For a week, Hermione Granger kept this news to herself. She cleaned her apartment... by hand. She stocked her fridge. She worked what was left of a broken brush that needed replacing through her hair. She went through her files in the office and tidied the shelves. She reinforced the strengthening charms in her office. She made tea. And she drank it! And whenever she walked past the leather carrier in her office, she felt a knot slowly growing in her belly.

It couldn't be him. There was no way. And she would pull open the file, go right to the photograph and reassure herself once more... it was him. Draco Malfoy. This was his file. This was his handwriting- the writing she was next to positive had either been the work of a genius, or a madman, until she'd seen the photo... then she realized she was right, about the latter.

There was no way this could be good; Draco Malfoy interested in "where magic came from?" Not a chance! Magiccame ONLY from real Wizarding families. Muggle-borns had no real power, it was all smoke and mirrors. They had no birthright... no place in this society. They were just muggles doing tricks, better suited for the circus. They were freaks. She was a freak. He made her sick. He'd never been open to accepting facts, never mind exploring theories. She just couldn't believe it.

Wanting for piece, she pushed the file off her desk and onto the wheeled chair. With both hands, she wheeled the chair out of her office and into the bedroom. She shut it inside and locked her door from the outside. "Just for a while, let me have some peace," she asked of herself. She walked from the closed door, but wringing her hands she couldn't unclench the cramp inside her. She sighed, shook her hands out, and grabbed her sweater from the coat hanger by the door.

"Can't think of a more brilliant time than to rely on family," she said, yanking her hair out from under her sweater and buttoning it up. "Lumos," she directed, wand drawn, and her porch light came on. She flicked off the inside lights and left.

The doorbell chimed in the Potter family home and Ginny looked over her shoulder toward it. Lily sat in the middle of the floor wearing her purple bow over her loose, ginger curls. Her pacifier moved up and down against her lips. Ginny smiled.

"Coming!" she called. She lowered her wand and the dishes relaxed themselves in the sink to soak in the soapy water. Stepping over stray toddler toys, she approached the door and pulled it in toward her.

"Hermione!" she exclaimed excitedly. Lily padded her way bowlegged toward the front door to investigate. Hermione's pale face broke into a wide grin upon sight of her goddaughter.

"Hello, my two favorite girls in the whole world!" Ginny stepped aside for her to enter and she immediately scooped Lily up and gave her a hug. Holding Lily always made her feel better… as if obstacles really could be overcome- even when the odds and the whole world were against you. Or at least, they could for Harry Potter. She felt that now familiar knot swell inside her gut.

Ginny walked toward the kitchen, raised her wand once more and the dishes commenced their dance of squeaky cleanliness once more. Hermione followed her in with Baby Lily on her hip.

"So how did it go?" She inquired, pulling out a chair at the Potters' kitchen table and sitting down. She opened the very cartoony, dragon-shaped cookie jar in the center of the table and popped a treat from inside into her mouth. Hermione took a seat opposite her at the round wooden table.

"Well. It went rather well," she said, looking at Lily pointedly. Her cheeks flushed a bit.

"'Mione, why you ever waste time trying to hide things from me is beyond my skill of basic human understanding. It's stupid, and you're far from it." She opened the jar, grabbed another morsel and capped it. She slid the cookie across the table to Hermione. It bumped into her elbow and scooted back away from her a little. "Spill."

"Well, The Department, admittedly, is having some cutbacks this season—"

"Right…"

"And they just wanted to make sure their finances were going toward something that might serve a greater, well, good in the Wizarding Community—"

"Mhmm…"

"So they had to, err… amend my thesis a tad."

"I feel a hex coming on—"

"No, really, it's not that big a deal—"

"I can see the titles now, "The Great Hermione Granger sells out for the sake of Curiosity!"

"Come off it, really. It's not that serious, it's more just… they want me to travel a different road than I had originally tended to go down, that's all."

Ginny stared at Hermione for a moment as silence passed between them. Lily had the cookie in both her hands; her mouth closed over half of it, though she hadn't taken a real bite. It was beginning to grow soggy.

"That's all?"

"That's all."

Ginny leaned back on her chair. "Bollocks."

