A/N: Alias has been fully edited and revised as of 11/18/2018 and about 6k words have been added to the entire story - no major plot changes, though! I am my own beta and there are still probably errors throughout or better ways to word things, but it is what it is! As always, standard disclaimers apply - not mine, no money.

alias, noun

a false or assumed identity.; "a spy operating under the alias Barsad"

Synonyms: assumed name, false name, pseudonym, sobriquet, incognito

….

Hermione Jean Granger idly smoothed the front of her charcoal skirt as she reorganized the stacks of papers on her desk. Her chestnut colored hair was chemically straightened and was cropped just above her shoulders and parted to the side in a flattering bob. Her mahogany eyes were framed by dark, sooty lashes while perfect white teeth flashed between rose colored lips as she smiled to herself. The apples of her cheeks were painted in a comely brush and tiny freckles dotted her nose from too much time spent languidly laying in the sun, though summer was long over by now.

Her slender waist was highlighted by the emerald silk blouse which was tucked into her charcoal skirt. Beneath the knee-length skirt was a pair of black, lightly patterned tights which flowed over a pair of shapely calves and into her simple, practical black pumps. Were it not for her inability to hide her emotions, anyone who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizards would have said the former Gryffindor alumnus looked every inch as though she belonged in Slytherin House.

Of course, there were only a handful of people she would expect to recognize her at this point in her life and she was no longer in contact with any of them.

Her magical past was something that rarely crossed her mind these days as she had been ten years removed from the wizarding world. Her re-assimilation into the muggle world had been difficult at first, but after a few months she easily slipped into a routine and everything she recalled from summers spent with her family came back rather quickly. She, or rather Maya Josephine Garrett, led a rather quiet life and was relatively happy in doing so.

Hearing the bell ring signaling the beginning of the school day, she moved from her place behind her desk and opened the door to her classroom, propping the door open with a doorstop. Walking back into the classroom, the young teacher heard the commotion down the hall which signaled the arrival of her twenty-two students as they filed into the classroom, removing coats, tucking book bags into lockers, and settling in their desks.

When Hermione made the decision to remove herself from the wizarding world, one of the first decisions she made as Maya Garrett was the enroll herself in a muggle university. Forging the papers necessary for her admittance was easy enough and it was one of her last acts of magic nearly ten years ago. After taking a few basic courses, Hermione made the decision to obtain her degrees in child development and elementary education. Through her studies, she found contentment in teaching the mundane subjects, though she suspected she would enjoy teaching magical subjects just as much. The joy came from shaping young minds and pushing each student to their full potential.

A student with shaggy blonde hair wearing jeans that were much too baggy that he had to keep pulling them up, greeted the young teacher with a wave of his hand. "Mornin, Ms. G!" He said, shifting his backpack higher on his shoulder while his other hand held onto his pants.

"Good morning, Sean. How's your mum?" She asked with a kind smile knowing his mother had recently been admitted to the hospital with a ruptured appendix.

"She's doing much better, thank you ma'am. Dr. Moore took great care of her and she's due to be discharged sometime tomorrow. Gran is with her." Sean said with a smile.

Hermione laid a kind hand on the boy's shoulder. "Please send your mother my wishes for a speedy recovery. I'm so pleased to hear she's doing well."

Sean gave her a nod and moved to put his things away when Hermione spoke again. "I think you'll like our speaker today." She said with a wink and a mischievous laugh.

The warm smile on the boy's face grew into an excited grin as he hurriedly took his seat at his desk. As the class continued to settle into their seats, movement outside of her classroom caught her eye. A tall figure wearing a weight lab coat stood casually within the frame of her door, looking at a scrap of paper in his hand. The man flashed her a dazzling smile that made his chiseled facial features, short light brown hair, and deep blue eyes even more alluring than she could have anticipated.

The picture of him she had found on the internet from a story about the hospital didn't do his appearance any justice. Dr. Moore, the man standing in the doorway to her classroom, worked at the local hospital in general surgery. He had taken over the position after Dr. Hart announced her retirement and had seamlessly integrated himself into the community surrounding the hospital.

With a warm smile, Hermione invited the man into her classroom with a sweep of her arm. "Welcome to our classroom, Dr. Moore." She said, shaking his hand firmly. "We are so pleased you were able to join us today."

