanting to turn his unspoken agreement with the Ministry into a relationship with a more personal touch. However, Draco Malfoy certainly wasn’t one to bite the hand that had fed him. Harry had indeed helped him and his family a great deal after the war.

Nevertheless, Draco’s detailed journey of the past is for a different story. This story is about how that Monday morning was the start of Draco’s life changing for a second time.

Once Draco had Apparated into the Ministry’s Atrium and travelled down the lifts to the second floor, he arrived to the entrance of Harry Potter’s personal office. The one thing Draco hated most of all about going to the Ministry was the massive crowd of wizards and witches that seemed like a tsunami of bodies. He was never one for big crowds.

He was greeted with a pretty young woman who offered him a wide smile.

“Draco! Are you here to see Mr. Potter?” she asked with a flip of her long, black hair.

“Yes, Anastasia,” he responded without playing along with her flirty ways. “I have an appointment with Potter at nine.”

He lifted his wrist, looking at the watch that rested there, the cold metal chilling his skin.

“Seems I’m a bit early,” he stated, moving to sit down in one of the chairs in the row lined up against the wall, opposite of Anastasia’s desk.

“I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.” She flashed another smile in his direction before picking up her wand and waving it towards her boss’s office, just on the other side of the door.

Many questions once again raced through Draco’s mind as he wondered what could be so important that Potter had asked to meet him at his office. The letter had absolutely no direct indication of what he wanted and suggested no hints either.

Before he could try another attempt to put together a theory, the office door opened and Harry had greeted him in with a solemn and tired look upon his features. The dark-haired wizard sat behind his desk, gesturing towards the seat opposite him for Draco to sit in.

Before beginning, Harry casted an Imperturbable Charm on the door, keeping all persons and sounds in or out of the room.

“I need to ask a favour from you, Malfoy,” he started.

“What type of favour do you want me to perform?” Draco toyed around with him.

Harry sighed. “The dangerous kind, you nitwit.”

“Does that mean there’s another big bad wolf your fellow Aurors can’t catch?” the blond man questioned with a clever smirk and a cheeky turn of his head, raising his eyebrows in mockery.

“Indeed, there is someone,” Harry answered, rubbing his temples, causing his glasses to slip down his nose. Something was terribly wrong—Draco could tell. No matter what the situation was, his colleague would never act this distressed.

“Only the best for the job, right?” Draco couldn’t help but boast about how useful he was, trying to see how far he could push the man in front of him.

Harry didn’t respond that time, just simply threw down a folder with papers spilling out the side as it slid across the surface, landing right in the middle of the desk.

“Before you open the file and read it, I need you to completely vow to one thing,” the former Gryffindor said gravely.

“As long as it’s not an Unbreakable Vow. I wish to live many more happy years.” Harry gave him a look that would kill without the vow. “Sure, Potter, I promise,” he finally said, holding his hands up in defeat.

Actually, he was quite unsure at that moment. He had no idea what he would be walking into. He was used to catching dangerous fugitives that his anonymous “employer” would send him. He wasn’t completely convinced if he should commit to something more... personal.

“The contents of this specific case cannot be discussed with anyone but me, do you understand?” There was still that deadly look in his eyes, signifying if Draco broke this vow, he would be the next one to be hunted.

“What are you on about, Potter?” His hand reached out for the folder, attempting to get a hold of it before deciding to agree on any of his terms. In his five years of tracking down people, nothing had ever been so secretive.

Harry’s hand slammed down just in time before the file rose off of his desk.

“I mean it, Malfoy. No one else in the Ministry knows about this job and I intend to keep it that way.” He still held down the file strongly with his hand.

“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch, Potter. I promise. I always make it a point to take my assignments with an approach of complete seriousness and execute my actions according to all guidelines. You know; follow all the rules.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of...” he confessed, letting his hand off the file, Draco taking it into his own hands.

His eyes bulged slightly at the name written at the top of the first page and the photo clipped to the front, looking rather frantically at him.

“No,” he said astonished, giving a weighty snort. “You have got to be kidding me, Potter.” He looked more shocked now than he ever had, even when he heard the news that his father would be released from Azkaban.

“I need you to find her for me and bring her back without a scratch. Not a single one, Malfoy.” He ran his hand through his dark locks, sighing deeply.

“What did she do?” He shut the folder, setting it down, planning on reading the entire contents of it later.

“What she did is not the problem. It’s what she’ll end up doing... I’m working out the kinks of what happened, but she has no idea I’m doing so because she ran off before I had a chance to tell her.” Harry took his glasses off, rubbing his eyes slightly as if by doing so, it would make all his problems go away. “Just please tell me that you will do this.”

“Why?” he shook his head to correct himself. “She should be easy enough for you and Weasel to find. I mean why do you need me?”

“You of all people should know why. She was in the top of every class at Hogwarts; woman’s a genius. She’s put up every single spell barrier around her and Ron and I can’t do it alone.” Harry put his glasses back on, adjusting them just right. “We don’t believe that anyone in the office is capable of keeping their mouth shut.”

“Ah, I see. You trust me, don’t you Potter?” Another grin grew on his features.

“I do. Ron wasn’t thrilled about asking for your help. Your reputation is not a secret, Malfoy, and we know that you can do this efficiently while keeping it under the radar, as they say.”

“Look, Potter, I can do this, without a doubt, but, is there enough information in this file to ensure I can?” he asked, waving the thinnest file he had ever been given. “Efficiently?”

“We put together all the personal information that we know about her, but of course, only what is necessary for her to be found. It’s all in there. I know you have plenty of your own resources—Muggle as well. She is muggleborn and will definitely reroute back to those roots if necessary to keep us away.”

“Naturally, those would be the first places to look into,” he added his own two Knuts in.

“I’m not sure what your international connections are like, but if you decide to do this, Malfoy, I can make it so you have every privilege that all my Aurors do. None of the other Ministries will bother you; on this mission and on any others in the future.”

Harry then set down another folder on the desk, facing Draco. Inside were handfuls of forms and registries that were required to enter certain territories and countries. After the war ended, every wizard and witch were now required to be approved by any country’s own magical government in order for them to be able to perform magic there. Draco was positive that those connections would benefit him in the long run as well.

“Do you honestly think she’s left the county?” he asked after contemplating the reality of that notion.

Harry Potter provided the first glimpse of a grin throughout their encounter. “Read her file and you’ll understand.” As quickly as the grin appeared, it faded away into the corners of the shadowed office. “So, will you accept my offer?”

Draco chewed over it all for a minute and wondered what in Merlin’s name could have happened to instantly turn the Wizarding world upside down. He was now enveloped in a world where a former Death Eater was out to save Hermione Granger’s backside.

Who would have ever thought?

“Alright, Potter. I’ll do it.”

Encounter Number One
(8 April 2003)
(One Day Later)

It was exactly twenty-eight hours after his meeting with Harry Potter, in which Draco would run into Hermione Granger. It was a fortunate occurrence indeed, but unfortunately it would not be the last time.

He had been over all of the notes that Harry had provided and was required to use only a few of his Muggle resources to find her current whereabouts. Naturally, he had first tried using all the locating and tracking spells he knew, but of course to no avail. Hermione Granger wasn’t the smartest witch at Hogwarts in over a century for nothing. Eventually, all that poking and prodding led him right into the heart of Muggle London, at a coffee shop called Bea’s of Bloomsbury.

Thankfully, Bea’s was not overly busy during the lunch time on Tuesday. Draco was not ready to fight with a Muggle blocking his entrance into the restaurant.

It was definitely a nice and charming place to enjoy lunch, even though Draco would certainly not admit to it; but he did think to himself that it was possibly the type of place that he would see Hermione eating at every once in a while; even if she weren’t on the run. Not that he knew very much about her anyway. It was merely an assumption.

Walking down the street, he had seen her petite figure sitting by herself in the back corner of the place, with a plate of food on the table in front of her and a thick book in her hands. Draco regarded the concept once again that some things would never change and allowed himself a slight smile.

He had instantly noticed, however, she had changed her basic appearance with a spell. He had been so accustomed to tracking down fugitives who had done the same thing that Draco was simply able to repel the spells effects when he would become aware of the slight blurriness that occurred with its use. He had noticed her frizzy dark curls right through the facade of the red hair she pretended to have. He couldn’t see the changes she had made to her face from simply looking in through the cafe’s window.

Quietly walking in, he kept his body turned away from the corner she housed herself in and proceeded to order a small French roast coffee and a tiramisu cupcake. It sounded terribly delicious and he could have done with afters from his hurried lunch he ate a bit earlier.

He figured that while he was at it and had already caught up to the witch he had been hired to find, he would toy with her head for a round of laughs.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he had walked up to her table. She lowered the book from in front of her face as he took the liberty to sit down in the empty chair across from her. “But have we met before? You look awfully familiar.”

He tried his damned hardest to hold back his signature smirk that itched to make an appearance. It proved to be even more difficult when his target looked like a mermaid caught in the Giant Squid’s tentacles.

“Malfoy?” she accidently let out, and then tried to cover her mouth hoping her hadn’t heard her.

Too late, he reflected.

“So I do know you!” he stated. Draco took a sip of his coffee that had just arrived at the table, trying yet again at his pathetic attempts to conceal his smugness.

“Malfoy, what in Merlin’s name are you doing here?!” she squealed as low as she could manage.

This was his perfect chance to break down his phony performance. He faked a look of surprise as he pretended to finally identify her voice.

“Granger?” he laughed. “I don’t even recognise you! It’s only been five years... what’s happened to you?” he announced, feigning amazement at her looks.

