Archive of Our Own ^beta

Crooks likes the dark time, when the sky is deep blue and the white ball in the sky makes the shadows shift and stretch around him. Crooks goes out lots, to hunt and to patrol the areas; to see if there is anything suspicious happening that he needs to tell Mother about. 

Crooks has his favourite areas and this one is the best. Lots of nice smells and soft green cushions to lie on; makes his feet smell nice. Mother always gives him long cuddles after he is here. Crooks shall find a nice present for Mother. She always looks stressed. 

Yes… Crooks will find a nice bird for Mother, and then Mother won’t go to the underground place. She will stay with Crooks. Give him ear scratches… Yes. 

Crooks needs to follow the noises. The fluttering and squawkings. Must find one soon, the light is coming back and Mother will be awaking. 

Aha! There is one… Crooks is silent now… Bird cannot see Crooks; crouching low, reading and—

BANG. 

Bird has gone! Bird needs to come back. Why did the window make the noise? Oh… It’s THAT lady. Crooks doesn’t like that lady. She is untrustworthy; doesn’t like Crooks. Yells all the time. 

“Oh for fucking Merlin’s sake, that thing is back. Get OUT of my garden you ugly ginger devil!” 

Crooks thinks lady is MEAN. 

“No! No, don’t you dare piss on my herbs you little wretch—oh that’s it i’m going to get you you horrible, mangy, little RODENT.” 

Crooks feels smug, he made the lady very angry this time. But he must find new bird so that Mother—

“AHA! I’ve got you now, you little pest.” 

~*~

Hermione’s day started the way it normally does. She woke up 55 seconds before her alarm, and pretended to stay asleep until it went off. She showered, brushed her teeth and stared at her hair menacingly for three minutes before she admitted defeat and tied it back in a low bun. Then she went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee, before bending down to scratch behind Crooks’ ears—

Except Crooks wasn’t there. 

“Huh.” 

He must still be out , she thought. 

She glanced around the flat, and sure enough there were still tell tale signs of Crooks’ presence: the pile of jumpers on her bedroom floor were slightly flatter than before; cat hair covering her velvet reading chair; spilled water around his water bowl in the kitchen; and the paperwork she’d been reading over before bed was slightly chewed on one corner. 

Pouting slightly, she gathered up her work things and sat on the couch, wondering if Crooks’ would magically appear, like he was wont to do. When he didn’t she sighed heavily and Floo’d to work. He’d turn up sooner or later, he always did. There was no reason to be concerned.  

~*~

“Oh who’s a good kitty? Who’s the best kitty of them all?” 

“I hate you so much right now.” 

Crooks doesn’t know what is happening but the Man is itching his ears so nicely that he thinks there is no harm in lying here for a bit longer. If only the Mean Lady would stop talking so much.

The Nice Man has hair like Mothers but shorter. He is feeding Crooks lots of tuna—much more than Mother does. Crooks must make sure Mother increases that when he gets home. This is nicer tuna too. 

Oh… that is salmon he’s holding. The Man has salmon , Crooks must stay for a bit longer. Mother will be ok. 

~*~

She was having lunch with Harry in Diagon Alley when she thought she saw a flash of orange fur out the corner of her eyes. She whirled around, trying to follow it but it had vanished from view. 

“You ok?” he asked. 

“Hmm? Oh yeah, fine. Just thought I’d seen… Never mind. Sorry. What were you saying about Hollis’ new policy?” 

Harry waved a hand. “Not important, it’s boring as anything.” He cleared his throat as Hermione frowned at him, before asking, “So how is everything with you? How’s the, uh, flat? And Crookshanks?” 

“Uh, good?” Hermione replied, slightly confused. Harry was staring at her intently and a tiny seed of something landed softly in her chest. “Well, actually I haven’t seen him at all this morning I—”

“Oh no, he’s missing?” Harry’s voice sounded oddly high pitched. The seed took root. The feeling was still unknown but it was growing more pronounced. 

“Well, not really. He just didn’t come home last night so—“

“Well that simply won’t do!” Harry stood up, his chair skittering back a few feet. The few patrons around them looked up, disturbed by the sudden noise and Hermione couldn't help but gape at him. “Come on, finish your coffee quickly, and then let’s go find him.” 

“Harry,” Hermione laughed. “It’s the middle of the work day!” 

“Exactly! And you’re looking at the youngest ever Deputy Head of the DMLE. I have all the tools that we need at my disposal.” He gave her a wide grin that made him look more manic than reassuring. Then he wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. 

“Harry,” Hermione said slowly as she got to her feet. “Crookshanks isn’t actually missing. Or at least, I highly doubt he is. You know what he’s like, he used to go off all the time at school. He hasn’t done it for a while, granted, but I don’t think it’s cause for this much concern.”

“Hermione!” Harry admonished, his hand coming up to rest on the base of his throat like a scandalised Victorian matriarch. “Think about poor Crookshanks! He could be in trouble; all alone; hurt, or maimed! You can’t leave him to such an awful fate now can you?”

She stared at him. Hermione had never heard Harry speak about Crookshanks in such a worried, or even positive, way in her life. She’d actually never had a proper conversation about her cat with Harry, full stop. The seed in her chest began sprouting little shoots.

“What is wrong with you today?” She asked as she slowly followed him back to the ministry, 

He shifted, his eyes widening slightly—a perfect iteration of the face he pulled when they would be nearly caught by a teacher under the invisibility cloak. Then his face relaxed and he gave her a sheepish smile. He held open the door to the lifts for her. 

