Just wanted to say a massive thanks to everyone who is still reviewing and asking for updates on this fic! I don't deserve it! It's still very much not abandoned and I will finish it, but I am so sorry about how slow I am.

Draco was pacing the room when she breathlessly skidded into his fireplace. She was about to scold him about summoning her so thoughtlessly when the look of agonised anguish painted across his face shrivelled the words on her tongue to nothing.

"Just look," Draco moaned, waving his arm towards the potions bench without turning his head, as though it was too painful for him to take another glance. Hermione gritted her teeth, preparing herself for needing to throw away months of work and begin the whole endeavour again.

She scrutinised the oily sheen gathering at the edges of the cauldron ruefully, knowing that Draco had asked her some time ago to help him procure the dragon scales that needed to now be added, before it was too late. She gingerly prodded the surface of the liquid with a silver spoon that laid next to it as she silently cursed the marriage law, her work at the Ministry and even Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes and all associated Weasleys for her being so busy. A small nagging voice in the back of her head told her that she was being unfair and that she had been putting it off simply because she didn't want to see Draco. Although their relationship was purely innocent on her part now, she suspected that his feelings weren't quite the same and was desperately hoping that this wasn't going to lead to a confrontation further down the line. He hadn't said anything but sometimes she caught him looking at her with naked vulnerability on his face, which he carefully schooled into his trademark smirk if ever he saw her looking.

"No gelatinisation yet. There's still time," she nodded firmly, trying to convince herself as much as Draco.

Draco seemed incapable of words, instead issuing a growl of despair.

"I'm sorry –" Hermione started, wringing her hands together in anguish as she approached the blond haired Slytherin nervously but her attempts at apologising only seemed to fire him into action. He held out his arm to her, whilst simultaneously summoning a small leather pouch from another room that clinked metallically as it zoomed through the air.

"Save your apologies Granger, unless the next ingredient in the potion is the freshly wept tears of a know it all swot, you're just wasting even more time."

She was only able to grasp hold of his arm before they were catapulted through the spaces between electrons, the outraged retort to Draco squeezing nauseatingly out of her lungs, as they were transported to their destination.

Hermione staggered out of the Knockturn Alley apparition point with Draco at her heels. When she turned to glare at him he just shrugged, smirking, "I guess I can still sweep you off your feet then Granger."

Hermione tutted disapprovingly, shaking her head to dispel the smile at the corny line that pulled at the corners of her mouth, for fear of encouraging him. He ushered her down the narrow street, his hand at the small of her back, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they hadn't been spotted, as they went.

"This way, there's an apothecary just down here, they should sell them to you without asking too many questions."

"We could just go to Mr Mulpepper's, or Slug and Jiggers in Diagon Alley. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with all this subterfuge. After all, I am legitimately able to purchase this item." She was aware she was sounding prim and it was testament to the seriousness of the situation that Draco didn't even make a joke about it.

"But are you confident that you can fill in all the forms and authorisations, before the potion is ruined?"

Hermione pursed her lips, remembering that sometimes there was a 24 hour release period on restricted items while the vendor carried out identity checks. It was unlikely to apply to her of course – minor celebrity status had some perks – but she would never forgive herself if she caused further delay. She nodded to Draco in acquiescence and followed the direction of his outstretched arm to the crookedly hanging sign that she could barely make out as saying the word Apothecary through the badly peeling paint.

Hermione pressed her fingertips against the shop's soot-blackened door plate, trying to make as little contact with the dirty surface as she could manage. The door creaked open so loudly that it rendered the off key tinkle of the tarnished bell that hung over the door entirely redundant. She took one last look through the grimy glass at Draco as he skulked in the street behind her, pretending to read some notices in the window, trying – and failing, to look entirely unconcerned with the transaction. Hermione cleared her throat and wiped her sweaty palms down her robes, reminding herself that she was a perfectly respectable citizen with an entirely innocent explanation for buying a class B restricted substance.

A large florid cheeked wizard who was entirely bald save a pair of remarkably bushy red mutton chops clomped out through a low doorway behind the counter and regarded Hermione over the half moon spectacles that were squashed onto his round face, his mouth twisting into a leer, revealing a row of blackened teeth.

"What can I do you for?" he asked, polishing his wand on an apron so speckled with grease spots and burn marks that it was more likely to make the wand dirtier than cleaner. Thankfully he didn't seem to recognise her - she wasn't sure whether she would receive a welcome reception in a shop like this one.

Hermione swallowed in an attempt to cure her suddenly dry mouth, running over in her head the story about her great aunt with Dragon Pox and reminding herself severely that she was a respectable junior undersecretary to Mafalda Hopkirk and perfectly entitled to buy a class B semi restricted substance if she so wished.

