By the time there was a knock at the door, Hermione was standing only a few paces from it, already packed up for the day. It was second nature to open it, her attention divided, not expecting the knock to be anything but social, a coworker teasing her for staying late.
She couldn’t possibly have been more wrong.
Unexpectedly standing face to face with Draco Malfoy, it felt inevitable for a brief flicker of something old and uncomfortable to flicker across her face, before something considerably more polite took its place, surprise drowned in staunch composure.
Hermione hadn’t seen him since Harry had begged her and Ron to let him test them, almost a year ago. Harry had been very sparse in what he had told them about his relationship with Malfoy, nor the role he had or hadn’t played in Harry’s departure from the Wizarding world, making Hermione’s throat tie up with everything she didn’t know for sure, but had come to assume.
“Malfoy,” she stumbled out, both an uncomfortable greeting and a question.

Despite the many many times that Draco had rehearsed this conversation in his head, he found himself woefully unprepared to actually have this conversation. The last time he was a face to face with Granger, he had a wand to her chest, and while he did attempt to apologise to her then, he knew that there was nothing he could say that could ever undo the hurt that he had done.
That was also why it felt like too much to ask her what he was going to ask her, but he knew that there was no one else who would be able to help him, and he wasn’t about to give up.
“Granger,” he answered, automatically slipping into his old persona, but quickly attempting to drop it again, knowing that he was going to have to show unseen levels of humility if he wanted to even dream of her helping him.
“I’m sorry to catch you this late in the workday,” he continued, looking at her but feeling so endlessly small, aware that he was laying his life and his happiness at her feet and he desperately wanted her to help.
“I know that you have places to be, but I was wondering if you would lent me a second of your time to inquire for your help on a rather personal matter.”

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Hermione felt a little cornered. Not threatened, by any means, but Malfoy’s mere presence had her reeling, and for a moment, she considered declining simply because it was the easiest, quickest.
Still, even though it had been months since Harry had asked her to trust Malfoy, his voice remained somewhere in the back of Hermione’s mind. She worked her jaw, a little reluctant.
Ron was waiting home alone with the kids, but Hermione couldn’t say she wasn’t interested in hearing Malfoy out, feeling schadenfreude at the humiliation he must be feeling to even ask.
“Come in,” she eventually caved, stepping aside.

A wave of relief washed over Draco when Granger stepped aside and invited him inside her office, knowing that even getting this far was half the battle.
What he wanted to asked of Granger was likely extremely illegal, not to mention unethical, however Draco was so desperate to be with Harry again that he was willing to risk everything that he had built at the ministry for that chance.
“Thank you,” he said in a soft voice, having come to the conclusion before coming here that politeness and professionalism was probably going to be his best shot at having success with this.
“I really am sorry to bother you, but I figure that it goes without saying that I wouldn’t be here if I had anyone else to ask.”

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Closing the door behind them, there was a moment where Malfoy felt like a strange creature in Hermione’s office. She knew he had been hired to work in the DMLE around the time Harry left, but with his hair cut short, he looked so much like the version of him Hermione remembered from their youth. She had, however, probably never experienced holding the upper hand quite as clearly as she did now, able to spot his nerves even through his professionalism.
At least that felt refreshing, an ounce of humility.
She gestured for him to take a seat at her desk, figuring this wouldn’t be quick, the way he was dancing around the subject. “What do you need?”

Dutifully, Draco took the seat he was pointed towards, having every intention of being as pleasant and professional as he could muster. His entire plan hinged on Granger’s help and he honestly had no idea what he was going to do if he couldn’t get her to agree to help him.
“I need you to hear me out,” he said matter of factly, knowing just how insane the request he was about to make was, but in all of his time in studying magic, especially dark magic, he had never encountered a more talented witch or wizard than Granger, at least not one who was still alive, so if he hoped to come out of his experiment alive, he desperately needed her.
“Because I know what I am about to ask of you is a lot,” he continued, wanting her to be aware of that fact that he knew exactly what he was asking, and that he wasn’t taking this lightly. “But I also desperately need your help, so all I ask is that you let me finish talking and at least consider what I am asking of you before you turn me away.”

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Hermione’s expression shifted at that, for just a moment, at the amount of preamble Malfoy needed to get off his chest. For what it was worth it was interesting, but it also felt eerie, amplified by the quiet of her office; had she not known better, Hermione could almost believe Malfoy was ramping up to ask her to take an Unbreakable Vow, too.
Needing the distance between them that her desk offered, she took a seat herself, too. “Go on.”

