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How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties	By : Alcoholic_Rootbeer Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 7990 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story

Chapter List
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You know that he trusts you and I know that he loves you
But somehow you convinced me again
My foundation rumbles and all my morals crumble
My father's warnings run through my head
Your heart's a vine that I've bled trying to climb
Yeah, you're making a ruin of me
Try to survive, keep my spirit alive
But like a knife in the woods
Yeah, you hunt down the good in me
"The Good In Me" by Jon Bellion
This really, to me, describes how Hermione is Diggle's Kryptonite.
HIGHLY recommend listening to this song.
The trick wasn't getting inside of Gringotts. If anything, that was the easy part. There were only five people authorized to know the whereabouts of the Gray Magic: Harry, Draco, Hermione, Dean and Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt. It had been Hermione's idea, two years ago, to seal it away inside of Greg Diggle's vault. No, the real work would come from Greg Diggle himself, for only he could unseal his vault and grant them access.
"Remind me, again, why I have to wear this ridiculous disguise?" Draco grumbled as he ran his fingers down the adhesive goatee over his perfectly sculpted face. He glanced in a nearby window as they marched down the road in the direction of Gringotts, catching the reflection of his once blond hair, now a faded brown thanks to some 'temporary hair dye spray' Hermione insisted on. "Why couldn't I just wave my wand and give myself a new look?"
"Because," said his fianceè, "Someone got himself thrown in Azkaban and will be found out if he goes around looking like himself."
"Also," added Potter, "Gringotts has wards up for any disguising charms."
"Come on, Draco," sniggered Diggle, a skip in his step as he marched down the road disguised as Dean Thomas, "where's your adventurous spirit? Being someone else is fun."
"Not all of us get our jollies off on being someone else," Draco replied. "Especially when one could look as amazing as my usual self."
"Being overly pale isn't a quality I'd deem as attractive…" muttered Potter.
"Says the oaf who married a pale redhead -do you listen to yourself sometimes, Potter? Really."
"We should go over the plan once more," said Hermione, pausing as they stood across the street from their destination.
"Hermione. If we go over the plan anymore, I'm going to start making it my mantra." Potter pushed his glasses up his nose.
"I just don't want to run the risk of anyone figuring out what we're doing." She straightened her shoulders, brushed down her robes, and fluffed out her curls. "Frankly, this idiotic idea to break you-know-who out behind the Minister's back is preposterous…"
"I don't think I'm near all that bad to be referred to as you-know-who," said Diggle cheerfully.
Potter scratched at the side of his cheek, irritated. "Malfoy was being watched, Mione. He needed to appear to have a plan of his own to break you-know-who out. One that didn't involve me going to the Minister of Magic and asking for temporary guardianship of the world's most dangerous criminal."
"Once again, it's not nearly as flattering as you think to be referred to as you-know-who…"
Dean-Diggle stepped up between Harry and Hermione. Draco didn't approve of it one bit, and he wedged himself between his fianceè and her stalker. "How about we give you a code name? Does 'The Twat' work for you?"
"I second that," replied Hermione.
"Here, here," said Harry.
"I'm surrounded by comedians," Diggle sneered sarcastically.
"Ready?"
The four of them crossed the streets and prepared themselves for what was to come.
Gringotts was bustling this time of day Hermione noted as they approached one of the goblin tellers, who was busy scribbling away on a bit of parchment at his desk. He looked as if he really couldn't be bothered as he grabbed up a gold stamp and slammed it down on the parchment before waving his hand and spelling it to a pile behind him. Hermione's heart gave a bit of a start when the goblin turned its beady eyes on Harry and company, remembering her fateful adventure of pretending to be Bellatrix Lestrange all those years ago. She felt the same nervous edge as the goblin placed one hand, and then the other, over the edge of his desk and peered down at the group.
"Auror Potter," he said, a sharp edge to his voice. He stroked down his beard with his knobby fingers. "To what can I help you with today?"
"Must be nice being such a celebrity," muttered Diggle, and Hermione dug her heel into his toes, causing him to wince.
"Auror business," Harry replied casually, presenting a key from his pocket. "My associates and I are doing follow up on a case, and we have reason to believe some evidence might be resting in this vault here."
The goblin reached down from his overly-sized desk, plucked the key from Harry's hand, and observed it thoroughly. "I see." He looked over the group cautiously. "Very well. Come with me." He disappeared from view for a moment before walking around his desk and wobbling past them, towards the back doors. "Quickly, now!" he called. "I don't have all day."
"Oh, I fear we'll never catch up," Draco sneered under his breath, "He's so quick, you know."
