Unofficial Portkey Archive

TITLE: All Roads Lead Back

KEYWORDS: Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Draco and the rest of the gang. Primarily H/Hr, but a slew of various ships as well. Post-HBP.

SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter always figured that once his destiny was fulfilled he could finally have a happy, normal life. Unfortunately for him, he fell in love with his best friend...and everything went straight to Hell! A very gradual, slow moving H/Hr love story told through multiple canon character perspective as well as several flashbacks. Set 7 years after the final battle.

SPOILERS: All six books.

WORD COUNT: 20,582

RATING: NC17 for language and later sexual content.

BETA: Padfoot & murphsmine

WARNING: This chapter is heavy on one-sided D/Hr in flashback as well as present day D/LL. You have been warned.

DISCLAIMER: If it looks like it's JKR's, well, that's because it is. She's provided me with the canvas and I'm truly enjoying painting on it.

Wednesday, 06/01/05

"I took my love and I took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love
Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older too
Well..."

"Goddamned depressing song!"

Hermione Granger was having a terrible, horrible day. On her daily morning jog she fell. Twice! The first time it happened she tripped over a pebble she just didn't see coming. She had no clue what caused the second fall; however, she was rewarded for her fleet-footedness by gracefully landing herself in an anthill. After that she got the message and decided to hobble herself back to the cottage.

Once she was settled in the slipper shaped, claw footed tub in the master bathroom, she decided to pass the time by counting how many red, angry ant bites she could find on her body. She even entertained the thought of finding a permanent red ink pen and connecting the dots just to see what shape the thirteen painful welts would take. But since there was no chance of them forming themselves into a big fat "A", she decided to forgo the idea.

Thirteen bites! Even Hermione had to acknowledge that it just was not a good sign. Somewhere out there Sibyll Trelawney was tipping back a bottle of cooking sherry with glee.

Then again Hermione's night hadn't been any great shakes either. Going to the market after Harry left the house had been nothing short of disastrous. She ran into the town's librarian, Hyacinth Ludley, there. Hermione still remembered the woman from the countless days she spent in the small village library for hours looking up any information she could come across on Harry's family. After getting over the initial shock that Hermione was one of the three young strangers that were residing in the haunted cottage, Hyacinth had been a great help to Hermione's little side project back then.

She was such a great help that Hermione easily recognized her now, even though the woman had put on a good deal of weight since that long ago summer. When Hermione spotted her by the fresh produce and called out her name, it only took Hyacinth a few minutes to place the face of the 17 year old girl that now sat under the shiny blonde hair.

The two of them had a lovely chat as they both examined the cucumbers and admired the celery. Hyacinth told Hermione that she had gotten married nearly a year ago and that she and her husband were looking forward to having a baby soon. Hermione mentioned that she was once again staying in the Potter cottage. Everything had been going smoothly and both women had even traded dinner invitations. Then Hermione courteously asked the rather roly-poly librarian when she was due and reached out to caress her slightly protruding belly. Hyacinth let her know that she wasn't, and very stiffly excused herself from the conversation.

Hermione's cheeks were red then, but nowhere near the heated hue they turned when she picked up a two gallon carton of milk and watched it bubble in her hand, right before exploding all over the place. That was her cue to exit the market. She just wished she could have done it before Lizzie overturned the egg cart or before she put her foot further in her mouth and asked one of the young store clerks where she could find the fresh sex. She ran before the very excited teen aged boy could tell her.

Now she was driving through the town of Ottery St. Catchpole. First she planned to stop at the Weasleys, then swing by Lovegood House in hopes of catching Draco Malfoy there. Normally she would have floo'ed first, but she decided to make her visit a surprise after accidentally inhaling a bit of dusty floo powder she found in the downstairs basement. After two hours the little puffs of green smoke finally stopped shooting out of her nostrils. That was when she grabbed a purse, found her keys, and decided to get the hell out of the house before she somehow managed to set the place ablaze.

To put it kindly, Hermione was in a state! Her socks didn't match, she was wearing a blouse that really needed to make the acquaintance of an iron, and every few minutes she had to fight off the compulsion to pull back the collar of the shirt just to verify whether or not she had on a bra. It was a wonder that she was even capable of driving her truck without wrapping it around a tree; her hands did tremble slightly as they clutched the wheel, but she figured that there was no reason to question God for small favors and kept her eyes on the road as best she could.

The current choice of music, however, was setting her teeth on edge. When she first jumped in the vehicle she reached into the glove compartment where she kept her CDs and rooted around for anything that would keep her crazed mind occupied. The last thing she wanted to do was listen to her thoughts. She didn't even look to see what she popped into the stereo sound system; just pushed the random button and released a pleased sigh as the blaring sounds of battling banjos and twangy voices came out of it. She even sang along to the little country ditty and bopped around her seat to the tune. Hermione really could not stand country music, but as far as the genre went, she could tolerate this.

It was fun and frothy and the words were mindless and inane. It was perfect! That is until the music began to annoy her and another one of Collier's disks went hurtling out the window. She probably didn't mean to nearly take off the head of the balding little wizard that was out walking his pet krup down the lane. It was a good thing then that the CD embedded itself in the trunk of the tree the man was standing next to.

As the gnomish old man bellowed and hollered at her, his blue polka dotted robes billowing out in the breeze; Hermione stuck her head out the window and stammered out a very flustered and apologetic "sorry". She then rolled her window up, slunk down low in her seat, and hit the gas when she saw him pull out his wand.

Hermione was desperate for some form of distraction. She needed something, anything that would keep the tortured musings...and pictures in her head at bay. Anything to stop from thinking about seeing Harry later on that day, and what could possibly happen when she did. So her thoughts turned to Draco Malfoy, her friend, instead.

Draco Malfoy. Her friend.

Hermione had to restrain her giggle. Even after all of these years, after everything all of them had gone through, the fact that she could say that sentence and not have it be the world's biggest April Fool's joke was almost too inexplicable for words. But the truth of the matter was that Draco was indeed her friend. No matter what circumstances their uneasy and wholly unexpected camaraderie started under, it was a simple fact that over time it bloomed into a real and true friendship. Draco Malfoy was actually one of the few people in this world that Hermione actually trusted. He had saved Harry's life once. Even though Harry didn't want to acknowledge the wizarding bond the action created between the two of them, Hermione more than willingly took up the debt.

She still remembered how unhappy the boys were when they started to realize that Hermione's views and opinions on the Death Eater's son weren't the same as theirs any longer. Well, not so much during the War. During the War Harry and Ron accepted that they would have to tolerate Draco's presence for however long the conflict lasted. He was an Order member like they were and he was marked for death just the same as them. It also didn't hurt that Draco actually began to pull his weight in the Order; going on covert missions, sharing what information he knew about Voldemort and his associates, helping with training and such. But Harry and Ron never let Draco forget that they saw their association with him as a necessary evil that had to be endured if they wanted to win. Draco Malfoy, however, would never be counted as a trusted friend and colleague. But Hermione didn't seem to agree with this line of reasoning, which often caused much tension amongst the three best friends.

With Ron it was to be expected. The Weasleys and the Malfoys had been bitter enemies since the 1700's when, during the Warlock's Convention of '09, Hammish Weasley was the deciding vote that banned personal dragon breeding in the British Isles. It wasn't that Hammish really had anything against the beasts, he just hated the fact that the gent who owned the Welsh Green farm near his land allowed the dragons to use Hammish's pond as a cesspool, and dine daily on the cash strapped farmer's short supply of sheep. Aubert Malfoy, however, did not appreciate his babies being taken away from him. Sure he was raising the creatures to help in his planned take-over of the Ministry; however, this did not mean that he did not love his little darlings.

Aubert held Hammish Weasley solely responsible for the ban and from that day on there was always bad blood between the two families. It was a silly matter to hold a nearly three century grudge over, but through out the years so much enmity had been piled on to the list of slights and infractions that the two clans held against each other that after a while not many could really remember what started the original fracas in the first place. It was as if it was programmed into their DNA for Ron and Draco to hate each other. In Ron's eyes Draco was never to be trusted, especially where Hermione was concerned. To him, once you were a servant of the Dark Lord, you were always a servant of the Dark Lord. Ron never let go of the belief that as soon as he turned his back Draco would toss Hermione off the nearest high peak. Hermione tried to tell Ron repeatedly that such thinking was sophomoric, but he wouldn't listen. After a while Hermione realized that maybe that was the safest thing for Ron to believe because if he knew otherwise...

With Harry it was a bit different. It was as if some moral code in Harry wouldn't allow him to hate Draco the same way he did before the battle at Boussac. That didn't stop Harry from disliking him, though. Harry despised everything about Draco; his voice, his hair, his haughty sneer. Just Draco's mere presence in a room was enough to make the hairs on Harry's head bristle. And considering the head of hair that he had at the time, it did not help but give Harry the slight appearance of a bespeckled hedgehog.

More than anything though Hermione often felt that Harry begrudged any attention that she doled on Draco. As if he wasn't deserving of it. At times it almost felt as if Harry was even jealous of the burgeoning amity between the Gryffindor girl and the Slytherin boy. But Hermione wasn't foolish enough to read anything into it. Given the fact that Harry tended to lose the people closest to him, it wasn't too hard to see why he might get a little territorial with her. In Harry's mind she belonged to him and Ron, woe to any fool who dared to disprove that simple truth. Harry never voiced these thoughts to her, he valued his life after all, but she could tell by his words and actions that he thought them just the same.

However he was resigned to the fact that until Voldemort was defeated he would have to put up with his boyhood nemesis. Harry even began to use it as motivation to winning the cause. She would often hear him whisper to Ron that once Riddle was gone Draco would be too. Harry naively assumed that after the War, Draco would crawl back into some pit somewhere far, far away and none of them would ever have to deal with him again.

How wrong he was.

For after the War, Hermione continued to have a relationship with Draco. No one seemed more surprised at this than the Slytherin, himself. He told her plainly that he figured that once the War was over, her use for him would be over as well. It almost hurt her that he could think her capable of such casual cruelty. Then she reminded herself of the kind of family Draco came from. Taking advantage of your kith and kin for personal gain was almost like familial bonding with the Malfoys. Of course Draco could think Hermione capable of stabbing him in the back, members of his own family had done it after all.

But Hermione honestly saw something in Draco striving to be different than what most people assumed he was. Hell, what he assumed he was. It often made Hermione wonder whether people were simply born inherently evil, or if they only chose that path for themselves. After the War Draco seemed to be looking for a direction other than the one his father and so many Malfoys before him had gone. Hermione, being the patroness of so many other causes, decided to take his hand and help him along his way. Since most of his Slytherin house mates abandoned him after the War she decided that, above all things, what Draco Malfoy really needed was a friend. And that is what Hermione tried to be. Even though he never said as much, Hermione knew that he was grateful for it.

Of course he was still an arse. But in a way Hermione almost found that quality dear. It was like a baby that would whinge and cry for a toy because the child discovered that such behavior would eventually get him the desired result. Draco knew that his caustic personality pissed people off, but since he took such enjoyment out of their reactions he never saw a reason to stop. And sometimes, despite the fact that she didn't want to, Hermione would even find herself laughing at something outrageously knavish and annoying that he had said. Like a lot of stuffy and serious minded people, Hermione often found herself drawn to those who could pull the laughter out of her, especially when the girl who wanted to smile and joke lay not too far underneath the surface. That was what helped flame the spark that she once held for Ron, what pulled her towards Harry, and what ultimately inspired her affinity towards Draco. She also came to see that Draco could be caring (as long as it could not be misconstrued as weakness) and loyal (as long as it was a cause that he truly believed in).

But the thing that Hermione really liked about Draco was the fact that he didn't put her on the same pedestal that her boys delegated to her. She often got the impression that Harry and Ron almost believed her capable of doing no wrong, that she was perfect. Of course Hermione knew better, and it was flattering to know that the two most important people in her life thought so highly of her, still it did rankle her nerves that she often felt compelled to have to live up to their esteem. She hated to let them down, especially Harry.