“You’re right, sorry. It’s just been so, um, dull in the office recently. Hardly any issues to deal with. No noise complaints, not even any minor scuffles—nothing. I’d even accept a little murder at this point. If I have to go over old reports again ‘to widen my knowledge base’ I swear on my life I’m going to quit, Hermione.” 

She rolled her eyes indulgently. The soil dried up a little. 

“So anyway, let me take on Crookshanks’ case—please. It’ll be a life saver.”

“Wait, Harry, you’re being serious? No! You’re not wasting DMLE resources on my cat—Oh no, don’t give me that look.” Harry’s eyes had widened and his mouth had gone all soft, a perfect image of Crooks, actually, when he wanted her to give him the nice tuna for dinner. “I have a Wizengamot hearing at four, and a proposal on hippogriff safety measures to begin drafting. I can’t just abandon it all and swan about with you looking for a cat that is most likely not lost .” 

“I can’t believe you’re giving up on Crookshanks so easily, Hermione. After everything that cat has done for you and you’ll just so willfully let him perish?” he intoned, hand over his heart, eyes still comically wide.

Hermione shoved his shoulder. “You’re relentless,” she laughed. 

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” Harry said triumphantly as he strode down out of the lift towards his office. “I’ll keep you updated!” 

“Just don’t waste unnecessary resources!” she called after him. He simply waved a hand dismissively in the air without turning around. 

Hermione managed to put Crookshanks and Harry’s odd behaviour to the back of her mind as she debated her way through her hearing, and then as she got started on the worryingly unstable stack of reports teetering on her desk. 

It wasn’t until she began drafting her new proposal before she headed home for the day, that an interview request slid into her inbox, and the little seed in her chest began to flower.

~*~

Crooks is going to go back to Mother soon, but the cushions on this sofa are the perfect texture to knead. Mother will understand. 

The man is very good at ear scratches, although Crooks wishes the lady would stop glaring at him. Crooks glares back, of course, but it is ruining the relaxing environment.

“Stop glaring at him, it’s ruining the vibe we’ve got going on here. He keeps tensing when he catches sight of you, honestly.”

“He’s sitting on my side of the sofa! And he’s putting his horrible, herb destroying paws all over my favourite cushion. I will glare at him for as long as I please, thank you very much.” 

Oh… yes, that’s it. Bit higher… there, exactly there. Crooks must stay here for a bit longer, make sure the lady isn’t a threat that he should be warning Mother about. There is something in the lady’s eyes that he doesn’t trust. 

And Crooks wouldn’t mind having more of that tuna that the Man… Oh yes, that tuna, exactly. The Man has good taste. 

~*~

“Harry James Potter, why on earth is Draco Malfoy requesting my presence in his office tomorrow morning in order to, and I quote, ‘discuss the details pertaining to my very important case ’?” The door to Harry’s office closed sharply with a punctuated BANG . 

Harry’s head jerked up from the crossword he was doing on his desk. 

Hermione pursed her lips, arms crossed and foot tapping against the marble floor as she looked up at him. She watched with frustrated bemusement as he valiantly attempted—but ultimately failed—to school his expression into innocence. 

He cleared his throat. “He’ll have great insight, Hermione. Malfoy’s phenomenal at abduction cases—“

“Crooks hasn’t been abducted!” Hermione interrupted. She narrowed her eyes at him, and Harry noticeably gulped. “And why is Draco Malfoy even considering such a preposterous endeavour in the first place? Surely Mr. ‘I’m Not Working On Cases Below My Skill Level’ has something better to do than help look for my missing cat—who probably isn’t even missing.”

Harry looked astounded. “Hermione, take this seriously. What if Crookshanks is seriously injured? Or has been stolen by a rogue Death Eater, and they’re going to use him to try and lure you into a trap?”

She blinked at him, her mouth falling open slightly. 

“Harry,” she asked slowly. “Did you fall down and hit your head this morning?” He frowned at her. “Did a rogue Death Eater try and fail to kill you today? And you’re definitely feeling ok?” She reached out a hand to touch his forehead, trying not to laugh at the confused look he gave her fingers. “I think you’ve got a concussion or something, because you’re beginning to sound a bit like Luna, love.” 

The confusion on his face morphed into dry amusement, and he sat back in his chair. A smirk pulled at his lips for a half a second before he seemingly caught himself and schooled his expression back into neutral. 

Well, what Hermione assumed Harry perceived as neutral. In reality he looked like a caricature of innocence from those cartoons she watched a child.

“Just go to the meeting, Hermione. What harm will it do? If Crookshanks really is missing, or hurt, you’ll be beating yourself up for not taking advantage of all this.” 

Hermione leaned away from the desk, and settled her hip against one of the chairs in front of it. “Are there really not enough bad guys for you to hunt down? Is there some kind of wizard criminal shortage? Are you guys being too efficient? How on earth do the both of you have free time to do this?” 

Harry just gave her a bland smile. It was suspiciously similar to the one Ginny used to give Molly when she was lying about being involved in the twins’ pranks. 

The flowering seed began to grow; tendrils climbing throughout her body. 

~*~

The Man tries to put a lead on him, but Crooks knows to not let himself get trapped.

“Ouch, oh fucking Merlin that hurt!” 

“That’s what you get for trying to be nice to a wild beast.” 

Crooks glares at the Man, but lets him approach now that he isn’t holding the lead anymore; but only if he scratches—ah yes, there it is. Right there… just under the chin… 

~*~

Hermione stood at the end of the corridor that led to the main Auror offices, indecision keeping her feet from moving. 

This was a ridiculous venture. Harry was up to something, and she didn’t trust that boy when he was trying to meddle.

