"Why yes, Hermione! Do you know him? Isn't he absolutely gorgeous? And sooo polite. And such address…" Katie sighed, oblivious both to Manda's raised eyebrows and her loud flicking of Hello! , as Hermione came to terms with the idea of Draco Malfoy voluntarily associating with Muggles in a social setting that did not involve creative torture.

Katie was lost in contemplation of the perfection that was Draco, when a frown marred her beatific expression. "How do you know him, Hermione? Does he attend your school?" Before Hermione could reply, she gushed, "Oh! I just knew he was frightfully clever as well! His eyes were sooo intense…''

"Uh… yes," Hermione answered, hoping that Malfoy hadn't given Katie any particulars about their school; after all, the problem with lies was that they tended to tell on each other. But apparently Katie was satisfied with her answer, for she carried on, unmindful of Hermione's discomfort, or to the obvious gagging motions Manda was making from behind the Spice Girls' latest antics.

"Oh! I remember now! He did tell me he went to boarding school. He was at the Museum with his mum too. Apparently, they had loaned bits of their private collection of Egyptian artifacts to the museum to mark the opening of the new wing. I saw his mum when she was talking to the Museum director. The diamonds on her! They must be absolutely loaded!" At this Manda looked up from her magazine—she had an almost Pavlovian reaction to diamonds.

"Really! Handsome and rich. Go you, Katie! Does he have a brother- preferably older?" Manda asked hopefully.

"No. And thank God for small mercies," Hermione interrupted before Katie could comment. "Malfoy is an only son. And he is a complete and utter prat! Katie, are you sure you did not have any of that champagne? Or had you been at the crazy weed again?"

"Whatever do you mean, Hermione? Prat? He was ever so polite! He talked to me for hours. OK, for twenty minutes. And I did not have any champagne! Maybe one glass… I wasn't pissed or anything. Just, you know, wittier." Katie protested, as Manda giggled.

"And he did not sneer or smirk, or make any horrible snobbish comments? And this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about—pale, pointy-faced, old-man hair?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"You mean porcelain-skinned, aristocratic-featured and platinum-haired? Yes, the very same. I mean, how many people on earth are called Draco Malfoy, for God's sake?"

"What happened, did he beat you at exams? Why are you dissing him?" Manda butted in, her interest piqued by the intensity of Hermione's criticism. " No…wait! He's your ex, isn't he?" she said with barely concealed glee.

"Ex. Hah! As if! And no, he has never beaten me at exams… except once at po... at polymer chemistry. And that too because we have a very biased professor!" Hermione flushed at the passion in her voice at the mention of marks and the knowing looks her friends exchanged.

"No. It's not that. Malfoy just isn't nice,' she continued earnestly, trying to make her friends understand, make them aware of the danger that lurked so close to them. " His family has nasty underworld connections. Drugs I think….and weapons . Yes, arms trafficking to poor African nations. They are bad people."

"Christ! Hermione! I doubt he's planning world domination while studying, what was it? Polymer chemistry!" Katie sniffed.

"Yes, but his father definitely is," Hermione retorted. "He was arrested and everything."

"He's sixteen, and you've already made him out to be some sort of Professor Moriarty. Don't you think you are a tiny bit biased?" Katie protested, as Manda nodded in agreement. "Listen—let's not fight about it. We're here to have a good time, so let's not spoil it. I mean I'm not going to elope with him, however charming he may be. So relax. Besides, he invited us to Boujis."

"Boujis!" Manda shrieked. "Katie, you utter cow! Why didn't you tell me earlier? I would have sat on Hermione before allowing her to say a word against the God who scored us invites to Boujis! Hermione! Shush! You and I will chaperone Katie so that she's not sold into white slavery. But I will go out tonight and I will pretend I am eighteen and so will you both. So there!" Manda opened her compact with a decisive click as the train finally pulled into Liverpool Street .

Hermione was silent during the bus ride to Maidavale as her friends chattered about the various sale signs in all the store windows they passed. Luckily, her outburst in the train did not seem to have affected their spirits, though it had left a mark on her. With the revelation of the identity of Katie's new friend had come a new realisation: the reason the holidays were so soothing for her was because of the complete scission her life as a muggle offered her from the dreadful prominence of being Harry Potter's best friend. She valued this separation, and now, Draco Malfoy, with all his Slytherin cunning, had breached her barriers and bled into her balmy summer. But now that the contamination had occurred, she could no more ignore it and go back to her isolation than she would leave her friend to the mercy of a pack of ravenous wolves.

What worried her even more was that Malfoy had been charming to Katie. Charm: an oxymoron when taken in context of a Malfoy. While she hoped that, like her, Malfoy too was bound by the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Magic, she could not rule out that some form of enchantment had been used against Katie, perhaps administered by someone who was not a party to the restrictions of the decree. And who was the target in this elaborate charade? Was it she? Or was it, as always, a devious plot to get at Harry through her? Her mind roiled with conspiracy theories, even as London went past in stops and starts of midday traffic.

By the time she had followed Katie and Manda to Daphne's flat, (after following Daphne's carefully texted instructions regarding the key hidden in the front hall, and the codes for the security alarm) Hermione had resolved to keep a very close eye on both Katie and Malfoy. She appreciated that even with his identifiable arrogance and pureblood pride Malfoy was hazardous: were he to be bleached of these warning colours, were he to stop flying so blatantly the pennant of his allegiance, he could prove unstoppable. A subtle Malfoy was infinitely more dangerous than a grandstanding one.