Draco was different. He often saw her at her meanest and in her most ill-tempered fits. Usually it was because that side of her nature was being directed at him. But he actually seemed to like those qualities in her. It amused him that the little Miss Goody Two Shoes he imagined her all through school had a bit of an inner bad girl, and Draco lived for bringing that side of her persona out to the forefront as often as he could. He would tell her dirty jokes and fully expect her to get the ribald punch lines. He enjoyed regaling her with some of the mischief making antics he got himself into. At first Hermione found the way that he would bait and tease her irritating. But eventually she began to see that in some round about way it was his method of showing her affection. After a while she returned his affection in kind.

A few things did bother her about him, though. First on the list was the fact that he told her repeatedly that he would never befriend Harry and Ron as long as he lived. Once, when she suggested the absurd notion that the three young men might one day get along, Draco told her in no uncertain terms that it wasn't possible. Weasleys and Malfoys just did not mix. And as far as Harry was concerned, there was just too much animosity between them to ever make any kind of alliance work. Besides, Draco haughtily told her, he had nothing in common with the two Gryffindors. Hermione mused aloud that she thought that they all had her in common, but she guessed she was wrong. It was because of this expertly executed bit of manipulation that Draco promised her that he would try not to insult her two best friends in her presence any longer. He often failed, but she didn't discount the fact that he at least tried to make the effort.

Draco's superiority complex was also a bone of contention between them. He simply thought himself better than most in the wizarding world. He had breeding and he had money and in his mind that put him above the fray. He deemed her worthy of his time and attention, but Hermione wasted no time telling him to get over himself. She hated the amount of house-elves his family owned, she didn't give a damn that his great-great-great-great grandfather, Ettiene de Malfoi, had once been in line to be the French Minister for Magic (that is until those pesky sketches of him, a 12 year old Muggle girl, and a chestnut bay gelding named Skip appeared on the front page of Le Observateur de Magie), and she simply could care less that he was of pure blood. She made sure he knew this every chance she got.

She also tried to impress upon him the need to get rid of his silly prejudices against non-magical people. Although Draco denied that he hated Muggles and wished them all dead, he insisted that he only followed along with the Death Eater party line for show, it was quite plain to see that most of his family's beliefs on blood status rang true for him. He thought Muggles were lazy, stupid, and of low class. In Hermione's mind she often saw herself as much a Muggle as her parents were, so what did that say about her? Draco tried to argue the point that she was different, that she was a magical person and that fact alone made her better. It was almost impossible for him to see the wrong-headedness in that line of reasoning.

"I don't mind that your mum and dad were Muggles," he would often say to her as if to prove how liberal minded he had become.

She would only shake her head solemnly at him at those times.

"That's just the point, Draco. You don't mind," she would answer him. "You shouldn't care."

He would argue that it was all just semantics, but to her it wasn't. Still, once Hermione Granger took on a project she put all her heart into it. She wanted to help open Draco's mind to a world that he had been taught to despise. Hermione figured that the best way to do it was full throttle immersion. She made Draco meet her for lunch and dinner in parts of Muggle London. When she discovered how well cultured he was, at least magically speaking, she tried to interest that side of his makeup. They saw Shakespeare plays at the Globe, they admired Titian, Rembrandt, Monet, and Van Gogh at the National, and she forced him to accompany her to the opera and the ballet. She even made the grand sacrifice of taking him to a few Manchester United games, though Hermione was damned if she knew what was happening out on the field.

Surprisingly it was when she took him on his first trip to the cinema that Draco's appreciation for things Muggle started to improve. They originally went to the theater to see a costume period piece. For some mad reason she thought he might actually enjoy it. Instead they somehow ended up seeing some wild science fiction movie with girls in tight black leather, martial arts, and lots of big guns. Draco even made her call him "Neo" for the rest of the night. Because she could almost see the sweet, innocent little boy he might have been before his father began to warp his mind, Hermione obliged. She discovered that if the film had large amounts of violence, excessive nudity, and a generous supply of potty mouth; Draco would excitedly watch. Hermione found this fact disconcerting, but counted it as a success anyway. When she finally lived on her own he would come over every now and then and they would watch a film together. He even had a DVD player when he lived in Highgate. It was because of this simple invention that Draco Malfoy finally admitted to her that Muggles weren't all that bad.

The most troubling thing about Draco Malfoy, however, was that he cared too much. He cared about her too much, and by time Hermione stumbled onto that realization it was far too late to do anything to remedy the situation. Then again it wasn't like she had actually done anything to cultivate his feelings for her in the first place. She'd just been kind to him. She also had tried to find some common ground with the boy who had insulted and berated her for so many years. In lighter moments she often felt like she was taking part in some grand social experiment. If you treated someone like a human being they actually tended to act like a one. This led Hermione to wonder if Draco had ever known much kindness in his young life. He had a family who he had been willing to sacrifice his life for, and he had a horde of sycophantic hangers-on, but she wondered if anyone had ever been sincerely nice to him for reasons other than feeling obligated to do it. In truth she had her own selfish reasons for reaching out to him, but she became his friend because she wanted to. Draco eventually came to accept her genuine goodwill.

With that acceptance, sadly; came his unrequited feelings. If all he wanted was nothing more than a quick screw, like back when he would make lurid innuendos and leer at her during Order meetings, Hermione would have cut him down to size. Verbally of course, literally if he ever chose to get handsy. But she knew that wasn't the case. Draco didn't want to shag her...ok; he didn't want to just shag her. He actually wanted her to fall for him too. She found it ironic in a way that they both couldn't be with the person that they wanted. It actually made her feel some sort of affinity with Draco. But it didn't make her love him. It could never make her love him. And although Draco told her that he accepted that fact, it did create some rather uncomfortable moments from time to time.

"What the hell are those?" asked Draco as he suspiciously eyed the books that bopped up and down as they hovered into the sitting room behind her.

Hermione pointed her wand at them and they neatly stacked themselves on the nearest table to the door.

"These are called books," she answered him matter-of-factly. "They are simply marvelous inventions, you see. When you open them there are words on almost every page. And if you are bright enough, you can actually read them."

"Smart arse."

Hermione smiled to herself as she took off her black cloak and draped it over a nearby chaise lounge. September was barely underway, and yet there was already a noticeable chill in the night air. When Draco floo'ed her flat it was just starting to get dark and she had already bundled herself up on her couch with a bowl of popcorn on her lap and a copy of The English Patient playing on the telly. Most observers probably would have seen this as the picture of a lonely and broken woman. She was single once again after all. Ron, still smarting from the pain of the first proposal of his that went rejected, was exploding glassware soon after Hermione's second refusal.

What made the situation worse was that he had the bad habit of staging these grand gestures in front of large crowds. The scene of his personal Waterloo took place during Fred and Glinda's wedding reception, a little more than a year from the last great defeat. He was affronted at the notion that while Hermione was perfectly content to just date him, she absolutely refused to be his wife. Stung from her rejection, he dumped her in front of all of the wedding guests for the sole purpose of humiliating her. He wanted to hurt Hermione as badly as she had hurt him. A month after all of the drama Hermione couldn't have been in a better mood. Being on her own for awhile had provided some form of peace in her troubled life. It felt good not having to pretend so hard. She almost felt free.

Almost.

Before getting Draco's call, Hermione had been dressed for the night in her comfy Chinese silk lounging pajamas (one of the last gifts she received from her parents), and had been prepared for a night of lazing about her living room. What she hadn't been ready for was Draco's head spinning in her floo grate. After listening to him beg her to come over to the Manor, declaring that he needed her help desperately, she decided that she might as well kill two birds with one stone and take along with her some books she'd been meaning to lend him. Since she didn't intend on staying long she didn't bother changing out of her casual looking night wear, just slipped into a pair of flats, tossed on her cloak, and shrunk the books down so they would fit in her pocket.

When she Apparated in front of Malfoy Manor Hermione rang the bell expecting one of the house-elves to let her in. Imagine her surprise then when Narcissa Malfoy, the Mistress of the manor herself, opened the door. The icy blonde's face even bore a smile before it withered into a grim, straight line at the sight of "The Mudblood". Although she was satisfied that not much of her lifestyle had changed after the War, Narcissa still hated that the constant presence of the young woman before her was one of the prices that she had to pay in order to adjust to the new world she was now living in.

Hermione could almost feel the heat of the hatred the woman directed towards her. Instead of being intimidated by it though Hermione actually basked in it. When Mrs. Malfoy asked her why she was at her door at such a late hour, Hermione told her that Draco asked her to come and that she had a few things she wanted to give him. Judging by the scandalized gasp and the nasty glare that Narcissa bestowed upon her, Hermione figured that the woman must have caught exactly the intended suggestive undertone she threw at her. Hermione then smirked as she removed the books from her pocket, enlarged them, then floated them in the air. Narcissa took one look at the cover of a few of them and muttered disgustedly under her breath the words, "filthy Muggle propaganda".

For a moment it looked like she wasn't going to let Hermione inside the house. The two women looked like they were fully prepared to have a stand-off in full view of the whole neighborhood, but before either of them could say something that neither of them would regret Draco, having heard Hermione's voice, called out her name from somewhere behind his mother. Not wanting to get a dressing down from her beloved little prince, Narcissa allowed Hermione to pass by her. The older woman then promptly stalked out onto the front gallery of the house, and instead of meeting the lover she had stashed in Diagon Alley as she had planed, she Apparated herself over to the Pringle residence to find out just why Pristine wasn't her daughter-in-law yet.

"I know what they are," Draco said as he moved from the fireplace and crossed the room towards the table that held the books. "Why are they here?" he asked.

Hermione skipped towards him and smiled.

"I figured that you might like some light reading."

Draco picked up her father's leather bound first edition of War and Peace, and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Light?"

"Relatively speaking," she said with a devilish grin as she ventured near the hearth to warm her hands. "I just thought you might like to read something different from the half-dozen or so autobiographies that Slytherin wrote," she continued as she walked back to him. "I mean really, how narcissistic could one wizard be?"

If Hermione had been expecting an intelligent response from Draco she was sadly mistaken. He was too busy admiring his face, and the ghastly goatee on it, in the decorative mirror on the table. He had decided to grow the horrid thing after convincing himself that he needed something to make his peers in his training class take him seriously and not see him as just some pretty face. Hermione had suggested putting a bag over his head, but he wouldn't listen.

"What?" he asked after realizing that she might have been waiting on some form of reply from him. He tore his eyes from his own reflection; a reflection that Hermione, if under duress would have admitted wasn't half-bad, and looked towards her.

"Nothing," she said as she shook her head. "What I have here you lucky, lucky boy are some of my favorite books."

"Muggle books, you mean," he said with a dull tone. He sifted through the pile looking at the various titles, though nothing seemed to appeal to him.

She caught his eye and nodded her head, daring him to say anything negative.

"Yes, Muggle books. Dickens, Wilde, Barrie, Carroll, Austen..."

"Hollywood Wives?" he questioned with a revolted sneer. He was holding in his hand one of her mum's beach books.

"In case the words in the other ones got too big for you," she said with a saucy grin.

"Hmm...Dracula," he said as he apprised the cover of the paperback he was now handling with interest. "Autobiography?" he asked.

Hermione eyed him warily before answering, "Something like that."

At least it was progress of some sort.

"I'm surprised that you even read for pleasure."

"Oh I do a lot of things for pleasure that you know nothing about."

Draco sent her a wolfish look as he propped one arm on the table and leaned in towards her.

"Tell me every little thing and don't you dare leave a single detail out."

"Perv!" she said and smacked his arm. She really didn't think she hit him hard enough to cause the pained expression on his face, though. He even rubbed at the spot. Big baby!

"So did mother give you a hard time out there?" Draco asked with a wicked smirk. He watched her walk towards the sofa and daintily cross her legs as she sat down.

"No," she said with a straight face. "We had a lovely chat. She even asked me to one of her luncheons."

"Oh really?" he disbelievingly asked.

He came and sat on the coffee table in front of her.

