Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other recognizable works or characters. Unfortunately.

A/N: It's my birthday! And you all get a present! Let me know what you think!

"Well, what do you expect really?" Ginny asked as she shook out her long red hair, "It is my brother you're talking about."

Hermione sighed as she followed the young witch and sipped the warmed drink in her hand, thanking Merlin that some- now filthy rich- wizard had thought a charmed to-go cup was a brilliant idea.

"I know, but I hoped he would have grown up by now. I mean, it's been five years," she explained, "And anyway, it's not like I'm asking him to buy me a ring and get me pregnant. I only want to consolidate to one flat."

Ginny hummed quietly around her own drink as they walked through Diagon Alley together. Hermione hated venting to her friend, especially since she knew Ginny was always in the middle of Harry and Ronald's rows as well but aside from Luna and occasionally Hannah, Ginny was about the only woman friend Hermione had. Most of her time was spent at her job at the ministry and what little wasn't, was spent with Ron or Harry.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter because he's already said he won't give up his flat," she said tersely as Ginny stopped outside the small little shop on the corner that had popped up sometime in the past few months.

"He just wants somewhere to go when he knows you're right but doesn't want to apologize," Ginny teased, "Have you been in here?"

Hermione smirked and turned to look at the little shop once more. It reminded her, if she was being quite honest with herself, of Burgin and Burkes. However, this little shop was less dedicated to all manners of dark things and more to the stuff you might find in your grandmother's attic.

"No, I haven't," she said simply.

Ginny shrugged and walked in, Hermione following close behind. Her eyes travelled over the vast array of artifacts housed inside and she wondered on how in the world they had come to be under one roof. She lost track of her companion at some point but she continued on, perusing a shelf of dusty old books with interest and running her finger over the top of a chest that seemed to have a faint glow emanating from within. Nothing captured her interest for long though as her weary brown eyes took everything in. Until….

She stopped, cocking her head to the side as she stared at the painting on the wall.

It was fascinating, she thought, how quickly it had caught her attention and she smirked to herself as she realized why. It was a portrait, very tastefully created, in a likeness of none other than the boy who had made it his life's mission to torment her. What was even more curious, however, wasn't the fact that there was a portrait of Draco Malfoy hanging in the shop but that it wasn't a magical portrait at all; it was muggle done.

She turned her head to the other side, taking in the brush strokes that had beautifully created the work and felt a shiver run down her spine as she met the grey gaze of the man looking back at her. She tightened her hold on her drink and took a long sip from the half empty cup before she stepped forward and ran her finger along the ornate frame.

There was just something about it, she decided, something that seemed to pull her in. Something that refused to let her go.

"See something you like?" she whirled around then, meeting the gaze of the kind old woman before her.

"Oh, no. Sorry, I just-" she stammered, yanking her hand back from the frame and tucking it into the pocket of her pea coat, ignoring the chill that seemed to seep through her.

"It's a beautiful piece that, innit?" the witch asked, using her knotted cane to point behind Hermione where the portrait rested, "Shame that it's tucked away in 'ere with no one to admire it."

"Any more admirers and his head might not fit in the frame," Hermione muttered to herself as she turned to look back at the painting despite herself.

There was just something about it.

"Oh, there you are. I'd wondered where you'd gone off to," Ginny's voice sounded and Hermione turned to look at the witch who looked as though she had fought a battle- and barely survived- her hair standing on all ends. "I think there's a boggart in one of your chests back there."

The old woman nodded but said nothing more and Hermione felt her gaze drifting back to the picture.

"What are we looking at?"

Hermione gestured to the picture and Ginny turned, her own head cocking to the side, "Is that-"

"You see it too?"

Ginny laughed then, "Who the bloody hell would want a picture of that ferret hanging in their house?"

Hermione grinned at her friend, shaking her head slightly and taking a distracted drink out of her cup, her eyes still entranced on the painting as she tried to come up with a suitable answer.

She was saved from it however as the old woman cleared her throat and Ginny asked a question about a nearby clock that reminded her of her mother's and Hermione had to forcefully tear her eyes away from the picture as the pair left.