“Honestly, Malfoy, how daft can you be? I’m under a camouflage,” she stated with a self-righteous look on her barely recognisable face, eyebrows cocked up as she rolled her eyes at him.

She closed her book and set it down on the table, prepared to go into an awkward conversation with her childhood nemesis. She was quite shaky with the idea, he had noticed, as she looked uneasy while taking a bite of her lunch. However, he wasn’t sure if it was because she feared the thought of being caught or because of who he was.

He sat there and speculated her otherwise nonchalant attitude as he watched her chew and swallow the food she had put in her mouth, then proceeded to take a sip from her water glass. For a moment, he had forgotten why he was there and who he was mildly conversing with. His mind raced to thinking how normal this young woman was, eating her food, absentmindedly fingering the pages in her book, and sliding her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. Granger was definitely good at pretending nothing was going on.

He wasn’t quite sure what to say to her at that moment because of the way she was still so calm in her seat; despite that there was someone sitting in front of her that had insulted her character for years. Why wasn’t she giving him a piece of her mind right now? Was she not mad that Draco had pathetically bumped into her while she was technically on the run?

Draco saw an open door and decided to take his chances by running right through it.

“Why the disguise there, Granger?” he asked, jumping to the point. He decided that he was going to take that open door and find out a bit more of what happened instead of instantly apprehending her.

“Umm...” she stumbled for a second. “No reason, really; just thought I’d practice some of the tougher spells.” Her eyes diverted from looking in his and she took another bite of her lunch.

“I see...” he responded, quite surprised at how quick she came up with her excuse.

“Honestly, I don’t know where my head has been,” she chuckled faintly, more so to herself. “I must have forgotten to end the spells.”

Hermione took a finishing bite of her spinach salad with goat cheese—Draco admitted it look incredibly scrumptious—and set it aside for the waitress to pick up.

“Who did you think I really was?” she asked him, finally looking into his eyes, wrapping her arms around her legs that where still pulled up to her torso. What’s he playing at? she thought to herself.

“The Weasley girl that always hung around you and Potter.”

“You mean Ginny?” she genuinely laughed out loud that time. “She’s actually married to Harry. That’s who I was aiming for; very good, Malfoy.” She laughed again and Malfoy found it extraordinarily addicting.

He sat back for a minute and regarded the situation he was in. It had been nearly five years since the war had ended and four years since he had last talked to her at the one year anniversary ball the Ministry had held in the honour of everyone that had contributed. She had only said one thing to him: ‘nice to see you well, Malfoy’ and that small interaction had sent a spark of something intense down his spine. Now that he thought back on it, perhaps it was that moment that convinced him to not turn down the first anonymous job he had been given.

However, he had never seen Hermione Granger so at ease and with her barriers down. He hated to admit it, but there was something intriguing about her attitude at the moment and it grabbed him by the face and stared him down. Did she not know that there was a possibility he was there to detain her and take her back? She had to have known that he was a Tracker, everyone in Wizarding Britain knew that much. Was she not worried?

“Hello...? Malfoy?”

He snapped out of his thoughts to notice her hand waving in front of his eyes.

“Sorry, what?” he responded, shaking the numerous questions out of his head for the time being.

“You alright there, Draco? You looked like you were in outer space.”

“Sure, I’m fine.” Actually he wasn’t. He was quite perturbed that she had just called him by his given name.

“Well, I need to run to the loo,” she told him and grabbed a tiny bag at her side and walked off to the other side of the cafe, leaving the blond man to his thoughts.

Hermione was currently at odds with her own thoughts. Her face was scrunched up in confusion as she opened the door in the back of the cafe she was in and locked the door behind her for safe measure. She found herself standing in front of the lone mirror on the wall and instead of noticing the cracked frame—something about the inconsistency of it should have bothered her—she focused on the face reflected in the glass.

Her features scrunched up even more as she realised how awfully close she undeniably had made herself to look like Ginny. Her hair was long and straight and very nearly the exact shade of fire red that her friend had. Her skin tone was paler than she was used to seeing in her reflection and light-coloured freckles dotted the bridge of her nose and cheeks beautifully.

It was a tad bit disconcerting, but she reminded herself that this option was resolutely better than being spotted by anyone who could have possibly known what she had done. Some bastard could be out there just hungry enough for a reward from the Ministry. Generally speaking, strange wizard folk stayed away from Muggle parts of England, but Hermione was always prepared for those rare exceptions.

Speaking of that particular matter, she was also thrown off balance by the mere presence Draco Malfoy had provided at a random moment earlier that afternoon.

What were the chances that they would both encounter each other in the same small cafe that neither of them had been in before? She was quite certain that Malfoy had never been there; what reason would he have to have gone? Then again, what reason did he have to be there currently?

Her heart fluttered from just imagining what would happen once word got around that Draco Malfoy had spotted her in a Muggle coffee shop. Harry’s Aurors would definitely be able to track her down more efficiently if it got to that point. She had to get out of there and fast. Staying in England was not a viable option; it was no longer safe for her.

A handbook was needed at that particular moment: “101 Things to do Once You Have Robbed the Wizarding World.”

Glancing in all corners of the restroom, she made sure that there were no windows where someone might possibly be gazing in. Peeping Toms or not, Hermione was damned if she’s let anyone see her. She grabbed her wand from a case that she pulled from the inside of her beaded handbag—the one that still had the Undetectable Extension Charm on it. Hermione now had another desperate need for it.

“Finite Incantatem,” she whispered, finally happy with the reflection she saw. Her brown curls returned to view and the freckles disappeared from her face and then her features became normal. No use getting Ginny into trouble; it would only lead to further charges from the Wizengamot if she were ever caught.

Shuddering at the thought, she clutched her handbag even tighter and Hermione Disapparated instantly with a faint pop echoing behind her.

Draco, still sitting at the table by himself, looked down at the watch on his wrist and sighed. She had been in the loo for nearly ten minutes. He was no stranger to the fact that women loved to take their time when doing their business but, bloody fucking hell, he thought.

Somehow, concern for her flooded his senses uncharacteristically at that moment and he left his coffee forgotten on the table as he took off towards the ladies’ room.

“Hermione?” he called out, knocking strongly on the door, hoping she wouldn’t be put off by the sudden change in what he called her this time. “Are you still in there?”

No response. He reached for the doorknob, jiggling it about, still not giving way to opening the door it was attached to.

“Granger! Open up!” He pounded on the door, opting out of trying to magically open it himself.

Nothing.

“Fuck!” he cursed under his breath, running his hands through his golden locks, pushing them out of his darkening eyes, desperate to just rip them out of his head at that moment.

She escaped and he had fundamentally let her. He had been damn stupid and careless.

“Bloody hell!” he cursed again, still making sure that anyone around wouldn’t hear his outbursts.

He stormed out of the cafe, turned into the back alley and disappeared in less time it would take someone to blink.

Potter would not be happy.

Encounter Number Two
(Wednesday 30 April 2003)
(Three Weeks Later)

As often as he had heard about the numerous stops that Granger had made at coffee shops, Draco thought he would never want to step his bleeding foot in another one, ever again. However, things did not always go the way that Draco imaged them to and he found himself inside of Caffe Amerini that Wednesday morning on the last day of April.

He had just left his hotel suite at the Hotel Lungarno and knew that it would be impossible to make it through the day without a strong cup of coffee to fully get him going. There was a closer coffee shop to the hotel he had been staying at, but Draco found that Amerini’s was superior, especially the service he received.

“Buon giorno, Signor Draco,” the man behind the counter greeted him with such enthusiasm.

“Ciao, Igor,” he greeted in return, smiling fondly at the man who owned the shop with his wife Alessi.

“A cappuccino today, per favore,” he ordered, handing the gentleman enough money for his drink plus a generous tip for all the information he had provided the blond to help him navigate the ancient city.

“Where you going today, Signore?” Igor asked him while preparing his drink for him.

“La Piazza di Santa Croce. How long will it take to walk there?”

“Ah, sì, la basilica. Less than thirty minutes,” he responded genuinely and Draco couldn’t help but admire the man’s heavy Italian accent.

“How can I get there?”

“In front, walk between gli edifici. Walk down la Via del Parione. Take la Via Porta Rossa all the way down. Street will change names, but still is same street.” Igor finished making his cappuccino and handed it over to Draco, who took it appreciatively.

“Gracie mille, Igor.”

“Prego!”

Draco had been to this particular cafe daily for the past week, since the day he settled down in Florence when Hermione had finally quieted down as well. He left the cafe and started his walk down to his destination, thinking about his recent encounters and ventures through Europe.

For the past three weeks, he had been gallivanting around Europe trying his hardest to stay right at the tip of his target’s tail. He would be the last one to admit that keeping up with the wistful witch was proving to be more difficult than originally thought. Most of his assignments were easy enough, but still challenging puzzles to figure them out because most were complete dolts. Hermione was positively not a dolt.

After she had slipped through his grasp back in Muggle London, Draco had sent an owl to Harry and hesitantly told him what had happened, leaving out the significant details, of course. Obviously, the head Auror was not in the least bit pleased, if having his scowling face appear in Draco’s fireplace were any indication.

Once he had read the entire file that he had been given on Granger, he finally understood why Harry had been so insistent in giving him authorizations of magic in other countries. Hermione had obviously taken advantage of running away from home and the insane amounts of money she had been given as reward for saving the entire world, in order to travel to her heart’s content.

“Since you know her so well, where do you think she’ll travel to first?” Draco had asked Harry through the Floo.

“Italy. Definitely Italy.”

His first priority—obviously—was to investigate further into Italy. He would never turn down valuable information like that, especially from his target’s best friend whom had desperately wanted her to be found.