"Oh yes. And if you believe that, I have a luxury time-share in Spinner's End you might be interested in."

Draco and Hermione both grinned.

"So tell me, what was so bloody important that I had to tear myself away from more pressing concerns?"

"Were you watching the one with the sinking boat, or the one with the bloke who leaves the dumb bint in the cave, again?" he asked smugly as he leaned in closer to her. The action caused Hermione's leg to nervously jerk.

Although Draco hadn't made any more advances towards her in nearly a year, Hermione knew without question that his feelings for her hadn't changed. She often caught him unawares staring at her as if he was waiting for just one sign...any sign from her that her position on the subject had changed. She often felt sorry for Draco in those moments. She knew that for both of their sanities she could never give him what he wanted.

"Never you mind," she told him as she uncrossed her legs and leaned back on the sofa. "Now what was the bleeding emergency?" she asked again, folding her arms in front of her.

Draco regarded her sudden closed off posture for a moment before squaring his shoulders and placing his hands on his knees.

"I've come to a monumental decision."

Hermione gave him an annoyed roll of the eyes as she waited impatiently for his grand announcement.

"I've decided to shave it off," he simply said.

For a moment neither of them moved or said anything. Hermione only stared at Draco as though she couldn't believe what he had uttered.

Finally with a deep and exaggerated sigh, Hermione sat up straight and exclaimed, "Thank Merlin!"

"Oh it isn't that bad!" he argued.

"It was getting to the point that I couldn't look at you straight on. Sort of like a lunar eclipse; you know they say you'll go mad if you look directly into one."

"I'm glad that you find me amusing. However I've grown tired of looking like some scruffy vagabond like those two witless wonders you pal around with."

"Be nice," she warned, her voice tinged with reproach although her face still held its smile.

"I bet you don't defend me to them," he sulkily mumbled.

"Oh really? I'll have you know that I was forced to endure the most torturous lunch at the Cauldron with Harry and Ron recently, and both of them are currently not speaking to me. And it's all because of you!" she angrily fumed.

"You're welcome," he said smoothly. "Now what did I do?"

Hermione leaned her head back so that she was staring at the ceiling while her head lay on the back of the sofa.

"Both of them accused you of bribing your way into the Department," she said in a mournful voice. "Well actually Ron accused you, but Harry readily agreed."

"Jealous gits!"

Hermione neglected to remind him that the two jealous gits were easily two of the most recognized wizards in the world, highly decorated War veterans, and professional Quidditch athletes to boot.

"Well I explained to both of them that not only did you score exceptionally well on your entrance exams, you also had the elite recommendations of Mr. Shacklebolt, Tonks, and one Arthur Weasley to help you along."

"How did they take that news?"

"Like an Avada to the head," she said as she sat up and dismally placed her hands in her lap, plucking at her satiny bottoms. "Harry says that I'm neglecting him and Ron in favor of you." Hermione ducked her head down so Draco couldn't see the hurt in her eyes that Harry's words had put there. He had been so cross!

Draco was not moved.

"As though wee willie Potty could talk," he scoffed. He almost sounded jealous. Hermione, however, was through being a human tug of war rope.

"Listen," she snapped harshly, "I'm tired of you three prats putting me in the middle, making me take sides!"

"What does it matter," Draco said sullenly, "you always take Potter's anyways."

Well that got Hermione's dander up!

"THAT'S NOT TRUE!" she hotly countered.

Even though it was a little bit true. It was just that when she didn't agree with him, Harry had the habit of giving her such a sad puppy dog face that Hermione almost felt compelled to do anything to make his pout disappear. Anything. It was safer to just let him have his bloody way!

"Point is," Hermione began, trying to reign in her thoughts from going down a road she didn't want to be bothered with at the moment, "you lot are going to have to make an effort to try and get along."

"I have," Draco declared. "I've gone to a few of their matches."

"You sit on the opposing team's side and cheer against them."

"And let me just tell you, it's a devil of a hassle when Puddlemere plays Chudley."

"I don't understand why it's so hard. I mean, you and Harry have that bond after all."

Draco scoffed disdainfully.

"Come now, you know that a wizarding debt is no puny thing," she told him. "'Until it's repaid that connection will always remain between the two of you. And if you and Ron would stop acting like a couple of adolescent school boys, you both would see that you two are similar in a lot of ways."

Draco looked as though she had accused him of not being a natural blond.

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

"You both have pretty scary jealous streaks, but even so you both are loyal," Hermione explained, ignoring Draco's indignant remark. "And even though you try hard to hide it, Draco, you and Ron both wear your hearts on your sleeves."

Draco obviously didn't like what she said because he stood up irately and stalked to the other side of the room. He even turned his back to her. If Hermione had been brave enough she would have added one more similarity to the list. She seemed to hurt his feelings just as easily as she hurt Ron's.

Hermione stood up from the sofa and went around Draco so she could look him in the face. She smiled brightly to alleviate the somber mood that had shifted into the room and was relieved when he offered her a small smile of his own.

"I thought we were supposed to be celebrating?"

"Were we?" he drawled.

She nodded her head.

"You finally are going to get rid of that abomination that ate your chin," Hermione comically said as she eyed the villainous facial hair. Draco laughed at her impudence.

As usual, when hearing the sounds of real mirth escape his lips, Hermione thought to herself what a shame it was that Draco Malfoy didn't laugh more often. He really had a nice laugh.

"Can I just ask one favor, though?" she asked him as she took his hand and began to walk with him out of the room.

"And what would that be?"

"May I watch while you kill it? You see, I won't ever really believe it's dead unless," she said with a smirk.

"Why do you think I invited you over?" Draco slyly asked as he winked down at her.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

The two of them ended up in Draco's enormous bathroom with its soaring cathedral ceiling. Hermione always thought that the Prefects bath at Hogwarts was sinfully decadent, what with its swimming pool sized tub, its many mystery taps, as well as the candle lit chandelier. But it simply paled in comparison to the grandeur that was Draco's private bath. The walls were covered in stone tile while the floor was a rich looking antique limestone. His shower was big enough to service a complete Quidditch team and covered the whole side of one wall. Spouts and taps were arranged through out the shower and were visible through its sliding glass door. Although Draco didn't mention it, she suspected that the fixtures in it and the ones to the sink were made of gold. But that wasn't what held Hermione's attention.

Instead it was the bare-chested wizard who stood in front of his porcelain basin patting his newly naked chin dry as he looked approvingly at his own image in the three sided mirror before him. Although it was the first time Hermione had been in his sanctuary (she hadn't even been in his room before), Draco had already told her about his magical mirrors, the Vanus. Each one gave the viewer three different reflections of themselves. One side always showed you all the faults you believed you had, while the other made you believe that you were perfect, always beautiful, and with no flaws at all. It was only the center mirror that reflected the truth of things. That mirror never lied. That was the mirror that Draco was currently admiring himself in.

Hermione couldn't blame him. His facial features were sharp and angled yet they gave him character. His white blond hair, which was shortly buzzed near his scalp, instead of gelled back in its Junior Death Eater style of old, helped to soften the face that Hermione remembered being so rodent-like during her adolescence. When added with the arresting color of his cold gray eyes, his face came together in that harmony that Hermione's Nan often called rakishly good looking. Though his physique wasn't what one would call masterfully built or muscular, it was slim and well toned. He was one of those people that could eat anything and not gain a single ounce of fat, unlike her.

As Hermione sat on the counter next to Draco and watched him all but kiss his own image, she had to admit that now she could understand what all the other girls at Hogwarts might have saw in him back when all she wanted to do was push his face into the nearest cauldron of scalding hot water. Apparently even Moaning Myrtle hadn't been immune to Draco's charms. According to Harry she had easily traded her affection from him to the Slytherin at one point, though Hermione had to admit that Harry could have just been exaggerating the matter. But it wasn't that hard to believe. Hermione figured it was just a good thing that she didn't find him attractive in the least.

"So," Draco said as he gave her a dashing smile that Hermione was sure had the ability to turn most women's insides into molten lava, "what do you think?"

Ok, maybe she found him a little attractive.

But just barely!

"Nice," Hermione said in answer causing Draco to raise an eyebrow at her.

"Nice?" he derisively asked.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. "Very nice?"

Draco rolled his eyes and went back to looking at himself in the mirror, examining his chin.

"I was hoping for breathtakingly gorgeous, but I suppose that 'nice' will just have to do," he responded.

"Well why should I heap any praise on you when you are quite capable of doing it yourself?" she tartly asked.

She felt comfortable with the conversation now. She hoped it remained in this vein.

"And I'm sure you receive more than enough compliments from Pristine," said Hermione, emphasizing the woman's name in the same annoying high-pitched tone that the vain cow spoke in. "Where has Pringle been, by the way? I haven't seen her stalking you as of late."

Draco turned around and faced Hermione.

"We had tickets to the theater this evening," he answered her dully. "The Cadabra House is putting on a one night only benefit performance of Melecrit's Hélas, j'ai Transfiguré mes Pieds.

"Ah yes," Hermione said smirking, "Alas, I Have Transfigured My Feet, the thrilling one man show where after four grueling hours, and twelve painful acts, our dear protagonist discovers that he has not in fact transfigured his feet, but has been wearing boots all the while."

She and Draco often debated the merits of the magical world versus the Muggle one. Of course Draco felt that the world he had been born into was far superior to that of Hermione's upbringing. He would argue that magic made life easier, thus better. Hermione believed that since Muggles could not rely on wands to create magic, they instead produced it in their art, in their music, in their literature. In Hermione's opinion, when it came to the arts, the magical world left a lot to be desired. Once she even wheedled an agreement to this out of Draco.

"Yes it's stupid, but before you get up on your high horse just remember that it was a Muggle who wrote that Pretty Woman fiasco. As though a prostitute could really look like that. Why if they did..."

"You would date more?"

Draco didn't find the joke as funny as Hermione seemed to. He turned around and leaned back against the counter. He lowered his head as his hands burrowed into the pockets of the plain black slacks he was wearing.

"I would have rather taken you to the Cadabra," he said moodily. "But when I got the tickets you were still with King Weas-"

Hermione frowned reproachfully at him.

"Weasley," Draco finished. He then looked up at her cautiously. "Would you have gone with me otherwise?"

Hermione answered him as honestly as she could.

"Of course I would have. You're my friend, aren't you?"

Draco smiled, although it barely reached his eyes.

"Good to know."

"But since you were supposed to take Pringle tonight I can't imagine that she was too happy with you canceling on her at the last minute. How did she take it?"

Draco chuckled wryly.

"You could say that Pristy will hardly notice."

Hermione frowned to herself.

"That's shocking to hear. She...wait a minute," Hermione said as she studied Draco's face carefully.

There was something about his choice of words...

"Didn't you stand Pristine up last weekend?"

"You asked me to go to that poetry reading in Whitechapel with you."

"And you canceled on her the weekend before that as well," she said, slowly adding up the facts.

"We went looking for my new flat, remember?"

Hermione folded her arms before her.

"Pristine doesn't mind that you keep standing her up?"

"Well Pristy doesn't quite...recall that we had plans when I do it," he said simply.

It just didn't make sense to Hermione. She knew that Pringle had her heart set on snagging Draco, so it seemed odd that the witch would be so casual about him spending so much time with her. Then again Pristine Pringle was a ravishing redheaded beauty who most wizards went mad for. She probably would laugh at the notion of plain old Hermione Granger being some sort of competition for her. Still, Hermione would have figured on Pristine causing a bigger scene over Draco's shoddy treatment. Something definitely was off.

"She doesn't quite reca-," Hermione began to say until a realization almost knocked her off of the counter.

"DRACO! DID YOU OBLIVIATE THAT WOMAN?!"

"No," he answered her. "I just confunded her," he plainly said.

Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"DRACO!"

"What?"

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU..."

"Come now Hermione, do you really think I'm above something like that?" he asked, shaking his head at her apparent naiveté. "Besides it does her no real harm. Sure her coordination is off for a few days, but the Pringles are known for being lousy drunks. I'm sure no one has paid it much mind."

