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Chapter Text

“Granger, what’s your location?” Malfoy’s aggravated whisper filtered through her earpiece.

With a grunt, Hermione landed on her back, pain igniting all over her body. Her wand clicked against the marble floor of the pristine white kitchen. Kicking out, she knocked her assailant’s legs out from under him, sprawling him on the floor of a private villa in Crete, Greece.

This bought her enough time to crawl over to where her wand had fallen on the other side of the kitchen island. Grasping the hilt, she felt the familiar tingle of magic transfer from the wood to her skin.

“GRANGER.”

Spinning around, she was greeted with an empty floor where the wizard had been. She hunched into defensive position and scanned her surroudings. Everything from the kitchen to outdoor was white, from the structure to the décor, with splashes of saturated blues through out the furniture. Too bad she was on assignment and in eminent danger, or she could really enjoy this place.

A shadow moved in her peripheral, instinct kicking in, she ducked behind a large glass dining table, narrowly missing the curse. Taking care to avoid the shattered glass, she popped up and fired. “Stupefy!”

The wizard went down in a heap, head knocking the wooden floor with a resounding crack.

“Villa two secured,” Justin Finch-Fletchely reported, his voice coming through the earpiece.

“Copy that. Granger, status report.”

With a sigh, she stretched, back cracking at the motion, muscles screaming with exhaustion. She raised her wrist up to her mouth, her ring and middle finger pressing the hidden button to speak, “Villa one secured. But I need a moment.”

The silence that followed wasn’t very comforting. She could imagine an angry vein bulging on Malfoy’s temple.

“A moment for what? Tea and biscuits?” Justin chimed in over the radio.

“Rendezvous at the second villa.” Malfoy ordered. “NOW.”

Hermione rushed over to where she had last seen the scroll. After fighting tooth and nail for it, she prayed it hadn't been destroyed in the scuffle. The kitchen was a mess and the dining area wasn't much better.

“Oh, bugger,” she muttered, spotting the heap of charred parchment. Grabbing what was left of the scroll, she dragged feet over to the rendezvous point.

Chapter Text

With a “pop,” Hermione appeared in the designated Apparition zone at the Ministry. The landing wasn’t one of her most graceful as she took a misstep, spilling the cup of coffee clenched tightly in her hand. The hot caffeinated liquid landed on the front of her light blue button-up shirt, but at least the cloak she wore over her Muggle attire managed to protect the sleeves.

Slowing her gait, she made a futile attempt at brushing the liquid off, all the while balancing a cardboard tray of drinks with her other hand.

Anxious for a new lead in their dark artifacts smuggling ring, Hermione hoped this Friday morning’s meeting would be a productive one. Especially after mucking up that last assignment in Greece, she had been sent to Paris for a series of mind-numbing reconnaissance jobs.

“Please move to the side little miss, if you’re just going to dilly-dally.”

Hermione paused and turned to find an elderly wizard glowering at her. Muttering something incomprehensible and likely unflattering, the man walked around her.

“Sorry,” she offered, sarcasm dripping in her tone.

Following the herd of people, she marched past the hall of fireplaces. It was less congested than the Apparition zone, with green flames flashing whenever a witch or wizard had arrived by Floo.

With the bank of elevators in sight, Hermione walked towards the second row; they were usually less crowded.

“And she returns,” a low familiar voice greeted Hermione. “How was the Paris visit? Productive, I hope. Or was it one life-threatening escapade after another?”

Her frequent Auror partner for the last two years walked up to her, wearing perfectly tailored robes. Malfoy had adopted the modern approach to traditional wizarding attire, opting to wear a pair of dark trousers underneath robes that weren’t completely enclosed, but had a slit open from the bottom to the waist.

The neatly pressed lines of his trousers could be seen as he walked up to her. Hermione had wondered if he wore a Muggle button-up shirt underneath as well, though he never removed his robes at the Ministry.

“Good Morning, Malfoy,” she said in return. It was too early in the day for his goading.

He eyed the tan coffee stain along the front of her shirt. “Perhaps not. Rough start?”

The doors to the elevator opened with a ding. After waiting for any passengers to exit, they stepped inside. Glaring up at Malfoy, she thrust the tray of cups out, turning it so the intended cup was facing him. He returned the glare with a frown before grabbing it.

“Thank you,” he said as he lifted the paper cup up to his lips, but stopped midway through. “Tea, milk and—“

“And no sugar,” she finished for him before taking a sip of her coffee. She swore she caught an amused smirk before the cup of tea obstructed her view.

“Any idea what Potter has in store for us?”

“Besides wanting a meeting, not a clue.”

As more people climbed aboard the elevator, she moved to step closer to Malfoy, her shoulder brushing against his chest.

“He’s been away on a trip with Ginny. They’re engaged,” she said.

“I heard. Though, I do take the word of Rita Skeeter with a grain of salt.”