"The pleasure of mine, Ms. Garrett." He said as he stepped further into the classroom. His voice sounded like velvet to her ears, a rolling baritone with a slight drawl.

Turning from their guest, Hermione turned confidently towards the sea of expectant faces who had been waiting for this visit for weeks. "Class, please give Dr. Moore your undivided attention. He has graciously agreed to speak with us about his career as a general surgeon." Hermione could almost see the students inch forward in their desks as the craned their necks, waiting for the handsome doctor to speak. The girls especially looked ready to pounce and Hermione could already see dreamy smiles forming on several of their faces. She would have to be careful to ensure her own dreamy smile was kept firmly in her mind, not on her lips.

As he began his lecture, Hermione perched herself on a high stool near her desk to listen to him describe his medical training, residency, and current position at the local hospital. Sean agreed with unabashed enthusiasm when the young doctor requested his permission to describe his mother's appendectomy for the class. Hermione was quite certain that all of the desks in her room had shifted forward several inches by that point in the doctor's presentation.

His presentation was finished just as the bell rang signaling the end of the period. Several of Hermione's students shook his hand and thanked him for the lesson as they exited the classroom to head to their physical education class, leaving Hermione alone with the doctor in her classroom.

….

With a cautious eye, Draco Lucius Malfoy watched as the pretty teacher approached him. When she contacted him several weeks ago to speak to her class about his job for something called "Career Week", he hesitantly accepted though he tended to keep to himself these days. He was especially hesitant to explain modern medicine to a group of preteens, but he seemed to hold the group's attention with little effort and a few well-placed bits of humor.

Several times throughout his lecture, he snuck glances at the teacher who was equally as enraptured in his presentation as her students. She looked to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties and was quite a lovely creature to behold.

Draco had thoroughly immersed himself into the muggle world, though it had taken years for him to feel truly comfortable living (mostly) without magic. Following the end of the war which had ripped the wizarding world in two, Draco made the decision to permanently leave the world which he knew would never let him live down the decisions he had made and actions he had taken while under the influence of a madman. It would have been very, very difficult, if not impossible, to ever redeem the name of Malfoy. While Draco hadn't abandoned magic completely, he lived the majority of his days without its use. When he was too tired to function following an eighteen-hour shift at the surgery was primarily when he indulged himself and used his magic – mostly for the purposes of feeding himself.

Draco found an easy solitude in living his life as Drake Moore who happened to be a well-respected, upstanding member of muggle society due to his position as a doctor. Draco Malfoy, however, was a social pariah from a family known throughout the wizarding world for their allegiance to the Dark Lord during the second great wizarding war.

When he made the decision to leave the wizarding world for good, Draco felt he had no choice but to alter his appearance. He didn't want to be recognized – he wanted complete anonymity. Polyjuice would take too much work and was not sustainable long term, so Draco settled for using charms to alter his appearance. After all, how many muggles had silvery-blonde hair and gray eyes? After trying several difference appearance charms, Draco settled on light-brown hair and blue eyes. Though his face still held the angular quality present in his familial line, without his characteristic sneers and smirks, he very nearly looked like a completely different person.

His blue eyes settled on the young teacher who was suddenly at his side, rather than across the room and a mild sense of intoxication settled over him at the smell of her perfume. Though she clasped her hands in front of her, she seemed to want to bounce out of her own skin and pepper him with questions about the lecture he had given to her class. Her voice was smooth and lilting when she spoke.

"Thank you again, Dr. Moore. The students were so excited to hear you speak today, especially after what you did for one of their own."

"It was a refreshing change of pace from spending the days in surgery, Ms. Garrett." Draco said as he crossed his arms in a nonchalant way and leaned against the clean whiteboard.

"Maya, please." She said, her eyes sparkling with something Draco couldn't quite identify. Merlin's beard, her smile was lovely.

"Drake." He said with a gesture to himself. "I hope I wasn't too technical for them. I realized after the fact that I used a great deal of medical jargon without really meaning to."

Draco watched as her dark brown eyes seemed to come alive with her intelligence at the prospect of an intellectual conversation.

"Our curriculum is fairly robust and I think most of our students were able to keep up. Sean was especially interested in your account of his mother's surgery." She said with a glance towards the sandy-haired boy's desk.

With a solemn nod, Draco explained that had the preteen hesitated to call the paramedics, circumstances may have been very different for his family. The boy's quick thinking very likely saved his mother's life and spared him a great deal of heartache.