After his initial investigating, Draco took the first available Channel Ferry from Dover, England to Calais, France, the shortest boat travel into Continental Europe. At that point Draco impatiently wished that International Apparition hadn’t been banned. Once in France, he wondered why Hermione wouldn’t have stopped in Paris. He had been there before with his parents and he remembered how enamoured he had been with the area. Instantly, he had assumed since Hermione was a girl, she’d want to visit la ville de l'amour; obviously not.

Apparating from one end of France to the other had been no trouble for him and all he had to do was travel into Switzerland and from there cross over the border into Italy. All the country jumping had been the worst of it and if Draco were truly honest to himself, he would admit that he fancied the adventure he was taking. This had been the most complex chase he had ever been on.

It had taken heaps of investigating and research, but he finally had caught up to her at the time she was entering Milan. The first thing that he took note of when he laid eyes on her was how she didn’t even bother disguising herself, even throughout the whole trip there. The usual blurriness that would accompany the disguising spell was not there and he rather preferred it that way.

Draco had not been surprised at all when her first stop had been at the Milan Cathedral. The colossal building was magnificent just as much as it was gothic and eerie. She had been standing about a hundred and fifty metres away from the front of the cathedral and Draco noticed her taking pictures of the magnificent sight with a camera. Now, whether they were magical pictures or not, Draco made a mental note to ask her for copies of them once they returned safely to England.

Standing about fifty metres behind her at all times, Draco was positive that she would not be able to notice him. And the entire time she did not.

When Draco was viewing her from the perfect angle to see her face, he noticed how her nose would scrunch up and she would bite on her bottom lip when she would be utterly intrigued by a new site. When she started getting closer to the cathedral and began to venture inside with the same look on her face, Draco lost track of her and was not able to find her again.

After Milan, she had travelled to Venice—admiring the Venetian Lagoon and the gondola rides—then to Rome—she spent just an entire day roaming around at the Colosseo—next off to the Sicilian island—engrossed with all the castles—finally ending at Florence where Draco at long last came upon the Basilica.

Tossing his coffee cup away in a trash bin, he made his way around the building to the front side hoping he could continue his sighting of Hermione from afar without being accidentally spotted. There were crowds of people all around him, but once he spotted her messy bun and large red rucksack, there would be no mistaking the identity of the person.

Right before he was about to give up fruitlessly to try some locating spells from around a hidden corner, Draco finally spotted her usual messy bun like always atop her head, her rucksack, one of the pairs of jeans she normally wore, and a bright yellow shirt.

He snuck up closer, still staying at a reasonable distance.

There was no mistaking what Hermione had been so engrossed in: the monument of Dante Alighieri. A realisation just occurred to Draco, one where he remembered that years ago he made a mental note that one day—if he ended up surviving the war—he wanted to see this exact monument. Dante’s epic poem has always been one of his favourites.

It was without a doubt more daunting than he had ever imagined it to be with it towering over him, even as he stood so far back. She was standing right at the base of the few steps that would lead up to it, but without realising it, Draco slowly started to move closer.

He was so absorbed by his own selfish wants that he failed to notice that Hermione had turned around only to spot him a few metres in front of her. Draco had also failed to notice the grin on her face as she had moved to stand at his side, arms crossed over her chest and her hip jutted out.

“Astounding, isn’t it?”

“Fucking nifflers, Granger!” he yelled after jumping in fright and grabbing his chest where his heart would have been below his skin, beating erratically.

“Are you a big fan of La Divina Commedia as well? It’s a remarkable piece of literature, you know,” she declares, her grin growing on her face. Despite being under the assumption that he could have possibly be experiencing a heart attack, Draco noticed how her brown eyes seemed a shade lighter as they gleamed with bewilderment.

“You pop up in my face from absolutely nowhere,”—lies—“and you want to chat about a book?” He looked at her incredulously.

“Scared you, didn’t I?” she said audaciously, bouncing on her feet while readjusting her rucksack on her back and made to walk away.

“Where are you going?” he asked frantically—this is so unlike me—and turned around to follow after her, finally catching up to walk beside her. He wasn’t quite sure what had snapped in his mind right then to make certain that she would not leave his sight, but Draco would be damned if she was going to disappear without talking to him.

“Off to my next tourist stop this morning, mind.” Hermione continued to walk happily as though his presence there in Florence instead of any other city in the world, practically had no effect on her whatsoever.

“Yes, in fact I do mind, Granger.” She starts to quicken her pace a bit. “Wait. Stop, Hermione. Talk to me,” he exclaims, reaching out and grabbing her upper arm.

She does exactly as he had demanded: stopped right in her tracks and turned to face him. However, the grin that she presented earlier was no longer there.

“I thought we were talking, Malfoy.” Her opposite hand reached out to rub the arm that he had grabbed.

He had noticed her motions and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The hand stopped rubbing her arm. However, she could still feel the imprint his firm hand had left there. “What do you want to talk about?”

“What are you doing here, of all places?” It seemed odd: that question coming from his throat. He had known why she wasn’t in England, but deep in his soul he wanted to know why it was compulsory that she spend over a week in Florence.

She turns to look him in the eyes and continues. “Mind if we continue walking? I’ll slow down.” He nods. “Florence was the first place for me to visit on my bucket list. It was only natural for me to come here.”

“Bucket list?” He notices that she starts walking towards the way he had come from earlier that morning.

“Honestly, Malfoy. A bucket list...” He still looks at her in awe. “Must be a Muggle thing, I guess. It’s a list someone makes of everything they aspire to accomplish before their dying day.”

“Sounds a bit morbid, don’t you think?” He slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, beginning to feel a bit more at ease in her presence. Why did it bother me in the first place?

“I guess you can see it that way,” Hermione agreed. She then looked at him wearily, wondering if she should continue with her explanation. “It’s something I started just after the war was over. It keeps me hopeful instead of its existence being a dreadful thing.”

Draco didn’t even have to ask why the end of the war triggered it for her; the death of his aunt should have been plenty of a reason. The events throughout the war had triggered many things for different people. Draco himself was a prime example of that. He was certain that Hermione’s idea of fighting the memories which plagued her seemed a bit more practical than his scheme had.

“But why Florence?” he asked, terribly curious.

“You were standing in front of Dante’s monument as well. I don’t have to tell you that this city is filled with incredible old history—especially literature history.”

The blond noticed yet again the gorgeous way her eyes gleamed when she continued on about the history of literature. She was still talking about it and Dante’s importance to the Italian language, but for some reason, he found himself not capable of focusing on her exact words.

Both of them continued walking down the busy Italian streets; Hermione leading the way. Draco was still barely focusing on her words themselves and found that he loved to listen to the way she was starting to barely roll her R’s and the way her M’s lasted a millisecond longer when her lips came together. He was enamoured by her every movement. Honestly, he could not even begin to explain it.

“What about you, Malfoy. Why are you here in Florence?” She smiled at him and he wondered when the last time was that someone had been so genuine with him.

“Remember? The exact same reason you are,” he offered, smiling back at her. “Where exactly are you headed to now?”

“I’m not sure if I should really be telling you that,” Hermione had offered honestly.

“Well, then you can simply surprise me when we get there. Or have you forgotten that I am still walking beside you?”

“I’ve wanted to visit the Galileo Museum all week and right now is the perfect time.”

“Without a doubt, it sounds perfect.”

“Why would you possibly want to spend the day with me, Malfoy?” she asked him genuinely interested.

“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re the only familiar face I’ve seen in a while.”

“I guess I could only expect you to be honest instead of being decent and finding an ounce of tact!” she cried out. She was beginning to stomp, but never quickened her pace.

“Granger, I didn’t mean it like that and you know it! I rather find your company very comfortable and I’m becoming quite at ease around you.” He had no idea that those words were true until they had tumbled out of his lips like an avalanche.

“Really?”

He stopped them both in their tracks and turned her to face him, grabbing her hands in his own.

What the hell am I doing?

“Why the bloody hell not, Granger? We’re adults, we’ve long gotten over the past, and we both appear to be in the same beautiful city, so we might as well take the opportunity to enjoy this place and share the memories with someone.” The blood rushing through his veins were beginning to cause a noisy distraction in ears, but he willed it away. “That is, unless I’m too much of a prat for you to handle.”

She laughed at his words and he again had become enveloped in her infectious sound.

“Trust me, Malfoy, I can handle you.”

He blamed it all on the fact that he knew more about Hermione than she would ever know possible at that moment. He had read every single word—possibly more than once—that Harry had handed over to him about the smart witch sitting in front of him. Draco had started to acquire a slight feeling in the pit of his stomach when he had first encountered her in Muggle London and it only grew stronger every time he would lay eyes on her staring at another astonishing site around Italy!

Inviting her out to dinner that night had not been the worst of his problems, but having to sit across from her as she ate and spoke was beginning to have some intense effects on him.

“When are you leaving Florence?” he asked her before taking another bite of his courgette fettuccine.

“Actually, today,” she answered, receiving an astonished look from Malfoy. “I hadn’t planned on staying any longer than a week and my hotel reservation is up.” She continued to eat her ravioli, avoiding his look.

“Have you seen everything on the top of your list that you wanted to?” Draco already knew her answer to the question. They had talked about the hundreds of sites around and how Hermione was certain Florence would always be at the top of her bucket list, seeing that it would take a whole lifetime for her to have the entire experience.

“I still really want to see the mausoleum of the Medici family; their stories have always intrigued me. Of course, I still haven’t been to the Boboli Gardens, which I really should have visited when I first arrived.” She sighed heavily, as though she was reminiscing through an old dream. “Honestly, I could live here and be content my whole life.”