Hermione was beyond peeved at him. She might not like Pristine, but she could not condone such behavior.

"OF ALL THE KING PRAT THINGS TO DO!" she scolded him harshly. "Spells that mess with the mind are not to be toyed with, Draco! Do you have any idea..."

Without warning, the image of Cormac McLaggen, trying repeatedly to maneuver himself through the doors of the Great Hall, suddenly popped into her head.

Hermione winced.

"Look, if I didn't do that I would have had to deal with the yelling, and the crying, and the wailing. And that's just my mother. My way is much easier," Draco said, turning to face her as he noticed how quiet she had gotten all of a sudden. "Sorry if some of us aren't above confunding a person for nefarious purposes."

He then paused as he studied her face. Hermione tried to smooth the guilty expression on it quickly, but it was too late.

"Wait a tic, I know that look!"

The most devilish grin then unfurled itself on Draco's lips.

"You have confunded someone for nefarious reasons!" he announced.

Hermione scoffed at the accusation and turned her head from his gaze, but she knew she was caught.

"Oh you might as well tell me. You know I'll never leave you alone 'til you do."

She swung her head back to him and narrowed her eyes. "You can be such a bastard at times!"

"Turns you on, doesn't it?" he teased.

"Ugh!" was all she had to say to that claim. "Ok, I'll tell you. But if you ever try to use this against Ron..."

"Yes, yes, I'll be singing with the Castrati," he said heeding her warning. He then smiled expectantly. "Now go on."

"Well," she began with some difficulty, "I'm not proud of this fact but...back in Sixth Year I confunded Cormac McLaggen during Quidditch try-outs so Ron would make the house team instead of him."

She then exhaled dramatically as though she had just unloaded a heavy burden.

Draco stared at her, mouth gapping, as though he were seeing her for the first time.

"Hermione!"

She dropped her head in her hands. "I know!" her muffled voice shamefully cried.

"That was damned near devious," he continued, voice filled with astonishment.

"I KNOW!"

"Merlin, I think I have a stiffy," he randily quipped while looking down at his fly.

"DRACO!" she reprimanded as her head shot up and she gave him a warning glance.

"Want to see?" he offered, coming closer, grinning at her like a Cheshire cat.

"GOOD GOD, NO!"

He merely laughed at her indignant, prissy denials.

"I don't know, Pet; I think you may have a little Slytherin in you."

She gave him a high and mighty look as she said, "I'm a Gryff through and through."

Draco then leaned down so his elbows were on the counter by her right thigh and rested his chin on the palm of his hands.

"Would you like a little Slytherin in you?" he flirted as he waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"You know, one of these days I'm going to stop pretending that I don't know what you mean when you say those kinds of things to me," she said in a pert tone he seemed to find amusing.

"Can't wait!"

Draco stood up straight and reached for his white singlet that was draped over the towel rack. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and Hermione was thankful that he had finally decided to put his clothes back on.

"So you confunded McClaggen in order to procure your boyfriend a spot on his house team, eh?" Draco chuckled, continuing the conversation she had hoped was finished. He tucked the bottom of the shirt into the waist of his trousers.

"Ron wasn't my boyfriend at the time," she reminded him, "but I guess you could say that. It's just that if I hadn't done something about it, Harry would have had to choose that muscle headed hulk to be the team Keeper over his best mate. Harry would have been torn between doing what was best for the team and hurting his dearest friend in the process or playing along side Ron. So I just made the choice easier for him. Besides, Harry already had enough on his plate to deal with that year than to have to put up with McLaggen always in his face. The way I see it, my interference was a win/win."

She noticed that Draco was staring at her strangely.

"What?"

He took one more moment to look at her before shaking his head and continuing to dress himself. As he slipped the imported Australian Opaleye belt through the loops of his slacks, he carefully said, "It just sounds like you did it more for Potter than for Weasleby, that's all."

Hermione was so stunned by Draco's keen observation that she didn't know how to object to it. So she said nothing at all. Instead she peered around his head at the right side mirror and took in her reflection. The image gazing back at her looked like how she felt just then. Her wild, bushy curls were all tangled and matted and looked like a mass of steel wool that had broken quite a few brushes in its day. Her eyes had fleshy, loose skin underneath them and were both rimmed red. Her nose seemed to be anything but dead center, and her skin was so pale and translucent that Hermione could see her veins underneath it. It looked like there was a double chin beginning to form at the base of her throat as well. She was almost afraid to open her mouth for fear that her two front teeth had dwarfed the rest of them overnight. She almost imagined she heard a viperous voice whisper, "why would he want you anyway" near her ear.

Great, thought Hermione to herself in exasperation, just what I needed; MORE VOICES!

"Goodness I'm a fright," she said as she leaned forward to examine her face in the mirror closely. "Do I really look that bad?" she asked.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Of course not; don't listen to it. Looking into that mirror is never going to help anyone, that's why I never do. Here," he said as he placed his hands on her shoulders so he could turn her body halfway around to look in the center mirror.

"Isn't that better?" he asked as both of their reflections peered out at them.

It was better, but Hermione still wasn't happy with her mousy brown hair. At least it was pulled back in a French braid instead of falling into her face as usual. Hermione had been considering doing something different to it awhile. Maybe cutting it. Maybe changing the color of it a bit; some red highlights perhaps. Maybe straightening it again, like she did so many years ago. Everyone seemed to like that. Even Harry seemed to notice her a little.

"I'm thinking of doing something different to my hair," she said as she scrutinized her image.

"Why? I like your hair."

Hermione watched as her lips bowed into a rueful smile.

"You used to say that my hair looked like a bramble."

"Well, I like your bramble then," Draco confessed.

Hermione's laughing eyes drifted up to see the smirk she assumed she would find on his face, but instead found such naked, honest emotion in its place that she almost imagined she felt her heart thump loudly at her breast cage. Her pleasure slowly faded away. Why do things always have to be so fucking hard, she wondered to herself.

"I think it's time I should be leaving," she said as she turned back around and hopped off the counter. She then hastily walked out the room before looking at Draco's face again or waiting to hear what he said.

He eventually caught up with her as she was making her way down the grand staircase that ended in the mansion's large open foyer. He had rushed to put on the rest of his clothes and looked less put together than he normally did.

"Do you have to go home so soon?" he asked as he walked along side her down the steps.

She sadly nodded her head, forcing herself not to look at him or make eye contact.

"It's late."

"Why don't you come to the Bloody Badger with me?" he asked as they reached the bottom step. "Some of the Aurors, trainers, and recruits go there on Sunday nights. I'll show off my new look, enjoy all the envious stares, and you'll get to bask in my popularity."

"You want me to go dressed like this?" she asked as she faced him and looked down at her pajamas. Although the Badger probably had customers fall asleep in their drinks at the table often, Hermione thought it hardly appropriate to go there dressed as though she were planning on it.

"You can wear your cloak," he suggested as he pointed his wand towards the sitting room and her cloak came zooming into his hand. He gestured to her to turn around and he slipped it on over her shoulders. Although Draco was playing it cool and calm, Hermione could tell that he was anxious for her to say yes.

Hermione shook her head.

"I'll take a pass for tonight," she said, though she was ready to change her mind when she saw his disappointed, downcast face.

Wanting to dispel his mood she tried to lighten him up.

"I'm shocked that you would actually go to the Badger. I would think you saw yourself above such common fraternization," Hermione said as she leaned back against the gilded banister of the staircase.

"Oh I do," he said as he quirked a sardonic smile. "But I'm never above networking. I have plans to go very far in the Department, and I still have the unmovable obstacle that is known as the Malfoy name to get over."

"I told you when you were contemplating becoming an Auror that you didn't have anything to prove to anyone. You are not Lucius, Draco," she reminded him bossily. She even put her hand on her hip to let him know that she meant business.

"I know."

"No, you don't. But if I keep telling you that maybe one day you will. Do you know you could get yourself killed trying to prove a point? Do you think it would be worth it? Is that why you became an Auror?"

"No. I did it for truth, honor, and puppies," he cracked.

Hermione, against her better judgment, chuckled.

"And all this time I thought you were just doing it for the women."

"Oh, I did it for them too," he drawled.

"Must you always think with your crotch?"

Draco screwed up his face as though she had asked him something stupid.

"I'm a wizard! About eighty-five percent of the decisions we make come from our crotch. It's what we do!"

"Not Harry," she said as she knowingly shook her head at the notion.

She then hit him on his bicep when she caught him mimicking her.

"OW! GODDAMMIT, WOMAN! THAT SHITE HURTS!"

"Harry isn't like that," she said ignoring his outrage at her ill abuse of him.

"Still a virgin then?" he sneered.

A girl can hope.

"I hope...WHY AM I DISCUSSING THIS WITH YOU?!"

Hermione felt quite cranky all of a sudden.

"Well the Weaselette often looks like she's selling it on the side of the road so I suppose not," Draco offered helpfully.

For a moment Hermione considered asking Draco if he would like to just drive a stake through her chest instead. It would be messy, but far less painful.

"Don't say that about Ginny," she admonished him, but only half-heartedly.

"All I'm saying is that if Potter has a little Potter he thinks about sex all the time as well."

"You just don't know Harry like I do. He's quite innocent, actually. With the life that he has led it shouldn't be that surprising. Sometimes I think he's the most pure person I know."

"Bollocks! You almost make him sound like he's some saintly being," Draco sniffed disdainfully. "And like he doesn't have a dick," he added.

For his crudeness he received a disgusted eye roll from her, but that wasn't enough to shut him up.

"When I was a tyke I had a Martin the Mad Muggle toy. He had no genitalia either. I know, I checked."

Hermione grumbled tersely, "Is there a point to all of this?"

"Actually there is. Potter is flesh and blood just like you and I. That means he's human. There is no such thing as a pure, perfect person. I thought you smarter than that kind of tosh. Sometimes I think where Pothead is concerned you're under some kind of spell or something."

Hermione inhaled sharply. Suddenly all the walls in the room looked like they were rushing at her and her legs felt as though they were turning into rubber. She feared that she was about to experience a full grade panic attack right in Malfoy Manor, and there was nothing she could do to stop it from happening.

Draco had not only hit a nerve, he had damn near severed an artery. And worse yet, by the curious way he was peering at her she was almost sure that Draco knew that something he'd said had discomposed her terribly. The Slytherin in him recognized the scent of blood in the air, the tell-tale signs of weakness, and it looked like he was ready to strike and go in for the kill. All it would take was just the right question for Draco to piece together just what had Hermione reacting so violently. He looked like he was just about to ask that question too, so Hermione did the best thing she could think of to stop him.

"What were you doing pulling down your doll's pants?"

Draco's usual pale face colored dramatically. His gray eyes turned into slits and he began huffing and puffing before finally spitting out, "IT WAS AN ACTION FIGURE!"

It was about this time that Narcissa arrived back home. Hermione was so relieved to see the woman that she nearly kissed her. She didn't of course, but she might have if not for the vexed expression on the older woman's face when she saw that Hermione was still befouling her abode. Draco greeted his mother and then hustled Hermione out the door to say their goodbyes. Before the door could close fully Hermione, noting that Narcissa was watching the two of them like a hawk, went up on the tips of her toes and placed an exaggerated kiss on Draco's cheek in full view of his mother. She then told him in a cloyingly sweet voice that she would see him later and winked. Hermione didn't know why she put on such an act, but she just enjoyed toying with the pureblood snob too much to pass up the opportunity to send her around the bend. Hermione then Disapparated, but not before seeing the shrewd grin on Draco's face that let her know that there would be payback for her mischievous display later.

Later turned out to be thirty minutes. That's how long it took for Draco to knock on her door. He informed Hermione that since he had to put up with the almost endless tongue lashing his mother doled out to him after she left, she now owed him a round of drinks at the Badger to make up for it. Since Hermione wasn't in much mood to watch her movie by this point, and Draco appeared to forget what they had been discussing before his mother's arrival, Hermione agreed to it. After changing into something more presentable, the two of them headed out to the pub.