"It's the truth! I swear. They just want me to visit some areas I hadn't really… considered visiting."

"What you mean, "visit"—"

The front door opened and the two women's heads snapped toward it. Harry entered, wand still in his hand and looked between the two of them for just a moment before recognition washed over him.

"Hermione! Been a while, yeah?" He stepped over the threshold and closed the door dropping what looked like an antique briefcase onto the countertop as he did.

"Blimey, Ginny it smells fantastic in here. Been baking?"

"Among my many talents." She smiled at him. He bent over her to peck her on the lips. Hermione smiled tightly.

"Hermione here's just been filling me in on…"

"On The Department's final decision to allow me to continue my project!" she interjected, her eyes widening as they darted away from Ginny's accusatory stare.

Behind her on the kitchen counter, she could have sworn she'd heard something. She turned her head to check, but nothing seemed out of place. Harry's briefcase still lay on the counter, and the door was snug in its frame. Her brow furrowed.

"That's great, Hermione." Harry was beaming. She turned back to him, sitting Lily on the table, and rose for him to embrace her. The arms of the boy who saved the Modern Wizarding World were around her chest, arms and back. It had been so long since she'd been close to him, and though she had never been the type to have misplaced feelings, and could never- ever- think of Harry as more than her long-lost brother… he would always make her feel safe. He had that effect on many muggle-borns, she imagined.

But of course it was more than that, and she'd never deny it. No, she may be absolutely rubbish when it came to dealing with how she felt, but she knew she would always love Harry and Ron- if in very different ways.

"You're staying for dinner, yeah?" Harry asked as he broke from her, and too quickly her safety net was plucked off of her. Exposed again, she felt the familiar goosepimples on the back of her neck, the backs of her knees even. She shook it off. You're a Gryffendor for Merlin's sake!

"OF COURSE she's staying," Ginny said, rising, a mischievous smile playing her pretty face. "Especially since she hasn't finished spilling the goods on the new TERMS of this project."

"Oh?" Harry asked, turning his gaze to Hermione. She looked to Lily.

"She's so big," Hermione mused. Harry followed her glance. He smiled at his daughter.

Clank. She definitely heard something this time. She whipped her head around toward the side door by the kitchen counter. It was as if nothing had moved... the door was still closed... the curtain over its windows were not rustling as if just breezed through... the countertop was tidy... and Harry's briefcase... Had it... moved slightly toward the edge?

"She is," Harry answered her, calling her attention back to him. "What's up, Hermione? Why so keen to change the subject?"

"Is there nothing I can't hide from the two of you?"

"Nope! Get used to it!" Ginny hollered over her shoulder as her wand moved elegantly over the clean, wet dishes in the sink, spinning them like a torpedo in midair to dry them off. Some splashes caught Lily on the forehead and she shook them off and giggled.

"Mommy Mondere!" she clapped. The cookie she'd been salivating over, now crumbled on the floor swept itself into a neat little pile. Ginny peered down at it. Hermione sighed.

"Well, at least I know I can borrow your baby the next time Crookshanks invites a mouse to dinner."

Harry chuckled. He took a deep breath and looked around his kitchen… warm, yellow lighting as if to suggest unwavering sunshine. It was lightly cluttered, and very clearly housed a toddler, but it was home. Touches of Ginny's magic were everywhere… and paraphernalia of The Boy Who Lived was not forgotten—his Firebolt was mounted over the large fireplace against the far living room wall. It was exactly the kind of place he deserved, Hermione thought. All the comforts of a real home. She was glad he had it, now, even if it could never make up for all the lost years.

Harry nodded to his left, gesturing Hermione out of the room. She walked with him down the wood floor hallway toward the front door and past the living room where a large window overlooked their front yard into the friendly Wizarding community neighborhood he lived in. It was just starting to get dark. She really should stay for dinner, even if Crookshanks would give her the cold shoulder when she came home, fat and happy without a snack for him. How he had managed to forgive her for going off to search for Horcruxes without him, she'd never know… perhaps all the snuggling Ginny had given him in her absence had been enough.