“You know,” he began, shifting his eyes back down to his forgotten plate. “I still have my suite booked for another week. I wasn’t quite sure when I would be leaving.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” she instantly answered the question she knew he would ask next.

“Honestly, I have plenty of room. I’ve been staying at the Hotel Lungarno in the Belvedere penthouse. It’s a big enough suite and I can sleep on the couch and you can take my bed.” He took a sip of his red wine that he ordered for the both of them and internally smiled at the ingenuity of his idea.

“I couldn’t possibly intrude on you, Malfoy.” She mimicked him and took a sip from her wine as well and then the waiter took their plates away.

“What if I told you that there’s something special about the room?” Hermione gave him a quizzical look, but also watched him play with the stem of his wine glass. “There’s a terrace with the room that overlooks the River Arno and...” he paused for unnecessary dramatic effect, “you can see the Boboli Gardens.”

Her eyes widened at the realisation that even if she couldn’t make it out to stroll through the gardens in person, Malfoy was offering a chance for her to see it from afar and above. Also, to be able to see a slight downward view of Florence at night would prove to be spectacular. An added bonus was that the Hotel Lungarno was one of the top rated hotels in all of Florence and Hermione was sure that it would be nothing short of magnificent, considering the money that Malfoy had to have put out to have it for two weeks.

Draco put his hands up as if he were confessing to something he had done wrong. “I promise, Granger, I am not out to harm you. My intentions are pure.”

“Pure?”

“Well, as pure as an arrogant, spoiled, Slytherin brat can get.”

“Do you pinky swear?” she asked, holding out her right hand towards him, only sticking out her fifth digit for him to take.

“Is this something like the Unbreakable Vow?” he shivered vaguely at the thought. Seriously, what is it with me and the fear of vows?

“No, you ninny, it’s just a gesture to say you promise something,” she rolled her eyes at him, continuing to offer her tiny finger.

“Fine,” he said, copying her actions and grabbing her finger with his own. “I promise.”

After their dinner together was over, they crept behind an empty back walkway and Draco had Apparated them close enough to the hotel, Hermione locking one of arms into his and her other one securing her rucksack in place, in fear of losing it.

“Benvenuto,” they were greeted when they walked through the front doors. Hermione seemed to have forgotten that her arm was still locked with his own, but Draco had absolutely noticed.

He had been used to the magnificence of the hotel, but Hermione was in awe and took in all the rich details of the place. The front lobby looked very elegant, but still simple with decorations that captured her eyes without being overbearing.

“Grazie, Signore,” Draco greeted in return.

“Avete bisogno di qualcosa questa sera, signor Malfoy?” the man asked kindly to Draco, having noticed the young woman at his side. Hermione had been able to understand the gentleman asking if Malfoy needed anything that evening.

“Più asciugamani, per favore, Amadeo,” he responded.

Hermione wondered how long Malfoy had been refining his language skills because his pronunciations and delicate accent were very well done. She smiled as she admired that someone else had such a passion for learning languages; also that he was making sure she’d be comfortable in his room. Extra towels were an absolute must if she planned on taking a shower before falling asleep.

“Subito, Signore,” Amadeo replied, bowed slightly, and walked off to make sure they would get their towels in the room before they arrived there.

They turned to the right and walked the short distance to the lift, Draco pushing the button that would take them to his floor.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him once they stepped onto the carpeted floor of the lift.

“Think nothing of it, Granger. I invited you to stay, the least I can do is to make certain you’re taken care of.” He smiled at her to prove his sincere intentions.

Suddenly, the lift came to a stop and the door opened up to the entrance of the Belvedere suite. Draco used his key to open the door and held it open, suggesting that Hermione walk in ahead of him.

It was such a charming room, decorated with dark brown and pale blue hues against the fresh white walls. Even the burnt orange curtains and contrasting rug blended in perfectly with the whole room. Close to the back wall sat a marvellous kitchen area complete with a mini fridge, sink, and a table to seat four people, all in the same colouring as the sitting room. A new bottle of wine had been chilling in a bucket on the counter, she had noticed.

Behind the table was the glass door that came right from the ceiling and went down to the floor. The curtains were still pulled to the side and Hermione could slightly see the sparkling lights from the city through the glass.

Turning around with a look of exhilaration on her face, she asked him, “Do you mind?”

How in the world could he ever deny her the pleasure of enjoying something that she extraordinarily sought after? This woman he had been after for almost a month was someone that he had never imagined would become so exposed in front of him, allowing him the privilege of entering her world this way.

“Go right ahead,” he answered. “It’s all yours.”

Hermione practically bounced over to the door like a little girl, blissful on Christmas Day. Draco decided that he would provide her with peace and quiet by herself out on the terrace to enjoy the view. He loved knowing the smile on her face had been possible because of something he had done for her.

Figuring that the night was still young, Draco reached into the kitchen for the bottle of wine, poured a small portion of it into a wine glass, took in the aroma of it, and then proceeded to take a taste. Perfect. He grabbed two empty glasses and the bottle of Pinot Noir and finally met with Hermione on the terrace.

The glass door had been left open, so she had not heard him behind her, but Draco did hear her trying to hide a sniffle.

“Granger?” he asked, trying to make sure she was okay. He set the glasses and the bottle down on table in between the two chairs, one of which she had been seated in and the other that he turned to sit in.

“I’m fine,” she responded, wiping away a renegade tear on her cheek. “Honestly.” She turned to face him, showing a smile to prove her statement. “And I think that we’re a point in time where you can start calling me Hermione.”

“Hermione. Okay, I will. The same goes for you; call me Draco.” He poured wine into the glasses, handed one to Hermione and took a sip from his glass as she thanked him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I... It’s just... Really, this place is so beautiful.” Her eyes gleamed again and Draco thought he could lose himself in them. “Amazing. Magnificent. Extraordinary. I could spend all night going through every word in the dictionary to describe this view.”

“Then what’s with the tears?”

“Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always wanted to come here. Though, I always imagined that I would enjoy travelling Europe with someone: my parents, Harry, Ron, or Ginny; just anyone to share it with.”

He realised that she missed them terribly and that it probably pained her that she would let everything get in the way of her possibly returning to England.

“I’m here,” he stated matter-of-factly but so genuinely.

Sipping on her wine, Hermione looked at him over the brim of the glass, scrutinizing him for a minute.

“Why are you doing this?” she finally asked.

“Doing what? Being a gentleman and giving you a chance to see something that you just recently called extraordinary?” His words had no malice in them at all.

“Yes, all that. So... why?” She made to lift her legs up to her chest, the same position she had sat in when he had encountered her at the cafe in London. Her arms wrapped around both legs and she rested her chin on top her knees. Draco admired the way she could look so comfortable.

“I guess I figured that I owe you,” he responded casually.

“Owe me for what?” she asked, intensely interested in what his answer would be.

“For everything you did after the war. I know that Potter wasn’t the only one to testify on my behalf,” Draco said solemnly. There was so much he wanted to tell her and thank her for, but he wondered if this was the correct timing.

She didn’t say anything in the short moment after, only just stared at the few stars she could make out in the darkened sky above them. There were things that she wanted to tell him as well, but knew that that sort of conversation wasn’t necessary.

“In all honesty, I think we can say that we’re both even,” she finally answered.

“Agreed.”

“There’s just one more thing, Mal—Draco.” She turned to look him straight in the eyes, hoping that he would notice the urgency she conveyed there.

He urged her to continue.

“I don’t believe it to be a coincidence that you found me in Bloomsbury and then I found you here in Florence. I also don’t think it’s an accident we both arrived here on the same day.” Draco gave her a slightly shocked look. “Remember? At the restaurant you said something along the lines of ‘I have my hotel room booked for another week. I wasn’t quite sure when I would be leaving.’ I know how to put two and two together.”

“Um...” He was speechless. Very uncharacteristic of me.

“You can either tell me the truth or I can point it out for you and call you a liar,” she declared with a smirk. Draco wondered if this was her way of assuring him that she knew everything that been happening.

“Okay...” he began. “How about you tell me your assumptions and I’ll let you how right you actually are.” Two can play this game, he insisted. He poured more wine in both of their empty glasses.

“Alright. I’ll give you version number one: I think you were in Muggle London on a dare and when you saw a lonely pretty woman sitting in the corner by herself, you decided to take your chances on her. When that girl disappeared, you were determined to find her again in fear of living your life without her. After agonising weeks, you finally found her in Florence, many miles away from home.” She batted her eyelashes at him in mockery and he knew this theory was not one she believed.

“So what is your other version?”

Hermione’s features settled down and her look was one of a more serious nature.

“I believe that Harry Potter—that insufferable wanker—contacted the most notable Tracker in all of Wizarding Britain to find his run away friend. The said Tracker finds the fugitive in a cafe, she runs away, and the tracker spends almost a month sitting in the sidelines waiting for the perfect moment to grab her. Why this tracker waits until Florence is still a bit iffy.”

She downs the rest of the wine in her glass in one gulp and sets in down on the table, ushering Draco to refill it.

“I think you’ve had enough, Miss Gryffindor,” he declares.

“Just pour it,” Hermione insists, pushing it out towards him a bit more. Afraid of what she would do after the revelation, he pours more wine for her.

“I think I rather like your first version better,” he admitted honestly. “But how did you figured out version number two?”

“Do you really think I’m an idiot, Draco?” Having her say his given name like that sent shivers up and down his spine, no matter how much he tried to ignore them. “I had talked to Harry right before I decided to leave. I knew when he wouldn’t be able to easily find me, he’d send someone out who actually had time on top of experience. When I saw you the first time in the cafe, I honestly gave you the benefit of the doubt and figured that it was just a weird coincidence. However, I couldn’t very well stay there and end up getting caught because news spread around that I had been spotted.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed. Draco wondered how much of a light drinker she was because she was openly talking about this with him.