Feeling the rumble from his chest to her shoulder, she stiffened and pulled away to put some space between them. The rest of the ride carried on in silence and they got off when the elevator doors opened to the D.M.L.E, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Walking through the Auror office, Harry could be seen through the open doorway to his head office. He sat at his desk, penning a message on a piece of parchment. Upon their arrival, he glanced up and gave them a small smile.

“Morning,” Her best friend greeted them. “I’m almost done, please take a seat.”

Hermione did just that and pulled Harry’s coffee from the tray, placing it on his desk. He paused and grinned at her, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She eyed his desk, scrolls and folders were strewn in disarray. His hair was already a disheveled mess, and it was barely an hour into his workday.

Setting his quill down, Harry folded the piece of parchment and placed it on his desk. With a wave of his wand, the message floated up and flew out of his office.

Turning around to fetch a thick folder, he tossed it on his desk. Then he looked up at the two of them. “How are the both of you?”

“Fine,” they answered simultaneously, but Draco’s tone was more drawn out and bored.

“Have a good week, I take it?”

“I can’t complain.” Hermione placed her coffee down on the corner of his desk and pulled out her wand to cast a quick Tergeo on the coffee stain. “And how was yours?”

He looked at her, a fondness in his eyes as if he was reminiscing the week. “I proposed to Ginny.”

Hermione grinned. “I know. Ginny owled me the first chance she had.”

“Congratulations are in order, Potter.” Draco cleared his throat, looking as awkward as he sounded.

“Thank you.” Harry replied, just as uncomfortable.

Draco leaned back in his chair. “So now that’s we’re done with the pleasantries, why are we here?”

Harry shot him a look before opening the folder on his desk. He pulled out a dossier with small photo of woman clipped to the corner. He placed the file at the edge of his desk, in front of Hermione and Draco.

Leaning forward get a better view, Hermione glanced over the basic information: Morag MacDougal, gender: female, date-of-birth: 21^st of February, 1980, blood-status: Pure-blood, appearance: black hair, blue eyes…

“I assume you both remember Morag?” Harry asked.

They nodded. Morag had been their Ravenclaw schoolmate at Hogwarts.

“Forensics at the Department of Mysteries just sent back the scroll Hermione retrieved in Crete. There wasn’t much to go on, but Morag’s name was mentioned in it.”

“How do you think she’s involved?” She asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. She’s been in the U.S. for the better part of the year, spending time with a Muggle American hotel magnate. From the looks of it, she has been investing thousands of galleons in his projects. We’ve informed the U.S. Wizarding Bureau about the situation, and they’ve granted permission for us to go over there to retrieve her.”

“You’re sending us out to fetch Morag?” Malfoy asked, offended.

“She’s a possible suspect, Malfoy.” Harry’s jaws clenched.

“Send one of the rookies. They can use the practice.”

“This is a sensitive issue, we’re going into a foreign country. You’re both going because of your record together, which is considerably better than anyone else who’s available at the moment.”

“I understand.” Hermione nodded.

Malfoy looked like he about to continue protesting, but Hermione cut him off with a piercing stare. So instead, he turned his glare on her.

Harry studied the two of them, but looked away when Hermione caught his gaze. He pulled out another file, refocusing. “These are the locations where Morag may be found, but the one place you’ll likely find her is at the new restaurant she’s invested in. Its launch party is tonight. You leave in six hours. Find Morag.”

The hotel suite was enormous. Malfoy had mentioned that it had two separate bedrooms and baths, but as she walked in, she spotted a fireplace and bar in the shared living area.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Hermione murmured as they walked into their suite at the Waldorf Astoria in Chicago. The whole hotel looked like a modern European palace, so naturally Draco fit right in.

They had traveled by Apparition from London to Chicago. Checking the various locations given to them by the office, they had found nothing but dead ends. So, they decided to spend the rest of the afternoon loitering in the area where the restaurant Morag had invested in was located.

The front of the building was adorned with a “Grand Opening” banner below a stainless steel lettering reading, “Envy”.

After a quick investigation, they learned that the restaurant doubled as a bar and was actually connected to the Soulager hotel, with its back exit leading into the lobby of the hotel. When they gleaned all the intel they could from the location, they decided to head back to their own hotel to regroup.

And since Malfoy was still miffed about being given a “rookie assignment”, he was adamant on staying at the Waldorf Astoria, surprising Hermione by saying he’d foot the bill for the upgrade.

“I’ve stayed at this particular hotel before, it’s perfect. Trust me.”

She laughed. “Quality isn’t my concern and you know it.” She walked into one of the plush bedrooms. “This suite is enormous.”

“You know,” Malfoy remarked. “It isn’t that far off from the penthouse suite.”

Hermione shook her head. “No, it would be such an unnecessary expense.”

“Is it an expense if you’re not paying for it?” he asked with a smirk.

She turned to glare at him. “Let me reiterate. I would have been fine with the hotel the Auror office assigned us. This isn’t a vacation.”

