It wasn't that she was upset, because she wasn't. She was just incredibly enraged.

She could feel her blood boiling inside, the way it had been doing for a couple of heated days now. It was an anger coated red, a feeling she hadn't experienced since she was young and war lived inside of her.

"Are you sure about this, 'Mione?"

Hermione Malfoy turned to Pansy Weasley and Ginny Potter, grunting as a response. 

"I think you're exaggerating," said Pansy with an annoyed huff. "I'm not saying none of us don't have the right to be upset that these twats lied to us, but we don't have a right to question why it happened."

"You punched my brother in the gut," Ginny reminded her sister-in-law. "I think you've exhausted your anger. The rest of us haven't gotten there yet."

Pansy shrugged nonchalantly as she inspected her nails. "I taught him a lesson, didn't I? I may have changed my ways for Ron, but I will never let a bloke think he can get away with lying to me. No matter how much I love him."

"Besides, Ginny," continued Pansy after an awkward pause, "you can't act like you didn't almost hex Potter's bits off. The only thing that held you back from murdering him was Teddy vomiting all over my carpet — which you still have to pay me for. That was an imported Persian rug, Ginevra. A muggle, arm-less man made that."

"You never paid me back for the destruction Peyton caused three summers ago. My garden has not been able to grow roses since," returned Ginny as she crossed her arms. "And Teddy had such a severe alcohol poisoning we had to take him to hospital after that. He couldn't control it."

"No, Peyton couldn't control it. My baby was spewing magic. Teddy, a grown adult, chose to go with Zabini to get plastered. Besides, ever since Peyton's mishap you haven't had gnomes visiting your garden."

Hermione tapped her foot furiously against the tiled ground as her friends continued to talk among themselves. Though the three had been shocked about the truth being kept from them, Hermione was the only one who appeared to remain infuriated. Pansy and Ginny had grudgingly forgiven Ron and Harry, but Hermione had not looked her husband in the eye for so long now. 

How could she forgive him, anyway? Draco had lied to her. He had lied about his father's death — of why Malfoy Manor had been attacked, what led to their youngest child's life hanging by a thread.... It was all Hermione's fault and Draco had refrained from letting her deal with that. 

"Brought you your tea, Aunt Hermione." Reeling Hermione away from her thoughts, Teddy extended her a cup with a bright smile. His hair was especially blue and facial features soft like a marshmallow. "I added honey, just how you like it."

Hermione narrowed her eyes.  "Your mother fancies her tea with honey, Teddy Remus. I prefer it alone," she said as she handed the cup off to Ginny.

Teddy groaned, tossing himself down on the chair behind the desk the women were waiting in front of. "I'm trying to earn your forgiveness here, Hermione. Can't you cut me some slack? I'm just a trainee — I wasn't supposed to know about the case in the first place. I could get sacked if the Minister finds out that I let civilians know."

"And not to mention the alcohol poisoning Thomas hushed up," Pansy sneered, this time inspecting the shine to her wedding ring as her casualness started upsetting those around her.

"Somewhere along your sneaking around, Ted, you should've been able to tell me about it," Hermione responded. "Instead you told Blaise."

"—Oi, what's wrong with Blaise?" Down the hall, with the heels of expensive shoes hitting the marbled ground, a dark-skinned man made his way to the gathered group. A tall woman walked beside him, carrying a large folder and a blank expression.  "He's a charming, sexy man."

Swallowing the bit of tea she drank, Ginny furrowed her brows at the couple. "Oi, what are you two doing here? You better not be planning something stupid."

"Of course they're planning something stupid," Pansy huffed. "That's why I was dragged out of bed so early in the first place —  to make sure the likes of them didn't show up and cause a disturbance." Glaring at Cho Zabini, Pansy crossed her arms seriously. "What's with the files? Planning a legal fight with the Auror Department?"

Not backing down from the intense stare the ex-Slytherin witch was giving her, Cho glared with the same emphasis. "If you must know, Pansy, these are the financial records of Zabini Corporations since my husband took reign of his father's business." She turned away from the dark-haired woman to look at the one that used to be her undeclared rival. "And not to worry, Ginny, we aren't here to cause an argument."

"Not that she can anyway, she is a muggle lawyer. We don't have those here," Teddy piped in. "What?" he asked skeptically, his grey eyes opening wide as the women frowned.