She actually ended up enjoying herself. Tonks and Mr. Moody were there and she knew quite a few of the other Aurors who were in attendance. She also amused herself by watching Draco get pissed trying to keep up with the rest of his colleagues, and chat up witches that she knew he wouldn't have spared a passing glance at if he had been sober. Having lost sight of him at one point, she and Tonks nearly laughed themselves silly when they saw him emerge out of a girls toilet, fly unzipped for all to see, followed closely by a very pink cheeked Eloise Midgen who was hastily readjusting her robes. Hermione knew that he was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning and wouldn't remember half of what...and who he had gotten into that night. Hermione couldn't wait to tell him! Unlike most of the pub's other patrons, she only indulged in butterbeer that night. When out with Draco she made it a point never to drink with him. Hermione wasn't an idiot, after all!

But there were times when she did wonder why she couldn't try and make herself feel something close to what Draco so obviously felt for her, especially when he genuinely smiled her way. Hermione knew the answer of course, but she still wished that it were possible. Sure she might have met up with some difficulty and resistance from Harry and Ron, but if they thought that she was happy they would have eventually come to accept what ever choice she made for her life, no matter how much they hated it. She was almost certain of that fact.

And it would have been all too easy to fall into Draco's arms so that he could at least have what he wanted. But Hermione knew that the problem with that scenario was that eventually it would all be for nothing. As she had learned time and time again her heart was just too greedy. It still remembered true bliss; her heart would never put up with just some pale imitation of happiness. Draco wasn't what it wanted.

So when her mind asked why not Draco...

Why not Ron...

Why not Roger...

Why not Oliver...

Why not...

The answer always remained the same.

Because it would always be Harry. Always.

When Hermione reached the Burrow Charlie was the one who opened the door for her and Lizzie. Hermione was a bit put out by the fact that he seemed to be openly staring down at her chest, but when she looked to see what exactly held his fascination, she was dismayed to discover that she was wearing a very thin white blouse with a very dark demi bra. Well, at least she was certain now that she hadn't forgotten to put one on, she sighed.

After finding a double breasted sports coat bawled up in the back of the truck, and putting it on over her shirt, Hermione entered the Burrow and greeted everyone in the house. Apparently Hermione's appearance had interrupted a mesmerizing story about a world famous broom race and an escaped Swedish Short-Snout named Gottilda (Tilly for short) who had decided to join in. When Hermione walked into the living room she found five children sitting patiently, awaiting their uncle's return so they could get to the good part of the story.

The good part happened to be when Tilly got distracted from the race and the dozen or so dragon keepers that were trying to recapture her, and tried to mate with a Muggle air balloon that was floating by. The poor old maid was near sighted. But after Molly reproachfully called from the kitchen that the tale was getting too inappropriate for such young ears, Charlie tactfully skipped to the point when he and the rest of his team caught the dragon which led to excited cheers and applause from the kids. Hermione even joined along and giggled when Charlie wiped a thin layer of sweat from his brow. The kids then all turned their attention to the dog and Lizzie was happy to play with them.

When Hermione entered the kitchen she found Molly and Fleur preparing dinner. Crookshanks looked to be supervising the operation from his stool. Hermione greeted her old friend with a scratch behind the ears, and received a hug from Molly and a kiss on the cheek from Fleur. Arthur and Bill were still at work but would be home soon. By the delicious aromas that filled the room she could tell that the family would be dining on roasted lamb that evening, followed by an apple crumble for dessert. She could feel her stomach contract as it reminded her that she hadn't eaten since the day before. It felt like it was going to stage a revolt when she declined Molly's offer to stay and have dinner with them.

Truth was, though Hermione had been searching for any kind of excuse to beg off being anywhere near Harry that evening, she knew that the Burrow was not the solution. If she stayed to eat with the Weasleys, Harry was certain to have dinner there as well. And worse yet, he would probably bring Ginny with him. The thought of sitting across from the Potters while swallowing down her carrots and pretending that just yesterday she hadn't...no, Hermione scolded herself, she would rather not do that.

She told Molly that she had just stopped in to say hello and possibly find someone to watch her dog for her. Molly let her know that it was no problem, and once again tried to get her to stay and eat. Hermione lied and said she would drop back by later. She then passed through the living room again to bid Lizzie and the kids goodbye. Since it was such a nice day out she decided to walk to Luna's. It wasn't until she was at the door that it dawned on her that she had never been to her friend's house and actually didn't know the way there. She asked Charlie if he knew how to get to Lovegood House and he helpfully gave her the directions. He even offered to walk with her and give her some company, but she politely declined his sweet offer. Poor thing was probably just desperate for any excuse to flee from a house filled with nothing but women and shrieking children, she amusedly thought.

~~**~~ ~~**~~

When Draco answered the door, Hermione wasted no time throwing herself into his arms and giving him a bone crunching hug. On the short walk over she had even imagined just how surprised and happy Draco would be to see her, and just what wiseacre comments he would make at her expense.

What she hadn't expected was the cold, indifferent wizard she held in her arms. When Hermione realized that Draco hadn't even put his arms around her, she pulled back warily to see his face. The expression stamped on it wasn't unfriendly; however, it was neither warm nor cordial. Instead Draco wore a rather studious look, as though she were some curiosity that had momentarily caught his attention, but could easily be dismissed if it turned out to be useless to him.

Hermione's arms unhooked themselves from around his neck and slowly came to her side.

"What form does your Patronus take?"

Hermione looked at him, disbelievingly at first, until a white hot annoyance coursed through her, and she placed her hand on her hip and stared him down.

"Oh please! We didn't even bother with that when there was a sociopath with a wand mucking about the countryside!" she snapped. "But for the record, mine is an otter. And though you led us all to believe that yours was a scorpion, it wasn't until the night that you, Tonks, Fred and myself were pursued by a phalanx of soul starved dementors across the pitch while trying to get back to the castle with the last of the ingredients needed for Pomfrey's Blood-Replenishing Potion, that we all discovered that it was in fact a harveyplytus; a creature that bares a rather strong resemblance to a fuzzy, wuzzy, bunny rabbit."

Hermione smiled poisonously at him.

Draco, feeling as though he need to defend his manhood bellowed, "IT LOOKS LIKE A JACK RABBIT!"

Hermione only smirked superiorly at his blustering.

"AND ONE THAT HAPPENS TO HAVE CLAWS THAT CAN TURN YOUR INSIDES INTO SASHIMI, I MIGHT ADD!" he argued.

Tired of standing outside, Hermione brushed pass Draco into the front parlor of the house and said lightly, "Looked like a bunny to me."

She then turned around to face him and was stunned to see that he was still staring at her suspiciously as he closed the door behind him. He could be such a prat sometimes!

"Why are you looking at me like that? Like you don't know who I am?"

"Your accent sounds slightly off," he cautiously said. "And you smell different, especially the hair. Did you change your shampoo?"

Her eyes widened.

"The place I used to get it discontinued the line," she told him. "I find it amazing that you would notice that. And a wee bit disconcerting."

"I'm an Auror. I'm supposed to notice the small details," he said as he leaned back against the door and folded his arms in front of him. "And the big ones."

His eyes had drifted up from her face to her locks.

"Like your hair."

"What about my hair?"

"What happened to it?" he asked frowning.

Hermione self-consciously smoothed down the crown of her head and shyly asked, "What, don't you like it?"

"No, it's god-awful!"

Hermione rolled her eyes irritably.

"But tell us what you really think, Draco?" she snitted sarcastically.

Taking her remark to heart, he pulled out his wand from the back pocket of his jeans. Hermione automatically stepped back, but not before narrowing her eyes at him.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing pointing that thing at me?!"

"I was going to fix it," he answered.

"YOU FIX IT," she snarled meanly, "AND I FIX YOU!"

Draco studied her belligerent face for one more beat before beaming down at her.

"Emasculation coupled with the subtle threat of physical violence? Pet," he said as he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into an embrace, "it is you!"

He then spun her around a few times, making her quite dizzy. Once Hermione's feet touched the ground again he still held on to her.

"Now where the bloody fuck have you been?!"

Hermione waited for the room to stop tilting before the corners of her lips turned up in a shaky smile.

"It's a long story. One that would sound better coupled with a few pastries, some jam, and something hot to wash it all down," she said sweetly. "Mmm," she raised her nose in the air, "is that coffee that I smell?"

He gave her a puzzled look before answering, "No, I was about to have a cup of Ceylon."

Hermione pouted prettily.

"Then what do we have to do to make it coffee that I smell?"

~~**~~ ~~**~~

Hermione and Draco had their Afternoon Tea in Linus Lovegood's library, which doors opened up into the entrance hall of the house. To Hermione's surprise it was a rather plain and ordinary study, quite like the one her father once read his morning paper and smoked his after dinner pipe in. The staid fireplace, oak book cases, and matching scroll top desk with its leather chair behind it were almost a let down. She expected something a bit more whimsical from a Lovegood. The only thing even approaching bizarre was the wallpaper used to cover the room, Quibbler front pages.

She was seated on a surprisingly comfortable wicker footstool (she suspected there was a cushioning charm on it), while Draco draped himself over a very expensive looking Edwardian settee next to her. A large three tiered cake stand stood where both of them could help themselves and was stacked with an assortment of pastries and fish paste sandwiches. On the floor near Hermione's feet sat a tray with a sterling silver tea service and a matching coffee pot.

A doddering little house-elf who would have made Kreacher look like a spring chicken was handing her another cup of coffee fixed just how she liked it, sweet and creamy. Draco was lazily sipping his tea. Hermione had been telling Draco about her years in the States, as well as her last few days back home. As Toodles shuffled out the door, she plucked up a croissant off the stand and hummed as the flaky pastry melted in her mouth. She then took another huge gulp of the light almond colored brew.

"Would you like some more coffee with your milk and sugar?" Draco jested, watching her enraptured expression as she drank the cup dry.

"Funny," she said as she stuffed a bit more pastry in her mouth. "You sound like Harry. He thinks that anything short of ink black coffee is a crime against nature or something," she managed to say between bites.

"One of the few issues that Potter and I actually see eye to eye on. I tend to prefer my tea, though. Although I could have done with another scone, but someone practically snatched the last one from my fingers."

Hermione's busy jaw paused as she stared apologetically at Draco. But the blueberry scones had been just too delicious. Luna's grandmother's secret recipe, he had told her. Hermione had practically polished them all off by herself.

"Sow-wy," she apologetically mumbled as she stuffed the rest of the croissant in her mouth.

Draco chortled at her nerve. He knew that she wasn't sorry in the least.

"It's just that there's no food at the cottage unless you count the tree. But woman can not live by fruit salad alone," she told him once she swallowed. "I tried to go to the market last night but..."

Hermione bit down on the corner of her bottom lip and averted her eyes from Draco.

"It didn't go so well."

Draco didn't notice her anxiety.

"No matter...TOODLES!" he shouted loudly. "MORE SCONES...please!"

Well, at least he said please.

"TOODLES!"

He sat up and looked towards the library door. When it looked like Toodles wouldn't be coming any time soon, Draco swore irately under his breath.

"Goddamned house-elf keeps forgetting that he can pop in between rooms instead of traipsing from whatever closet he's managed to lock himself in."

"I'm surprised that Luna and Mr. Lovegood even own a house-elf. I thought them far more progressive than that. At least Harry pays Dobby a wage."

"Yes, yes Prince Potter the fair and just," Draco said mockingly. "Probably was terrified that if he hadn't you would have somehow found out and come back just to put his balls in a vice grip."

"Lovely image, that," she drolled.

"It's a gift," said Draco. "Listen, Toodles has been in the family since...how was it my Loony Love put it...since great-great-great aunt Bina ran away to marry that shifty vampire bloke. Although what vampire isn't shifty, I'd like to know. No, Toodles is as much a Lovegood as Luna. If you were to give him clothes he'd be hanged."

Hermione shook her head.