Feeling his cell phone buzz in his pocket, Draco inwardly groaned at the prospect of cutting their conversation short. He glanced at the text message and frowned, making his apologies. "It appears that I am needed back at the hospital. Would it be possible to continue this conversation another time? Perhaps over coffee?" He asked hopefully.

The slight flush that rose to the apples of the young teacher's cheeks was not missed. "Sure," she said, "I would like that very much."

A warmth rose to Draco's chest at her acceptance but he kept his features schooled in order to not look too eager. It had been quite a while since he had been on a date with a woman and the woman standing before him now had certainly sparked his interest. She seemed at least moderately intelligent and was more than pleasing to the eye. He suspected if he took the time to get to know her, they may share some common interests.

She crossed to her desk and retrieved her own cell phone. "When are you free?" She asked as she navigated to the calendar app. "I suspect your schedule is much busier than mine."

Draco suppressed the nervous tickle at his core as he checked the calendar on his phone, his lips pursed in concentration as he viewed the multitudes of appointments, meetings, and consultations that were spread throughout the week. The only problem with his chosen profession was that it kept his schedule extremely full. He finally found an open space and silently prayed that her schedule was open for that day as well.

"I have some time available on Thursday evening."

"Thursday works for me." She said, logging the appointment in her phone. "There's a lovely coffee shop down the street." She stated, the rose-colored flush just starting to disappear from her cheeks. Though he kept his eyes squarely on her own, his brain couldn't help but wondered what the rest of her would look like with that same pretty blush.

"I've stopped in there from time to time. Is 5:30 okay?" He asked, setting the appointment in his phone.

"Perfect." She affirmed with a warm smile. The fact that her emotions seemed quite easy to read was refreshing to Draco. He was certain were she a witch she would be a Hufflepuff or perhaps a Gryffindor. His eyes wandered briefly to her lips, though she didn't notice as her focus was still on her phone. If all went according to the plan forming in Draco's mind, he would get to feel just how soft they were rather than merely hypothesizing.

With a polite incline of his head, Draco tucked his phone back into his pocket and flashed the muggle teacher his most dashing smile. "Until then, Maya."

She muttered a goodbye and he was pleased to note the pretty blush had returned to her cheeks as he swept out of her classroom. As he made his way through the school building and towards his car, he tried to place who exactly the teacher reminded him of. Perhaps it would come to him over the next few days – he was certain he wouldn't be able to get her out of his head.

….

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived (and Died and Lived Again) and head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement following the recent retirement of Gawain Robards, paced tirelessly around his office. He roughly ran his fingers through his already messy black hair as he growled in frustration. He hated this day. Harry kicked out at the empty air as he paced and released another growl.

Today was the day and his best friend had completely and utterly walked out of his life and never looked back, though he didn't know it at the time. She never gave any hint to where she was going – she just left. She left the wizarding world. She left her friends. She left those she considered friends. She simply vanished.

Ten years ago, his best friend, Hermione Granger, made the decision to resign her position as an aide to the Minister of Magic, pack of her entire flat, and run away from all of her troubles. It wouldn't have been the first time Hermione had taken an extended leave to escape from the media circus who hounded them relentlessly, but she had always managed to return after several weeks with a tan, a smile, and renewed sense of duty to the world around her.

Harry had merely brushed off the fact that she had packed up her flat and had spoken to him with a dangerously serious tone as though this time were the same as the others.

With tears welling up in her eyes, Hermione faced him, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. "I'm done, Harry. I just can't do it anymore."

Harry settled himself on the arm of the sofa and looked up at the witch. "What do you mean you can't 'do it anymore', Hermione? You're not making sense." It wouldn't have been the first time any of them had caved under pressure, but wanting to give up? No. That was ludicrous.

She gestured wildly as though they were surrounded. "Everything. The publicity. The cameras. The prying reporters. All of the astronomical expectations we're held to as the Saviors of the Wizarding World," she added with a sneer. "I'm tired Harry. I'm in my early twenties and I'm so tired because it feels like the war never ended for us. I don't want to be the "brightest witch of the age", "war heroine" or any of the other titles the world has thought to bestow upon me."

A single tear rolled down her cheek and she brushed it away with a finger. Her voice was shaking by this point and her cheeks were an unflattering, uneven red color. "I just can't do it anymore. If I stay, I'll go crazy."