“I don’t know when you started following me around, but I first noticed you when I finally stopped after a few days of travelling, in Milan. Honestly, Draco, you should have given thought to try some disguising spells on yourself. Your practically white hair makes you easily spotted.” She chuckled. “Ever since then, I became more aware of my surroundings and I noticed you again a few days later in Venice. At least, I thought it had been you. You were too far away for me to be certain.” She ended her confession with another sip of her wine.

“So that’s why when you spotted me in front of the Dante monument, you didn’t seem to be surprised at all,” he theorised.

“Exactly,” she said, chuckling once more. He became enamoured again with those infectious sounds coming from within her.

“Then why did you let me continue to follow you and then willingly let me spend the day with you? Even more, why did you take my offer to stay here? Weren’t you worried that I would instantly send you back?”

“First, I continued travelling with you trailing me because I knew that Harry would have told you to make sure I wasn’t hurt. Draco, I’ve essentially been travelling around by myself, without using magic. You were my only true protection.”

Draco knew already why she hadn’t been using magic: one slight detection from any Ministry about unauthorised magic and she would have been turned in without him having done anything. Harry had told him that she wasn’t authorized to use magic anywhere other than Britain. However, at that moment Draco had been completely shocked at her revelation: she had been using him! Irritation flooded his mind for a few seconds and vanished just as quickly. How could he have been mad at her for only wanting to protect herself?

She continued. “Second, I wanted to spend the day with you because I figured that we both could have used the company. Today was supposed to be my last day here in Florence so I assumed we could share a moment before leaving Italy.”

Draco was now certain that she had more than her fair share of the wine. Hades would have to freeze over before she would normally admit to him everything that she just had if she were sober.

“Third,” she said, closing her eyes, nestling into the cushion behind her head. “I knew you wouldn’t turn me in. You would have done so back in Milan. Plus, I could tell you were enjoying yourself and wouldn’t want to leave.”

The blond fought internally with himself as her honest words hit him like a massive wave. Would he have instantly grabbed her, tied her up with bonds, and travelled all the way back to Potter’s house when instead he could have let her finish her tour and in turn enjoy himself? Would he have rather made Hermione happy instead of pleasing Harry?

“You’re spot on,” he admitted to her.

Hermione eyes quickly flew open and she turned to him.

“I was hoping I would have been right,” she said, smiling at him.

The Morning After

Glimpses of sunlight flittered in through the large window and made their way around the stirring drapery that had been drawn over the opened glass. The streaks of light continued to dance right on Draco’s pale face, adding a colour of radiance in many bright hues. However beautiful it was, the illumination caused his features to scrunch up in awakening disapproval.

Undoubtedly wanting to fix the situation, the blond instinctively reached for his wand. Guided by his memorised movements, his hand laid upon the base of it where it had been put to rest the night before: on the night stand.

“Duro,” he called in a raspy voice, causing the curtains to stiffen up and straighten, no longer letting the light bother him.

Without the sun dancing on his face, Draco began to take notice of the dull ache in his head and then the realisation finally sank in that he had been sleeping in his own bed instead of the couch, like he had promised Hermione.

Going against his first instinct, he looked down to become aware of his naked chest, a white sheet covering the rest of his body starting at his hips, and he was completely undressed underneath the noticed sheet.

Draco groaned, covering his eyes with his hands and slammed his head back down onto the pillow as memories of night before flooding quickly into his mind.

The first thing he remembered was that Hermione was a light weight with her alcohol and she had begun to explain her actions. Draco had become quite infatuated with her movements and there had been no reason for him to blame it on his own alcohol intake: he had those thoughts well before his first taste.

Soon after their discussions about what happened in the past three weeks, they continued with light, yet flirtatious conversations. When the night air had begun to cool down, they retreated to the confines of the suite, settling down on the couch with an assortment of nibbles Draco had quickly put together. Before they could process what was unfolding between them and the glasses of wine, Draco had leaned in to kiss her.

Even thinking back on it now, Draco knew that he meant it and knew that Hermione had wanted it as well. Not once did she resist him. In fact, when they had pulled away from the initial contact, she had been the one to initiate the next meeting of lips, adding more passion behind it and then took it a step further.

Their first sexual entanglement had been right there on the couch with passionate caresses, fanatical kisses, plus eager and needy movements. The alcohol had almost completely worn off by the end of their liaison and Hermione had mentioned it was time for her much needed shower—thanks again for the extra towels, she had said, disappearing into the bathroom.

The second rendezvous occurred right there in the shower, Draco taking the barely closed door as an invitation.

Their third and final affair had been when Draco had just taken his watch off—nearly one in the morning—and was about to settle into the couch he had offered at dinner to sleep on. He noticed Hermione walking slowly up to him, dressed with barely anything on, and invited him enticingly to the bed that would easily accommodate the both of them.

Shortly after their tryst ended, Hermione fell asleep bare-skinned, their feet in a tangle and her hand placed unknowingly on his chest. That’s how Draco fell asleep as well.

Now that he was awake, Draco noticed the absence of her warm skin against his and the soles of her feet rubbing his calves. Hermione was no longer in the bed with him.

He was unsure of how she would react to witnessing him walking around naked, so he pulled the sheet off the bed and left the bedroom wrapped up in the cover.

“Hermione?” he called out hoping to find her in the kitchen and sitting room, awaiting him.

She was not there.

The sliding glass door was shut, but he went up to it and slid it open. Hermione wasn’t on the terrace either.

Draco continued to look around for any sign that she would still be there; possibly she had just gone out to pick up breakfast from the restaurant downstairs. However, her rucksack was not where she had left it, her shoes were not in the bedroom, the clothes she had left thrown on the bathroom floor were gone, and there was no note to be found.

It was as though Hermione Granger had never been there in the first place.

Encounter Number Three
(Tuesday 6 May 2003)
(One Week Later)

At first, Draco Malfoy thought about giving in and returning back to Potter empty handed. Afterwards, he had felt an unexplainable vacant feeling, possibly lingering for another brief second before dissipating. For a few brief moments, Draco felt betrayed. All of that had gone away in about three short moments and he then spent the longest time convincing himself that he had already known what betrayal felt like and these vacant feelings would always come and go.

He refused to sit around moping over a girl that left him, give up, and then prove nothing.

Instead of packing the few things he carried around with him and jetting back to England, he packed his stuff and began to make plans.

Since Hermione couldn’t—and flatly refused—to use magic, Draco had been able to quickly acquire information and form leads as to where she was headed.

He had talked to the doorkeeper at the Hotel Lungarno, questioned nearby shop owners, pestered bus drivers and train attendants, and even attempted to use Tracking spells once again. The spells and charms gave him nothing to start on, but all the information he collected from other meanspointed to one place: Athens, Greece.

Just less than a week from the day Hermione had abandoned him, he found himself standing in the Temple of Olympian Zeus. He had been following Hermione in and out of the various structures for almost the past two hours. It had been particularly crowded that day and Draco wondered if that was the main reason she decided to continue; in hopes he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Actually, Draco was not entirely sure if she had even thought he would continue in his pursuit.

About a minute before, he had spotted Hermione making her way through a group of tourists all wearing hideous matching shirts and disappeared into the ruins of the ancient houses. He tried his hardest to push through as well, but he felt himself falling behind. However, he continued to walk forwards where he had last seen that large messy bun made of her hair.

He continued spotting her dark hair glimmering red-gold from the bright sunlight that day, and found himself where the ruins of the Roman baths had once been in ancient times. Draco stopped with the realisation that he could no longer see her; not even an inch of her. The section he found himself in had begun to clear out as tourists moved on to the next fascinating thing, somewhat clearing up his view, but still no sight of Hermione. His feet spun him around in circles, desperate to see anything that would lead him to her.

Instead of finding a clue, he found her, standing there in front of a shattered wall with her wand drawn out in front of her. What worried him the most, however, was that it had been pointed directly towards him.

“What are doing?” he spoke, cautioning her. He took a couple steps in her direction, hands held out, prepared to take her wand away from her.

“Don’t move any closer, Malfoy!” she yelled.

Draco had to do something and quickly. It would be worse off for the both of them if innocent Muggles were to somehow get caught up in the wrath of Hermione Granger. Instinctively, he grabbed his wand from its location in the waist of his pants and cast a powerful shielding charm around them. This would act like a Disillusionment Charm so no one could see them, Silencio so they wouldn’t be heard, and Protego so that in the case any spells were to be cast, they wouldn’t escape and injure anyone else.

“What’s happened, Hermione? You can’t call me Draco anymore?” he asked, now pointing his wand at her. He was ready to disarm her at any moment.

“No,” she huffed indignantly. “You don’t have that respect from me anymore.”

“Just put the wand down,” he said, taking a small step forward, “and we can talk about this calmly.” He vaguely thought about sending a spell at her in order to prevent anything. However, he would certainly lose her trust then.

“You used me and I refuse to go back. I will not let you take me to Harry!” Her voice had increased and Draco could sense the conviction in her words.

“Do you remember anything about our night back in Florence?” Draco pleaded with her, trying to stay away from appearing too desperate. “I was not the only one being used!” His voice began to rise in irritation at what she was saying to him. He didn’t quite like the way she was acting either.

“I did no such thing, you bastard!” The hold on her wand only became stronger and she had taken a step closer to him.

“Hermione please put your wand down now! I know that you’re not going to use it.”