“Might as well be,” he scoffed, dropping down into a plush couch, spreading out as if he owned the place.

She took a seat in an armchair across from him, tossing the notes she took on the coffee table between them. “If Morag isn’t at the launch party tonight, I’m not sure how else we can find her.”

“She could have been tipped off we were coming,” he said, rubbing his temple.

“Maybe.”

She thought about looking into Carter Preston, the wealthy businessman whose projects Morag was investing in. From the picture included in the dossier, Carter was a good-looking man, dark-haired, brown-eyed, and fit for a man in his early thirties.

“Think of the silver lining, Granger,” Draco reminded her.

She drew a blank and blinked at him. Rolling his eyes, he simply gestured at the lavish hotel suite around them.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Again, not exactly a dream vacation.”

“Better than our usual lodgings, at least. And infinitely better than being at the Ministry where I’d undoubtedly run into Ainsley.”

That piqued her interest. “The witch from the Portkey Office?

At his nod, she asked. “How many dates had it been until it didn’t work out this time?”

“Three.”

“That’s too bad, she’s really nice.”

He started and turned his gaze on her.

“Well, she is.” She shrugged. “What was wrong with her?”

“Nothing. We just didn’t have anything in common,” he replied, his tone indicating he was done with that line of conversation.

“She’s pretty, a Pure-blood, and—“ Hermione began to list on her fingers before pausing, “Well, that’s it, isn’t it?”

Biting back a laugh from the glare he was giving her, she held her hands up in peace. “Joking. I’m kidding.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be picking on you anyways.” Hermione exhaled and leaned on the arm of her chair, resting her head on a propped up fist. “I can’t even remember the last time I went a date.”

“It was with Goldstein,” he answered a second later.

Her head shot up to look at up him, startled. Malfoy had maneuvered his body so that he was lying across the couch, arms crossed, eyes closed.

“That’s…right. Last—no, two months ago.”

Silence filled the suite as the conversation halted.

He finally spoke up, turning the conversation back to the assignment at hand.

“We should try Preston’s office, might even lead us to Morag before the party tonight.”

“Good idea. Let me stop by the loo first.” Without saying another word, she walked off into her bedroom.

Sneaking into Preston’s office, which was on the eleventh floor of an office building on the north side of the city, was easy. It was nearly six on a Friday night; the building was devoid of employees, save for the janitors.

Making sure the hoods of their jacket were pulled up, they kept their heads down as they moved to avoid the various security cameras strewn through the main passageways.

Before they could reach Carter’s office, however, a woman stepped out of an empty conference room ahead. She was minding her own business, pulling out a janitor’s cart, but froze as she spotted the two of them.

Malfoy pulled out his wand and casted. Hit with a Confundus charm, the woman flinched and started blankly back, eyes clouded and glazed over.

“You’re done with this floor. Move on to the next one,” he ordered her.

She nodded, her expression remaining blank as she moved like a sleepwalker on a late night jaunt.

They slipped past the door to the conference room and had to check various rooms until they finally reached Preston’s office.

“Alohamora,” Malfoy whispered lowly, his wand trained on the door and they handle clicked open.

Carter’s office was bathed in moonlight. Nothing looked out of the ordinary; it held the usual desk, file cabinets, and shelving, all made out of oak.

“Lumos,” she whispered, casting a soft glow from the tip of her wand. “We didn’t need to jinx the janitor.”

It was a department rule that they should only use magic in front of Muggles as a last resort.

He scoffed as he closed and locked the door. “She’ll be fine, Granger. Perhaps a slight shiver for the next few minutes, and at worst, a headache.”

“Still,” she tried, but couldn’t come up with a better retort.

Malfoy took the small victory in stride, slipping behind Carter Preston’s desk to start rummaging. His wand flicked left and right, illuminating the area.

She walked over to a wall of shelving, scanning various photos, awards, and mementos. So far nothing out of the ordinary; it was what you would expect in a Muggle businessman’s office.

“Nothing incriminating, from what I can tell,” Malfoy spoke from behind the desk.

“What about his computer?”

He looked at the blank monitor, then up at her, an unpleasant expression his face.

Sighing, she walked over and motioned for him to move. “You look through his file cabinets, then. I’ll check the computer.”

Luckily, the device wasn’t locked.  Hermione booted it up and clicked through to the desktop and through his folders. Unfortunately, Carter wasn’t a complete idiot; various files that had looked promising were password protected.

Opening an Internet browser, she tried her luck with his history. Nothing odd or incriminating, but over the course of the last month she could see a pattern of viewing art and sculptures. Maybe he was a collector.

“Anything?” She asked, closing the browser.

“There’s a whole cabinet dedicated to art auctions. Looks like he sells and buys from them frequently.”

“Yeah, I got that from his web history as well,” she replied. “Any of them look like they may be dark artefacts?”

Malfoy flipped through more sheets of paper, skimming over each one. “Hard to tell. Someone would have to research every single one.”