Not that she was totally sure what it was he was meddling in , but it was definitely something . And nothing good ever came from such an endeavour. He once tried to set up Ron and Padma, and accidentally sent him on a blind date with Lee Jordan. 

Technically, it worked out because the two of them were still dating. 

But still, her trepidation was well founded. 

Straightening her spine, Hermione headed towards Draco’s office. Not because she believed Harry, but because her curiosity over how he’d convinced Draco Malfoy to help her look for her cat , of all things, was too strong. 

Draco Malfoy: the enigma of their peer group. Someone who had garnered a reputation for being an antisocial pseudo tyrant, who only managed to keep his job because of an excellent closure rate, and a penchant for timely paperwork (something the rest of the DMLE was notoriously lax at). He was rude to nearly everyone, and wholeheartedly refused to ‘play nice’ with people who he deemed unworthy of his attention (this seemed to include most of his colleagues, and a good percentage of his superior officers).

His friendship with Harry, and thus by proxy, the rest of Harry’s friends was something of an oddity. It was genuinely surprising that he and Harry could even stand to be in the same room together, let alone choose to spend quality time together outside of their work environment, considering their history and Draco’s legendary dislike of everyone and everything. 

But against all odds, the two had struck up a friendship not one week into Auror training. Apparently they’d argued relentlessly for the first few days, which had resulted in an attempt to duel each other on the fifth day—perhaps his odd behaviour today was merely a delayed reaction to that fateful day? 

Their supervisor eventually locked them into the training room for twenty four hours, and they left it as friends. Hermione still wasn’t sure what had happened in there; she’d never been able to get the story out of Harry.  

Since then, Draco had established an odd equilibrium within their group. He turned up to the odd evening out at the Leaky; attended a few dinners here and there (he’d even turned up to Sunday dinner at the Burrow a few times); culminating with the slight integration of his friendship group into their orbit. 

He could only really be described as cordial with most of them, if not a little cool in his general approach. But he’d always been friendly with her, debating the merits of various authors, or discussing the different potions from the current Potions Quarterly paper. 

Her knock was greeted by a crisp, “Enter.” 

Ever since they had become unlikely acquaintances, she had noticed that Draco often had various different ‘tones’ that he used in different situations. For example, when he was talking to Harry and Ginny’s children, it was one of fond exasperation. When he was talking to Ron, on the other hand, it was judgemental and derisive. Hermione was most used to his Public Auror Voice, but over the last few months he’s started dropping it during their conversations. She wasn’t sure how she would describe the tone he was using instead, but it was… nice?

She wondered what it would be today. 

She walked in, dropping her work bag on one of the chairs in front of his desk and folding her arms as she stared down at the top of Draco’s perfectly coiffed hair. 

“I’ll be with you in a second—oh, It’s you.” His eyes widened at the sight of her, his expression seeming to shift through a whole cycle of emotions in the span of a single breath. “Yes, uh, fantastic. Well, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow but this is fine. Great! Even. Okay, uh, what did I do with-Ah yes, right here.”

Hermione blinked down at Draco as he rifled around his desk, his movements jerky and awkward, so at odds with the lithe grace she was used to observing in him. 

He glanced up at her, “Oh, have a seat, please–sorry for the mess, I was just in the middle of organising my files for–” he cut himself off as if he’d realised he was rambling. He audibly swallowed, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. She could almost pinpoint the exact moment his countenance shifted, his expression becoming shuttered, before he sat forward again, all trace of awkwardness gone. 

She had made no move to sit down, a fact that did not go unnoticed by him, as he gave the chair in front of him a pointed look, before arching an eyebrow at her in question. “Well, are you going to have a seat or not?” 

Ah, so he was back to using that tone with her. The Public Auror one. The one that brooked no argument and allowed no folly– a cool, smooth edge of ice. It was her least favourite of his, she decided. It made the hairs on her arms stand up. 

“I know you weren’t expecting me until tomorrow. It’s just, I was on your floor and I thought I might as well pop in.”

She sat, noting how much more comfortable these chairs were to the ones in Harry’s office. A sage green tufted leather chair with a high back and clawed feet. She ran a finger over the soft leather, letting it dip into the divots along the armrest. Leaning back, she settled herself into the expensive fabric, crossing one leg over the other. For a moment she thought his eyes might have travelled down, tracking the movement, but it was too quick for her to be sure. 

“They’re from the family vaults.”

Hermione jerked her head up to find Draco watching her over his glasses.

“Right,” she said, her voice slightly shaky for some odd reason. “Well, is this about Crookshanks? Because you really don’t need to worry about that. This is just Harry wasting time because he doesn’t want to write reports or something, I’m sure.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Potter wasn’t exaggerating when he said you weren’t taking this seriously.” As he spoke, Draco waved his wand and a pot of tea hovered above the desk and poured out two cups of tea; one of which floated towards her. 

Hermione let out a laugh as she accepted the saucer. “Oh no, not you too? Does the Auror office really not have anything to do apart from finding supposed waylaid felines’?”

“Oh no, it’s just Potter that’s wasting time. I have plenty of work to do.” 

Hermione’d just been about to take a sip of what smelt like mint tea. “Wait what? Then why are you offering?”

Draco shrugged, aiming for nonchalance she assumed, but the tops of his cheekbones had developed a light dusting of pink, and his teacup clattered on the saucer in a way she was sure his comportment teachers would’ve been horrified by. He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll do a better job than Potter.”

Almost as if he’d been summoned, Harry strode past Malfoy’s office and stuck his head in. 

“How’s it going you two? Got a plan sorted yet?”