“I think I’ll take my chances on being handled by the British Ministry rather than having to deal with you!” She stabbed her wand in the air towards his direction, adding her frantic emphasis.

Draco took two big steps towards her, trying to continue closing the gap between them. “Why are you acting irrationally? What did I honestly do?” Indeed, he was quite curious. It was one thing to run off after a night like they had—which he didn’t consent to, in the first place— but to blame him for something was another thing entirely.

“You took advantage of me in my weakest moment. You knew my situation and you used that against me.”

Draco had heard of how dangerous her hexes could be, especially when she had cast Avis and Oppungo against Ron the moment he had made her emotional. He did not want to be attacked by anything—let alone birds—at that moment.

“That is not what happened,” he responded, trying to act calmer this time.

“Then for the love of Godric Gryffindor, tell me what did!” Hermione threw her arms up in an exaggerated moment of despair.

Are women really this mental after a great night of shagging? Draco thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

“I thought we were getting along nicely. I would never use you, Hermione,” she flinched at the sound of her name coming from him. “You wanted all of it as well; don’t tell me you didn’t.”

“I...” she began, not knowing what to say. “You... No. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I know that eventually you’re going to turn me in. I was stupid to have even gone to your room.” Her wand arm floated back down near her side, feeling remorse and bashful about her actions.

He started to walk in her direction, simply wanting to embrace her at that moment and recognising an urge to comfort her.

Hermione lifted her other arm out, the palm of her hand facing him, acting as a warning to not touch her.

“Don’t!”

He stopped, now standing just over an arm’s length away from her.

“Honestly, I was not going to just tie you up and drag you all the way back to England against your will.” He took a step back, angry at her for not seeing everything the way he did. “You’re not a dangerous criminal, you just made a mistake.”

“A mistake?!” she screeched. “Do you even have any idea what I did, Malfoy? “

He shook his head, wondering if this was even the appropriate time to discuss her behaviour.

“I stole from the Wizarding Community; I’m most definitely a criminal!”

At their closer proximity, Draco could notice the tears covering her eyes as her emotions were beginning to really get the best of her.

“So you stole something; big deal. Potter can easily straighten that away.” He had never taken Hermione to be the type as to do something as petty as steal, but he was certain that it must have been worth it.

“I didn’t steal just a silly little trinket. I stole an entire shipment of medicinal potions from St. Mungo’s. You are an idiot, Malfoy. Did you honestly think I would commit a crime without making sure it wasn’t for the best interest of something?” Seriously, she was thinking that as a Tracker, he would be better at analysing her character.

“Should I really be asking what you stole medicine for?” As long as they were on the topic, he wanted to know.

“Centaurs,” she responded so matter-of-factly, as though he should have already known. “A lot of them were sick and they needed the potions.”

“That makes sense.”

“Doesn’t it? Except that those racist bastards at the Ministry couldn’t push their damned paperwork any faster and the Centaurs were beginning to get weaker. I had to do something, Malfoy! I couldn’t let them die!”

“Honestly, I completely understand,” he said, and he truly did. “However, that doesn’t mean that I was going to drag you by the hair and just throw you to the dogs.”

“Why wouldn’t you? You would only be following suit to how you’ve handled every other case. That’s why you invited me back to your hotel room, isn’t it? You just ended up getting more than you bargained for!” She had her wand back out at him, close to touching the skin at his throat.

“I was not going to turn you in!” he shouted at her. Why wouldn’t she believe him?

“If not back in Italy, then at some point you will.” Hermione brushed her sticky hair from her face. “Either way, you knew how vulnerable I was.”

“Do you honestly believe that I took advantage of you just to have sex?”

“Why not? You were probably deprived for almost a month chasing me around.”

“I’ll have you know it wasn’t just sex!” He was so exasperated. “I want you!”

“Me? Right... I’m just another chase for you and someone else to have an affair with! You can’t possibly have any feelings for me!”

“If that’s what you think of me, then I guess you’re right, Granger.” He shook his head in surrender and finally lowered his wand. “I’m completely drained of any emotions. No possibility of feeling anything for anyone... I was the son of a Death Eater, became one myself, and almost got you and your pals killed. No love in the cards for Malfoy, right?”

His face was full of anger now. All he could think about was his past rushing in and the memories of possibly dying before getting the chance to experience anything. For the briefest of moments he had thought that maybe he could have an ounce of a possibility to be exposed to positive emotions. She had just torn all of that down, just like the shattered stone around them

Her face dropped in realisation. “I didn’t,” she began, only to be cut off. It was too late for her apprehension.

“Forget it, Granger. Finish your trip in Greece. Go anywhere else you want, I don’t care.”

“But...” She was cut off again by his firm hand lifted in the same fashion she had done just a moment ago.

“I made a promise to Potter and I don’t plan on breaking it. I’ll continue following you, protecting you, and making sure you have a fucking blast. You won’t even notice I’m around.”

He sighed, leaving her to look at him dubiously.

“When you’re done with your gallivanting adventures, let me know.”

“Draco, I don’t...”

“Stop, let me finish!” he yelled firmly, watching her jump back slightly. “I’m going to take you back to Potter, whether that’s in two weeks or a year. I’ll make sure he knows what’s going on, but don’t expect him to be happy about it.”

He undid the spell around them and turned away from her mourning face, looking like Crookshanks had died once again. He turned back around to add a final note.

“Potter cares about you. Do you honestly think he was going to let the Wizengamot tear you apart?”

He cocked his eyebrows as a final challenge to her and walked away, knowing she wouldn’t follow him.

And she never did.

After Apparating to his hotel room from a hidden corner behind a large crumbled tower, Draco threw his body down onto the large bed. He had never expected anything like that to have happened, but then again, the entire world seemed to have been flipped upside down the past month.

He had never imagined that one day he’d be chasing down one third of the Golden Trio, gallivanting around Europe, have an amazing night with a former Gryffindor, and then possibly regret it the next week.

Anger was continuing to fill him as he kept thinking about the words that Hermione had been screaming at him: “...someone else to have an affair with!”

He was mad and annoyed and somewhere in his mind he hurt. Not once during their night together had he ever thought of it as either a one-night stand or some stupid affair. He had actually listened to his emotions and acted upon them. He told himself that the one mistake he did make was believe that she would realise how he felt through those actions.

Regardless of everything that had just happened between them, he certainly would keep his word to Potter and keep her safe and finally end up with her back in England. It hadn’t been an Unbreakable Vow, but any vow that Draco had made was taken seriously and good until his own death. And he’d be damned if he’d end up dead anytime soon.

Draco had meant what he had told Hermione before he walked away, leaving her at the fallen temple. He was going to be letting Potter know what was going on and the promise he had made to Hermione. Every week, he would update Potter with news of where they were and offered promises his best friend was indeed safe. He would be vague enough to keep certain details out, but always let him know the situation.

This time, he was going to have a hard time explaining what happened without letting it be known what happened back in Florence and the effects that occurred afterwards.

Having legal access to use magic in Greece was incredibly beneficial to Draco, especially now that he desperately needed a fireplace and the only ones in the Mediterranean country were found in its Magical Headquarters. He lifted himself off the bed and Apparated into the receiving room.

The room was bustling and busier than Draco imagined it would have been. He noticed several signs floating overhead and instantly saw one that had an arrow pointing to his left that said ’Floo Network’ in big letters, rotating in different languages.

He made his way over into the room full of fireplaces, grabbed a bit of Floo powder, threw it in the fire, and called out to Harry’s office.

Cautiously, he stuck his head into the flames hoping Potter would be there.

“Malfoy?” he heard the wizard question before his vision turned clear.

“Yeah, it’s me, you ninny!” he responded.

“Lovely,” Harry said sarcastically. “What’s going on? You couldn’t just send an owl this time?”

“This is quicker.” Draco was now a bit nervous at breaking the news to him.

“Oh Gods, what happened, Malfoy?!” Harry was beginning to get frantic. He moved to the edge of his chair, impatient of what the blond man would tell him.

“I actually had a conversation with Granger; not very pleasant. She’s quite a hothead when she’s mad.” He shook his head at the memory, causing small sparks to fly onto the carpet in Harry’s office.

“What did you do?”

“It’s quite a long story, Potter, but I’ll give you the results.” He took a deep breath hoping he’d take it well. “First of all, I promise that I will make it back to England with her, just like we agreed upon. She’s not harmed, she has no scratches and she’ll make it back in one piece. She knows I am taking her back and hopefully has come to terms with it.”

“Why couldn’t you just bring her in now?” Harry asked impatiently. He wanted the whole ordeal to be over.

“Besides being scared of what will happen to her when she ends up in your office, Potter, she’s having the time of her life. I promised that I would protect her while she gets this bit of travelling bit done.”

“Why?”

It really was a simple question and Draco had a simple answer for it, but he wouldn’t dare tell Hermione’s best friend why he had let her continue on with the adventure.

“I assume that you would rather have her protected then have her run around by herself, right?” Harry nodded. “Okay, then as soon as she’s done, Potter, she’s coming back with me.”

Draco watched as waited as Harry rubbed his temples, took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, and placed his glasses back on.

“Fine,” he finally said. “But you have to continue to keep me updated on her. Ron’s been going nutters on me and if he’s not happy then I’m not happy. Deal?”

“Tell Weasel to keep his knickers straight. There’s no better protection than me,” he said, a smirk so pronounced on his face that Harry noticed it through the ashes.

“Good.”

“Alright, Potter, ‘til next time.”

Draco was about to close the connection when he heard the other man say, “Wait!”

“Yes?”

“If you happen to talk to her again, will you let her know that everything is fine? Everything is officially sorted out and she’s in the clear.”

