Chapter Text
April 24, 2003
Five years after the dark days of war that left magical London in shambles, Hermione Granger gripped her wand with white knuckles as she looked at the front doors of the Ministry of Magic. Today was her first day on a new case. Harry had made it seem dire, but would divulge no further details. Not until today.
Harry Potter was an extremely high-ranking Auror on track to be Head Auror in the years to come. He’d joined the auror ranks quickly upon the conclusion of the war, and immediately became a treasured member. Hermione couldn’t help but think that Harry’s chosen one status would never go away.
Entering the Ministry, she headed in the direction of Harry’s office in the Auror Division. She passed through the long hallways full of enchanted doors and briefing rooms as her mind spun wildly about what mission Harry could possibly need her to go on that would require such discretion.
When she finally reached the door she sought, she knocked four times in a specific cadence she and Harry had used since Hogwarts to alert one another that it was safe to open the door. Harry opened almost immediately, his hair sticking up slightly in the way it did when he ran stressed hands through it. His glasses were slightly askew as he breathed a sigh of relief, opening the door wider to allow her enough space to enter.
His office was decorated with plush carpets and leather armchairs. A huge mahogany desk dictated the majority of the space, papers scattered across its surface. She blinked up at Harry, who was still carrying a lot of tension in his shoulders.
“Harry,” Hermione said slowly, “what on earth is wrong?”
Harry tried to give a smile, but his nerves showed clearly. He sighed again, shaking his head, his expression falling back to concern.
“Swear you won’t be angry with me,” he pleaded, his eyes glassy.
“Tell me,” she demanded, crossing her arms. “Harry James Potter, you tell me right this instant.” Harry winced at her use of his full name and commanding tone.
“We’re sending you undercover,” he began. “There is a pureblood cult we’ve been attempting to infiltrate for a few months now. We already have a spy undercover, but they requested… assistance. We need to send you so you can evaluate the level of threat these witches and wizards could pose to Wizarding London.” His posture was defensive like he was still expecting her to strike him.
“What’s so bad about that? You know I love the thrill of undercover work.” She laughed lightly with a shake of her head, letting Harry know he was being utterly ridiculous.
When he didn’t join in on her laugh, she furrowed her brows, narrowing her eyes at him.
“There’s more,” he confessed.
“More?”
“The spy… You know them,” he flinched.
“Well, I assumed so-”
“It’s Malfoy-” They began to say at the same time when Hermione froze. She slowly craned her neck to look at him, and the look in her whiskey brown eyes was nothing shy of murderous.
“Malfoy?” She spit out. “You’re making me go undercover with that rotten little cockroach?”
“He’s been doing great work-” Harry held up his hands defensively as she pointed at him, taking a step closer to level him with her eyes. “We need you, Hermione.”
She held her glare, but felt a squeeze around her heart as she realized her best friend was asking her for help. That didn’t change the fact that he knew as well as she did how unpleasant this experience was bound to be.
“What does he need help with?” She huffed.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Communication has been very limited. This cult… They’re intense, Hermione. They put the Dark Lord’s regime to shame. I want you to be prepared for that.”
She looked at him, processing as her mind careened out of control. She hadn’t seen Draco since the end of the year. She’d frankly nearly forgotten that he existed. Now she was going to be re-faced with the boy who’d complacently watched her be tortured on his drawing room floor.
“Intense how?” She asked, wanting to be as prepared as possible for the mission ahead. Regardless of the tension she felt regarding Draco, she knew how important this mission was. They’d heard rumors of dark magic rituals and talks of a mysterious leader, and purebloods couldn’t be trusted. She’d learned that the hard way throughout her entire childhood and teenage years.
“They live and breathe blood purity, Hermione. Your identity remaining a secret is of the utmost importance,” he told her, anxiety tinging his voice that had only gotten deeper throughout the years.
“Why me of all people, then?” She hissed, holding up her arm marred with the scarred reminder of her blood status.
Harry looked at her gravely. She nearly growled in frustration.
“He requested you specifically,” Harry said reluctantly. “He refused to work with anyone else. Unfortunately, we need him right now. If his cover is blown, we will never have another chance to get this close again.”
The fire crackled in the tense silence between the two of them as the weight of what she had to do settled on Hermione’s shoulders. Finally, she blinked, nodding.
“When do I leave?”
Harry chewed his bottom lip.