“And here I thought we’d luck out and find something obvious. Maybe Morag really is just investing in some Muggle’s business ventures. Why else do you think—“

Someone had entered the office—the sound of his or her footsteps came from outside the hall. At once, they flicked their wands and the glow at the wand tips went out.

Jumping into action, Hermione rushed over to the door. She took to the right side, so if the door opened she would be hidden from view. Malfoy stepped behind her, wand at the ready.

In the crack under the door, she could see what had to be light from a Muggle torch. The footsteps moved past Carter’s office and Hermione mentally sighed with relief.

They slipped back out into hall after waiting for a few more minutes. But just as she thought they were in the clear, a shout rang out from behind them.

“Hold it right there!” a security guard ordered, hands holding up a radio.

Yea, right.

Doing just the opposite, she starting running and could hear Malfoy throw back a Stupefy.

He must have missed as she could hear the man’s voice in the distance. “Eleventh floor, I need back up, they’re heading for the south stairwell.”

The echoes of their shoes hitting the stairs drowned out the sound of their breaths as they ran down several flights.

“I have them in the south stairwell!” exclaimed a security guard several floors down.

Skidding to a halt, they glanced at each other for a split second before hitting the door to the nearest floor. In big red block numbering, the door was painted with the number four.

The fourth floor looked exactly like the floor Preston’s offices were in, save for the different company logos and names.

“This way!” Hermione called out, racing for the second stairwell.

Suddenly, Malfoy grabbed her and pulled her into an empty break room. Her arm strained and she/as she fell against him, her elbow hitting him in the stomach, making him grunt.

With his hands on her hips, he hoisted her up the wall. A hand reach out and splayed against the wall above her head as he nearly fell over himself. The other hand stayed on her hip, and with a little pressure he scooted them away from the door.

Her hands had reached out to grab onto his hooded jacket and she found she couldn’t let go. Their chests raised quickly, trying to catch their breath from the exertion of running down from the eleventh floor.

Looking down at her, he raised a finger to his lips. The moonlight provided enough of a soft glow and he was so very close. Very slowly, he raised his wand and began casting a Bedazzling Hex on the area of their little corner.

He closed his eyes in concentration and she took the time to study his face. She could feel the blood rushing to her ears; the only other sound was the soft buzzing of a refrigerator nearby.

He opened his eyes after the spell finished. Hhis gaze met hers and she didn’t pull away from the grey of his eyes. And when they flickered down to her lips, her heart skipped a beat. Naturally, she looked down on his; its corners had been turned down, but one slowly curled upwards.

Hermione glanced back up and could see a kind of fire in his eyes, causing her to clench her fists around the material of his jacket. And before she could analyze what she was doing, with her grip on his jacket, she pulled him closer.

In one fluid motion, Malfoy pulled his hood off, revealing a messy mop of blond hair. He let her guide him forward, his weight leaning into her, and his lips met hers.

She could feel a hand at her neck, his thumb skimming her jaw before it brushed under her chin, tilting her head up for a better angle. His other hand splayed and pressed again her back, pulling her closer, if it was possible.

Deepening the kiss, her tongue darted out only to immediately feel it connect with his. At the touch, he ground his hips into hers and heat flooded her down below.

A moan escaped her lips, which induced a low growl from him, and she felt the vibration of his chest against hers. She felt him pull away to leave a kiss at the corner of her mouth. The gentle kisses didn’t end as his lips trailed up her jaw until he was a hairbreadth from her ear.

His hand left her hip and traveled up her belly, cupping her breast through her cotton jacket, producing another moan and whimper from her.

“Shh,” he whispered before bending to suck on the spot just behind her ear.

A shiver ran down her spine and she could feel him smile against her neck.

She needed more time, needed it to retaliate, not wanting to be the only one to lose control of her body. And suddenly she wondered if he was vocal during sex, when he didn’t need to hide and keep quiet.

The reminder was like a cold shower, that they were currently in danger of being found by Muggles. She pulled back and ran her hands down her jacket, straightening it.  And while it seemed Draco had come to the same practical conclusion, the heat was still behind those grey eyes of his.

It took all of her restraint to stop herself from pulling him down for another kiss.

“You remember the Apparition point we arrived in? Or do want to Side-Along?” His voice came out gravely and low, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

She shook her head. “I remember.” It was the alleyway nearby the Waldorf, charmed against Muggles for traveling magical folk. They’d have a good walk back to the hotel, but it was better than nothing.

Chapter Text

The journey back to their hotel suite at the Waldorf was nothing short of awkward, and completely devoid of their usual companionable silence.

Malfoy was about to head for his bedroom when she called out to him.

“Wait.”

He turned and waited for her expectedly, saying nothing.

“I think we should talk about what happened,” she muttered all to quickly, “back there.”

“I agree. But do we have to that right now?”

“I’d prefer it,” she answered. Technically, she would be fine if they just ignored it all together. But they were adults, adults with jobs on the line.