Pansy rolled her eyes and caught Cho's attention once more. "I'm glad you and Zabini aren't here to do something shameful, then. I was not going to let you two ruin Ron's career for something that Teddy let slip. I am not going back to when he and I first started and he attempted to run Weasley's Wizard Wheezes with George." She pulled out her wand, just to get her point across. "I will not."

"Settle down, settle down." Teddy stood, slapping on his trainee badge onto his robes as he walked away from the desk and to the group. "Pulling out your wand inside the Ministry, unless asked by a certified official, is against the law. I'm going to have to ask you to put you wand away, Mrs. Weasley, or you shall be escorted out of the premises."

"That's a lovely badge, Ted," Pansy replied, lowering her wand from Cho's annoyed face and Blaise's partially terrified expression. "How many tests did you have to pass in order to get one?"

Trainee Lupin cleared his throat, looking somewhat in authority as he adjusted his robes.

Laughing to herself, Pansy pointed her wand at Teddy and said, "Evanesco."

Horrified as the little silver badge disappeared from his robes, Lupin gasped and stomped to his mother. "Mum, tell her to give it back!"

"Oh, for goodness sake!" snarling to herself, Hermione took the chance of Teddy's dramatic tantrum to strut herself away from her friends.

"—Hermione, no!"

"—Oi, Granger! Get back here!"

Ignoring the calls that Ginny and Pansy shouted after her and the footsteps she was hearing behind her, Hermione marched to two massive glass doors. Breathing in enough air to ignite the flame inside of her, she pushed the  doors open. She was tired of waiting, tired of doing nothing. It was time.

"—This group was selected for obvious reasons."

"—No one is being ungrateful to that, Minister, but we are just asking to have some trainees bumped up in the ranks. We can't handle the pressure of pending cases."

"We will not—" Boom.

Startling those gathered in the Head Auror's office, Kingsley Shacklebolt stopped his discussion with the Auror in front of him as the doors burst open; an infuriated-looking brunette marched in with a look of burning determination living in her brown eyes— a look the Minister knew so well from her past.

Standing beside the Minister, Harry scowled as his best friend stood inside of his office, distracting the meeting that was going on at the moment. "Hermione, now is not the time. Come back later."

"I will not come back later, Harry Potter." Hermione frowned, waving her wand behind her back and making the glass doors shut. She did not notice the two figures that managed to slither in before the doors locked themselves. "I do believe I have every right to be in here."

With two fingers on his left temple, Draco Malfoy spun slowly in his seat, his faded concentration from the beginning of the meeting came back. He pressed his lips into a tight line, restraining anything from coming to the surface as he felt his blood boil by the sight of his wife.

"Zabini, why are you here?" Ron asked after a minute, his shock slowly easing away as he lowered his half-eaten chocolate frog from his mouth.

Gulping from the profound stare the Minister was wearing and all the other attention he was receiving from the Aurors, Blaise shrugged nervously. "Emotional support, mate." 

"Pans?" Ron added, eyeing his wife suspiciously.

"Just protecting you from this one," Pansy replied, patting Blaise's shoulder as he shook in his stance.

"Hermione, we're in the middle of a private work discussion," the Head Auror repeated, taking a step forward from Kingsley and ignoring the rest of the intruders. 

"I am sorry, Kingsley, for interrupting like this," Hermione said to the Minister instead, ignoring Harry, "but I am here for a serious matter. I know it's not the way to handle these certain things, but I am running out of options with your departments."

"How serious is this matter?" the Minister asked. "Serious enough that it couldn't wait until I was done meeting with my Aurors, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Flicking her eyes quickly to her silent husband sitting in the seat by Harry, Hermione swallowed some of her conflicted emotions. "Yes," she said solemnly.

Kingsley crossed his arms patiently. "I'm listening."

"After the war, Ron and I were given honorary access to the Ministry—"

"Merlin, she had to bring me into this, didn't she?" Ron mumbled from his seat, looking down at the crystal table as his ears turned red as his hair.

"—Alongside with Harry, you granted us the option of joining your Auror Department. Well, I'm here to join the department. I figured I may come into some use. After all, with my uncanny skills, wit, and arsenal I shouldn't be impossible to place in some of your important cases."

The room went silent, gazes turning to the  Minister.

One.

Two.

Three.