They stopped just short of the window, standing above his loveseat, and he looked out. Hermione used to wonder where he was when he looked off like that. Now, she knew, of course. He was where ever he felt he needed to be… always trying to protect those he loved. She considered herself fortunate that she was one of those people. She'd have done anything for him, Ginny, or that baby.

"So what's up, Hermione?"

"You're thinking of me, then?"

"Hmm?"

"That I need protecting?"

He smiled.

"Do you?"

"I'm fine." But she didn't look sure. He looked into her eyes. "Really, I'm fine. Or, I will be."

BANG. Hermione's head snapped toward the kitchen, searching. Harry lay a hand on her shoulder. She turned back to him. It was as if he hadn't heard a thing!

"Secrets and you are never a good thing, together. When I think of all the trouble we—"

"That I caused?! That's a laugh! You and Ronald. "Sheer dumb luck!"" She quoted, and they were both laughing. When they stopped there was silence between them. He wasn't going to drop it, she knew. She sighed.

"You can't breathe a WORD to Ron—"

"Wouldn't dream of it. My guess is that it wouldn't fit on a post card, anyway and with him overseas—"

"America has fireplaces. And I mean it, Harry. Not a word."

He paused. "It's that bad, then?"

She ran her hands through her hair, brushing it out of her face and fell back on the sofa, elbows on her knees. He followed suit and sat beside her, legs together and eyes focused and prodding.

"The Department of Magical History and Research has had a new… investor."

"That right?"

"Yes. A rather… irritating investor. I have to work under—beside him," she corrected, her cheeks turning a tad pink. Harry's brow furrowed.

"Who?"

"Not a word to—"

"Who, Hermione?"

"It's Malfoy."

For a moment, the air between them went stale. And then without warning, Harry erupted into laughter. Hermione was aghast.

"I'm so glad that you find my predicament funny, Harry!"

"MALFOY has an interest in 'Magical History and Research'?! The bugger only barely PASSED History of Magic!"

"Now, Harry, that's not quite—"

"Come on, Hermione! Malfoy?! He's got something up his sleeve. He's never gonna make you work with him! He can't STAND you!"

"Really, Harry. Do you think that hasn't crossed my mind?" She was up now, and pacing.

"The last time I saw that… that man I was close enough to spit on him, and he let his family torture me."

The color drained from Harry's face. "Hermione…"

"Now, stop. I'm not playing for pity points, here. I just… I know what he's capable of, Harry… I saw it in his eyes… and reading his notes, I'm just not… I'm not POSITIVE that he's quite all the way right, anymore."

"Did he used to be all the way right?"

Hermione sighed and dropped back down onto the couch. Harry watched her for a beat, then rose and crossed to a cabinet with child-proof binding spells on its front two doors. He pulled his wand from the holster at his side and pointed it at the cabinet. "Alohamora," he said and it popped open. He removed a bottle of Firewhiskey, half full. Hermione sniffed.

"Just don't tell me I look like I'm 49..."

"You're white as a sheet. Have been since you first walked in. You don't look well, at all." He passed her the bottle. She uncorked it and took a swig. She shuddered. "But you know damn well you don't look any '49'."

"What gave me away?" she asked.

"Honestly? You did. But even if you hadn't.. there's a poltergeist in the briefcase in my counter who's been feasting on family secrets for 50 years. He could smell the deceit a mile away."

Hermione's jaw fell open. "THAT's the noise?!" BANG! She jumped. Harry's briefcase was leaning against the living room cupboard, banging into it gently, as if mocking her. She sighed.

"Sad thing is, it's not even this Malfoy thing that's draining me. It's my work. I love it… but it takes a lot out of you when its almost entirely your dollar, in the slow equiptment in your own flat…. Harry, with Malfoy's money, I could have my own office. My own LAB. I could do things- larger scale projects- that I can't even consider, now. The time line I'm working on can stretch forward and backward and I can get so much closer to finding these answers. I wouldn't have to just send away to Museums for fossils... I could GO to Sumer, Egypt, and even bloody Stonehenge. I could be the one in charge of the dig, itself! There's no door in England I couldn't unlock... and we have some of the most curious secrets of all. But without him?"

"I know," he said.

"I can't turn it down," she admitted. He sighed, leaned back in his chair.