Hermione told herself it wasn't weird as she stopped by the shop the next day. She had been looking for a book at Flourish and Botts- unsuccessfully- but as she walked back towards the Leaky she couldn't help but stop outside the door to the small store. She realized, with a smile, that she hadn't even thought to look at the name of the shop the day previous and now she smiled as she read the large sign proclaiming it Bedknobs and Broomsticks. She wondered if it was a coincidence or if the owner was somehow versed in muggle children's films.

She bit her lip as she contemplated, looking over her shoulder once, before she stepped forward and in through the welcoming door.

The portrait was still there where she had left it the day before and it still had the aura of sadness that seemed to settle over it. She ran her finger along the ornate frame once more before she heard the shop keeps voice coming from the rear of the store. She paid the painting one last glance before she turned on her heel and hurried away.

She managed to stay away for four days after that, until she had remembered- belatedly- that she told Harry she would bring the desserts for dinner that night. She had hurriedly made her way to the bake shop in Diagon alley and ordered some of her favorite tarts before she aimlessly made her way back down the alley- with plenty of time to spare. She told herself she wasn't going to stop in Bedknobs and Broomsticks, but even as she thought it, her feet found their way there and before she knew it she had found her way to the painting once more.

She couldn't deny it any longer, the effect that stupid thing seemed to have on her. She would have liked to explain it away to a love of art but it was something else. Something she couldn't quite shake though she knew she needed to.

She almost reached out and took the painting right then and carted it away to her flat. Instead she pushed herself away, browsing through the lot of castoffs that were strewn around until, with a sigh, she realized she was running late and she hurriedly made her way out of the shop and into an alley where she disapparated right to Harry and Ginny's front porch.

She didn't dare tell the witch about where she had been, instead choosing to say she had gotten held up at work before she presented her best friend with the box of promised baked goods and settled in to dinner, ignoring the fact that Ronald had yet to show.

So it came as no surprise the next day, as Hermione walked towards the leaky to meet Ginny and Hannah Abbot-Longbottom for a quick lunch date on a rare afternoon off from the ministry that she thought of the portrait. She thought of it as she listened, half-heartedly, to Hannah's tales of Neville's students and Ginny's exploits with the Holyhead Harpies. Her mind wandered to it when she brushed off Ginny's questions about her and Ron and again when she told them about the promotion she was aiming for at the ministry. She decided, as she finished her lunch, that she was going to figure out just what hold the bloody thing had over her if it was the last thing she did.

It wasn't until later, after their lunch at the Leaky had been consumed, Hannah had gone back to work and Ginny had prattled something about meeting Harry and Ron for a pickup match that Hermione turned and walked back to the shop.

The door tinkled her arrival but she didn't stop as she walked through the stacks of miscellaneous items to where the painting sat.

"I thought I might see you again," the woman said and Hermione turned to look at her, "I can tell interest when I see it dear."

Hermione didn't say anything as she walked forward and gently pulled the frame off the wall, her eyes trained on the grey orbs looking back up at her; a sadness seeming to emulate from within the painting itself. Hermione smiled and turned back to the woman, handing her the frame.

It wasn't until she arrived home and pulled the brown paper off of it, that she realized she had just bought a portrait of Draco Malfoy and had no idea what she was going to do with it.

She couldn't be sure what had drawn her to the portrait in the first place, but she realized as she set it up against the long wall of bookshelves in her living room, that it hadn't dulled since she brought it home. In fact, in the comfort of her own flat, it was hard to tear her eyes away from the thing.

In the end she ended up making dinner- leftover takeout- and watching her favorite program before she decided to call it a night. She was irritated, though less than she had been before, of Ronald's absence but she found she cared less as she stood up to head to her bedroom.

As an afterthought she turned and walked to the foyer, turning the lock on her door with a resounding click and then used her wand to set up wards ensuring she would have the proper time to stew before her boyfriend decided to show back up.

She nodded to herself once she was satisfied and with one last look at the portrait, she turned in for the night.

"You bought what?" Ginny asked loudly over their coffee the next day.

Hermione grimaced at her friends tone and looked at the other patrons of the muggle coffee shop they were visiting, "Ginny!"

"I'm sorry, I just thought I heard you say you bought a portrait of Draco Fucking Malfoy."

Hermione sighed and accepted the coffee the barista handed to her before turning to nod her head at one of the nearby tables.

She waited until Ginny was seated before she cast a quick muffliato and turned to her friend.