"Auror Potter," Kingsley spoke after three long, uncomfortable seconds as he aimed a commanding look at his Head Auror, "have Trainee Lupin get a file of gathered information of our private case. Special Auror Malfoy will be needing one if she's a part of this team." He turned to his workers, looking firm. "The rest of you, look to your Head Auror for a solution to your complaints."

Feeling like her heart gave a loud thump, Hermione had to take another hard intake of air when Kingsley started approaching her, the rest of the people slowly shuffling among each other.

"I'm glad you accepted my special grant, Mrs. Malfoy," the Minister said. "Sixteen years later."

Hermione uncrossed her arms, trying to look grateful. "I really am sorry for the rude interruption, Minister. Not my politest moment, but I've been a bit on edge lately."

"Do I have to pretend like you aren't aware of the circumstances of this particular case, Mrs. Malfoy?"

"It's not his fault...none of theirs," Hermione replied in a whisper, glancing at the group of Aurors, especially at Draco who still sat silently in his chair. "It's my choice."

"Better late than never, right?" Kingsley squeezed the her shoulder. "Goodbye, Hermione."

"—So what are we going to do about the overflowing cases on our laps, Potter?" A man spoke, giving Hermione the chance to approach the end of the office as Kingsley exited the room.

"Watch your tone. That's not the way to speak to the Head Auror," Ron snapped at the burly man.

"He has a point." Speaking up, a sandy-haired Auror sat lazily on his seat as he looked in front of him. "We have been assigned this special case because we are the best Aurors in the department, but we are we're getting assigned cases constantly. We cannot focus on all of them at once. We need to promote trainees now."

Removing his glasses, Harry sighed tiredly as he rubbed his naked eye-lids. "I know he has a point, Johnson." The Chosen One placed his glasses back on, staring at his men with a solution already spilling from his lips. "Tomorrow morning I will have a new secretary, Alyssa Wood. Each of you come up with a trainee that should be promoted, and I'll look over the files. I'll have four new Aurors by the end of this week to handle your neglected cases."

"And that is why he is Head Auror, Weasley," Johnson chuckled as he stood from his chair, the other Aurors making way to exit the office. "Well, what a pleasure seeing you, Pansy. You look absolutely ravishing today."

"Oi!" Ron hissed, bolting from his chair as the man kissed Pansy's hand. "Away from my wife, Johnson."

Passing by Ron and his jealously, Hermione walked up to the remaining men at the end of the table. She remained calm and collected as silver eyes found their way to her.

"You're still not mad at me, are you, Hermione?" Harry asked, gathering his papers in irritation.

"No, Harry, I'm not," Hermione responded to her best friend. "I'm past it."

"Brilliant," Potter scoffed. "You almost cost me my title with your interruption so I suppose we are even now."

She nodded uninterested, her eyes flashing at her husband. "Well?" she called in a low voice, giving Harry the hint to bugger-of. "Are you not going to argue with me, Draco?"

Looking up from his open file, Malfoy stared vacantly at his wife. "No," he said in a tone that matched his expression. "If you excuse me, I've got a trainee to recommend." He shut the file and stood from his chair.

"Draco," Hermione turned before he walked away completely from her, "if you're upset, spit it out."

Letting out a puff of air, and a tiny fragment of that smirk that he helped perfect for his legacy, Malfoy kept his back turned on Hermione. "It won't make a difference, will it?"

Her anger began to dissolve faster than she thought was normal—and it was Draco's resignation on her that was starting to cure that fury. "You lied to me, I had no choice. You knew that either way I was going to end up entering this case, Draco. Even if you were trying to protect me."

"Blaise," Malfoy called for his friend, walking out the doors as he left his wife behind with her explanations.

There just wasn't a cure for a Gryffindor's bravery, and Draco knew it. Just like there was not one for a Slytherin's never-ending need to always be right.

                                                                                            X

"Never thought I'd see you any time soon, Zabini." Sitting at his desk, trying to look over the list of trainees in the program that year, Draco found himself speaking for the first time in almost three hours as he figured his concentration was not going to come back any time soon. (He had reread the first name on the parchment more than two-hundred times.) "I was actually starting to believe I lost out on you."

"Really?" Blaise asked, adorable-looking emerald eyes peering up at the blonde man from a few feet away like a child offered a puppy.

"No." Malfoy grunted, vanishing all the hope from his friend's face. "I'm not blessed with that much luck, am I? I knew I had to give you a couple of days for you to come around."