Harry rose from his place on the sofa and placed his arms around the distraught witch. "You can't avoid who you are, 'Mione." He said, knowing exactly how she felt. After the war, the media circus had latched on to the three of them. Ron rather enjoyed being in the spotlight while he had taken it all in stride. Hermione, on the other hand, had loathed it with an unrivaled passion. Her distaste for finding her picture in the paper had only seemed to ignite the media's obsession with the brilliant witch.

"Watch me." She challenged through clenched teeth with a renewed spark of determination in her brown eyes.

With a resigned sigh, Harry ran his hands up and down the sides of Hermione's arms. "Just take a week and rest. You have been working rather hard lately – doing both your job and half of Shacklebolts."

She backed up out of his embrace and crossed her arms over her chest once more. "Taking a week off won't fix anything, Harry. I've tendered my resignation and I intend to leave before the sun sets"

Harry suddenly felt exasperated and he started gesticulating wildly. How on earth could this incredible, talented, brilliant witch just abandon a job that she loved? "You're next in line to be the Minister of Magic when Shacklebolt retires. You love your job. This has always been your dream, 'Mione. You can't give that all up." He was almost pleading with her by this point.

"It's not worth it."

Each word was articulated and punctuated with a finality that Harry wished he had recognized at the time. After those four fateful words, she walked out of his office with her entire life packed up in that ugly beaded bag and simply vanished. He knew she would come back. She always came back.

How wrong he had been. She had been gone for ten bloody years without so much as an owl, a letter by muggle post, or a telephone call to let them know she was alive or even safe.

Today was the last day he had spoken to his best friend. It was the last day he had looked into her pretty brown eyes. It was the last day he had hugged her. It was also the last day where he hadn't been there for her – and that stung the most.

A slender witch with silky black hair cropped above her shoulders perched in the doorframe of Harry's office. A disappointed scowl marred her normally comely features and looked out of place given the redness of her lips. She held a paper cup of steaming coffee in her delicate and perfectly manicured hand as she watched him pace back and forth within the confines of his office.

"You're going to wear a hole in the carpets, Potter." She chided, taking a sip of her coffee, her eyes following his pacing form.

Harry stopped briefly in his pacing to scowl at the witch. "You know exactly what day it is, Parkinson, and here you are worrying about the carpets." He hissed, the words fighting to move past his clenched teeth as he balled his hands into fists.

"I had to ward the liquor cabinet this morning to ensure my fiancée stayed sober today. Though it won't prevent him from heading to a bar to finish the deed." Pansy sighed, taking a step into Harry's office one hand still clutching her coffee as though it were her lifeline. "Ronald taking it just as poorly as you, Potter, though I'm not sure who is in rougher shape – my future husband or you."

Her tone grew more gentle as she took another step towards the pacing wizard. "Go home to your wife, Harry." She pleaded with a warm, caring look on her face. "You won't be of any use to any one today. Ortiz and I can hand fill in for you while you take care of yourself. We all know what today is."

Harry stopped pacing and gave her a nod, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose after the fact.

Pansy took another step closer to Harry and wrapped her arms around him in a friendly embrace. "Ron and I will be over later today. You know Ginny and I won't let the two of you face this day alone."

With a sigh, Harry pulled his arms around Pansy and rested his chin atop her head. "You're right, P. I should go."

"Ortiz and I can manage." Pansy said with a bit of a mischievous smile as she step back from the friendly and completely platonic embrace. "Now, off you pop." She said, shooing him towards the floo.

With a nod, Harry quickly gathered what he needed from his desk and stepped towards the floo. "I'll see you tonight, Parkinson."

"See you, Potter."

….

As Hermione stepped into the small coffee shop just down the street from her school, she allowed the sweet, intoxicating scent of freshly brewed coffee to fill her nose as she brushed a few flakes of snow from her coat. Hanging her coat on a rack near the door, Hermione sauntered up to the counter and ordered an iced coffee with an extra shot. She spent a moment viewing the offerings in the pastry case but ultimately decided against one of the delectable treats. After paying for her coffee, she took a seat in a cozy wingback chair near the window, opening the book she had brought with her just in case the doctor didn't show. It certainly wouldn't be the first (or probably last) time she was ever stood up for a date.