Hermione looked over her shoulder and furrowed her brow. Her seed of suspicion had grown into a fully fledged tree. 

“No, not yet, Potter,” Draco said through slightly gritted teeth, exasperation bleeding through his words. She glanced at him and caught the split second he pulled his Auror Face back on. 

Her frown deepened. 

“Oh, ok,” Harry said, eyes flitting between the two of them. “Well, keep me updated. I’m uh, invested.” He gave them both a grin that verged on maniacal and then headed down the corridor. 

Hermione turned back to Draco, her frown deeply set, and suspicion tingling across her skin. “Why is he acting so weird all of a sudden?”

Draco snorted. “All of a sudden? Come on now, Granger. It’s Potter. He’s always acting strange. Now let’s actually get started. Potter said that Croakshit—“

“Crookshanks!” Hermione interrupted. “As you well know, Draco Malfoy.”

He smirked. “Ah, yes. My apologies. Crookshanks , has been missing for just under five hours?”

“I can’t even be sure he’s missing, Draco. He just wasn’t in the flat this morning.” 

“And you saw him last night?” She nodded. He tapped his fingers on the desk, expression pensive and serious. “And was he behaving strangely?”

“Uh, no. Not really. He’s a cat. There isn’t much variation to be found in his attitude.” She said the last line with a pointed raised eyebrow. 

Draco sat forward. “Come now, Granger. This is critical. Please, take this seriously.” 

A laugh bubbled out of her. He frowned. “I’m sorry,” she laughed. “But as much as the lengths you and Harry seem willing to go for my cat,… he’s still just a cat. A barely missing one at that”

He straightened in his chair and crossed his leg over his thigh, steepling his fingers together. “I never would’ve guessed that you would be so lax over the safety of your beloved pet, Granger.” 

Her mouth dropped open. “Oh for goodness sake.” She slumped back in her chair.

Draco attempted to hide his smirk as he took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. 

Hermione found herself tracking the movement, noting the way the wire frames seemed to compliment the high ridge of his nose, and the way his cheekbones slope gracefully over his face. She glanced away quickly, her skin suddenly felt hot, and slightly tacky. She shifted, and she saw his eyes track her own movements. 

Their eyes met, and for a split second, energy seemed to crackle between them; an electric wire pulled taut.

Then he cleared his throat. “Right then. We should get down to business, time is of the essence.” He pulled his shoulders back, and with his glasses now firmly pushed up on his nose he was the image of a Quintessential Auror. He dipped his quill into the ink pot on his desk before placing the nib on the parchment where it stabilised itself as he let go. 

It was a Quick Quotes Quill. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. 

He caught her eyes and smiled. “I want to remind you, Miss Granger, that placing high ranking members of the DMLE into sealed glass jars is against regulations A6 and E2, and is an offence that carries an eight week stint in Azkaban.” 

Despite herself, Hermione felt her lips twitch into a smile. 

“So,” Draco started. “When was the last time you saw Crookshanks?” 

“Last night.” 

“Can you be more specific?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Approximately 18 hours ago.”

“And what was his behaviour like?”

“Cat-like.” 

Draco gave her an unamused look. She smirked and elaborated, “His behaviour was normal.” 

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Please elaborate on what you mean by ‘normal’?” 

“Aloof, judgemental, and particularly affectionate at 8:18 am.” 

He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s an awfully specific time.” 

Hermione shrugged, a small smile working its way across her lips.”It’s when I leave for work.” 

He was trying to bite back his smile, and failing miserably. It was so endearing that she grinned at him. 

His eyes dipped to her mouth. Spots of pink bloomed on his cheekbones and he looked away, clearing his throat as he carded a hand through his hair. 

“And he wasn’t there when you woke up this morning?”

She nodded. 

The Quick Quotes Quill was on its fourth sheaf of paper and Hermione couldn’t help raising her chin to get a glimpse of the comments. 

“Any known acquaintances in the area?” Hermione’s attention jerked back to Draco. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Does he know anyone in the area?” 

“Not really,” she said slowly. “Harry lives a few tube stops away, but I wouldn’t term it ‘nearby’.” The quill somehow increased its speed at that, and Hermione shifted. 

“Right. What about rivalries? Any known gang associations? What is the crime level like in your area?” He flicked his wand at a filing cabinet behind him as he spoke and a set of folders flew towards him, graphs filling the air between them as he scanned them. “Ah, ok, not too bad.” He turned his attention back to Hermione, he and the quill staring expectantly at her. 

“Crookshanks doesn’t have any gang associations,” Hermione said in a deadpan voice. 

“That you know of,” Draco added with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well yes, that I know of. There obviously is the slight chance that I have somehow missed the devastating feline gang war that could be tearing apart my neighbourhood, but for now, I think it’s safe to assume that Crookshanks doesn’t have any affiliations with the cat Mafia.” 

“Hmm. Well we know what they say about assumptions.” 

Before she could refute him he’d moved on, and went through a few more basic questions, asking about Crooks’ usual daily routine: his feeding times; the places he liked to frequent; how often he left, and for how long, etc. He then asked about her normal pre-work routine, and what she did when she returned home. 

After that, the questions began to deviate. 

“What did you make for dinner last night?” 

She paused for a second before replying, “Lasagne, I think.” The quill picked up speed again. Her frown deepened. “How is that relevant?” 

“Is that your favourite meal?” 

Hermione tilted her head, eyes narrowed. “Um, no, not really.” 

Another frantic line finished by the Quill.

“So what is your favourite meal?”

“I’m not sure how on earth that is pertinent to Crooks’ case?” 