“Will do,” Draco responded.

He stuck his head out of the fireplace and Apparated back to his hotel room. He couldn’t stop wondering if he truly was good on his word to Potter. Would she really return to England safe and happy, or would she be hurt after her assumptions of what happened? Draco wasn’t taking the result of the fight very well and he assumed she was worse off.

At least he could continue doing his job and hope for the best.

Encounter Number Four
(Wednesday 28 May 2003)
(Three Weeks Later)

Three entire weeks went by and Draco had kept his promise to Hermione. She knew that he was constantly behind her, always looming in the shadows, but she had never seen him. There was always a strange feeling bubbling around inside of her, knowing he was there but never able to be one hundred percent certain about it.

Hermione had never completed her tour of the Temple, instead deciding to retreat back to her hotel room. She never left it the rest of the day.

After he had walked away from her that Tuesday, she finished out the rest of the week in Athens, Greece.

There was something about the way he revealed something to her and the despair in his molten eyes that tore her apart. She had been cruel to him, saying things that should never have been said. Thinking back on her words over and over again, Hermione knew she had never truly meant them. It had taken well over six hours of mulling over it for her to realise she had been desperately protecting herself out of instinct.

She blamed herself for essentially breaking him down the way she had. How dare she ever make him believe that she possibly thought that way about him? Despite the way he had been before and through the war, she knew in her heart that he was no longer the same cruel little boy. She had also been thinking how possible it was that he was capable of love; and that he was worthy of love as well.

At this point, there was no way that she loved him, but she definitely could not deny that there had been an attraction on top of their mutual understanding of each other. That night in Florence actually had been wonderful, even though she had been quite pissed from the alcohol when it had started. However, she had been quite aware of what she had been doing.

All through that following Wednesday, she still stayed locked up in her hotel room in Athens. Hermione had so many things to think through and analyse and was willing to lose a day in beautiful Greece in order to clear up the mess in her life.

She had ordered breakfast and lunch through the room service the hotel offered—she had decided to stay in a more suitable hotel that time around. When dinner time came, she had been so busy in her own mind and through her pacing, that the nightfall crept up on her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking on her room door.

When she had opened it, there had been a tray of food sitting on a cart, abandoned. Hermione had stuck her head out into the corridor, looking both ways, but not seeing anyone.

Instinctively, she knew that it was Draco keeping good on his promise.

A heavy feeling that had been in her stomach had dissipated once she knew he was there. She couldn’t entirely explain it, but she took comfort in knowing that it happened that way.

However, she still hadn’t laid eyes on Draco in the past three weeks and she was nearing the end of her stay in Madrid, Spain.

Unfortunately, that Wednesday morning was rainy and incredibly solemn and Hermione honestly did not feel the need to leave her hotel room. However, it would be necessary to step foot outside because she had a plan brewing and settling in her mind and therefore it was the only way for it to be complete.

Hermione slipped on a pair of rain boots she had just pulled out from a hidden corner in her bottomless bag, and left the hotel.

There was a bus stop right on the other side of the street, but the subway station she would need to hop on was just about half of a kilometre down the road. She found it pointless to take the bus for such a little distance down the road.

The loud pitter-patter of the rain on the pavement was a wonderful distraction, making it seem like an orchestra was following her along, playing a song for the moment. Beyond the noise of the water droplets, she could sense that Draco was also behind her somewhere, trailing all along behind the veil of rain.

Before she knew it, Hermione had found an empty seat on the subway and relaxed her head against the cold metal behind her. She closed her eyes, knowing very well that in some hidden corner, Draco would be watching her and wondering where she was going.

About fifteen minutes later, the subway stopped and after hearing the destination echoing throughout the subway, Hermione stood up and walked out.

Leaving the Santo Domingo station behind her, Hermione continued her walk through the rain for a few minutes longer until she reached a busy intersection where a bookstore was the predominant shop. Diagonally across the junction from the bookstore was a large concrete stairway leading to a higher street. Underneath it was nothing but completely solid concrete. However, in one swift motion, Hermione walked right through the wall, no one around her any wiser of what had just happened.

On the other hand, one person had seen: Draco, who had never known about the existence of this magical barrier.

She had walked with such dominance in her stride, acting like she had done it a handful of times. Draco followed in her trail, trying his hardest to act the same way.

On the other side was a small square room with another wall in front of him, but this one was made of dark red bricks. Right in front of him was Hermione, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Do you mind?” she asked him, trying her best to be void of any emotion.

He was about to ask ‘what?’ but in fear of sounding utterly stupid, he refrained from doing so and decided to not just bolt out of there.

“I can’t use my wand you know,” she said in reply of his silence. “Just tap the black one there in the middle three times and I’ll be on my way.”

Without saying a single word, he did exactly like Hermione said and the wall in front of them disintegrated.

“Thanks,” Hermione said and in response, Draco just offered her a short nod.

She turned her back to him and walked in past where the wall had been and Draco watched her walk into a Wizarding part of Madrid, Spain. It took every piece of his will power to not turn around and go back through the concrete wall.

With every bit of intrigue about a different Wizarding community and where this wild witch was headed, Draco continued to follow his target, just like he promised.

Draco stood back away from the cafe that Hermione had just sat down at, standing in front of a store that was filled with trinkets and baubles, just simply watching her.

She had sat down at a table with two seats, one of them obviously empty, slightly pulled out. He wasn’t sure if she had done it purposefully, intending for him to sit there. The one thing he did know, however, was that there was no way he would make a move to occupy that empty seat.

Despite how long it had been since their private argument in Greece, he had never fully let the anger from that situation leave him. He had been hurt and Draco Malfoy was not the type to forget pain all too quickly.

Instead of thinking about that irritating day, he was wondering what on earth had brought Hermione to have breakfast out in the Wizarding part of Madrid. In the entirety of her trip, she had never once gotten close to magic, resulting in her eating in Muggle restaurants, Muggle cafes, and just keeping everything Muggle related.

A realisation occurred to him as he shifted his weight from one foot to another: she had planned on him using his magic to help her out.

Draco could not get over the fact that she had went a bit mad back in Athens, accusing him of using her. She had used him and for some reason, that troubled him immensely. It bothered him almost as much as her declaration that he couldn’t be in love.

He pushed off from the store front he had been leaning against and stalked over to her table, actually sitting down in the empty chair. His appearance hadn’t shaken her up at all.

“You used me to get here, didn’t you?” he asked bluntly, his face as stern as possible.

“What are you on about?” Hermione looked like a trapped niffler.

“You knew I would be there behind you and just easily open up that wall for you.”

“Goodness, Malfoy, must you be so cynical about everything?” she gave a small chuckle, slowly puncturing a wall Draco had built within him.

“I don’t need to be, but I am,” he replied simply. He leaned back against the chair and crossed his arms in defiance, acting like a child.

“I assumed it would be the only way to talk to you.”

Draco scanned her face and instantly knew she was being sincere.

Before he could respond to her, a waiter showed up at their table, asking what they would be drinking that morning. They both ordered cafe con leche and Hermione ordered the breakfast dish that was being served that day. Draco declined at first, but after much persistence from the brunette across from him, he finally gave in and ordered a plate for himself.

Once the waiter had left, the two found themselves surrounded by an uncomfortable silence, despite the many people around them chattering away.

“So...” Hermione had said, trying desperately for them to talk about something. Anything.

“Yeah?” Draco replied, unsure of what to do as well.

They sat there for another minute or two, both evading each other’s gazes.

“I’m sorry,” she had blurted out suddenly.

Draco had lifted his eyes to look at her, noticing that indeed she had been staring straight at him now. He wasn’t quite sure of what to do: should he say that he accepts or apologise as well? However, in his narrow mind at that moment, he was relatively uncertain if he had a reason to be sorry in the first place. He had forgotten the way he had become so brass with Hermione in Athens, that he had instantly jumped to conclusions, and had so blatantly told Hermione that she misunderstood one of her best friends.

“Me, too,” was what ended up escaping his throat at that moment. He assumed that it was better than continuing to stay silent and making everything worse.

Their food had arrived at the table quickly and they ate breakfast in complete silence. When Hermione stood up and walked out, Draco kept his routine and followed.

He wished and hoped that his form of an apology would be enough for now.

Encounter Number Five
(Thursday 5 June 2003)
(One Week Later)

Draco felt comfortable enough with the awkward but decent exchange of apologies he and Hermione had offered each other the week before. A part of him continued to wish that he had been able to offer more at that moment, but he knew that he had never been good with verbally making amends. All he had been able to do was hope it had been alright.

However, since that moment, they had not spoken a single word to each other and it had made him a bit unnerved. He didn’t want to tell himself the truth, but he secretly knew what was causing the turmoil in his mind and why her every word and action was playing with his heart.

The next night Hermione had left Madrid behind and Draco continued to keep following his promise and pursued her right out of Spain and into Portugal.

He internally cursed at himself when he realised that he was beginning to take a liking to Muggle forms of transportation. The only times in his life that he hadn’t flown, taken a Portkey, or Apparted had been when he was forced into taking the Hogwarts Express during his school years. If he were honest about it—which wasn’t difficult—he knew that he had never paid any attention during those long train rides and preferred to stay occupied to make the time go quicker.

On the train that he had followed Hermione onto was loads better than he had ever remembered any of the train rides to Hogwarts. However, he found a wonderful comfort at staring into the country and watching the sceneries change which it made it more than bearable.