With a sigh, his shoulders slumped and he walked toward the living area instead, taking a seat in the armchair. She followed, taking her place on the couch. He continued to look at her expectedly.

“Okay. I’ll go first then.” Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. “Simply put, it can’t happen again. I’m sure you understand.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I. Don’t.”

She narrowed her eyes on him, his expression hard to read. “What don’t you understand about how we can’t be messing around?”

“There aren’t any department policies against fraternization.”

“I’m against workplace fraternization.” She crossed her arms. “Wait, have you—“

“No, not while on an assignment,” he answered before she could finish. “I’ll admit our timing was a bit off. But you can’t tell me you weren’t enjoying yourself.” He made the effort to relax into his seat, but his stony expression gave him away. He wasn’t happy with way the conversation was going.

She glared at him, wanting to question him further. What did he mean, not while on assignment. The idea of him having casual flings with other Aurors he’s worked with irked her more than it should have. And then there was this growing need to find out they had been.

“Regardless of…enjoyment, we were in the middle of a job. It was completely unprofessional,” she said as she crossed her arms.

“Alright, we’ll wait until after we get back to the hotel room next time.”

“No, there’ll be no next time!” She stood abruptly. “I don’t sleep around with co-workers.”

Turning to leave, she marched towards her room.

He called out to her, “We aren’t finished.”

She turned around, her temper cooling. “Yes we are. I’m sorry I had let things get carried away. But we have a job to do. It's time we finish it, no distractions,” she said, steadily.

Malfoy studied her for a moment before speaking, seeming to have come to the decision of something. Hopefully he would respect her wishes.

“Fine,” he nodded.

“Good,” Hermione was worried over what else he wanted to say on the matter, but at least it was tabled for now. She wandered over to her side of the suite, reaching the door to her bedroom.

“The party is in a few hours, but I’m going grab dinner at the restaurant downstairs."

She paused and turned around, finding him flipping through channels on the flat screen T.V. installed over the fireplace. He hadn’t continued speaking, which left her teetering between wondering if he was just giving her a heads up or if it was invitation. Silence filled the space between them.

“You don’t want to just order room service?” she asked, a hint of petulance in her tone.

“No,” he said, matching her grouchiness. “I wouldn’t have proposed having dinner at the restaurant if that were the case.”

So he meant for it to be an invitation. Probably. Even though he never did specifically say it.

She bit down the frustration. “I can be ready in a few minutes.”

“Fine,” he said before raising the volume on the T.V.

Irritated with how frosty things had quickly become, she marched into her room. It was yet another glaring example what a terrible idea it had been to kiss him. 

By the time the waiter brought out their food, they had returned to some semblance of their old routine, pre-make-out blow up. Hermione was glad for it, however temporary it may be.

They both ordered steaks, as that was what the restaurant boasted. Malfoy had went ahead and ordered a bottle of Syrah. But she didn’t mind, knowing by now he had good taste in wine.

Taking sip from her wine glass, she looked over at his plate and saw glazed truffles and onions sitting on his steak.

Without even about it, she reached out and forked the mushrooms—a food item she had learned Malfoy detested—over to her plate.  She wouldn’t normally bat an eye, having done this before. But now she froze just as she placed the offending ingredient down.

Peeking over at him, she saw he had paused, but quickly recovered and continued to cut out a piece of his steak, saying nothing of her pilfering his truffle slices.

They finished their meal in companionable silence and the waiter discreetly placed the bill down on the table. She didn’t bother reaching for the leather holder. Malfoy was already pulling it toward his side of the table.

She finished what was left of her wine and placed it back down, studying the empty glass. "You always insist on footing the dinner bill."

"Yes, I do,” he answered. His self-assured tone brooked no argument. In one fluid motion, he picked up the wine bottle on his side and refilled both their wine glasses.

She suppressed a grin. He caught the movement as he placed the bottle down. "What?"

"I assume it’s on principle. But I do find it one of your more charming qualities, I suppose. In a backward sort of way.”

He let out a long breath, as if he really wasn't in the mood for another Granger Observational Anecdote. "I'm not following."

She leaned back in her chair. "I can pay for my own dinner."

"I don't doubt that,” he said as he looked at her, muscles drawing the skin around his eyes tight. “You've never complained before."

She didn't really understand why she had brought it up. Beginning to regret having said anything, she looked back down at her refilled wine glass. "Well, uh—thank you. I guess that's what I'm getting at."

Malfoy stared back with a look of confusion.

Panic bubbled from deep within as she caught his stare. "It’s not really that noble a feat, now that I think about it. We do get reimbursed by the Ministry afterall.”

She could feel heat rising in her cheeks. How did she just praise and belittle him within the span of a minute. And they had already established that the Ministry wasn’t going to reimburse Malfoy for any of their extravagant expenses on this particular assignment, in any case.