As she attempted to read she toyed with the straw in her cup, absently. She was certain she had read the same sentence six times when the door to the coffee shop opened and she saw the handsome doctor striding in with confidence from over the top of her book. He caught her eye and nodded in recognition before hanging his own heavy, woolen coat on the rack and ordering his own drink at the bar. He couldn't see the giddy smile plastered on her lips from behind her book and she managed to school her features into something more feminine and sophisticated by the time he took a seat in the chair next to hers.

She could hear the own nervous tremor in her voice when she spoke, but secretly hoped he didn't think anything was amiss. "It's lovely to see you again."

"Likewise." He affirmed before taking a sip of steaming, black coffee. "How have you been?"

Hermione was mildly distracted by his beverage choice. While her parents had schooled her on the importance of dental hygiene, there was absolutely no way she could drink the normally bitter beverage without copious amounts of cream and sugar.

He was looking at her expectantly when she finally responded. "Quite well, though as we move into the spring term everything begins to pick up and life will get a bit busier for me." Parent conferences were scheduled to happen in two weeks and before she knew it, the mandated testing the students were subjected to would be upon her before she could say Qudditch.

He nodded as though he understood and appeared to be genuinely interested in her profession when he asked, "What made you decide to become a teacher?"

"Learning is one of my many passions." She explained, feeling the excitement bubble up at getting to speak so openly about her profession. "I was what most would call a 'bookworm' when I was in school. Always in the library, taking extra classes, chiding friends about their own assignments. You know, generally trying to be the best at all of my… academic pursuits." She let of out soft chuckle, knowing that if she even attempted to explain away what her education truly encompassed he would think she'd gone 'round the bend.

"I ultimately decided I wanted to give back to the community by teaching the next generation." She said as she fondly thought of her students.

"I knew someone just like that in school." He laughed in a very easy going way that made Hermione's heart skip a beat as he leaned back into his chair. "I loathed her for her determination and innate talent for learning everything so quickly. She was always one step ahead of me." He shook his head. "It was so frustrating!"

With his admission, Hermione's mind automatically drifted to her own school yard nemesis, Draco Malfoy, the poncy, irritating git. She could be proud of herself that she'd bested him in just about every subject but potions. She pushed the thoughts of the former Death Eater from her mind to focus on the man sitting before her who was nothing like the boy she'd hated from ten years ago.

With a change of subject, Hermione decided to echo his question to her before taking a sip of her coffee. "What made you decide to go into medicine?"

He tapped his toe against the tile floor and ran his fingers through his slightly mussed brown hair. "I stumbled into it, really."

How on earth does one just stumble into the field of medicine? Most people know they want to take that path long before they get to university.

"When I attended university, I didn't have a clear vision of exactly what I wanted to do. I took a few classes in law and chemistry before eventually I took my first pre-med class. From that moment on, I never really looked back. I came out of university several years later with a degree in medicine and starting my residency." He shrugged with a humble smile as he knocked back the last of his black coffee as though he were taking a shot of the finest firewhiskey.

"I'll bet there's an interesting story in there somewhere." She laughed, shifting her her seat so she was leaning towards him slightly. It was refreshing to feel so at ease with someone and his easy going manner reminded her of friends she hadn't spoken to in years.

"Of course. But what happens in med school, stays there." He intoned with a cheeky wink.

"I'll bet that's the reason for the black coffee." She grinned, with a gesture to his mug before shaking her own iced coffee slightly to move the ice and mix the cream with the coffee more. "I can't stand the stuff."

"Tea never quite did the trick like black coffee. Plus, it's readily available in the lounge and there's little time for cream and sugar when you're rushing from patient to patient."

She nodded. "I can't even imagine. What's it like?" She asked, leaning her arm against the nearby table and resting her head in her hand.

"I couldn't imagine doing anything else, at this point. It's exhilarating and exhausting, but I'm happy for once in my life. It's a great feeling to do something you love day in and day out."

The way he said once in my life made Hermione pause for a moment. Was he unhappy before now? What made him unhappy? That obviously wasn't conversation for a first pre-date for coffee, but she filed it away in the back of her mind to perhaps ask him later. Still, she could empathize. She had been absolutely miserable in her ministry job once her initial elation at the position wore off. The ever-present media circus certainly didn't help things either.

"I know what you mean. I was a… government employee before I got into teaching. Those students are my world." She supposed government employee was technically the correct term. It just wasn't the government of the muggle world.