Zabini shook the ice inside his glass of Firewhiskey. "You can fool yourself all you want, Malfoy, but I know you were worried about me." He pulled on a leer, leaning his back comfortably on the little leather couch in the office. "Slightly scared that I was never going to speak to you again, you must have been. Need I remind you I attacked you like a wild animal? That was some serious anger, mate, you had to have been scared."

The blonde Auror looked up from the list, raising an eyebrow at his friend. "You did not attack me, Zabini, you slapped me like a little girl."

"But it still hurt your feelings." Blaise chuckled to himself, smiling brightly as he pictured Draco's shocked face after he had beaten him up. (And the muggle-way. That had to be some extra points for his manly rep.)

"What are you doing in the Ministry, anyway, Blaise? You hate coming in here unless you have brand new shoes to show-off and strut around in."

"Oh, but I do." Zabini raised a foot, pointing at a sleek, black shoe. "Dragon's skin, made by a crippled goblin in Egypt. Excellent quality." He dusted off a bit of dirt from the heel. "But, that's not why I came. I scheduled my showing-off for a week from now. I've got this wicked blazer to go with another pair of shoes made by that crippled goblin."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. (He just had to bring it up, didn't he?)

"Anyway, after Cho saw how worked up I was about the case, and your lies—"the dark-skinned man threw his friend a glare, "she came up with a marvelous plan in that smart head of hers. She had collected all the finances from my corporation since I took control of it, and she planned to enter a debate with Potter and the Minister about letting me into the Auror Department on a special entrance, seeing as I have donated more than twenty-five percent of my earnings every year to the Ministry and other organizations."

Draco kept his eyebrow raised. "And what would that prove?"

 "That I'm a bloody hero, that's what!" Blaise shouted, looking annoyed that Malfoy hadn't gotten it. "I've been helping you lot save lives for more than ten years! I've just been the man who does it secretly, like Clark Kent, and I thought it was time I showed the world how bloody fantastic I am!"

Malfoy narrowed his gray eyes. "Who the hell is Clark Kent?" He asked, irritation building up inside of him quickly. "And you do not do it secretly, Zabini. You have the Daily Prophet capture every sack of gold you hand to the Ministry and the other organizations. You show up in the newspaper more times than any of us when we close a case."

"Oi, I am trying to leave a legacy behind here, Draco! I want my kids to feel pride every time they think of their father, for their classmates to swoon over because I'm a very giving man and half of their ugly faces wouldn't be enjoying some activities Hogwarts has to offer now if it wasn't for me!" Blaise protested, gripping his glass of Firewhiskey tightly. "And who's Clark Kent? Seriously, Draco? It's one of the most popular superheroes in muggle history!"

Choosing to ignore everything he had just said—because he really didn't want to get into a discussion about muggle-ness with him—Draco looked at his friend without a retort. "If your wife's plan to get you to be an Auror was so brilliant, Zabini, why haven't you presented it to the Minister? Why did you just let her go home with Pansy instead of fighting your battle?"

With his blood rushing from the amazing defense he had given himself, Blaise looked down at the golden-like liquid inside the small glass he was holding. His eyes not looking so enthralled as they had been earlier. "Well...as I was hearing your wife go on about the 'special' grant the Minister had given the Golden Trio after the war, I decided it was best that I didn't meddle in with the department."

Seeing the uncomfortable gleam of sadness in his friend's eyes, Draco cleared his throat with uneasiness. "Why?"

Not replying at the moment, Blaise looked at his Firewhiskey for a second. Just staring at the liquid inside the shot-glass glow gold, remembering the burning in his throat he always got when he drank it. But figuring that he didn't have to just remember it, Zabini downed the liquor as he stood from his seat, lowering the glass onto the couch. "Because, mate, some people still don't trust me. Regardless of the amount of galleons I give them...As long as that mark is branded on my skin and people remember it, I can't be the hero like Potter or 'Mione can."

"You see this, Blaise?" Malfoy's voice came out loud, stepping away from his desk and work as he marched towards the dark-skinned man. He rolled up the sleeve of his dusty-blue button-up shirt, exposing the cursed skull and serpent on his flesh.

"Don't, mate." Blaise looked away from it, seeing the tattoo on his friend for the first time since they were sixteen. "I don't look at mine, and I don't fancy looking at yours either...That part of my life's buried back."