"Just—“ she started. “Thank you. Thank you is what I meant to say. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Walking alongside Malfoy as they made their way into the Soulager hotel lobby, her heels clicked against its shiny black tiles. They bypassed the front entrance to Envy and the red carpet, a gaggle of photographers taking pictures of whichever celebrity guests had arrived.

He held the door open for her and she headed in. They looked like any other couple out on the town, but no one would suspect that in the last two minutes, they had surveyed the entire area to catalogue escape routes and assess danger. With the routine check complete, they continued, pausing only when they let a bellman with a trolley full of luggage past them.

Unable to stop herself from glancing over at Malfoy, she took in the impeccable side view. They had dressed for the occasion. He was in a black tailored suit and matching silk tie. She imagined it was probably just as expensive as his wizarding robes were.

In order to be practical in case things got hairy, she wore a pair of white, high waisted, crepe trousers and paired it with a black lace halter neck top, sans jacket. The loose-fitting trousers were perfect for hiding her wand, which she had easily within reach, as always. They looked quite the pair, if not a bit more suited for a business meeting than a cocktail party.

Making their way through the swanky hotel lobby, they found the alternate entrance within the hotel lobby into Envy, a security guard at the closed double doors.

The man held up his hand as they approached. “This is exit only tonight folks, you’ll have to get in through the street entrance.”

Malfoy stepped up until he was face to face with the guard. She followed closely behind, as he reached for his wand. Quickly stepping up close to block the view, she heard Malfoy cast a Confundus on the guard before speaking a low, direct order.

“We’re personal guests of Mr. Preston. You were about to let us in.”

The guard’s head swiveled back and forth as he looked over the two of them, perplexed. “Uh...right, go ahead.”

Draco glanced back, as if waiting for her to say something. She gave him a pointed look before walking ahead, eyes scanning the area for any signs of Morag or Carter.

The restaurant and bar was expansive and surprisingly had two floors. From the outside, there didn’t seem to be much room left for a venue that was connected to a hotel.

Near the back wall, on the other side of where they entered, was a two-story tall glass wine cellar. The unit was a piece of art in itself; the glass was etched and frosted in various places and reached the second floor’s open balcony.

Along the back wall, between where they stood and the wine cellar, was a long bar illuminated by a blue and white glow from LED lights.

She felt Malfoy step up behind her and almost jumped when he place a hand on her lower back, his mouth at her ear. “Come on.”

A shiver traveled up her spine, and she mentally shook it off as he steered her in the direction of the bar. The bartender was quick to take their orders and had them ready just as quickly. They both surveyed the crowd in silence as they slowly nursed their drinks.

She noticed a small pile of half-sized sheets of paper. Grabbing one, she looked it over and learned it was party welcoming sheet. It listed a brief explanation of Envy and its mission statement. At the bottom was a section titled Acknowledgments, where Morag’s name was included.

Spotting Carter by the tall wine cellar, she put the sheet down and craned her neck for a better view and could see he was speaking with someone. “Preston’s here.”

“And Morag?”

They scanned the crowd once again, but came up empty.

“Let’s have a chat with Carter,” Malfoy said as he placed his drink down on the bar top.

Hermione stopped him with a hand on his elbow. “Wait, let me. You stay here and keep an eye out for Morag.”

“There’s no need to separate.” He stepped back towards the bar as he studied her face.

“It’ll be fine. I won’t be the first woman to approach Carter, and I’m sure I won’t be the last.”

That statement won her a raised brow.

Not wanting to lose her chance, Hermione hustled over to the wine cellar with her drink in tow. As she approached Carter, she could see he was chatting with a man holding a clipboard, most likely a party planner.

“Mr. Preston?” she cut in, her eyes meeting his dark brown ones. “Please pardon me for interrupting, but I was hoping I could have a word with you.”

Carter studied her for a moment before a corner of his lips curled up. “Just one word?”

She plastered on a smile that bordered on being a flirty smirk. “I would prefer to have several, if I may.” Eyeing the other man, she added, “Alone.”

The man took his leave at Carter’s nod.

“Hermione.” She offered a hand.

In order to get close to Morag and get her alone from any Muggles to speak, they figured they couldn’t very well use a cover.

“I’m Carter. But you already knew that.” Carter gestured at the glass in her hand and then the bar. “Let’s refresh that drink of yours, shall we?”

As they approached the bar, Hermione could spot Malfoy at the other end, his back turned. He was speaking with a dark-blonde haired Muggle woman. The woman laughed at something he said, head tossing back with delight. They were far enough down the bar that it was impossible to overhear any of the conversation.

Of course, Hermione thought, Malfoy would manage to get hit on not a minute after she walked away.

“You have me at a disadvantage, have we met before?” Carter asked, motioning for the bartender, pulling Hermione’s attention back to him.

She shook her head. “No. But I figured this was good a way as any to get you alone.”

Carter was stunned by the bold statement, but quickly recovered. His interest deepened as he looked over her. “And now that you’ve accomplished that, what are we to do?”