"If I was you, feeling the way you do, I probably couldn't either. But Hermione- and he is a coward, make no mistake... but he's sneaky. I've faced him head on and come out on top. What if he—"

"Don't play the misogyny card with me, Harry. Back in the deck you go." He shook his head at her. She gave him a look. "I've twice the wit you do." He gave her a pointed look. "I'd be casting when he'd still be fumbling for his wand." Harry cracked a smile. So did Hermione. "I'd blow his knickers up over his head." They exploded in laughter.

"Though… for your sake, I hope that's not true." She grimaced and shook her head.

"No one needs to see Malfoy's knickers." She took another swig of the Firewhiskey. Harry reached up and patted her shoulder.

"That's the Hermione I knew."

Ginny entered the room, a happy, dodie-sucking baby on her hip.

"Are we done now swapping secrets too delicate for Mommy-dearest so we can eat? I made chowder."

Harry bolted upright. Hermione rose slowly and made to open her mouth.

"You're staying too," Harry said, stopping her from refusing. She smiled.

"Well, bollocks, if you insist."

Hermione walked back to her flat from her train stop in silence, her hands deeply folded into her pockets. Her scarf was wrapped tightly around her neck and her curls billowed frizzily over her shoulders—though she was glad to have it warming her ears now, she was deeply considering cutting it all off. It hadn't had a trim in ages… and it was well down her back. It made taming it near impossible… not that she tried, often.

She couldn't help regretting leading Harry on. He and Ron had always considered Draco Malfoy to be cut from an entirely different cloth of stupidity than Crabbe or Goyle, but still a very ignorant man. She knew better. It was she who had clawed her way to the front of the lines to catch marks, not them—and she always checked on her enemies. She had to know where they stood. Draco Malfoy was no imbecile. In several classes- and especially in Potions- he was top of the class right alongside her. Still though, History of Magic had never been one of his strong suits. So WHY the interest in her project? She couldn't dream it was about tormenting her… not after eight years of silence from him. He couldn't be that bored.

And what had happened to Draco Malfoy, anyway? She knew that his family had switched sides just before the war turned sour, to avoid their own demise. Luscious Malfoy still rotted in Azkaban. Narcissa had been in the news for a spell in the early years, preaching acceptance and donating the minimum amount to the post-war charities and such to throw suspicion off of herself… trying to keep her head up… trying to make believe. But of Draco? No one was talking. She assumed of course that he was living his dream: mooching off of mummy and daddy and laying low to avoid having to do any of the real "work" toward the "goals" his family sought. But his notes had indicated otherwise… had he changed his viewpoint on magic, muggleborns, and racial purity? Had Draco Malfoy changed? Or had they even been his notes, at all?

The idea of it was laughable to her. So why the long face? She wasn't sure what to make of any of it. And regardless of what he was now, he could never change what he had been, and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. But she wanted everything to do with this project. And if that meant punching Draco Malfoy in the nose for good measure just one more time, then that's just what she was going to have to do! ...after she convinced him to spend about a fortune in fossils, equipment, and new field workers.

She sighed and climbed the steps to her apartment. She twisted the key in the lock and walked upstairs. She opened the door and snapped her figures, popping on the lights. Crookshanks jogged out to meet her. She crouched to meet him. "Would I disappoint you?" She held him out a cookie. He purred and took it from her. She stroked his back.

Standing, she whipped off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. She immediately set a kettle on for tea, stripping off her layers as she went. It was a chilly night for September, and she had dressed warmly for the journey to Harry's. She could have taken the Floo, she knew, but she'd gotten into the habit of walking to work and it felt natural. After all… she had been raised a muggle.

She pulled her shirt over her head as she walked into her bedroom and got stuck halfway up a renegade button. She backed against the wall and brushed the light on with her shoulder. She pulled the shirt up over her ears, shook her hair out and gasped.

Draco Malfoy sat lazily in her office chair in the middle of her vacant bedroom, leaning against the back and rocking slightly to amuse himself. In his hands, he gently tapped the leather file carrier, the silk ribbon tie between two of his fingers. He was smirking up at her, and his eyes slunk over her body. She turned pink.

"My, my. Someone's filled out since her school days."