"I need two dozen dragon scales, please," she tried to hold her head with the same haughty disdain she had affected when disguised as Bellatrix Lestrange, although she kept her expression friendly. She held out her wand flat across her outstretched palm, offering it to him to inspect, although he made no move to take it. She was aware that the movement shifted her cloak to reveal the coin purse that Draco had hurriedly tied to her belt outside, and she shifted her hip slightly, and was pleased to see that the tinkle of coins drew his watery eyes to the bag.

The shopkeeper scrutinised her for a moment before, with a barely perceptible shrug, apparently deciding that she wasn't a death eater, fugitive criminal, or being from Lichtenstein (ever since the Dragon Wars of 1452, Dragon Scales had been strictly prohibited there), "Certainly Ma'am."

Hermione's heart thrummed like a hummingbird as she willed the man to go faster but unaware of her predicament, he painstakingly counted out the scales, his thick fingers fumbling in the glass jar full of the dully shining discs, and dropped them one by one into a paper bag. After what seemed like an age, he twisted the ends of the bag with practiced ease and slid it over the counter to her. Now it was Hermione's turn to fumble, with trembling hands, as she counted out the seventeen galleons the man demanded. He tucked his hands into the sides of his apron, smiling smugly as she lined up the coins on the counter.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he chuckled, but with little more than a nod, Hermione grabbed the bag and hastened out onto the street.

She heard the bell jingle once more as she headed out of the apothecary and down the twisting, grimy street of Knockturn Alley, securing her purchase under her robes as she went. After a few yards she saw Draco leaning languidly against a wall and gave him a shaky smile. However, as she got nearer, she saw him stiffen, panicked. He took a sharp intake of breath and stared around wildly as he drew his wand.

"What is it?" Hermione demanded, gripping his arm.

"Shh," he breathed and wheeled her round to face the wall, "Is that flesh eating fungus down there on the floor?" She looked down automatically, "keep your head down," he muttered under his breath. She gazed at the mossy greenery of the lichen furred wall, following a trail of slimy water trickling down the bricks to where it puddled onto the floor. The heavy tread of two men passed behind them and once they had gone by, Draco tapped disillusionment charms on himself and Hermione and slipped after them.

Hermione stared at the backs of the men they were trailing, in confusion. One was so small, he reminded her of Professor Flitwick, with sandy brown hair and a bushy long beard that nearly trailed to the floor; the other a hulking beast of a man with closely cropped black hair who towered over his companion. Hermione was sure that if she had ever seen two such distinctive men before, she would remember it, and yet, there was something intangible about them, something familiar that shimmered in the air. The pair disappeared into the very apothecary that they had just vacated themselves. Draco pulled her into an alleyway next to the shop.

"I think they're Death Eaters," Draco whispered, his chest heaving as he rolled up his sleeve to examine his arm, "I could feel their dark marks. At least I thought I could. It was like my scar was drawn to them. Weird."

"Is that… normal?" Hermione asked tentatively, unsure of exactly how dark marks operate.

"No," he rolled his eyes with a weary sigh, as he prodded the twisted flesh of his arm experimentally with his wand, "Oh great. Looks like I've got a cursed scar. Let's just call me the chosen one and get it over with."

Hermione added 'threatening to tell Harry about his scar' to the list of things she could blackmail Draco with if he ever got out of line, as well as vowing to undertake some serious research about the subject at the earliest opportunity.

"But who were they? I've never seen them before?"

Draco sniggered, "No you're right, me neither. And it's not like we can do magic to change our appearance or anything is it? Honestly Granger, "brightest witch of our age" I sometimes wonder if you've sold your brains to pay the Weasleys' mortgage on that pigsty they live in."

"Don't take it out on me because your scar is acting strangely and you're scared what it means," Hermione snapped back, succeeding in inserting far more acid into her tone than an even paler than normal Malfoy had managed. He at least had the decency to look abashed at this comment.

"Well there's only two remaining Death Eaters that I know about. That's the Lestranges. And last I had heard they had fled abroad. Trust me, I have put sizeable resources into tracking them down but they seem keen not to be found. For some reason. But Voldemort could've had dozens of secret Death Eaters that no one else knew about. He didn't like anyone knowing all of his plans – he liked to keep people in the dark as much as he could. Father said that was one of his most useful strategies for controlling people. But if it's the Lestranges, I'll kill them myself for what they did to father, I swear it – shhh, here they come again."