“Well, for starters, you can get me a new drink.” Hermione grinned, pushing her old one farther down the bar top just as the bartender appeared.

They were left alone again as the bartender went to work on Carter’s order.

Improvising, Hermione reached the half sheet of pearlescent paper, pretended to read it, and feign surprise. She pointed at Morag’s name under the acknowledgments. “I know her! We went to school together.”

Carter glanced at the sheet. “That explains the accent then. Were you friends?”

“In a fashion,” she sighed. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen her, actually.”

“She should be here soon.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Hermione started, knowing this was where it got tricky. She couldn’t press too hard for information. “How is Morag involved with the restaurant?”

“She’s an investor of mine, this restaurant being one of them.”

“Wow, that’s so interesting,” she lied. “I didn’t know Morag was such a worldly businesswoman. How did you two meet?”

Carter watched her for a moment before glancing up at the ceiling in thought. “You know, I can’t even remember it’s been so long.” He studied her profile for a moment before he continued. “Such interest in an old classmate. And here I thought you wanted to get to know me.” He leaned closer and reached out to brush his fingers lightly across her bare shoulder before trailing them down her arm.

Hermione pulled back, but he followed her. She tried to go for a light-hearted tone, laughing, “I can get carried away sometimes, seeing her name just surprised me.”

Leaning down, his voice deepened as he played with her wrist, “Are you a witch as well?”

Alarm bells rang in her head. His question had her reeling as she fought to remain calm. He was aware of magic?

With a tug on her wrist, Carter pulled Hermione toward him. Adrenaline kicking in, she jerked her arm back.

“Hm? Like Morag?” His head lowered so their faces were just a hairsbreadth apart.

“You want to let go of her?” Malfoy icy tone all but growled beside her. He nodded at other man’s hand on Hermione’s wrist.

Carter looked from Hermione to Malfoy before pulling away. “And who is this?”

Closing the distance between them, their bodies aligning, Malfoy gave her shoulder a squeeze. “A friend.”

“Another? It’s just a night of reunions for you isn’t it?” Carter sneered.

Malfoy glared at him, not one bit amused. “And we have plenty to catch up on. Now sod off.”

Her gaze shot up to look at Malfoy. His eyes were glued on Carter, his expression cold. 

“Don’t be rude,” she muttered out, irritated by his bravado and change in protocol. But regardless, she still needed him to know that Carter was more clued in than they believed.

With a forced smile, Malfoy leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Heat traveled down from where his lips touched her skin, settling in her lower belly, reminding her of their little session from just a few hours before.

“Ah, there’s Morag,” Carter spoke up, waving his hand to beckon her over.

Morag shuffled through the crowd in the restaurant, her expression blank until she noticed her old schoolmates. “Hermione? Draco?”

Hermione cleared her throat. “Good to see you again, Morag.” The last time she had seen the woman was back when they were still teens.

“What—“ Morag glanced between the three of them. Her gaze lingered on Malfoy’s hand on Hermione’s shoulder. But then something switched inside her, her expression blanking. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Can you get a drink?” Carter asked.

Morag shook her head. “Actually, I’m so sorry, will you excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back, then we’ll catch up!”

Malfoy pulled away from Hermione and they both watched Morag walk away. But as the witch moved, her pace quickened towards back entrance.

“She’s heading for the lobby.” Malfoy murmured under his breath, before moving to follow.

Hermione glanced back at Carter, his eyes tracking her hand with precision. Something was off with him, especially if he was aware of the magical world.

But they didn’t have any jurisdiction when it came to Carter. He tilted his head, a smirk emerging on his lips, as he recognized the impasse.

Cursing under her breath, Hermione spun around to chase after Morag and Malfoy. Hitting the back doors, she ran out into the lobby, catching a glimpse of Malfoy’s blond hair as he turned a corner into the corridor of mirrored elevators doors.

Hermione could overhear them speaking. They were facing each other, standing in the reflective corridor.

“Can this wait?” Morag asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Malfoy answered, his demeanor was all business. “We’re under strict orders to escort you back to London.”

Morag eyed Hermione as she approached. “Am I under arrest?”

Hermione answered. “You’re not yet being formally charged, but you are a person of interest in an ongoing Auror investigation. We do have grounds to arrest you if you refuse to come with us.”

“What investigation?”

“Criminal activity with dark artefacts,” Malfoy provided, “You’ll have your chance to obtain a lawyer when you come into the D.M.L.E. for questioning.”

Defeated, Morag nodded. “Can I least get my things? I’m staying in a room here.”

Malfoy’s jaw clenched. Probably in frustration, Hermione thought, because they had camped out for hours trying to find her at this hotel.

“That’s fine, we’ll leave right after.” Hermione moved to press the button to call for an elevator.

On Morag’s floor, they followed closely behind her. They approached her door, the number plate on the wall indicating that it was room 705. Morag opened the door with a flourish of her room keycard.