"You're right about one thing. They have their pasts in common, Zabini, and we have ours." Malfoy continued, his forearm still exposed. "But it's our twisted past that keeps us united, Zabini," he confessed, trying not to think about how much of a pansy he was sounding at the moment. "...I was never planning on letting them get to your wife, your children, or you. I had it covered, believe me."

Slowly moving his hand to the arm that bore his dark mark, Zabini nodded at his best friend. "It's good, then, that I've one of my kind inside, right?" He chuckled for the first time without any humor.

Draco nodded.

"...I don't really much care about myself, mate, just make sure Cho is always protected. She won't admit it, but she's been more paranoid by the minute."

And before he could come up with a response to that sentimental remark Blaise made about his wife, the door of his office opened. Letting inside a witch with a stack of archives and wide, almost transparent eyes as she stumbled into the men and their dark marks. "Oh...erm, I'm so sorry, Mister Malfoy." Tanya Rowle took a step backwards. "I'll come back later. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Miss Rowle," Blaise spoke, not flirting with the young secretary as was accustomed. "I'm heading off. My wife's waiting for me. See you later, mate. Pub night, don't forget."

Stepping to the side so her boss' friend could exit, Tanya flashed an embarrassed look at the blonde man. "...I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Draco waved it off, pulling his sleeve down. "Did you manage to get the files from the vault of archives I sent you for?" He changed the conversation, not wanting the woman to dwell on the tattoo that certified him a Death Eater.

"Erm, no," Tanya responded, looking down at the stack of papers she was holding. "I couldn't even file the reports of your previous cases either, Mister Malfoy."

"Why not?" He asked, crossing his arms. "I need those files, Miss Rowle."

"I know, Mister Malfoy, but the trainees in charge of vault duty are not in their assigned locations. They're the only ones with the keys to enter the vault, no one else has access," Tanya spilled, feeling a bit of anger that the man was getting aggravated with her. "They all seem to be off congratulating your wife for joining the Auror Department," she informed before he could ask. "Apparently, they are all loyal fans of hers."

Turning away in frustration, Draco tried to control the bubbling anger as he sat down on one of the visitor chairs across from his working spot. "Word gets around quite fast, doesn't it?"

"If I may, Mister Malfoy, I think it's such a blessing that Mrs. Malfoy has been assigned as an Auror. I know a lot about her and she's fascinating. She's really going to help with these cases," Tanya confessed, trying not to let a dark emotion to express itself. "Everyone is really excited."

"Of course they are, she's Hermione bloody Granger," Draco huffed, rubbing his temples as he could already imagine the commotion the rest of the departments will be. (The famous Golden Trio, working together at last! Oh, the people of Britain will start feeling safer once the Prophet announces it.)

"You're not so pleased, are you, Mister Malfoy?" Tanya dared herself to ask, walking towards the desk.

"What gave it away, Tanya?" Draco retorted. "My wife should be home, where she is safe. Not here. Not attempting to fight back like she's still at war."

The secretary lowered herself on the chair next to her boss after putting her files on his desk, thinking about words to say wisely at the angry-looking man. "Have you ever thought, Mister Malfoy, that perhaps she's much safer closer to you than at home? That perhaps she serves a much greater purpose here?"

"You think I'm overreacting, then?" The blonde man asked, looking up at the dark-haired witch. Not knowing why he was exactly having this conversation with his employee.

Smiling with bright, tainted red lips, Tanya focused her clear green eyes into the silver ones of Draco Malfoy. Her eyes zeroing deep inside the pupils of the man, not blinking once as she did so.

Feeling like his shoulders were slumming down, his bones constricting with each other, muscles going rigid, Draco's heartbeat slowed dangerously low. His senses no longer functioning. His silver eyes dilated, his pupils expanding as he lost himself in a darkness he didn't know of.

"...You let her be here," she whispered to the blonde man, putting her palms on his lap as she lifted herself slowly from her seat; her eyes never leaving his. "Just until the moment is right."

Snaking her wand from the pocket of her pencil-skirt, Tanya jabbed the end of it onto Draco's forehead. And just as she focused her gaze deeper into his, she closed the distance between them. Pressing her lips against his, moving them with his robotic ones in a violent kiss. And as soon as it happened, she pulled herself away. Hiding her wand again, sure that she wouldn't blink and ruin the perfect silence he was in.

"Don't fret, Mister Malfoy, she's safe," Tanya Rowle spoke to the unfocused man. "For now."