Drake looked down into his empty cup. "I'm going to grab another. Do you want anything?"

I'd like to get lost in those blue eyes of yours…

She glanced down at her half full iced coffee. "Oh, no thank you." He nodded and stepped up to the counter to order himself another black coffee. Hermione found her eyes gazing longingly at him as he walked away before she could stop herself. She could just make out the ripple of his back muscles under the sensible dark blue oxford he wore, not to mention the sway of his hips in those muggle jeans.

How long had it been since Hermione had dated anyone? She had a fling with Viktor Krum several years ago that ended up all over the Prophet and other wizarding publications. After that another brief interlude with Ron before they realized they were completely ill suited. Anthony Goldstein creeped on her when she'd worked at the ministry but that had never gone any further than awkward glances in the corridors and her avoiding the area near his cubicle. She had been on a few dates with muggle boys in the years since she had relinquished all claims to the wizarding world. As she added up the numbers in her head, she realized it had honestly been several years since she had been on a proper date.

Was that even what this was? Coffee with a friend? A pre-date? An actual date? A cute doctor had asked her to coffee. No matter what it was in his mind, she was calling it a date.

….

Granger. Maya reminded him in a subtle way of Hermione Granger, the swot to end all swots. Maya was an intellectual sure, but she didn't seem to show it off in the same way Granger was so blatant about. With her brown-on-brown hair and eyes, she slightly resembled the Princess of Gryffindor.

It was getting harder and harder to call up the faces that matched the names from his Hogwarts days but that was one witch he would never forget. He had certainly taunted her enough about them that her buck teeth and mass of bushy curls were forever burned into his retinas.

No. While Maya reminded him slightly of Granger, she couldn't possibly share anything in common with the witch of his childhood. Draco assumed that many teachers shared a passion for being a life-long learner and he found that passion refreshing. It was an admirable profession to want to shape the next generation.

After thanking the barista for his coffee and dropping a generous tip in the jar on the counter, he sauntered back to the window where Maya was waiting for him. She looked lovely with the sunlight highlighting her features and Draco felt his breath catch in his throat before he forced an exhale.

Draco slid a fruit tarte topped with cream across the table to the teacher before setting a fork down nearby. "Have you had them before?" He asked her, smiling at the surprised expression on her face.

"This looks amazing and thank you." She said sincerely. "I usually just grab a coffee and maybe a muffin in the mornings on my way to the school. I'm rarely here in the evenings for decadent offerings such as fruit tarts, though I will admit to perusing the case before you arrived." Maya replied with a genuine smile and an almost playful glint to her eyes.

"Honestly, neither have I, but they looked too delicious to pass up." Picking up his fork and taking a bite of his tart led to the escape of a contented sigh from his lips and at exactly the same moment as his companion. Decadent was clearly the right word to use to describe the sensation accompanying the flavors of the dessert he had chosen.

"What do you do in your free time?" Maya asked, popping another bite of the fruit tart into her mouth as delicately as possible. The etiquette lessons her mother had subjected her to when she was a child popped into the forefront of her mind.

"Free time? What is this free time you speak of?" He teased. Surely his companion must know that doctors have very little free time.

"Oh, you know, the moments between all of your life save endeavors." She quipped with a cheeky, but charming smile. He was quickly finding himself enamored with her quick wit and intellect and he'd barely spent an hour with the woman.

"Catch up on sleep." He replied with a wink. "If I do happen to have more than a few hours between shifts, I might play a round of golf, read a novel, or play video games." He'd picked up golf in lieu of Quidditch pretty early on in his transition into the muggle world. It was a poor replacement for his favorite sport, which had been intensely difficult to give up following his departure from the wizarding world. He could barely recall the last time he'd felt the sun on his face and the wind in his hair as he rode a broom. There was nothing quite like the sensation and it was honestly one of the things he missed the most.

"I read, mostly. I also bake and pick up random hobbies like the time where I decided to learn Turkish on a whim." She offered with a small laugh.

"Turkish? Why Turkish? That seems much less practical than many other languages which are currently in demand." He arched an eyebrow. What an odd thing to decide to learn on a whim yet he couldn't help but find it utterly charming.