Suddenly, an incredible gust of wind blew her and Malfoy backward, crashing them against opposite wall. The door to Morag’s room slammed shut as they struggled to their feet.

“Morag!” Malfoy shouted, using the wall as leverage to stand up. “We’ve placed an anti-Apparition jinx around the area. You’re not going anywhere.”

Hermione rushed to the door and pressed her back against the adjacent wall. Malfoy did the same on the other side. She quickly thought to throw a Muggle-repelling charm around them.

“Morag,” Hermione called out. “Let’s calm down and talk about this.”

“There’s nothing I could say that will help me now,” Morag’s voice cried from behind the door.

“There might be, Morag.” Hermione tried to negotiate, thinking back to Carter. “Is Carter Preston somehow involved? You can make a deal with the Ministry if you have information. Now put your wand down. We’re coming in.”

Silence followed and Hermione tried calling out for Morag. No answer.

Malfoy gestured for her to be ready as he raised his wand at the door. “Alohamora.”

Pushing the door open, they ran past the threshold to find the room empty. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she focused on her surroundings. She moved first, turning into the bathroom. Malfoy walked ahead, wand first.

The bathroom came up empty. Walking back out into the room, Hermione had a split second to react as Morag appeared from behind a Disillusionment charm, wand out and screaming, “Bombarda!”

Malfoy threw his wand up to block the spell, but he wasn’t quick enough; the spell was only partially rebounded and some of it hit him in the shoulder, sending him back into the closet. The doors shattered and blew apart, and what was left was barely hanging on by its hinges.

Heart racing, Hermione shouted, “Stupefy!”

The spell missed as both women ducked behind either sides of the king-sized bed. Hermione glanced over at Malfoy’s unconscious form, fear gripping her chest.

Knowing she had to move quickly, Hermione kept her head down and concentrated on lifting the bed. With a fast wave of her wand, it was thrust forward, knocking into Morag and pushing her up against the wall.

Hermione peeked up and could hear Morag’s groan. She rushed over, picked up Morag’s fallen wand, and knocked her out with a Stupefy. For good measure, Hermione bound the woman with an Incarcerous.

Confident that the woman was subdued, she ran over to Malfoy and brushed debris off of him. His shoulder was badly cut.

“Rennervate”, she whispered, her hand shaking.

Malfoy woke up in a coughing fit and groaned. He looked over her face. “Morag?”

“Out cold.”

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Can you move?”

He attempted and winced, the skin on his shoulder pulling. “That fucking hurts.”

“Hold on,” she murmured before waving her wand over his shoulder, cleaning the wounds. They seemed to be mostly superficial cuts, but the bruising was already starting. She used a simple spell to close the superficial ones. “I’m not sure if anything is broken. It would be safer to have a Healer take a look.”

“I can walk,” his gravely voice spoke.  

Careful not to touch his shoulder, she helped him up. His wavering resided as he found his footing.

“I have the Portkey,” she reminded him.

Heading over to Morag’s bags, she checked for any personal items they would need before they left. The D.M.L.E would cooperate with the U.S. Wizarding Bureau and have them send a clean up crew.

“Hold on,” he said, his hand touching her shoulder.

She turned, wondering what he was up to. He stood impossibly close and her breath caught in her throat. “What—“

And he kissed her.

It was an intense, affirming kiss, an urge after surviving a battle. She had a deep desire to wrap her arms around him, but then remembered his damaged shoulder.

The kiss ended and he pulled back. He looked down at her with stormy grey eyes. “Thank you.”

“You would have done the same for me,” she whispered. And it was true. Perhaps a decade ago, she wouldn’t have trusted him with a Pygmy Puff. But now, she wouldn’t hesitate to put her life in his hands.

Which was why she couldn’t—no wouldn’t mess around with him, despite how much her body protested. “But I haven’t changed my mind about office romances. I won’t sacrifice my reputation at work for a casual knock around.”

He looked offended, “Who said anything about casual?”

It was her turn to raise a brow at him. “Spell it out for me Malfoy. What are you saying?”

“How about this,” he leaned forward, his hands a solid pressure on high hips. “For starters, I want to take you out on a date. And I’ll expect numerous dates to follow, with many rounds of what is it you called it? Knocking around. In fact, I would like to get one started right now, if it weren’t for the suspect we have hog-tied on the ground.”

They both glanced over at Morag’s prone form.

“Kinky as it is,” he added.

She chuckled before he cut it off with short kiss. Hermione pulled away, grabbing Morag’s purse, and held the Portkey out with a handkerchief.

“By the time we get back to the Ministry, finish handing Morag over, and get that shoulder of yours taken care of, the sun will be rising.”

“And then we’ll be…” He continued for her.

Hermione was bemused by his confidence that there was any “we” to consider. She thought about it for a second before holding out the Portkey. “You can take me to that café in Diagon Alley. And we’ll start with breakfast.”