He clicked his tongue. I’m an Auror, Granger. I think I know what I’m on about. So, favourite meal?” 

The Quill hovered over the parchment, quivering as if her answer was the most important thing it was about to write. 

At her hesitation, Draco rolled his eyes and said, “You’re the one who thinks that this is a worthless investigation, I’m not quite sure why you’ve decided to become puritan over my methods of investigating.” He flicked his eyebrows up in challenge as her own eyes flashed. 

His stare didn’t waver from hers and she began to feel flushed, heat creeping up the back of her neck. He should really crack open a window or something. She had no idea how he could work in such a hot office. 

“Granger?” he prompted. 

She rolled her eyes but acquiesced. “I don’t cook that often. I hate it, actually.” 

His jaw clenched, momentarily, before he let out a controlled breath. “Ok, what’s your favourite thing to…” he blinked at her, as he seemed to think for a second. Then he dropped the wand he’d been twirling in his fingers onto his desk. “What do you do if you don’t cook?” he asked, perplexed. 

She wanted to press him over his line of questioning, make him squirm a bit, try to dig up what weird thing he and Harry were up to. But his expression was just so confused, so endearing, that she let it distract her, just for a moment.

“I eat a lot of takeaway, or I go out for dinner more often than not,” she said, abashed. Her cheeks heated at her admission. 

Draco seemed to bite back a smile as understanding slipped into the air between them. “Ah,” was all he said and the Quill resumed its hurried path across the page. 

“What is your favourite takeaway then?”

Merlin, he was like a dog with a bone on this topic . Hermione decided to indulge him, if only to help move the questions onto something else. “There’s an Italian restaurant down the road in Mile End. They do the best Carbonara I’ve ever had.” 

The Quick Quotes Quill began scribbling so fast, she could only make out a grey tinged blur in the air above a growing stack of notes.

“Ok,” Draco said simply. Hermione blinked at him, having expected slightly more. Then, “And what kind of flowers do you like?” 

“I don’t know, pink ones, I guess. Malfoy what—“

“And what about wine?” he interrupts. “Do you prefer red or white?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, before she said, “White, usually. 

The Quill had already covered at least five sheets of parchment with notes, and without looking away from Hermione, Draco slipped a fresh page underneath it just as it reached the bottom. Before he could fully cover the written sheets, she saw an underlined sentence. 

WHITE WINE.

“Wait,” Hermione said, sitting forwards, pulling the stack of parchment towards her, causing the Quill to scratch a line of ink off the edge and mark the table beneath. “Are you accusing me of being drunk, and that’s why you think Crooks hasn’t returned? Because you think I'm some kind of … lush?!”

“What?” Draco said, eyes wide as he pulled the sheets of paper out of her hand. “No, no, of course not. It was just a—“ he paused, and for a second his expression seemed uncertain, and his eyes darted around the room. Then they returned to her face, and the look was gone. “No, these are just a normal set of background questions. You never know what could be relevant.” 

“Right,” she said slowly, her chest now a forest of suspicion. 

He stopped the Quill and rolled up his notes. 

Standing up, he pulled on his cloak and said, “I think the next logical step is to do some canvassing. Do you have any plans this evening?” 

~*~

Crooks has never been pampered more in his life. He must make sure he gets this treatment from Mother when he returns. So much salmon, and tuna, and milk. Scratches whenever he wants. The Man even lets Crooks eat the pink shoes in the hallway. 

Until the Mean Lady saw him and then they were taken away from him. Crooks watches them argue before noticing a jumper hanging on a hook. It smells familiar and Crooks must investigate further. 

~*~

Draco was a very enthusiastic canvasser. Granted, Hermione didn’t have much first hand experience in the matter, but she was certain most Aurors didn’t partake in cold calling with as much vim and verve as Draco was currently doing. 

He had nearly as many questions for Hermione’s neighbours as he had for her, although thankfully none pertained to their favourite meal. He even had a photograph of Crookshanks to show them—one that he’d gotten from Harry, apparently (which didn’t actually clear up any confusion for Hermione—why on earth did Harry have a photo of her cat?). When they’d spoken to most of her immediate neighbours, Hermione sending each of them an apologetic smile over his shoulder, Draco had proceeded to do a thorough scan of her whole street. 

But after that he seemed to have just… gotten distracted. Started to ask her about how she liked living in this area of London. Where her favourite coffee shops were. Did she enjoy living alone? What kind of things did she like to do on her weekends? Did she walk around that park often? What would her perfect day off look like?

He was as relentless with his questions as earlier, and Hermione had long since given up trying to steer him back on topic. It wasn’t like she was actually worried about Crookshanks; this was his idea anyway. 

And besides, it was quite nice, actually. Being asked all these questions. Nobody had ever really shown her this much attention before, at least not this intensely. It was rare that anyone showed enough interest in what she liked to do with her time, what her interests were. She found herself enjoying it, walking along the streets with him, just… chatting, really. 

They passed by her favourite Italian restaurant when he pulled to a stop. “We should probably pause and get something to eat, don’t you think?” His voice was steady, but there was a blush creeping up his neck, and his hands were fidgeting at his sides slightly. 

He didn’t wait for her response, however, and instead merely opened the door and held it wide, looking expectantly at her until she walked inside. Before she could begin to take in the novelty of having the door held open for her, he finished sliding off her jacket and hung it over his arm as they waited for the host to take it to the cloakroom for them. And before she could process that he was pulling out her chair for her.

The whole process lasted no longer than three minutes or so, but Hermione had never been given such treatment in her life and she found herself temporarily unable to form a coherent sentence. To give herself a slight grace period, Hermione pretended to study the menu as she willed her heart rate to slow down. 