"All house-elves are leery of their freedom at first, but they might eventually find that they like it if they gave it a chance."

"No, no. You misunderstand me, Pet," he said. "Toodles would physically hang himself with them." He took a sip of his tea and casually added, "Or strangle himself with the tie, at the least."

"You're impossible," Hermione sighed.

She placed her cup back on its tray and took a good look at Draco. The years had been good to him. He looked much the same as the last time she'd laid eyes on him, just a little bit heftier. Someone had been taking care of him very well it seemed. There were far more subtle changes in him, though. He was more at ease, and though still surly, there was a decided lightness to him.

But there was some other difference in this Draco before her. Hermione just hadn't put her finger on it yet.

"So where is Luna? I was hoping to see her too. You can't imagine my surprise when I heard that you not only wooed Miss Lovegood, but actually moved in with her as well," she smilingly said.

"I think she might have done the wooing actually. However it went though, I can't complain."

He leaned back on the settee.

"Guess your pals couldn't wait to spread that around," Draco said coolly.

"It's not every day that the Prat of Slytherin House takes up with Luna Lovegood."

"It should be."

"Aww..."

"Aww...shut up!" he grumped causing Hermione to laugh. For all of his grandstanding she didn't miss the twinkle in his eye.

"She's on one of her cloak and dagger missions for the paper right now."

"So she did end up at the Quibbler?" Draco answered yes and Hermione said, "Good for her! When we are at the Ministry she often mentioned that she wanted to write for the paper, but didn't want people to accuse her of getting the job simply because of who her father was."

"Well they would be bleeding idiots if they said that now!" he aggressively said. "My Loony is brilliant at what she does! She's going to rock the Ministry to its foundation very soon."

Hermione gave Draco a perplexed look. He was speaking gibberish as far as she could tell.

"I take it that you haven't seen the front page of the Seer then?"

Hermione shook her head.

"The International Seer reran the Quibbler's headline from Monday; Broom Boon Goes Boom for Ministry. Scrimgeour is probably quaking in his office as we speak."

"Well it all sounds very exciting, but I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about," said Hermione, taking the air out of his sails. "I haven't seen a paper since I've been back. I don't really care to see what they've been saying about me."

She then saw the curious look on his face.

"What?"

"They haven't been saying anything about you, actually. Not the Prophet, the Seer...I know it hasn't been in the Quibbler," he continued. "How very odd."

Hermione quirked a smile.

"I think it's very fortuitous! I guess I've finally become old news."

Draco pondered on his thoughts for a moment longer before shaking off whatever was troubling him.

"Luna did this exposé on the Ministry," he explained as he scooted closer to the edge of his seat. "It went over so well that she's now working on another one. It's going to be a series. She's meeting up with her inside source again as we speak."

"How thrilling! And you say this person works for the Ministry?"

"Just some disgruntled div that has nothing better to do," he said dismissively. "Luna calls him Deep Wand. Got it from this film once we watched."

Hermione tutted reprovingly.

"Not that one!" Draco protested. "It was this Yank film with these poof reporters running around in the dark. I thought it was dull as pea soup, but Luna loved it."

"Deep Wand, oh my!"

"And if the bastard knows what's good for him, my Loony Love better never find out just how deep his wand goes," he muttered darkly. "I'd kill him!"

"How gallant," Hermione dryly cracked.

Draco grinned wickedly. "I have my moments."

Hermione returned his grin. It was infectious. She just couldn't get over that this was the same Draco Malfoy she once knew. He just seemed so...so...happy. But then it all made sense really. This Draco was in love. Better yet, this Draco had someone who loved him back. He was beaming with it.

"Wow! Just look at your eyes."

Draco furrowed his brow and said, "What?"

"They practically glow when you speak of Luna," she said. "Your eyes, that is. They practically sparkle."

"Spare me!" was what he said in answer to her claim which only made Hermione giggle at his embarrassment. "If we're going to have some hen-fest I demand equal time," he stated. "So who've you been boffing lately?"

"Boffing?" she asked in bafflement. "I suppose myself....wait...that doesn't sound too good. I'm not boffing anyone," Hermione said.

He scoffed. "That's surprising."

"By the way you people make me out to sound one would think I was some Lavender-esque, Pristine Pringle clone. I was never some clinging vine woman dependent on the company of a man to survive."

"Oh, I think that it was quite clear that you didn't need them," Draco began, "but there was always some sad sackless bastard sniffing around you. I should know, I was once one of them."

Hermione was taken aback by his candor. Not because of what he said, but rather the lack of bitterness behind it.

"We don't mince words, do we?"

"Have I ever?"

She still felt like something needed to be said; why she up and left his flat the way she did that morning, why she didn't say goodbye. He didn't seem too interested in a heart-to-heart over their past relationship, though.

"Draco I..."

"Let's not and say that we did," he said. "It's all water under the bridge now any road."

"If that's what you want..."

He nodded.

"Besides, it all worked out for us, right?"

"I...yes."

"So who is the lucky bloke?" Draco asked again inquisitively. "That is a man's jacket you appear to be wearing," he said eyeing the navy blazer that sleeves went well past her wrists. "Despite your denials I'm sure you have one stashed somewhere."

"Shows you how much you know," she said prissily. "There is no 'lucky bloke'...although there is a girl."

Her teasing words had the effect she knew they would. Draco's naughty smile nearly took up his whole face.

"Must say, didn't see that one coming. And yet I'm intrigued. Tell me," he said leaning down towards her, "are there pictures? A video disk, perhaps?"

"She's a dog, Draco."

"But I'm sure she has a lovely personality."

"What you are suggesting would be considered bestiality."

"And yet, still intrigued," he said smarmily. "OW!"

She had smacked his arm.

"Perv! I have a dog!"

Well that shot to hell the lovely images in his head. Draco sat up straight and gave her a mystified look.

"You have a dog? Oh please tell me you didn't become one of those annoying Muggle women that carry little yipping puffs of fur under their pits? I can't be associated with you if that's the case. Especially if you and the dog wear matching cardies."

"Good lord, no!" she exclaimed in an insulted voice. "And I daresay Lizzie isn't the kind of dog that lends to being carried around like a Birkin bag."

"Lizzie?!"

"What's wrong with Lizzie?" she asked. "It's a nice name! It's short for Queen Elizabeth I."

Draco gaped at her, mortified.

"I was homesick," Hermione said bashfully.

He snorted at that.

"I can see right now that you made a perfectly awful Muggle. Muggles do not name their dogs...ugh...Lizzie," he said in disgust. "Or Queen Bess or what have you. They name their dogs...Champ. Or...or...King. Rover, Spot...T-Bone."

A shriek of laughter burst from Hermione. She almost fell off the footstool from laughing so hard.

"T-Bone?" She wiped away an errant tear from her eye. "I can't say that I've ever had the pleasure of meeting a dog named T-Bone."

Draco fell back on the settee and crossed his arms again.

"I have," he grumbled. "Bloody German Shepherd nearly tore out the seat out of my pants."

Now how was she not supposed to die laughing at that? She actually slid off the footstool and onto the hard polished floor, all the while still laughing at Draco's expense.

"Yuck it up!" he snarled.

She did. When her laughter finally abated she was able to resume the conversation.

"And just what did you do to incur dear T-Bone's wrath, Draco?"

"My partner and I were working a case in Danbury," he began as she lifted a finger sandwich off the stand and nibbled on it. "A Muggle by the name of Abner Boothe got hold of a copy of a Grimoire of Agrippa."

Hermione was almost too shocked to speak.

"My God! Agrippa's spell book? But those are even rarer to find than his Chocolate Frog Card! Where did he get it from? How did he know how to use it?"

"Girlfriend was a witch; a Stonefeather to be exact. Isadora Stonefeather. The book had been in her family for years. She told him what she was, showed him now to make an amulet of Ammit, and then the bloody wanker turned and used it on her."

Hermione's hand went to her mouth; a gasp tore from her throat. When searching for information on Horcruxes she had come across a few mentions of the amulet, the Soul Eater, from time to time. They were almost as taboo a subject as the Horcrux. It was a talisman that could capture a soul and imprison it, while leaving the human body an empty vessel that one could do with whatever they pleased. Some said that the infamous warlock Heinrich Agrippa had been told how to make the very first one by the Egyptian daemon Ammit himself. His grimoire contained the only known instructions on how to produce the talisman. It also contained some of the most potent love spells, rituals for raising the dead, incantations for calling forth demons, and strangely enough a recipe for braised tortoise soup.

"By time the family found the girl she had been locked up in a Muggle asylum for a month. As a favor to the father Scrimgeour demanded that my squad be put on the case."

"An asylum," Hermione whispered weakly as her hand crept to her heart. "That poor girl."

"For a while there we thought we were dealing with a dark wizard or an undocumented dementor. It's a shame that we really couldn't do anything for the girl. If the amulet isn't destroyed within 72 hours..."

"The soul can't go back in again," she answered for him.

"Correct," Draco said grimly. "Threw us all for a loop when we realized that the barmcake was a Muggle. He got drunk off the power. Ended up doing the same thing to six more girls. All of them Muggles."

Not wanting to hear anymore atrocities this person Draco was describing may have committed, Hermione asked, "How did you finally find him?"

Draco smirkingly said, "The idiot made the grand mistake of calling on the wrong demon to do his bidding. The beast was so offended at Boothe's gall that he dropped a dime on him to an Unspeakable he had been trying to seduce. The bird then got word to us. We ended up trapping Boothe in this rundown shack out in the middle of nowhere."

Draco then grimaced painfully.

"Didn't count on the fucking attack dogs, though."

Draco's sullen face actually broke the somber mood.

"And where was your partner in all of this?" she asked as she smiled.

He rolled his eyes.

"Going at it hand to hand with the perp. Can't use magic against Muggles if it can be helped, and all that," he said. "Eventually he did spare me a glance and sent the hound flying. But not before my very expensive designer trousers were ruined!" fumed Draco crossly.

Hermione took pains not to laugh out loud again at his ruffled feathers.

"Then again he was always jealous of my superior sartorial style, even if he denies it to this very day."

"I'm sure your partner never would have allowed you to muss a hair on that pretty head," she jokingly said, cheeks sore from the smile she suppressed.

"Yes," he said as he slid down to the floor next to her and rested his elbows on his knees, "but apparently my arse was open season."

He then eyed her curiously.

"By that smug look on your face I take it that you know who my partner is."

"Perhaps," Hermione's lilting voice said.

"Potter tell you?"

"Actually he did," she said as a mischievous smile, as well an equally naughty idea popped into her head. "He mentioned it when he was telling me all about that big case you two have been working on."

Draco cocked his head at her, surprise etched all over his features, and asked, "He did?!"

"Of course he did," she innocently said, continuing the lie.

She didn't know why, but it bugged a bit that Harry was being so tight lipped about his job. His heated reminders to her that his cases were none of her business only succeeded in furthering her curiosity. So Hermione decided to do the next best thing, she would get it out of Draco. She figured that it would be easy to get him to talk; he loved hearing the sound of his own voice anyway.

"Why wouldn't he tell me? I was standing right there while he asked Charlie about the dragon and all."

Hermione knew that she had to play this carefully. There was a reason why Draco had been put in Slytherin House.

"You were?!" he asked incredulously. "Strange. I figured that infernal Savior Complex of his would have turned him into an overprotective maniac the moment he saw your face."

Hermione frowned. "Why would he do that?"

Now Draco looked just as baffled as she did.

"Why would he..." he started to say before he stopped, eyes narrowing. "Hang on."

Drat!

"What exactly did Potter tell you?"

Hermione quickly cycled through all of the conversations she had taken part in and overheard these last few days, and tried in vain to find something to support her story. Think Hermione! Think!

"Err..."

There was something about Peru wasn't there?

"Um..."

And some woman that Molly called...what was that name again...Girdle? Bother! That can't be right.

"Uh..."

"Oh really," Draco smirked crossing his arms. "He said all that?"

Hermione muttered directions where Draco could stick his head. Although he probably didn't find them helpful, he did get a kick out of them.