Part of Draco was honestly woefully unprepared for how easily it had been to get Granger to listen to him. He wasn’t guaranteed her help yet, however just the fact that she was willing to hear him out gave him the small shot of confidence that he needed to go on.
“I want to remove my magic,” he stated, figuring that he could just as well get the dramatics out of the was before explaining to Hermione what he needed her help with.
“It has come to my attention that my indiscretions as a teen has left me with a rather large amount of residual dark magic is stuck to my native magic, making it impossible to remove one without the other,” he continued, having spent so much time researching this that he was absolutely certain that this was the only way.
“However, as much research as I have done, and as much knowledge as I have, I can’t quite figure out what my final steps should be, furthermore, I suspect that I may not be able to do it alone,” Draco spoke on, relieved that Granger hadn’t thrown him out after his very first sentence.
“This is where I hope to employ your help.”

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Despite having done a decent job of not letting her emotions betray her, Hermione’s composure completely crumbled at the ask, her face one of genuine shock. She was glad that she took a seat, the width of the desk between allowing some anchor to the conversation as she gawked at Malfoy like he had grown another head.
Despite the violence of the crime he had asked her to assist him in, the harm he wanted to inflict on himself, it was pure incredulity that struck her first, shocked at the timing; everything she had seen Malfoy work for the past year would disappear along with his magic, once again exiled from wizarding society.
“Are you out of your mind?” she asked, the promise to hear Malfoy out without interruption long forgotten. Her voice wasn’t raised but it was shaken, nonetheless.

The question was very much on par with any reaction that Draco could have possibly predicted from Granger, honestly surprised that she hadn’t chucked him out the second he said that he wanted to remove his magic. He knew that explaining to her why this was important to him was going to be much more difficult, but he knew just how pivotal she was to his success.
“I know this might seem extreme, but trust me when I say that this is not something that I am rushing into,” he said, trying to keep his voice even and professional still, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for much longer.
“There are certain circumstances that I would like to change in my life and I see no other way of achieving them,” he continued, making the mistake of briefly thinking of Harry, and how it had felt the first time Draco had heard him say I love you to him, and almost breaking his composure.

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Hermione saw something flicker across Malfoy’s expression that made her frown in turn, a sceptical little quint of her eyes. For a moment she thought he might falter in his professionalism, something raw and honest there and gone again in an instant.
“Which?” she asked directly, less interested in flowery language herself. Malfoy was asking her to commit a crime and she felt entitled to the motivation behind it, even though Malfoy had seemed to put great effort into skirting that bit of it.
The pure bluntness of her words were lathed in doubt, doubting a good enough reason even existed. “Which circumstances?”

When Draco had decided that he needed to approach Granger for help he had hoped that he wouldn’t have to delve too much into his reasonings, however part of him had known better than that. What he was asking Granger to do was extremely risky, not to mention illegal, so it was only fair that she wanted to know.
His thoughts once again went to Harry, considering what it could be like if this actually worked out, if he and Granger found a way to do this without killing him in the process, and the thought almost took his breath away.
“It’s Harry,” he said, the words spilling out of his mouth unbidden, having not really taken the time to formulate a proper reply, but he knew that this was what it boiled down to; it was about Harry.
“I don’t know how much he has told you about his illness and our… companionship,” he continued, trying to look up at Granger, however he found that he was sharing too much of himself already, so his gaze kept finding the desk between them instead.
“But I concluded that I was making him more sick the longer we spent together, due to the residual dark magic left over within my mark,” he said, working his way up to be able to say what was actually the important part and realising that he had never actually said it out loud. “I am, however, also in love with him and I have strong reason to believe that he loves me too.”

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Hermione hadn’t expected that, and the sheer sincerity of Malfoy’s words made her heart rate quicken as though Malfoy had lunged across the desk, like him sharing that with her was all too intimate.
Hermione knew Harry’s relationship to Malfoy was complicated; that it had been since Hogwarts, and that it probably had continued to be so into adulthood, remembering the tense sort of trust they had seemed to share, back when Harry had asked them to let Malfoy examine them. What Malfoy was speaking of was, however, something else entirely, and she wasn’t sure she believed it, her face a complicated expression. Harry himself had told her no such thing.
“Malfoy, I…” she started, but her voice trailed off, trying not to let a sympathetic sort of pity show on her expression. No matter the kindness she wanted to show the man in front of him, Harry had been gone for more than half a year; it felt like too much time for Malfoy to make that decision for the both of them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Draco had purposefully not allowed himself to consider what Granger’s reaction to his proposal would be, fearing that he would spook himself out of even asking, but he was regretting the decision now, finding that he didn’t really have an answer to the comment.
“It isn’t,” he said, knowing that it was a terrible idea to use home brewed, experimental magic on himself to get rid of all of his magic, leaving him open and vulnerable in the muggle world.
Despite that, he knew that there literally was no other way for him to move forward, so he just had to pray that he would be able to appeal to Granger despite it all.
“I do understand that this is a lot to take in,” he said, returning his gaze to Granger, feeling that it was important that he look at her for this, such that she might be able to see his sincerity.
“But I also hope that my asking you for help shows you just how serious I am being about this” he added, wanting to beg and plead for her help, but also figuring that that would lead him nowhere. “I really and sincerely love him, and while that isn’t the only reason for me wanting to do this, I can’t deny that that is the main one.”