"Draco," Hermione scolded barely above a whisper, and he met her gaze with a flirtatious wink. She rolled her eyes, thinking how a beard and brown hair would never suit him in real life, and followed behind Harry. She stopped, when she realized Diggle walked behind her, turned to him, and added, "You first." It was far too unnerving to have him behind her, possibly ogling her as she walked. Diggle (as Dean) gave a perfect imitation of Dean's aloof grins and stepped in front of her, taking point behind Harry. Draco reached over, squeezing her hand lightly, and gestured her forward, following promptly behind her.
They all climbed into a cart and watched on as the goblin, who now identified himself as Tonklin, steer the cart down the tracks and descended into the underground tunnels of Gringotts.
"After this, I say we grab a bite to eat. I'm thinking… Italian?"
"Dean?" Draco smirked. "Do shut up."
"Aww, that's no way to talk to your best friend."
"He's not my -you're not my best friend."
"Funny. That's not what I say."
"How would you know what you say?" There was a pause. "Wait, does… do you visit yourself?"
Hermione exchanged wary glances with Draco as it became apparent: Dean still visited Diggle in Azkaban. She, also, noticed Harry didn't bat an eyelash, which gave her the sneaking suspicion he knew. Anger bubbled up inside of her not only towards Dean but also her best friend. How dare they allow this psychopath any version of comfort? As if he could sense Hermione's heated glare, Harry rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully like it might burn. Good. They would speak about it later.
In the meantime, she kept her eyes peeled on the numbers they wheeled past, keeping careful eyes out for one section in particular. As they approached a nearby curvature in the tracks, she prepared herself. "I feel a bit faint…"
"Auror Granger?" Draco said, right on cue.
"Could we pull the cart over a moment?" she called up, and as she pretended to feign a cough, she slipped a puking pasty (courtesy of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes) from her robes and took a bite. Nausea overtook her immediately, and she, on cue, vomited all over the back of Tonklin's dapper three piece robes. The cart came to a screeching halt as the goblin cried out in shock and pulled the brake lever. With eyes the size of small saucers, Tonklin furrowed his brows together and stared back at Hermione formidably.
"I'm so sorry!" she gasped, "Oh, dear me! Allow me to clean you up!"
It was apparent by Tonklin's withering gaze; he wished very much she were not an Auror so he could tell her off. He threw up one entirely too long finger and shook his head. "No! Thank you." He sounded anything but thankful. "We should continue."
Hermione pretended as if she were about to blow chunks again, and Draco, squeamishly, put a hand on her shoulder. "Auror Granger, perhaps you need a moment to collect yourself?"
"I think that's best," she nodded appreciatively, looking to her disguised fiancè. They shared a real smile which had 'Dean' shifting uncomfortably.
"I'll stay behind with her," he offered.
"Thank you, Auror Thomas," she replied.
"Would that be alright, Tonklin?" Harry asked cordially, and the goblin narrowed his beady eyes around at the wizards. Hermione pretended to hold back another bout of vomit. He nodded once while he snapped his fingers, and the cart door flung open. It was written all over Draco's face; the idea of Hermione being alone with Greg Diggle made him want to chuck Diggle over the cart and into the abyss below. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, pleading with her eyes to him not to do anything stupid, and climbed out first, followed closely behind by 'Dean.'
"You sure you'll be alright?" asked Draco.
Hermione nodded. "I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."
"Except when it comes to your stomach," muttered Tonklin. The wizards decided not to comment on it and push their luck.
"We'll be back in two shakes," Harry said as Tonklin shut the cart while eyeing Hermione and 'Dean' curiously. The cart wheeled on with a yank of a lever, leaving the two behind. When the cart was out of sight, Diggle released an entertained sigh of relief and gave way to his true form, all green eyes and boyishly brown tresses.
"Alone at last," he smirked.
Hermione withdrew her wand at once and pointed it directly under Diggle's chin. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Diggle. The only reason I haven't hexed your bits into oblivion is because we happen to need you alive to keep Draco's vow to his grandfather. When that vow has been honored, you and I will be exchanging words, and they will not be pleasant. Do you understand?"
The smirk didn't waver. "Of course, Miss Granger. I would expect nothing less of you."
She paused for half a moment, wondering what exactly was going through his mind. "Right. Good." Hermione lowered her wand ever so slightly and cast her eyes to the left, in the direction of the hallway where their goal resided. "On we go, then."
Diggle tucked his hands behind his back and gave a slight bow. "On we go." He, calmly, led the way, appearing unfazed by Hermione's obvious death threat, instead strolling with a skip in his step that had her stomach wanting to vomit all on its own this time.