The unlikely looking pair emerged from the apothecary, shrinking bulky looking packages as they stepped outside.

Hermione shrank back against the wall, gripping Draco's arm tightly to prevent him from doing anything rash. She could feel him shaking through his robes, his mouth set in a grim line and his silver eyes blazing above the spots of colour high on his cheeks that stood out starkly from his pale face. The two men passed by, talking in low voices. Draco gestured wordlessly to Hermione that they should follow them. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged to try and convey the message that she wasn't sure that it was a good idea but he just huffed and shook her arm off before slinking after the men. With a frustrated sigh, she followed after him, trying to not look too overtly shifty.

As the possibility of there being whole swathes of death eaters still hidden from knowledge, sleeper cells with unknown tasks to complete, unfolded in her mind like a great blooming flower of panic, she forced herself to concentrate. Breathe in, breathe out. One foot in front of the other. Concentrate on the mulch of soot and goodness know what else that smeared the cobbles under her. Not the highly polished parquet of a ballroom. Her wand was in her hand and she was still standing. The sound she was hearing was the whoosh of her pulse in her ears, not a high pitched, manic cackle. These men were strangers. Bellatrix Lestrange was dead and had been incinerated in a Ministry facility long ago.

She was trying to work out where they were headed to, not towards the light and fresh air of Diagon Alley. Not towards the apparition point. Instead the men seemed to be leading them further into the unfamiliar rat run of shops and dwellings, through low archways and narrow side streets. Before long she was hopelessly lost and increasingly concerned that they were going to end up blowing their cover if they continued to pursue the pair.

Just as she was debating whether to tell Draco they should stop, the two stopped ahead of them, looking around shiftily and murmuring to each in low tones that Hermione strained to hear over the buzzing sound that she recognised as a Muffliato spell. She hurriedly cast notice-me-nots around them, wishing for Harry's cloak, as Draco edged them closer and closer, brandishing his wand before him. Hermione could feel, rather than see, sparks crackling from the end of it – little bursts of power that escaped Draco's tight grip on his temper. They were feet away now, inches. The two men didn't seem to have noticed them. Hermione didn't dare breathe, let alone whisper to Draco to ask him what his plan was. She looked around, trying to plan good spots of shelter and ways to attack if, when, this turned into a wand fight. Her assessment didn't fill her with confidence. The windows of Knockturn Alley were mainly covered with grimy shutters, all the better to hide the dark deals and dark magic that went on behind them. There were one or two open doorways but she doubted she would receive a warm reception if she entered any of them. But mainly they were enclosed on all sides by sheer brickwork, laid higgledy piggledy upwards until the sky seemed remote and watery. Crooked chimneys puffed smoke in odd colours atop steep slate roofs. Adding to the bleakness of the landscape, she was sure that their adversaries would be far more aware of any hidey holes or advantages that the terrain may offer. She gritted her teeth and clenched her wand tighter. Witches and wizards hurried along the dim streets, their cloaks clutched tightly around them, concentrating on their feet, either sensing something in the air, or keen not to been seen in such ignominious surroundings. They were unlikely to find support here in battle, if that was what was to come.

The shorter man kneeled down to tie his shoe lace and Hermione felt Draco coiling to strike, ready to take advantage of this weakness. She too readied her arm. She wasn't sure what Draco was going to do but a stunning spell was on her lips when the large man stepped closer to his companion, his boot landing on the loose end of the other's shoe lace that Hermione saw too late was glowing blue. She stopped herself just in time from firing a stunner at them as they vanished – no point letting them know they had been spotted if they weren't able to apprehend them – and was pleased to see Draco do the same.

"Shoe lace portkey," Draco muttered glumly, his hands sinking to his sides, fists clenched.

"Illegal, unregistered shoe lace portkey," Hermione confirmed in an equally dull tone.

"So they didn't have to go through the apparition point where their identities would be logged."

"Clever," Hermione admitted grudgingly.

"FFFFFFuuuuck!" Draco's rage finally broke through, his face flushing red momentarily, to match the colour of the jets of flame that shot from the end of his wand to leave scorch marks on the wall opposite. Hermione took a step back but as quickly as his temper boiled over, he seemed to get it under control again, smoothing back his silvery blond hair as he looked around impassively to make sure no one had noticed his uncharacteristic outburst.

"So what now?" Hermione's thoughts quickly turned practical, trying to think of a way to track the two down, racking her brains for any spells she knew to follow the magical traces of people through the ether but coming up short.

"I'll do some asking around with the few people who will give me the time of day. I'll get Theo to help if I have to, people trust him more. I'll see if I can find out if anyone knew of any sleeper cells of Death Eaters or if anyone knows anything about the Lestranges. Or anyone who matches the description of those two."