Ginny seemed to have the same idea, "Please tell me you're using it for target practice."

"Wha- No, no I just… something about it Gin," she said. "I just couldn't leave it there."

Ginny raised a brow and sipped on her drink contemplatively and Hermione felt the blush rise to her cheeks.

"You're judging me," she finally said. "Stop judging me."

Ginny chuckled, "I am and I won't. Why would you want that in your home? And what will Ron think?"

Hermione felt her eyes widen at that. Of course, she had never really thought to ask Ron about home decorating before but she had a feeling this particular addition might touch a sore spot.

"Ugh, I don't- I didn't…" she rested her forehead on her palm as she stared into the dark liquid on the table before her.

Ginny let out a laugh then and Hermione looked up with a small groan as Ginny shook her head, "So what if Ron hates it, besides, it's not like you're going to keep it."

Hermione nodded, "Right. You're right."

Though, as she said good-bye to the redhead witch only a short while later, she realized she had never thought of getting rid of the thing.

Not once.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend as he stood in front of her, a bag of takeout from her favorite place held in his hands.

"Hermione-" he started, and she shook her head.

"Save it," she sighed but she stepped aside to let him pass by.

They were quiet as they worked together in the kitchen to get their food together and then again as they ate at the small table in her kitchen.

"Look," he finally started, "I know you want us to move in together but I'm just-"

"Not ready," she said tensely, picking up her wine glass to take a generous gulp. "Ronald…"

"I just need time," he pleaded. "I- I've been with you forever Hermione. I mean, it feels like we've been together since we were eleven."

She levelled him a glare.

"In a good way of course," he amended. "Can't we just enjoy being together without... all of that? I want you Hermione," he reached out to grasp her hand in his, "I've always wanted you but after Fred."

He choked up a little and she felt her heart stutter. It was his brother, his families loss, but she had always felt close to the lost twin and while she let the family grieve, she did as well.

"I know," she finally croaked.

It was a conversation they had regularly, especially when the topic of the future came up. Fred had told Ron to live in the now and Ron wanted to live up to that. She could understand his desire to make his brother proud but she also knew she couldn't wait on him forever. She wouldn't.

"Thanks Hermione," he smiled, letting go of her hand to finish his pad thai and she shook her head as she delved back into her food.

It wasn't until later, as they sat on her couch, his head on her lap, that he finally saw the portrait.

"What the bloody hell is that?" he asked, sitting bolt upright.

"What?" she asked confused, at first, by his outburst. "Oh- that's nothing. I just-"

"Why do you have a portrait of that ferret in your flat Hermione?"

She rolled her eyes then and leaned forward to grab her wine glass, knowing she would need it, "Ronald, it's just a portrait-"

"Of Draco Fucking Malfoy-" he seethed.

She groaned, "why does everyone keep saying it like that?"

"Just tell me what you're playing at," he snapped.

She felt her face grow hot then, her shoulders stiffen under his intense glare, and she crossed her arms over her chest, huffing in defiance. "I have no idea what you're talking about Ronald Weasley."

"Of course you don't-" he muttered as he stood up. "Get rid of it."

"No," she said, her voice quiet but firm.

Ron's face paled before quickly turning a shade of red she had only seen once or twice before. "I don't want that- that thing sitting here. I don't want it around you and I don't want it in our flat."

Hermione should have agreed. She should have told him he could toss it out with the morning rubbish. Instead she crossed the room, brushing past the man on her way to the door before she opened it and gestured out into the hallway. "If I may remind you Ronald, it's still my flat and as such, I will decorate it with whatever I see fit."

Ron's face grew three shades more red and the look he gave her might have been enough to kill a mandrake on the spot, "You're kicking me out? Over a bloody fucking portrait of Malfoy of all people? You're mental!"

She raised a brow, not lowering her hand that was still showing him the exit before he finally swore and grabbed his robes from where he had tossed them upon his entrance and left in a flourish.

Hermione was shaking as she slammed the door shut behind him, the action rattling the walls of her living room and knocking over the portrait she had kept leaning against her bookshelf. She rolled her eyes as she crossed the room and set it up once more. She paused as she examined it, holding it out at arm's length because- but no, she thought as she set it down back in its resting place. Because for a moment, when she picked it up, she could have sworn the man in the picture was smirking at her.