“So, the carbonara is good here, is it?” 

The forest in Hermione’s chest must have started to collect wildlife, because a chorus of birds echoed through her, their wings fluttering in her chest as he maintained eye contact with her. 

“Draco,” she said slowly, “what is actually going on—”

“ Buonasera !” A cheerful voice interrupted her, and she raised her head to see one of her favourite waiters smiling down at them. “Ah, Hermione, you are back again. So soon!” Hermione felt Draco’s gaze on her face and she didn’t need to turn her head to know he was grinning. She felt her face heat. 

“I shall bring over your usual appetiser, si ? And would Signore like to see the wine list? Choose something nice for Signora , hmm?”

“Lorenzo,” Hermione laughed, still feeling slightly off kilter. “You never call me that! And you know I always have the—“

“The wine list would be lovely, grazie mille ,” Draco said, speaking over her. Normally that would’ve incensed her, but she was momentarily distracted by how lovely his Italian accent was; the vowels smooth and rich as they fell from his tongue. He took the wine list from Lorenzo with a smile. The birds in her chest rose in a flurry, shaking the leaves, and causing her heart to beat rapidly. 

Lorenzo returned with a bread basket (much bigger than usual, and seemingly only full of Hermione’s favourite crusty seeded loaf), and a tray of chutneys and dips (also not a normal addition, she usually has to beg for half of those). She gave him a surprised smile. “Thank you Lorenzo. Now, you know for the wine I’ll just—“

Once again she was cut off.  “Now, now, Signora . It is Alberto who you talk about wine to, you know this!” 

Hermione gaped at Lorenzo as he strode away, and turned to catch Draco’s smirk. She was about to launch into a tirade about how he really needed to stop cutting her off, when she saw Lorenzo give her a thumbs up behind Draco’s back. She frowned. 

“ Buonasera, Signore .” Alberto, the sommelier, appeared at Draco’s shoulder, towel draped over his arm. “Have you got an idea of what you would like to try?” he asked, his tone much more polite and respectful than Hermione had ever heard it. 

Hermione opened her mouth to suggest the wine she usually got, when Lorenzo appeared again to ask her about starters.  Thrown at his sudden arrival, she nearly missed the way Draco pointed at a wine option on the menu, to which Alberto subtly shook his head. He pointed at another and Alberto nodded approvingly. 

“I’ll bring you the Frascati,” Alberto said, taking the menu from Draco again. 

That was the wine she always wanted to choose, but could never justify the price point. She blinked at him. 

There was a hint of pink on his cheekbones as Draco thanked him and turned to face Hermione again. Now that the waiters had left them be, Hermione was suddenly very aware of the intimacy of their table. 

“How did we get a table?” she asked, noticing the reserved sign hidden behind the candle and the vase of flowers. “We were just in the neighbourhood, right?”

The pink on his cheeks had deepened, and his jaw was working hard. Almost as if he was trying to school himself back into the cool and collected version of him. 

Not that Hermione has any clue as to why  he is acting so flustered. His behaviour has been nothing short of odd over the last few hours. 

“I might have called ahead before we left to go canvassing. I dropped your name, in case you had a favourite table or something.” She watched his throat bob, and his hand kept flexing on the table. But he was steadfastly holding eye contact with her, as if he was trying to impress something upon her. 

“But why?” she asked. “It’s a Monday, this place would’ve been empty, so we probably would have had our pick of the tables, surely? And besides, how did you know that canvassing would’ve taken us near here? Seems a bit of a gamble really.” She took a sip of her wine and hummed at the smoothness of the white wine. “Wait, you have a phone?”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before opening them. He studied her, mouth pressed into a line. She wondered if he was angry with her. She hoped not, but maybe she’d made fun of him too much over Crookshanks. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that—”

“Granger, don’t apologise.” He cut her off, opening his eyes again and stared at her. His jaw was still tight but his hands had stopped twitching. He leaned forward slightly and took a deep breath. 

“Granger, the reason I—”

His trousers began to ring. Hermione started, the shrill sound snapping her out of whatever spell Draco’s intense stare had her in. He gritted his teeth and pulled out a small flip phone from his pocket. 

“Hello?” he answered with a tone verging on insolent. Then his expression flitted through so many emotions Hermione found herself slightly dizzy from watching them. “Really?” Draco said in incredulity, and then through gritted teeth: “Thank you.” 

“What is it?” 

He heaved a sigh, which was very much at odds with the content of his reply: “Someone’s seen Crookshanks.” 

~*~

Crooks has been forced into the lead. The Man keeps cooing at him and giving him tuna treats which is nice, Crooks guesses, but the lead is an affront to his nature—

Oh that’s a green bird. Mother loves green things. I’ll just… crouch… wait… and then, HEY! Why is the man tugging Crooks away? Crooks needs the bird for Mother. BAD MAN. Crooks teaches you a lesson!

“I told you he was a fucking pest, honestly. But no, you fed him and coddled him and let him close to us, and now look at him. Utterly feral and trying to kill you by the looks of him.”

“He’s not trying to kill me, he’s just annoyed I didn’t let him eat the bird. Which is fair enough, but I can’t let him eat Mrs. Gunther’s parrot. She’ll murder us.”

“Hermione’ll murder you for this ridiculous scheme. When can we get rid of him?”

“Harry said—NO, CROOKSHANKS! DROP THE BIRD!”

~*~

Despite all his odd behaviour that evening, with his belligerent insistence that they must search for Crookshanks, Draco seemed to be dragging his feet. He also had a grumpy expression that bordered on comical, that he attempted to clear every time he caught Hermione looking at him. 