"I could –" Hermione interjected

"You couldn't. Not unless you want to rouse suspicion. Trust me, if the golden trio start sniffing around, it'll be sure to get back to whoever's behind this. If I find anything out, I'll let you know."

Hermione bridled at the idea of sitting on the sidelines when there may be multiple unknown Death Eaters on the loose in wizarding Britain. Draco just smirked at her, "Same old Erumpment in a potion shop Gryffindor, you wouldn't know subtlety if it slithered up and squeezed the life out of you while you were sleeping – Slytherin saying" he explained at Hermione's disgusted expression, "what good will haring off do when we've got potion ingredients to add."

This detail seemed to focus Hermione again, knowing that there was little to be gained and much to be lost by standing deliberating for much longer, and the two of them hastened back to the apparition point to return to Draco's flat.

When they arrived, Hermione was dismayed to see a murky film had started to spread over the surface of the potion.

"Quick, there may still be time to save it, add the dragon scales," Draco hissed urgently, shrugging off his outer robes and rolling up his sleeves, his wand grasped delicately between his fingers.

With trembling fingers, Hermione counted out the hard shiny scales and threw them into the potion. She looked questioningly at Draco, who nodded, his face severe, before she picked up the white owl feather laid next to the cauldron and stirred the mixture slowly twelve times clockwise. They both let out a sigh of relief as the mixture turned a pale turquoise and a cloud of phosphorescent light appeared around them.

"Perfect," breathed Hermione in satisfaction, before turning to see Draco watching her, a curious expression on his face, "What?" she asked sharply.

Draco said nothing at first, just reached out his hand to touch one of the curls tumbling down over her shoulder to show her the sparkling particles of light that had landed in her hair. She looked up to notice that the same had happened to him, making his hair look even more silvery than normal.

"Remarkable," he whispered, his expression wondrous, his eyes soft.

Hermione brushed her hands off on her robes and stepped back out of the sphere of strange blue light that had suddenly started to feel uncomfortably intimate.

"I should go. Ron will be wondering where I am." It would've been easier to gaze at the sun than meet Draco's eyes at that moment,

"Tell Weaselbee to take a long flight on a short broom."

Hermione just held up a warning finger, making Draco smirk gleefully. The earlier stress seemed to have fallen away from him with the recovery of the potion.

"I'm serious. I hate lying to him about where I am. Can't I just tell him about what we're doing, about your fath –"

"Granger, no. I don't care what you tell that ginger twit but you are not to breathe a word to him, or anyone, about my father. Mother and my position is precarious enough as it is. If it were public knowledge that father is…unwell, things could become unpleasant for us."

"So I have to keep your secret so you can carry on having tea parties with your cronies?"

Draco threw his hands up in the air in frustration, "When are you going to make even the slightest effort to understand the complexities of the wizarding world you infuriating witch? Not me! Mother! If certain people found out that father had lost his power, lost his damn mind, do you think they wouldn't love to finish the job?

Hermione grudgingly admitted to herself that he was right.

She stopped in the fireplace, "Earlier. With those…men" She couldn't quite bring herself to acknowledge out loud that they were death eaters, "I was just going to say we should tell Ron. Or Harry. We should. I know you and him have history but we're not children anymore, this is bigger than any schoolyard feud. He's not the boy who lived any more, he's a qualified Auror. I'm not going to let people wander into danger because they haven't got the right information. I'd never forgive myself if something happened."

Draco thought for a moment, then nodded slowly, "You're right, I know. It's just not natural for me to trust the authorities, or Potter for that matter." He unconsciously touched his chest that Hermione knew was crisscrossed with silvery scars that remained to remind him of his altercation with Harry in the bathroom. "But if we don't know who they are or how many there are, it means anyone could be a secret death eater. Tell him to keep it very, very secret. No press releases. And not to rush into anything. I'll still see what I can find out."

"And you'll report to Harry if you find out anything at all?"

Draco groaned theatrically, as though Hermione was his mother and she had just asked him to tidy his room. Satisfied, she went to step through the floo again before pausing once more.

"Draco, you know you need to stir that potion every three hours now. Twelve times exactly, no more, no less. For a whole month. Don't charm the feather to do it, it might fail." She was aware she was nagging, that they had been over this dozens of times before but she just wanted to make up for how she had let him down before, overcompensating for the near miss.