Now they were in Lisbon, Portugal and Draco had never felt more out of place in his life. Although he had been really good with the Italian language, made due in Greece, and pulled through in Spain, he was having a bit of difficulty with the Portuguese language native to Portugal. He had never learned the language in its own form and whenever he had tried to communicate, he would either input an Italian or Spanish word in and his sentences would be all blundered up.

The other thing that had been making him out of place that day was the fact that it was his birthday and he was alone. Yes, he did have Hermione, but they were virtually not speaking and he doubted that she would even care he would be turning twenty-three years old.

Normally back at home, he would celebrate with Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Greg, but he knew that it was out of the question this time around.

He had been lying awake in his bed at his own hotel room, staring at the ceiling because he had awoken early and had not been able to fall back asleep. He peered at the alarm clock beside his head, realising it was nearing only six in the morning.

Too damn early, he thought.

He continued to stare at the ceiling, wondering how he could offer a better apology and hope to make Hermione see things his way. He wanted to scream the truth at her and force her to see he had never used her.

Thankfully, he would not resort to that. He did, however, need to d something and he had no idea how much time he had. He never knew when the last stop would be before Hermione would go to him and tell him that she was done.

An early shower sounded appealing at that moment so he stood up and made his way into the bathroom. The hot water felt good against his back and helped to relieve some tension in his muscles. He tried desperately to think of what could be done to mend his situation with Hermione, but for some reason she kept his escaping his mind. Instead his thoughts landed on how he could celebrate his birthday on his own.

He finished his hot shower, got dressed, and decided to eat a grand breakfast down in the hotel’s lobby. Most restaurants wouldn’t be open yet, but the marvellous hotel he was staying at offered an exclusive breakfast to guests starting at seven.

Making sure his wand was tucked away—he was positive that he wouldn’t be returning to his room so soon—Draco opened the door to step out.

Instead of making his way into the corridor, his head bent down to realise that there was a package sitting right outside of his room. He was baffled as to its presence there, but picked it up and walked towards the elevator with it tucked under his arm.

He was definitely curious as to who would have sent it to him—no one else knew where he was other than Harry and he doubted that his Slytherin friends would go to him to find his whereabouts. However, the grumbling in his stomach took precedence and he figured he would open it once he had some food in his belly.

He went through the buffet line, putting things on his plate that looked worthy of a birthday breakfast. While he was eating, he kept glancing over at the package on the table in front of him. His curiosity was getting the better of him and he chuckled to himself as he realised that nothing was stopping him from opening it.

Setting his fork to the side, he reached over and grabbed the package. It was no bigger than a normal sized hardcover book with dark green wrapping paper.

So typical, he thought. Hermione instantly popped up in his mind, wondering if it had been her that had sent it to him. No one else in Slytherin would wrap presents in green paper, they were all sick of overusing their house colours.

He tore the paper apart, mashing it into a ball and banishing it to the other side of the table. The first thing he noticed was a plain white envelope sitting on top of the gift. He moved it to the side so that he could see what the gift was.

It was a simple but beautiful black picture frame with a magical photo placed in it. There was a statue standing still in the middle of the photo, taking up most of the space. It was the statue of Dante that he had encountered Hermione for the first time in Italy. Hermione was in front of the statue, laughing at herself and then finally smiling.

Instead of wondering who had taken the picture for her, Draco thought about how pleased she looked and how her eyes were glowing at the pure joy she had. He was certain that it would be the best gift he would get that year.

He put the frame down, still keeping an eyes on it and went back to pick up the envelope that had been lying in front of the photo.

There was nothing written on the front of it. Growing even more curious about what could possibly be written in it, he pulled the card from inside of the envelope, marvelling at the detailed dragon that greeted him. He opened the card and read the note written neatly within it.

Happy Birthday, Draco!
I’m sorry you couldn’t have better company on your birthday.
Sincerely, Hermione.

He was in awe of the short note, but how directly to the point it had been. However, he was very elated at the gesture. Draco couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a birthday card. He had been so engrossed at admiring the letters that were written out, that he failed to notice someone sit down in the empty seat in front of him.

“How the Wizarding World managed to name you the best Tracker in a century is beyond me.”

He jerked a little at the sound of the voice and set the card down, taking note of the glimmering eyes staring at him.

“Why did you give me this?” he asked entirely too bluntly.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It’s your birthday isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah it is...”

“Generally, when someone has a birthday, it is customary to offer them presents,” she replied full of her sharp wit, but a playful smile on her lips.

“I know that,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. “How did you even know it was my birthday?”

“I remember things,” she answered, taping her finger against her temple. She pointed to the photo and said, “Why can’t you just accept it?”

“I thought you hated me, Granger. Remember how you almost hexed me back in Athens?”

“Look, Malfoy. I said I was sorry and I honestly mean it. I just want to forget about that and move on.”

“I understand where your accusations came from. I can understand that from the position you were in you just needed to protect yourself. I get that, Hermione, I really do.” He placed his hand on top of hers that was resting on top of the table. “I know you think I’m not deserving of being loved...”

“It’s not that, Draco,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ve seen immense changes in you and you deserve all the love in the world that a woman can give you. Everything I said came out all wrong.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, waving it all off.

“I want to make it up to you and prove myself wrong about what I said of our night in Florence.”

Her brown eyes were big and begging and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that in such a simple way, she had already made amends. She had gone out of her way to make his birthday special and he was truly grateful for it. However, there was one thing else that she could do.

“Go out with me for my birthday tonight?” he asked.

She agreed and when she asked where he wanted to go, his simple reply was that it was a surprise. Hermione had laughed at the thought that Draco would be surprising her on his birthday.

Hermione had worn a floor length gown, shimmering in red sequins and Draco looked amazing in a dark suit with a golden tie around his neck. He had taken her to watch a special performance at Lisbon’s Opera House and it was the first time Hermione had ever been to an opera.

It had been silently agreed they were over the terrible crack in the road when he grasped her hand in his own and when she didn’t pull away.

Encounter Number Twenty-Eight
(Saturday 5 July 2003)
(Four Weeks Later)

“Hold still, Hermione,” Draco cried out, trying to keep both of her wrists together behind her back. He had some thick rope in his hands and he had been trying to tie a knot in the rope that was binding her wrists.

“I can’t!” she yelled back. “You keep scraping the rope against my skin!”

“It was your genius idea for me to try this the fucking Muggle way! It would be pain free if you would just let me use my wand!”

“Think of this as job training,” she replied. “What happens if you’re in the middle of apprehending some oaf of a wizard and you end up with your wand knocked away?”

“I’ll just give the bloke a nice kick in his sensitive spot; easy as pie and better than fumbling with rope.” He attempted to tighten the knot he had just managed to create.

“That’s why it’s practice, smart one! You’ll get better at it.” She moved around again, but tried keeping her wrists together. “Plus, imagine the look on Harry’s face when we show up at his house and you have arrested me!”

“That alone is the only reason why I’m doing this,” he said smirking, but Hermione couldn’t see it. “Almost done...”

“About time!” Hermione exclaimed.

After two months of running around Europe, Hermione and Draco finally had their fill of sight-seeing and agreed it was time to go home. Since she still couldn’t legally practice magic, she had to do side-along Apparition with Draco and cross into countries bound on trains.

Eventually safe in England, they Apparated to Draco’s flat trying to come to a conclusion of how everything would play out. That’s when they decided that Hermione should be bound up and they would Floo into Harry’s house and scare him.

At first, they thought they would just appear at Harry’s house and slowly tell him what had been going on but they thought that giving him a slight scare was a better idea.

Finally tightly bound, Hermione stepped first into the green flames of the fireplace with Draco right behind her, holding her wrists.

“Hermione!” Harry had shouted as soon as the tumbled through. “Thank goodness! I’ve been waiting almost a week!”

“What’s going on, Malfoy?” his eyes looked angrily at the Tracker.

“I had no choice, Potter. She tried poisoning me at one point and then was about to throw a spell my way,” Draco responded trying desperately not to laugh at the man’s angry face.

Hermione still hadn’t said anything; however, Harry noticed the red tint growing on her face.

“Did you hurt her, Malfoy?”

“Does she look injured?” Draco responded just as Ginny walked in.

“Hermione! You’re finally back,” the redhead bounced towards her, embracing her tightly. “Why are you tied up?” she then asked furiously.

Hermione just couldn’t take it anymore and exploded in bouts of laughter.

“You’re terrible at this, Granger,” Draco said shaking his head with a smirk on his face. He pulled his wand out and removed the ropes on her wrists.

“I can’t help it,” she laughed. “The looks on their faces were priceless!”

“Just tell me everything’s okay,” Ginny asked.

“It’s fine! Promise,” Draco assured her.

While Hermione began spilling the shortened version of everything that happened around Europe, Ginny started making lunch for everyone. They all sat down at the table to eat, all feelings of apprehension that Draco was sitting with three Gryffindors at Harry Potter’s house no less, were vanished quickly.

All four had just finished their sandwiches when Harry mentioned he was happy everything turned out for the best.

“Just be glad I was able to take care of everything, Hermione,” he told her.

“It was a bloody nightmare,” Ginny piped in. “But you’re all in the clear, thank goodness.” She stood up to clear all the plates away.

Her laughter rang in his ears and it was still able to make his knees slightly weak. He thanked all of the forces of nature for the way that it had all been played out or else he would never have been able to say that Hermione Granger was his.

Hermione got up to help Ginny clean up the kitchen, leaving Harry and Draco to sit at the table together.

“We can negotiate your payment later. Is that alright?” Harry asked him, trying desperately to break the awkward silence.

“Forget about it, Potter. No payment needed,” he replied, trying to avoid those burning green eyes.

No amount of money could be better than what he attained in the end.

Notes:

Thank you again to everyone!

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