"I don't like this," Draco muttered next to Potter as they stepped off the cart two sections below where they left Hermione with the world's most dangerous psychopath. Tonklin was too busy lighting a lantern to take much notice of the two wizards as they whispered casually to one another.
"Hermione's perfectly capable of handling herself," Harry told him. "Trust her enough to have faith in her."
"It isn't Hermione I don't trust."
"Look, do you want this to work, or don't you?" The Auror sighed. "You know the rules. Two may enter. One of them has to be him. And since neither you, nor I, are familiar with the Gray magic, it has to be Hermione."
Tonklin, finally able to light his lantern, wobbled over to them, reeking of vomit. "This way."
"This is absolute bollocks," Draco grumbled, following the goblin down the pathway, thinking how being a distraction could be one of the most miserable experiences of his lifetime.
In an alternate universe, Greg Diggle would be ecstatic to be alone with Hermione Granger as himself and with no other pretenses than working together. However, it was difficult to enjoy his freedom when she refused to look him in the eye or acknowledge his presence unless otherwise needed. He understood why she did it -he wasn't delusional. There were some things one could never come back from and killing a love interest's husband was one of them. But Greg didn't imagine he'd have another chance to discuss a few topics with her ever again, so he overlooked her brooding attitude and said, "You read my letter, I take it."
"Don't talk to me," she snapped, the tip of her wand pointing outwards to light their path. She kept her eyes forward, like the last ten minutes.
"Did you figure it out? My clue to the stone?"
Her back stiffened, and she stopped abruptly. "I have my theories."
"Might I inquire?"
"No, you may not."
"Come on, Hermione. Have a go. I'm anxious to hear-"
"Stop it." She spun around to face him, eyes blazing. "Stop talking as if we're coworkers or chums. We're not. As far as I'm concerned, the day you drop dead is the day I dance in the streets."
Admittedly, her words stung, but Greg simply shrugged and replied, "Bit morbid, don't you think?"
"You wish to discuss with me about morbidity? You killed my husband in cold blood, and then you pretended to be my friend only to betray everything a wizard should stand for."
A coldness spread through Greg's chest, as it sometimes did when he was forced to face the consequences of his actions. "I've offered you a way to fix all of what I've done, and yet you act as if you won't even consider it."
"Because I shouldn't." She glanced down half a moment at her shoes. It would be the perfect opportunity to have the upper hand -a quick body barrel forward to knock her off balance, and he could have her wand in a matter of moments. And, if this were anyone else, he might have done just that. But, as it were, this was Hermione Granger, the chink in his armor. It explained, above all else, why Potter sent her with him instead of himself or Malfoy. Betraying Hermione Granger -to bring her any more pain, was nearly impossible for him to perform. The moment passed, and she stared back up, finally looking him in the eyes. "Ron's dead. As hard as it is for me to admit, bringing him back would only unbalance the universe."
"Not to mention a complication in your future marriage to Draco Malfoy," he pointed out with nonchalance in his tone.
Her eyes narrowed. "I bet you're reveling in that, aren't you?"
"I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel just a tad wonderful to know I've put a strain on you two. -But that was never my intention. I care for you, Hermione-" he extended a hand to comfort her, but she pointed the tip of her wand to his nose, nearly blinding him with her Lumos spell.
"Touch me, and I'll castrate you."
"Duly noted." He dropped his hand to his side at once, never doubting for a moment of her intentions. "But I do care for you."
"You want to care for me?" she asked, leaning in. Her perfume, lilacs with a hint of vanilla, filled his nostrils, creating a nearly euphoric high. "Keep. Draco. Alive. I don't care what it takes. I don't care if it means you sacrifice yourself. -You want to make up for every terrible act you've ever performed? -You keep him alive."
Tension prickled the air between the two, and it was no question why. Asking him to keep his enemy alive was like asking Potter to keep Voldemort alive at all costs. Couldn't she see just how awful of a choice Draco Malfoy was for her? Arrogant. Selfish. Vain. None of these qualities did Hermione Granger possess, and yet she found all of them endearing in the platinum-blond prat. Why? What was it about him that made her forget herself? Greg watched her interactions with Weasley enough through the years to know these were not qualities she tolerated and would critique out of her husband at any given chance. So what was it about Draco Malfoy which would make her turn her back on her very nature?
"I can't guarantee the twit could keep himself alive…" he muttered. "But you have my word, Hermione. He will not die on my behalf. If that is what it takes to satisfy you, so be it."
Hermione's brown eyes shone curiously as she searched his own for something -she must have found it, because she nodded once, curtly, and turned back around. "Right. This way then, Diggle. Your vault is close by, yes?"
Greg couldn't stop the smirk that graced his lips. "Yes, Miss Granger. Just a few rows down."