"I know!" he sighed, rolling his eyes in a pained expression, "and every time I stir it, it should turn half a shade darker –"

" – then you need to add the molten gold in the light of the full moon. Make sure it's the full moon or –"

"Granger, I know! Or it'll turn into Assassin's Aid –"

" – one of the world's deadliest poisons, which just so happens to be undetectable, untraceable and is almost identical to Dragora."

"For Salazar's sake Granger I know! Now, stop reciting Professor Snape's notes to me and calm down. We've come this far."

Hermione couldn't resist reminding him one more time to be exact when stirring the potion before flooing back home, although the giggle at his look of annoyance was lost on her lips when she came through the fireplace to find Ron waiting so close by that she almost ran into him as she stepped out of the sooty grate.

"Everything sorted at work?" he asked concernedly, as he took her cloak from her. She could practically feel the vibrating waves of tension rolling hotly from him, although he was schooling his features into calmness.

Hermione bit her lip, not wanting to lie to him again now the emergency was over, but he spoke again before she had a chance to explain, his voice strangely high and tight, as if the effort to keep his tone even was making his throat tighten up,

"Only as I went to the floo point in the Ministry, who should be ahead of me, but Mafalda Hopkirk. And she didn't say anything about any kind of emergency when she said hello to me."

Shame crashed down around Hermione, settling queasily in the pit of her stomach and staining her cheeks. Once more she cursed Draco and her promise to him to keep his secret about his father. She wrung her hands anxiously, gazing at his expectant face and hoping that he could see that he could trust her as she tried to calculate how much of the truth she could tell him without revealing the whole story.

"I lied."

"Obviously," he snorted, "even an idiot like me can see that."

"Please don't start that again, I thought we were over all that."

"Then why are you treating me like I'm stupid?"

"It was an emergency. I'm on a…mission. It's complicated." She sighed in frustration, trying to think of how to articulate her complicated feelings on the project. About how it had become so much more in her mind than spending time with Draco. If they got the potion right, it could help so many people. Plus she almost felt that she owed it to Snape's memory, that he would be redeemed in the public eye, for all the work he had done but never been able to complete. Not to mention the aid to Draco's reputation, "I didn't know what to do. I panicked. I should never have said that about Mafalda. But there was no time and I just….panicked."

"Is it dangerous?" He asked sharply.

"It's complicated," she repeated again, helplessly.

He bit a growl of frustration at the back of his throat, "To you? Is it dangerous to you? I don't give a flying fuck about anyone else!"

"I don't think so. No."

Ron gusted out a huge sigh and dropped his head into his hands. Hermione's heart lifted a little bit at his obvious relief, surely he wouldn't act like that if he didn't care about her, even with this going on. Tentatively she reached out and ran her hand down his back, feeling him relax under her touch.

"It's nothing you need to worry about. I might just have to go off from time to time to do some things. The worst of it's over now, I think. I just have to keep it private. It's the right thing for me to do."

"Well of course I know that, otherwise you wouldn't be doing it." His trust that she would be doing the right thing cut her like a knife.

"Don't say it like that, like I never make the wrong decisions. I'm torn about the whole thing, not telling you. I don't know what I'm doing."

He lifted his head from his hands, "So if there was something I had to lie to you about, but I was doing it because I thought it would benefit you, would you forgive me? Or is honesty the best policy no matter what? Please Hermione, tell me, because I feel like I don't know whether I'm coming or going sometimes."

"It's not that simple. Please Ron, don't do this to me. I'm sorry." She wavered, not being able to give him the truth, but wanting him to know he had her heart, whether he wanted it or not.

"Which is it?" His voice raised slightly.

Hermione declined to react to that, knowing it would only add fire to the petrol soaked response she was about to give, "I can't tell you. I wish I could, but it's not my secret to tell. But whatever you're imagining, it's nothing like that. Nothing to be jealous about."

He stared at her for a long moment before turning away, saying nothing more. Hermione watched his back, watched the muscles of his shoulders ripple as he raked his hand through his hair.

"Ron." Her voice cracked as she grabbed him gently on the forearm, making him turn back round to face her. Her mouth dropped open to see his eyes sparkling with emotion before she told herself it was likely just from the sooty fireplace. Still, his expression stopped her in her tracks. For a long moment they just stared at each other, wordlessly.

"What?" he shrugged, broken.

With a flash of panic, Hermione remembered the two men they had seen earlier in Knockturn Alley, "I need to go and speak to Harry.

"It's eleven o clock at night and you know they are having real trouble with getting James to sleep at the moment. Can't it wait until morning?" His blue eyes were pleading and Hermione wondered if there was more than just not wanting to disturb Harry at the root of his reluctance in letting her go. His hand moved to hers, gripping tightly and she decided to stay.