“Harry, for Merlin’s sake-”
“Tonight,” he said. “Right now, actually.”
She looked at him utterly dumbfounded. “Right now,” she repeated, certain she’d heard him wrong until he nodded his confirmation.
“I can’t risk anyone suspecting where you are,” he said.
“So disappearing in broad daylight in the middle of my day is less noticeable?” She scoffed angrily. Harry was really pushing his luck right now.
“I know you well enough to know you won’t be able to hide your cryptic goodbyes to everyone,” he confessed. “I can’t risk it, Hermione. As far as anyone here is aware, you’re on holiday with your parents in Australia. That I sent you there for some rest after an unexpected loss in the family.”
“I am capable of keeping a secret, Harry!” She protested.
He gave her a grim smile that told her he did not agree. She had a strong feeling there was a lot he was not telling her, and that was more frustrating than anything else. She hated feeling uninformed. She took careful and consistent measures to always be the most studied person in any room she entered.
Harry gestured for her to follow him over to a bookshelf in his office where a silver house key sat on the wood panel. Hermione’s eyebrows drew together.
“It’s a portkey,” he said proudly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “I made it.” He sounded borderline boastful. She’d always seen portkeys be objects with no significance, but she’d never seen it spelled to a physical door key. He thought he was quite clever, didn’t he?
“Where does it go?” She swallowed thickly.
“Romania,” he told her. “It’s where they’ve regrouped outside of the Ministry’s reach.”
“They?”
“Survivors of the Sacred 28 who managed to evade arrest, Romanian blood purity supporters, others who have reason to hate The Ministry.”
“Won’t the Romanians kill me if they know I’ve jurisdictionally crossed?” Hermione said, chewing the inside of her cheeks.
“Potentially. It wouldn’t be good if they knew, no.” Harry sighed, dropping into a chair opposite where Hermione sat. “We have reason to believe that this cult has infiltrated the government as well. Any attempts to alert them of the possible dark magic activity have been ignored.”
“Other than Draco, will there be any other familiar faces?” She was attempting to ready herself, which she knew deep down was impossible.
“We believe the Notts and Greengrasses have been seen in Romania,” he explained. “I can’t be too sure about anyone else.” Hermione was nauseous at the stark lack of information they seemed to have on this cult she was walking into.
“How will they not recognize me?” She asked.
Harry dug in his pocket, pulling out a shiny gold chain with a pendant made of obsidian. He gestured for her to turn around and she did, lifting her hair for him as he fastened it around her throat. She smiled, smoothing the chain against her throat.
“Look in the mirror,” Harry instructed with a grin.
She obeyed, walking toward the floor length mirror hanging on the wall of Harry’s office when she tripped over her own feet, nearly sending herself careening forward and shattering the mirror. Her hair was pin straight and dark. Her whiskey brown eyes were green now. She blinked rapidly, noticing how her cheekbones were now plumper, her lips more swollen and her nose tinier. It was like every flaw Hermione had ever found within herself was catered into its total opposite. Her usually tan skin was pale and soft. She looked nothing like herself.
“Harry, how did you make this?” She gaped, fingers toying with the obsidian pendant. It matched the color of her hair now.
“Magic,” he joked, wiggling his fingers at her. She scoffed, smacking his arm playfully as she looked back at herself, not able to get over how intense the change had been. No one would ever recognize her now, thanks to her brilliant best friend.
She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close to her as she fought back the prickles in her eyes. She didn’t know when the next time she would see Harry would be.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you, too, Hermione,” he told her honestly. “I’ll be in contact. If you need out at any time, break the pendant and I will know you are in danger and I will personally come and get you.” She could tell in his green eyes just how much he meant that.
She realized then how much she looked like Harry. She chuckled.
“Harry, did you use your own DNA to make this pendant?”
His cheeks flushed and he smiled nervously.
That was all the answer she needed. Now her straight black hair and bright green eyes made a lot more sense. Her pale skin, her softer and smaller features. It was all Harry. She could pass for his identical twin. She chuckled to herself knowing her resemblance to him would irritate the purebloods and they wouldn’t even be able to express why without sounding insane.
"Draco will tell you all the details once you arrive. I'm sorry I can't tell you more."
Harry stood next to her as she reached her palm out slowly, gently touching the portkey before she was sucked into the vacuum of time and space, leaving Harry all alone in his office, staring down at the charmed door key that now didn’t seem quite as clever as it had in his head.