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Hermione stared at Malfoy, her brows furrowed and her mouth open in yet another rejection. With an outside perspective, what Malfoy was suggesting was not only incredibly reckless, but utterly out of proportion. For the love and affection Hermione had for Harry, it felt ludicrous that a pureblood wizard, Draco Malfoy at that, would want to cut ties to the only society he’d ever know for him. Especially if Malfoy couldn’t on good authority assure her that Harry loved him back.
It was that thought that made something catch in her chest, a pang knowing Malfoy might not ever get a chance to know if it was reciprocated now they were forced apart.
“I’ll think about it,” she eventually managed, her voice tight with the effort it had taken to change the words already on her lips. “I won’t promise it’ll change anything, I still think it's madness. But I’ll think about it.”

If Draco was being entirely honest with himself, then this was a much better result than what he could have hoped for. Obviously, he wouldn’t have asked Granger for her help unless he thought that there was a chance that she would provide it, but the reality of the situation made Draco feel hopeful in a way that he didn’t think that he would.
“Thank you,” he said, knowing that what he was asking of Granger was more than he had ever asked of anyone in his entire life, and it seemed unfair that she would have to carry that burden, but she was also the only one who could feasibly help him.
“I really appreciate it,” he added as he got up from the chair, not wanting to overstay his welcome even more. “I won’t be taking more of your time.”

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Hermione couldn’t say Draco Malfoy had ever occupied a lot of her mental space, but these past weeks, she hadn’t been able to shake his request. It had lingered in the corner of every other thought, popping to the forefront as everything from an urge to laugh, to dreams that bordered on nightmares, bolting her awake.
She had planned on declining, because she hadn’t been able to find enough upside to actually go through with this. She had, however, come to the realisation that Harry probably could.
They had visited him with the kids over the weekend, and though Hermione hadn’t mentioned Malfoy’s visit to her office, they had spent some time revisiting Harry’s past year; while it hadn’t been the first time they had visited that same topic, Hermione had gone home with an entirely different perspective.
By the time Hermione went to the DMLE, it was almost three weeks after Malfoy had asked for her help. Like Malfoy, she had come late in the afternoon, hoping to catch Malfoy before he left for the day.
She knocked on the door, speaking before even opening it. “Malfoy?”

As he was rapidly approaching the three week mark of having asked Granger for help, Draco had come to terms with the fact that she likely didn’t want to help. He couldn’t exactly blame her, only all too aware of the weight of his ask and just how much it was actually asking of her.
It had been devastating to him of course, but he had thrown him back into his work, both the work for the ministry and his extracurriculars, and tried to put it all behind him.
It was quiet in his part of the ministry, and he was all too aware that most of his coworkers would have left for the day, thus the knock on his door made him jump; having not expected to be disturbed more for today. He looked up just as he heard the familiar voice of Granger, which surprised him more than anything else.
“Come in,” Draco prompted, knowing that it probably sounded far more like a question than a statement.

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The tension was palpable the moment Hermione opened the door, her mere presence feeling like half an answer. She took a seat in the chair across from Malfoy’s, but remained perched on the edge, no intentions of lingering more than absolutely necessary.
It took her a good moment to speak.
“What you’re wanting to do is incredibly dangerous,” she started, her voice steady and even; practised.
Over the course of the past few weeks she had mulled over the entire situation. Both what it entailed, but also what she wanted to communicate to Malfoy, desperately needing to make the entire premise clear, fairly certain that even if she did want to help, there was no guarantee she could help.
After a long moment, she eventually decided to cut the speech short, the decision settling over her shoulders like a weight was placed on her. “We can’t ever discuss it here. So you should come join us for dinner.”

Every single one of Draco’s nerve endings was one fire the second Granger had stepped into the room, feeling strung out and nervous about what she could possibly have to say to him. After all, he had known since the beginning that what he was asking her to do could potentially kill him as well, however when he thought about his life and what he was missing out on it seemed like a fair exchange.
Having forced himself to accept the fact that he likely wasn’t going to get her help, it seemed even harder for Draco to accept the fact that he was getting it now. He wasn’t sure what his face was saying right in that moment, feeling a million different thoughts running through him at a thousand miles per hour.
“Alright,” he said, unsure what else he could possibly answer to that. “Now? Or?”

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