"I think all that hair dye has seeped into your brain," he teased her. "You used to be smarter than me."

"USED TO?!"

He laughed.

"So tell me about Cyprus, I've never been."

Hermione took another finger sandwich off the cake stand and chewed. She noticed how stale the bread was and wondered if anymore of those tasty scones were going to ever come.

"What's there to tell," she said in a somewhat bored tone. "I ate and shopped. Ate and went sight seeing. Ate and got in a bit of sunbathing..."

"But did you get to eat?" he sarcastically cracked.

"Like a bloody pig! The restaurants were like a religion there," she laughed.

"Sounds interesting. I was actually going to spirit my Loony off to Cagliari to celebrate her first big front page," he told her.

"Harry did mention that you took a few days off."

"I found this charming bed and breakfast. We never made it, though," Draco said. "I got tied up."

Hermione's eyes filled with concern as she asked, "Why? What happened?"

"I told you, Luna tied me up..."

"Dear Lord!"

"...to the bedstead..."

Hermione clasped her hands over her eyes.

"The pictures in my head!"

She missed Draco's salacious grin.

"The things that woman can do with a pack of licorice wands and a jar of cocktail olives."

"Make the bad man stop!" she begged in mock horror.

"We only left the bedroom for snacks."

Hermione dropped her hands into her lap. "Sounds like you went for more props."

He snickered.

"You enjoy making me squirm, don't you?"

Draco only smiled brightly in answer.

"And you still won't tell me anything about your case, hmm?"

"And have Bangs Boy breathing down my neck?" he asked. "I'll take a pass."

Hermione's face arranged itself into a pout. She was digging out every weapon in her arsenal.

"I can't believe you're going to take Harry's side over mine," she dismally said trying to guilt him into spilling.

"Hermione, I'm always going to be on your side," he said simply, as though she were foolish to think otherwise. "However Potter is my partner, I owe him some loyalty. Plus I hate that sinister staring thing he does when he gets his knickers in a twist. Cree-pee. Feels like he's trying to make my head explode," he sniffed. "Or peeking under my robes."

"I'm sure your modesty is well intact," she quipped. "I don't think you're Harry's type."

"I'm everyone's type," he said haughtily.

"Luna hasn't done anything about that ego I see."

"She loves it!"

"She loves you," Hermione said, winking at him.

"That too," he said, though he tried to hide his smile.

Hermione shook her head in awe.

"I just can't get over it; Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood. Simply amazing!"

Hermione turned to the cake stand again and looked for something that hadn't turned into a rock yet.

"I wonder if Luna saw that one coming," she said off-handedly as she finally located a tea cake that looked appetizing. When she pulled back with her treasure, she found Draco staring at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Saw what coming?"

"The two of you getting together."

Draco cracked an uneasy smile.

"Now how would she have been able to do that?"

Hermione let out an annoyed huff thinking that he was being difficult.

"That little talent she has, of course."

"Pet, you are going to have to enlighten me. You see, I think my Loony Love has many," he paused and Hermione saw a wicked grin stretch his lip, "many talents. But somehow I don't think we are talking about the same thing."

Hermione took a moment to really look at Draco's bemused expression before realizing that he really had no clue what she was saying.

"Never mind," she said and quickly tried to stuff the tea cake in her mouth.

Draco reached over and snatched the sweet out of her hand.

"HEY!"

"I'm cutting you off until you say what you know!"

A nasty retort bubbled up behind Hermione's lips, but she pushed it down at the sight of Draco's worried face.

"Please," he entreated.

And Hermione relented.

"Have you never noticed Luna's knack for just...knowing things? Like if a caller you haven't seen in ages is going to suddenly drop in? Or what you've gotten her for her birthday before she even opens the box? Haven't you ever noticed that when she insists you wear an anorak and your wellies, it never fails to rain?"

"Th-they're just g-good g-guesses," Draco disbelievingly stammered.

But his face said otherwise.

"That too could be a possibility."

Hermione knew that it wasn't, though.

"FUCK ALL!" Draco shouted as both of his hands went to his head and tore at the scraps of hair there. "On our first date we went to this Indian restaurant. I ordered the same thing she had, but I ended up getting so sick it was coming out of both ends."

Hermione wrinkled her nose.

"Well it did," he simply stated. "But that's not the point of the story. Luna told me that it was going to lay me up for a week. Of course I didn't listen to her. I thought she was just being a know-it-all...like you," he said flippantly.

She folded her arms across her chest. "Ever notice that when I'm being accused of being a know-it-all it's usually because I'm right?"

"Are you telling me that Luna can fucking see the future?!"

"Not quite. Has Luna never talked to you about her mum?" she asked.

"I know that Luna watched her die. And I know that she was supposed to be some powerful witch, an inventor of sorts."

"A former Head Girl too," Hermione added. "Delphia Lovegood also happened to be a natural Precog."

Draco was stunned. "What?!"

She sighed.

"A Precog is a person..." she began before being rudely interrupted.

"I know what a bleeding Precog is!" Draco roughly replied. "I didn't know that Luna's mum was one. And I thought that you didn't believe in that kind of thing."

"I don't believe in charlatans. And I just didn't like Trelawney," she said as well. "But I readily accept that there are people who are truly gifted. Delphia was. And she didn't bother about broadcasting that fact all over the place like some people," Hermione said with a sneer. "I guess Luna takes after her in that respect. Then again she only has a vague genetic echo of her mum's power; more of a presentiment really. She senses things rather than outright sees it. It used to come in dead handy when Cormac McLaggen would drop by the office, though."

Draco shook his head.

"But it doesn't make sense! If Delphia Lovegood could see the future why is she dead? WHY DIDN'T SHE SAVE HERSELF? WHY WOULD HE JUST ABANDON HER DAUGHTER LIKE THAT!" he yelled viciously, causing Hermione to look at him with wide and worried eyes.

"Well," Hermione began cautiously, "provided that she did see her own...messy end, a true Precog knows not to interfere with a vision. And more importantly not give warnings about them! To do so would probably have the opposite desired effect and make things worse than what they would have been otherwise. I'm sure that Delphia understood that."

She then placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

"I'm sure that Luna knows that too."

Somewhere in the distance Hermione heard a doorbell chime.

As her hand left his shoulder, the fierce hostility that burst from Draco died down and he seemed to come back to himself. His usual pompous swagger returned.

"Just how do you know all of this?" he asked her.

"Luna told me," she said snatching the tea cake back out of his hand. When Draco rolled his eyes she snottily added, "Draco, you would be made speechless by the things that I know."

"Now who has the big head?"

"Mister Draco! Mister Draco!" a shrill, disembodied voice called.

Before Hermione knew what was happening she felt a small weight land in her lap.

"AHH!" she screamed.

Draco fell back on the settee, laughing uproariously.

"Oh sorry, miss!"

Toodles, with more agility than he looked capable of, skipped down off of her. He was carrying a bread basket filled to the brim with blueberry scones that he promptly handed to her, bowing stiffly after, then turned towards Draco.

"Mister Draco, the new Dark Lord is here."

Hermione, who had already had a scone in her hand, nearly dropped the bread basket.

"WHAT?!"

"He just means Potter," Draco clarified in the most annoying, blasé manner.

"WHAT?!"

Hermione's eyes were ready to pop out of her head.

Draco reached over and took a scone from her and bit into it.

"Toodles is what one would call 'Old School', I guess you can say. Kill one dark lord, become the new dark lord," he explained. "Wax on, wax off. Let him in," Draco told the old house-elf who ambled slowly out of the room.

Draco then turned back towards Hermione. His mouth had opened, probably to make some off-colored remark or get in some dig about Harry before he walked through the door, but the words died on his tongue when he noticed that all the color had drained from Hermione's face.

"Don't let Harry in, Draco," she begged, nervously brushing a strand of hair away from her face and worrying her lip between her teeth.

"No?"

"No!"

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

"It's just...I have a headache."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, you know how you and Harry get when you're in a room together. Chest thumping, an engaging match of 'Whose Is Bigger'...I'm surprised that there isn't a mating dance involved. I just...I'm not in the mood for it right now. Just send him away."

For the last few hours, Hermione's mind had been so preoccupied with thoughts that didn't revolve around Harry for once, that she had completely forgotten that they had made plans for that evening. He was still acting like it was old times, like the two of them could just go off to a pub or something and pal around. He even suggested meeting up with Ron. That in itself wasn't such a bad idea. What worried Hermione though, were those few moments that she found herself alone with Harry. Those were not like old times. Something was amiss and the difference scared the hell out of her. She needed time to process it all some more before she did something she would end up regretting.

And she had to find some way to get out of seeing Harry today until then as well.

Seeing the near desperation in her face Draco gave a curt nod of his head, stood up from the floor, and exited the room closing the double doors behind him. Hermione only paused to grab another scone before quietly creeping towards the exit. She opened a door and peeked through the crack. She could see Draco's back and caught sight of Harry's harried face just over his shoulder. He stood at the door of the house waiting for Draco to invite him in. Hermione tried to ignore the speed her heartbeat took on at the sight of it.

"Fearless leader," Draco saluted Harry, his tone of voice mocking, yet not hostile. Hermione was sure she could hear Harry's eyes roll back in his head.

"I see that you finally deigned to come to the door," she heard Harry's frustrated voice say.

"You know me, Potter. I like to play hard to get. I'm a tease that way."

"I had Department business to go over with you."

"I'm sure you did," Draco's smirking voice replied, then turned serious as Harry tried to make his way through the door. "And what, may I ask, are you doing?"

Harry paused, eyeing Draco up and down, and making Hermione wonder if he was contemplating forcing his way into the house. It took only a second for Harry to make his decision.

"May I come in?" he asked feigning civility.

"'Fraid not. I just washed my hair, you see."

Hermione could tell that Draco was having a ball antagonizing Harry. Harry obviously felt that way too.

"Must you be an insufferable jackarse?" he asked in a bored, stiff tone as he rubbed at the area where his glasses met his nose and momentarily closed his eyes.

The question seemed to offend Draco somehow.

"Are you new?! Have you never met me?!"

Hermione almost laughed aloud. Instead she stuffed the scone in her mouth to stopper it.

"I don't have time for this, Malfoy," Harry said impatiently. "Is Hermione over here or not?"

"And Hermione would be over here because..."

Harry let out an aggravated huff.

"Because she said she planned to visit you. And seeing as how you didn't even bother to pretend to be shocked that I would question her presence here in the first place, she's obviously made contact." He then muttered, more to himself, "Though Merlin only knows why."

Draco, however, heard the insensitive comment. The joking tone his voice had held earlier completely disappeared.

"SHE'S NOT HERE, WHAT DO YOU WANT?" he defiantly barked.

"But she has to be here," Harry said, his face tensing with so much anxiety and apprehension that Hermione longed to smooth the look from it.

Only her pride held her back.

"She left the Weasleys' hours ago. Her vehicle is still parked in their yard. Charlie said that she was going to walk here." Harry had tilted his head down and was running his hand nervously across the back of his neck. He then looked back up at Draco. "She has to be here," he said.

"Maybe she took the scenic route," Draco offered.

Harry's face screwed up and he cast Draco a befuddled look.

"This is 'Catchpole," he said incredulously. "There is no scenic route!"

Draco coughed. However Hermione, though she couldn't be sure, almost imagined that it was a laugh that Draco bit back.

"Listen Malfoy," Harry said stepping closer to Draco and lowering his voice. Hermione had to focus clearly to hear what he was saying. "You and I have to be of one mind on this. For some reason that I can't understand, Hermione seems to be obsessed with the case that we're working on."

Hermione tore into the scone aggressively. She was not obsessed! Harry could exaggerate so sometimes, she thought as she finished off the pastry and licked her fingers.

"Knowing Hermione like I do she would offer to help; look up spells, do research. Like we were back at Hogwarts or something. We can not let that happen!" Harry said emphatically. "We have to protect her-"

"Her...mione," Draco said loudly, his over dramatic voice cutting off whatever else Harry had been about to say, "is not here Potter. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"Well...just the one really. I heard you the first time."