“The lady said she saw him go down the canal…” Draco said slowly, his focus on his phone. He was texting, Hermione thought. It really was strange, seeing Draco Malfoy use muggle technology with such ease. She found it rather attractive, actually. 

“How long have you been able to use a phone?” Hermione asked as they turned the corner and headed down the canal. 

Draco glanced up at her. “About a year. Why?” 

Hermione shrugged. “I just never expected you to be interested in muggle stuff.”

“Because I’m a big bad Dark Wizard?” 

“What? No, no, of course not I didn’t—oh. You’re joking.” 

He was smiling down at her, his phone all but forgotten. “Yes. Mostly.”

“But, honestly. No, not because of your past, I know you’re nothing like that now.” His smile had morphed slightly, into a softer, more cautious uplift. “I just still expected you to not think they’re worth it, when you have floo or owl mail.”

“Do you have one?”

She nodded.

“There we go then.”

Hermione frowned. “There we go... what?”

“If you have one then they’re probably worth having.”

“You got a phone because I have one?”

He shrugged. “I trust your judgement on these things. And I overheard your heated debate over them with Seamus in the Leaky one time. You made some compelling points actually.”

“It wasn’t a debate—“

“You magicked a slideshow to back up your argument, Granger. It was essentially a courtroom. ‘Debate’ was a mild way of putting it.” 

Hermione grinned sheepishly. “He was being rather obtuse.” 

“He was,” Draco agreed solemnly. 

They reached the canal and Draco seamlessly delayed his steps so he could walk behind Hermione and end up on her left side, so that he was between her and the water. Hermione felt the birds in the forest inside her flutter again, and for the first time that evening, Hermione wondered whether it actually had been a seed of suspicion, or was something else entirely…

~*~

MOTHER! 

Crooks sees Mother! Perfect timing, Crooks is giving her the lovely bird. Crooks hadn’t expected to see Mother but the timing works. She can get the lead off the Man, and before they go home the Man can tell her where he gets the good Tuna from. 

“GET BACK HERE!” 

“Theo, isn’t that—“

“Oh shit.” 

~*~

Hermione only noticed Crookshanks tearing down the canal footpath a second before he leapt into her arms. It was only at that point, with his squashed face right next to her chin, that she saw the fluttering, brightly coloured, and half-dead parrot in his mouth. He deposited the animal onto her shoulder, where it flopped over. 

Holding back a gag, Hermione shifted Crooks onto her right side, leaning him on her hip as she gingerly plucked the parrot off of herself and deposited the poor creature on the side of the path in a practised move. As awful as it was she’d had a lot of practice dealing with Crooks’… gifts. 

“Thank you, my dear. What a lovely gift,” she said as she scratched the cat behind his ears. That’s when she noticed the odd-looking collar he was wearing. 

And the lead that was attached to it. 

Then she looked up to see Draco glaring at Pansy Parkinson, and Theodore Nott. They were engaging in some kind of hushed argument, although none of them were doing a particularly good job in the ‘hushed’ department. 

“You were supposed to go in the opposite direction! I texted you!”

“You know I don’t understand that fucking thing,” hissed back Theo. 

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why were you taking a cat out for a walk in the first place? Surely this defeats the purpose of this whole ridiculous thing?!” 

“Don’t look at me Draco, I fucking hate that thing. I’m just here for Theo’s protection, that cat is dangerous.” 

“We didn’t even get to eat the fucking bread basket, for Merlin’s sake. You two had one job?”

“Um, excuse me?” Hermione said loudly. Three heads whipped around in her direction. “What exactly is going on right now?” 

Crooks was currently winding himself around her legs, and sporadically bumping his nose into her hand (this was usually his way of signalling that he would quite like some Tuna Treats). When he realised she wasn’t about to be forthcoming, he mewled indignantly and trotted right over to Theo, who instinctively reached down, petted him, and fed him a few treats without hesitation. 

The forest in her chest, no matter what she might have thought moments prior, was most definitely full of suspicion. The birds were in a frenzy, and there was a huge storm whipping the leaves around. 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the three of them. Nobody spoke. 

“Ok. I’m going to make a few assumptions here; present an hypothesis, if you will. And then you’re going to let me know if I’m on the right track, ok?” She began to pace, like she was wont to do when she needed to solve a puzzle, although such puzzles tended to be about things such as how to ensure proper elf-right legislation is followed, rather than the issue of her ‘missing’ cat. 

“You two,” she said, pointing at Theo and Pansy, “have somehow stolen my cat, and you,” she pointed at Draco, “are using said ‘disappearance’ as a means of taking me to dinner?” She raised her eyebrows. “Well? Am I close?” 

“I’d argue we commandeered him, rather than stole him,” Theo said hesitantly.

Pansy curled her lip at him and scoffed, “Uh, no. You commandeered him. Do not include me in this, Theodore. I am merely a reluctant participant via association only.”

“Did you take my cat, an animal that definitely does not belong to you, and attempt to keep him locked inside your home?” Hermione asked, eyebrows still firmly inching their way to her hairline. “Because I would argue that is nearly a textbook definition of stealing.”

Theo scrunched his face up grumpily. 

“And this abduction was so that you could take me for dinner, have I gotten that right, Draco?” she asked. 

Draco glared at Theo one last time before turning to face her. “In my defence, this wasn’t entirely my idea. I just… capitalised on the opportunity.”

“Ok,” she said slowly, still trying to wrap her brain around this utterly bizarre day. “So whose idea was it?” 

A loud POP startled them all. 