Maya turned an amusing shade of crimson and launched into a detailed account of finding a Turkish soap opera one day on an obscure television channel and falling in love with the musicality and structure of the language. She described the basic structure of the language and Draco had to stop himself from fawning over the way adorable way this muggle woman explained the agglutinative nature of a language he'd honestly never heard. There was something thoroughly enchanting about the way she offered explanations in a carefree and easy manner.

"Say something in Turkish then." He challenged, knowing he would have absolutely no way of knowing what she was saying. Did Lucius have an associate who spoke Turkish? No, Draco reminded himself, that particular associate spoke Hungarian.

"Merhaba. Benim adım Maya Garrett. Tanıştığımıza çok memnun oldum." She replied, holding her hand out to shake his, attempting to hold a serious expression on her face to which she was barely successful "Hello. My name is Maya Garrett. It's very nice to meet you." She smiled as she interpreted the words into English, her hand clasping his in a firm handshake. He liked it when their hands touched. Was there anything about this girl he didn't like? He had only been in her presence for maybe an hour total and he already thought she was enchanting. It almost made him feel sixteen again.

"Likewise," Draco replied with a smirk, shaking her hand and finding himself keenly aware of the way her hand fit perfectly in his.

As he released her hand, he was never more certain that he wanted to see her again, and soon. Now seemed like as good of a time as any to ask her, before the time came for them to part. "Maya, would you like to have dinner with me, next week?"

"I would love to, Drake." There was that flush on her cheeks again that he found so endearing.

….

The teacups rattled, the porcelain threatening to chip under the vibrations as Ronald Weasley slammed a copy of The Times down on the table. The unexpected action merely caused his fiancée to arch her eyebrow whilst his sister practically jumped out of her chair upon the sudden impact. Harry Potter, Merlin love him, didn't move a muscle as he trained his eyes on the tiny non-moving picture surrounded by a short article entitled Educating the Economically Disadvantaged.

It was her. Though there was no color to the photograph, her eyes reflected happiness at being surrounded by a group of students who appeared to be just on the cusp of becoming adolescents. She was dressed in muggle clothing as she pointed towards something written on the board and her hair no longer fell in gentle ringlets down her back, but that didn't alter the fact that it was her. A perfect photograph of Hermione Jane Granger who had been missing for the last ten years was emblazoned in black and white on the page of the newspaper.

"Fuck!" Ron threw his hands in the air as he cursed, the volume bordering on a shout. He emphatically gestured to the photograph, pointing at the witch. "She's right fucking there."

In a display of frustration, Ron released a groan, dragging his fingers through his ginger hair and down his face. "Has she been in London this whole bloody time?"

For once, Pansy was left speechless though her ruby red lips had curled into a smirk. The thought that Gryffindor's Princess had been hiding under their noses in Muggle London for the past ten years was truly astounding. If Granger could hide in Muggle London, why not Draco? He'd been missing for at least as long. No. Pansy told herself. Draco loathed muggles and probably wouldn't be able to survive on his own for more than a week without magic.

Snatching the paper from her husband, Ginny Potter skimmed over the tiny print of the article, desperately searching for the name of the woman in the photograph. "They didn't mention her by name, but perhaps we can trace the photograph by contacting whoever wrote the article."

"That's not a bad idea, Gin." Pansy said, her eyes following her fiancée as he paced around the dining table wringing his hands and looking like he was about to have an anxiety attack.

"Ronald." The use of his first name got his attention and he stopped pacing momentarily. "Sit down." She commanded, gently to which he immediately complied, taking a seat next to Ginny. Pansy rested her palm flat against his back in another bid to calm him down. Though he was silent, his eyes were transfixed on the tiny photograph of his best friend.

It was clear to anyone who had been around Pany and Ron for any amount of time that Pansy was the dominant party in their relationship. Ron complied without thinking, taking a seat next to Ginny, snatching the newspaper from her. He remained silent, his eyes fixed on the tiny photograph.

Though he rested his head in his hands, his instincts as an Auror took over and his emotions were suppressed for the moment. "Ginny's suggestion is the best one we have. Pansy, can you make the call?"

"First thing tomorrow morning, boss." She affirmed, rubbing soothing circles over Ron's back.

"Thank you. Muggle London is too big for us to investigate without narrowing down our search area." He said before allowing himself to look at the photograph again. He silently memorized the features of the woman in the picture. Her hair was shorter and straight but her eyes and smile were the same. Hermione still managed to shine with that brilliant intelligence that so defined her.

Were they really so close to finding her after ten years?