They walked together, side by side, in peaceful silence, until they arrived at a familiar door Greg thought he'd never see again. He extended his hand towards the palm-shaped lock he'd set up years ago, but Hermione brought her hand up to his, catching it at the wrist. Physical contact. She touched him, willingly, and it made the magic on the back of his neck stand on end. "A few things have changed, Diggle, since you've been here. -As much as the idea of you blowing yourself into bits does sound appealing, I recommend lowering your hand and await further instruction."
Greg nodded once as she released his wrist. "Yes. Of course."
"Hand me your palm."
"My palm?"
She dragged her wand across the lifeline of his hand and sliced it open. Wincing in pain, Greg fought the urge to retaliate somehow, instead turning to his calmer Auror roots. Pain was all in the mind, after all… and in his hand. Oww.
"There are three trials to entering your vault," Hermione explained. "Call it paying homage to your training trials."
He nearly felt flattered. "Let me guess. One of them requires a blood sacrifice?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's called identification magic."
"Couldn't you use a strand of my hair, instead?"
"Oh, yes. I could have." She grabbed up his palm and slammed it against the door, into the fixture shaped like his palm. The door lit to life in a series of churns and grumbles as inner workings decidedly shifted. "But where would be the fun in that?"
"Careful now, Miss Granger. You're beginning to sound like a Slytherin."
She scoffed, still pressing his hand against the cold stone. Greg watched in awe as his blood was soaked into the door by osmosis. Finally, it seemed satisfied with the amount of blood it received because the clink of a lock somewhere inside could be heard, and then the door split in half, swinging open. They stumbled backward to avoid being smashed, and Hermione tripped over herself, flailing towards the ground below. Her wand rolled backward, towards Greg's feet, and both their eyes fell on the slip of wood, wondering what would happen next. "Don't you-"
But Diggle was quicker, and he grabbed it up in a flash, pointing it decidedly at Hermione, still on her backside. "Don't what, Miss Granger?" He smirked. "I hardly believe you could be this careless."
"Give me my wand, Diggle." She jumped to her feet at once, hand out. "Right now!"
"And if I don't?"
"I'm rather versed in wandless magic."
He smirked. "As am I. Or have you forgotten? -Tell me the truth. Is Lucius Malfoy innocent of crimes against my father?"
His question floored her, but her eyes glistened with tenacity. "Put the wand down."
"Not until you answer my question."
She scowled. "If you wanted the truth, you could have simply asked it!" Greg waited patiently, and she finally gave up the ghost. "Harry and I looked into Lucius's memories. It rings true. I didn't want to believe it, but Lucius Malfoy is innocent. I've seen it myself. Now, please… my wand."
With a quick turn, he offered out the base of her wand to her, rendering her speechless. "You can trust me, Hermione. I've told you before; I will do everything I can to ensure your wishes are met."
She waited, like a human forced to pass a coiled snake, and, eventually, decided it was safe enough to take her wand back. Greg happily let her, throwing his hands up in submission.
"Let me make one thing clear, Diggle. I will never trust you." She pointed towards the split doorway. "In."
"As you wish."
Greg relished in the way her cheeks turned the most fetching shade of pink as he passed her, though his mind lay on more pressing matters, such as the fact that Lucius Malfoy was not the murderer of his father. Even coming from Hermione, it still felt… false. It must be, because if it weren't, all these years of pent up hatred towards the Malfoys would only be half deserved. They were still xenophobic ingrates, mind you. Still… could it be so? Hermione Granger was quite a few things: beautiful, intelligent, willful and determined -but a good liar, she was not. As they stepped inside the door and listened to the slow groan as it shut behind them, he gathered up his courage to ask her, "Did… did you see who did it?"
"Who killed your father, you mean?"
Greg nodded, heart beating strongly in his chest. All these years… had they been wasted on the wrong family? Did bringing back Abraxas Malfoy to torture generations of Malfoys really mean nothing now? Was it all for naught?
Hermione pressed her wand into his spine, and the tip lit up in a flare of heat. He did his best to remain calm as she answered, "They wore a hood. I didn't get a good look at their face… but I'm sure it was a man."
Greg listened intently, searching for any hints of deceit. He found none. "Were they tall? Short? Large? How low was his voice?"
"I'll answer your questions when I have The Gray in my possession. Call it -incentive."
He couldn't have felt more proud of her than in that moment. "Quid pro quo, then?"
"Something my Auror Trainer taught me."
Smirking, Greg Diggle clapped his hands together, turned around, and stared into her amazing, chocolate eyes. "I'm ever so glad to have made an impression."
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How To Train Your Auror 2: Family Ties