“I’m sorry, I literally just got your text and—oh dear.” 

“Harry?” Hermione’s chin was pressed right into her neck as she gaped at him. 

“Is the jig up?” he asked, ignoring her as he walked towards… Theo? And slung an arm around his shoulders, before pressing a kiss into his hair. 

Hermione blinked. And blinked again. And again. 

“Oh no. Granger? Granger? Hermione ,” came an insistent voice, as a long fingered hand waved in front of her vision. She shook her head and saw Draco looking down at her with a worried, yet slightly amused expression on his face. “Are you ok? You look a little shell shocked.”

“Can you blame me?” 

He smirked and shook his head. 

“Ok, Harry, what the hell—I just, when did that happen?” she said, flapping her hand at him and Theo. “And how are you involved in—” she cut herself off, thinking back to this lunchtime, and his odd questions, and his weird behaviour around Malfoy and—

“Harry James Potter, are you trying to meddle again?” 

Harry had the grace to look slightly sheepish. “Not really, I just—”

“Oh don’t you dare, Potter,” interrupted Pansy. “This was one hundred percent your idea.”

“Me?” Harry shot her an incredulous look. “You were the one who hexed the cat in the first place!” 

Hermione gasped. 

“It was only a small one!” Pansy attempted to reassure Hermione, but her smile was slightly too wide for it to really work. She glared at Harry and added, “and besides, you were the one who put the collar on him to begin with! And I do wish that you’d put a shirt on before you raced outside. The neighbours are probably still scandalised. I’m still scandalised.” 

Hermione had begun to feel like she was understanding what was going on, but now she just felt lost all over again. 

“Wait, why was Harry in your house shirtless?” 

“Dear me, Granger. You call Potter your best friend and you don’t know that he’s been shagging Theo for like four months now?”

Silence stretched between them, wrapping around her limbs and sinking into her body, swaying through the trees as the leaves and birds fell silent and still for a second. 

Hermione blinked rapidly. “I—what? Seriously, Harry? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Harry grimaced. “I’m sorry, it’s just been so new, and I didn’t want to jinx anything.” 

“Ok,” Hermione said slowly. “But why did you steal my cat while at your boyfriend's house?” 

“Because I thought he needed a push to talk to you, so he would stop whining to me over lunch.” He sent Draco a pointed stare. Draco in turn, blushed a violent shade of pink and avoided Hermione’s gaze. 

She frowned. “He has talked to me? We talk all the time.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes and interjected, “Let me clarify a bit for you. He needed a push to talk to you outside of work, and preferably in some kind of romantic situation. Hence, the dinner!” She finished brightly. 

“The dinner that you also sabotaged,” Draco muttered. 

“And the only way you four could think of to make that happen was to steal my cat? And waste DMLE resources?” 

They all shifted slightly. 

“Draco,” Hermione said. He winced, and met her eyes. “You really went to all this trouble? For a date with me?”

He nodded. She let out a slightly incredulous chuckle. 

Draco took a step forward. “You’re not mad? I know how much that cat means to you.” 

“No? Crooks tried to kill a Death Eater in our third year, and befriended Sirius at the same time. Of course I wasn’t worried. It’s almost sweet? How much effort you went to for all this.” 

It was Draco’s turn to blink at her. “It is?” 

“Don’t get me wrong it is odd, and I would quite like you to not do it again, but yes. It’s kind of sweet.”  

“Oh,” he said, the blush on his cheeks that had just begun to fade, came back with a vengeance. It really was bizarre, Hermione thought. That she found this whole ordeal genuinely charming, and not utterly insane.

“So, why don’t you try again? But normally, this time.” 

He looked at her dumbly, “What?”

Hermione tried to stifle her grin as she explained, “Ask me to dinner. Normally .” 

“Oh! Hermione, would you like to go to dinner with me?” 

“I would love to. I know this great Italian place. It’s just around the corner actually.” She grinned at him. 

Draco let out a slightly relieved laugh. “Oh, brilliant. That’s handy.” 

“I’ll happily babysit Crooks for you guys if you want?”

Hermione had nearly forgotten about their little audience and turned to see Crookshanks happily purring away in Theo’s arms, while Pansy shot daggers at him. 

“Not in our house you won’t, Theodore. That monster has already ruined my herb garden and I want to fix the damage before Nev—” she cleared her throat, as she blushed,” before the gardener comes tomorrow.”

Theo chuckled, before turning expectantly to Harry, who sighed. “Fine, bring him over to Grimmauld Place then. Maybe he’ll be the one to finally shut up Walburga for once and for all.” 

Hermione turned to Draco. “Shall we?” she asked, gesturing back the way they’d come. 

Draco gave her a soft smile and nodded. 

The forest in her chest felt different now; the seeds fully rooted, requiring no more watering. The suspicion that had woven its way through the branches and disturbed the birds had subsided, leaving a calmness in its wake. When the wind did pick up, or the birds decided to fly again, it was due to anticipation, to excitement, and giddiness.

~*~

Crooks likes this man. The Blonde Man. He never puts the lead on Crooks, unlike the other man, Tuna Man, and he always feeds him tuna treats even after Mother says not to. He spends a lot of time in the house. Crooks doesn’t know why, but he is learning how to itch Crooks’ ears properly, so he can stay. 

And Mother is always smiling now. Crooks likes it when Mother smiles. It must be the red bird Crooks brought last week. Crooks knew Mother liked that one. The Blonde Man even thanked Crooks for it.

Yes, Crooks thinks contentedly as The Blonde Man successfully finds the perfect spot behind his ears, yes, The Blonde Man can definitely stay.