Why is Draco speaking so loudly, Hermione wondered. And why does he sound so odd? And just what the hell do I need to be protected from?! However before any of these questions could be answered, a dreamy voice whispered near Hermione's ear.

"Is it a game? Which one are we hiding from, Harry or Draco?"

Hermione had been so engrossed in the conversation out in the hall that she hadn't heard Luna floo into the room and steal up behind her; cloak soaked with water and covered in green powder. Startled by the young woman's sudden appearance, Hermione spun around shouting Luna's name out loud, and pulled the library doors closed with a bang.

"LUNA!"

"WHAT WAS THAT?" Hermione heard Harry's muffled voice ask suspiciously from the other side of the closed doors.

"Her-umph!" went Luna.

The blonde meant to say Hermione's name, but instead it came out as Her-umph. Of course the hand that Hermione clasped over her mouth might have had something to do with it. Hermione snaked her other arm around Luna and looked over her shoulder at the door warily, awaiting Harry's assured entrance through them.

"Is Luna here?" she could hear Harry ask Draco. "What's going on in there?" She then heard what sounded like footsteps on the parquet floor of the hall.

Hermione somehow maneuvered Luna backwards awkwardly and towards the far side of the room. She pressed her old school mate into the wall using her own body as an obstruction, all the while keeping her eyes on the door. She wasn't exactly sure why she still had her hand over Luna's mouth, but since Hermione's mind had long retreated into panic mode she decided it was best to just allow things to play out. She then turned to look at Luna, whose blue gray eyes looked back at her unsurprisingly with only mild interest.

"Hi, Luna," she said in a falsely bright tone. "How are things?"

Luna's thin shoulders shrugged and her eyes drifted up and then down in a gesture that Hermione read as "so, so".

"It's just that...I prefer that Harry not know I'm here, is all."

Hermione felt the need to explain. She was accosting the poor woman in her own home, it was the least that she could do. Luna's eyes appeared to soften at Hermione's explanation and she half-suspected that Luna understood the way of things completely without even having to be told at all.

"I thought that prat would never leave," said Draco irritably from out in the hall. "Wanker just can't take no for an ans-Hello!"

Draco had stopped short inside the opened library doors at the sight of Hermione and his girlfriend; bodies pressed tightly together against the wall, Hermione's hand still dominantly covering Luna's mouth.

He came further into the room with a devilish, lusty grin spread from one side of his face all the way to the other.

"Dear Playwizard..."

"In your dreams!" Hermione said, perturbed, as she threw him a disgusted look over her shoulder.

She then felt something wet flick at the palm that covered Luna's mouth.

"ACK!" she cried as she quickly stepped back and withdrew herself from her captive.

"Mmm..." Luna dreamily said, licking her lips, "blueberry."

Hermione openly gawked at the woman.

"You licked my hand!" Hermione bewilderedly accused her as she wiped the bit of spittle off on her jeans.

Luna looked at her as though she were the mental one. Hermione almost wondered if she was.

"Well how else was I going to get you to remove it from my mouth?"

Hermione was starting to feel very cross.

"Next time try mumbling, 'get your sodding hands off of me'."

Luna smiled that almost vacant smile of hers and said, "I'll make a note."

During all of this Draco had watched the scene with an entertained smirk on his face. However his expression softened once he and Luna locked eyes. Hermione was forgotten in the haste that Luna and Draco rushed at each other.

He pulled back the hood of her cloak and placed a hand lovingly into her blonde hair, lowering his head to bring his lips to hers. Luna's arms slowly went up and wound themselves around his neck as her head fell back with the power of the kiss. Hermione felt she was intruding on a terribly private scene, yet she was captivated by it. She just pretended not to notice the slight pang of envy that shot through her heart. Not that she wanted to be in Luna's place. Or Draco's for that matter. She just fervently wished that she too could know the peace that the two before her had obviously found in each other.

And not for the first time, she also felt the cold, comfortless fingers of loneliness brush up against her. Everyone had moved on. Everyone was happy. Everyone had a person to love and love them. Draco had Luna. Ron had Lavender. Harry had Ginny. And Hermione...Hermione had no one. If she thought about it too much she knew that she would collapse, bawling into the carpet. So she bravely fixed a smile on her face instead. She wouldn't allow any petty jealousy interfere with her gladness for her two friends.

Although if they took a break to catch a bit of air she wouldn't hold it against them.

"Prudish English woman still in the room here!" she announced loudly trying to remind them that they were not alone. Luna had started to make a disturbing moaning sound, and one of Draco's hands had placed itself possessively on her rear end.

At the sound of Hermione's voice, Luna pulled away from Draco's lips, although she didn't take her eyes off of him. He looked down at her just as adoringly.

"You taste like blueberries too," she said in her low, throaty voice. "Yummy."

"And you're all wet," said Draco as he wrapped her in his arms. "Seeing as how there isn't a cloud in the sky I have to wonder why."

"Where I went was quite damp," she admitted, never blinking her silvery eyes.

Draco frowned. "You know I don't like all of this."

"I know."

She then turned to look at Hermione over her shoulder.

"How good it is to see you again, Hermione. Will you be staying for dinner?" she asked.

Without any hesitation, Hermione gratefully told Luna that she would love to stay. Luna had effortlessly solved Hermione's problem about what to do about Harry. She would floo the Burrow and tell Molly that she had decided to stay and eat at Lovegood House. She'd also ask her to pass on the message to Harry. If she knew Harry like she thought she did, she knew that he would be too polite to interrupt the Lovegoods at dinnertime just to check up on her.

And even if he did drop in again, she knew that she didn't have to worry if Luna or her father asked him to stay and eat with them. Harry wouldn't ever sit across a table from Draco civilly and break bread. There was a better chance of Hermione joining the Cannons and leading them to a title. Hermione suddenly wondered if her day had finally started to take an upswing.

"Good then," Luna said as she stepped out of Draco's embrace. "You and Lover probably have more catching up to do."

Lover?! What had the world come to, Hermione thought with a grin.

"Since I'm puddling here on the carpet, I'll go change and leave you to it. Although Hermione, you may want to send Harry a note and let him know that you won't be able to meet with him tonight."

Though the smile on Hermione's face held, she really wished that Luna would just shut the hell up. She especially didn't like the way that Draco looked back and forth between the two of them after the remark.

"You and I have some things to discuss as well, young lady," he said half-seriously as he turned his attention fully to Luna.

Luna sighed resignedly as she unhooked her cloak and removed it.

"I suppose we do." She then added in a low and sultry voice as her eyes met with Draco's, "Later."

Hermione did not miss the double meaning. Neither did Draco if the hungry look he gave his girlfriend as she exited the room was any indication.

"Don't be too hard on her," Hermione told him as she came up by his side. "And by that I do mean figuratively."

Draco was still staring out the door.

"She should have told me," he said furtively. Hermione knew at once that he was referring to Luna's questionable gift of second sight.

"And she probably would have sooner or later if I hadn't opened my big mouth," she told him reassuringly. Hermione wished more than anything she hadn't told Luna's secret. Secrets were meant to be kept for a reason.

She understood that better than most.

"But you have to understand Draco; I always got the impression that most times Luna wasn't even aware when she would use that little skill of hers. Sort of like a phantom limb that jerks itself every now and then. She would say something, totally nonsensical sounding at the time, and not bat an eye. It wouldn't be until days, sometimes weeks later that I would realize exactly what she meant by it. Maybe Luna just didn't think it was important enough to merit mention to you."

"Well I wish she had," he protested turning to her. "A man likes to know everything about the woman in his life."

Hermione said dismissively, "But that is impossible. You can never know everything about a person. There is always a secret, behind a secret, behind yet another secret."

Hermione then paused as she studied Draco's face seriously.

"Does Luna know...does she know everything about you?"

"Close enough," he answered gruffly.

"I see. Just don't hold this against her. I would hate it if anything I said caused trouble between you two."

"It won't," he assured her. "I just think that telling the truth causes fewer problems."

"Draco, you just lied to Harry," Hermione said in incredulity.

"I lied to Potter for you," he told her. "But generally I believe that honesty is the best policy."

"A Slytherin with a code of ethics?" she kidded. "I think I just felt the earth shift."

"Just because you Gryffindors cornered the market on nobility and self-sacrifice, that doesn't mean you have all of the finer qualities. I always saw the merit in brutal honesty, myself."

Hermione strolled back to the footstool and eased herself down.

"Ah, the truth as long as it cuts and maims and bleeds," Hermione said teasingly.

He nodded his head in agreement.

"But that was the old me," said Draco as he came and seated himself on the settee once again. "Luna has made me want to be a better person."

Hermione reached out a hand and placed in on one of Draco's.

"The Draco Malfoy I knew last was already a better person," she said honestly.

Draco smiled graciously.

"Well thank you, Pet."

Hermione smiled as well and gave his hand a squeeze.

"You're quite welcome."

Draco then pulled his hand away from hers and leaned himself back.

"So," he said congenially, still grinning, "are you going to share with me why you were playing hide and go Seeker with Potter?"

Hermione glowered at him before saying, "It's not like that."

She would have left it there, but knowing Draco he would just keep digging and digging.

"Can I be honest with you?" she asked.

"I hope so."

She rolled her eyes.

"Harry has been...clingy since I've been back. It's like he is always underfoot. It's...it's starting to get to me, is all. I know he's worried about me, but it's starting to irk me a bit."

And it's making me turn into a stark raving lunatic who can't think straight!

But she didn't share that part with Draco.

"Well you did seem to disappear off the face of the planet there for a while. It's not that hard to understand why Potter might have some separation anxiety at the moment. Although I always thought that he was too dependent on you. I often wondered if you held his hand while he wiped."

"That's so crass," she said admonishingly.

"Yet close enough to the truth."

"Well we were best friends! And once he relied on me as if...as if...as if I were all he had in this world. And I was more than fine with that because he needed me. And as long as he needed me I would always be there for him."

Draco was staring at her so hard with his glacial gaze that Hermione had to avert her eyes as she continued.

"But when he married Ginny that all had to stop! And it should have stopped! But I've barely gotten back and it's like we're ready to fall back into our old roles and patterns. Well I won't play that part anymore!" she said hotly meeting Draco's eyes. "It's not fair! Not to Harry, not Ginny...not to me," she said sadly as her eyes fell to her lap. "But Harry's acting like nothing has changed. That I'm still his best gal pal, always by his side. I have to make Harry understand that it can't be that way any more, but he won't give me a moment to catch my breath. I just need some time to decompress I guess. Does that make sense?" she asked as she looked towards him again.

"Perfect," Draco said.

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes in relief. "Good."

"Though I have to wonder, Pet," Draco began; his kindly voice cutting through her mind's warring thoughts, "just how long have you been in love with Harry Potter?"

To Be Continued...

A/N: Next up is the conclusion to Chapter 14. Things to look forward to: Harry and Hermione run away together, Hermione gets a lot of things off of her chest, and Draco makes a promise he might have a hard time keeping.

A few more points of interest...

1) All characters other than Hyacinth Ludley, Hammish Weasley, Aubert Malfoy, Ettiene de Malfoi, Gottilda the dragon, Toodles the house-elf, Bina Lovegood, T-bone the German Shepard, Abner Boothe, Isadora Stonefeather , Delphia Lovegood, and Deep Wand are canon.

2) The lyrics are to the song "Landslide" by The Dixie Chicks.

3) Grimoires are books that contain spells and rituals and that date between the late-medieval period and the 18^th century.

4) Delphia Lovegood gets her name from the Oracle of Delphi, the seer(s) who gave wise counsel or prophetic opinion to many classical mythological heroes.

5) Lovegood House, Le Observateur de Magie(The Magic Observer) newspaper, the Vanus Mirrors, The Cadabra House theatre, The Bloody Badger pub, the harveyplytus, and the amulet of Ammit(the Soul Eater) are all original to this story.

Tell me if you like it. Tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. Please review.