A/N. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the amazing reviews and follows a favs yet again! I really, really appreciate it all!

Here's the next chapter!

Chapter 3

"So... what's going on?" Ginny collapsed onto the couch beside Hermione in the Burrow's living room. Hermione, whose nose had been buried within the depths of House Elves: the Ties and Tribulations, looked up with a start and gazed blankly at her friend as she tried to process what Ginny had just said.

It was late Saturday afternoon. Relishing the break from work, Hermione had spent the day reading up on house elves for her upcoming lecture on S.P.E.W.

Ginny and Harry had been out for the morning as Harry had treated his fiancé with a trip to Oxford. Harry had now gone to meet Ron for dinner in his flat, while Ginny had preferred to have a quiet evening in the company of her friend.

"What?" Hermione asked, having finally come to conclusion that she simply could not remember what Ginny had said.

Ginny sighed, smiling slightly. "I said, what's going on?" she repeated patiently. "You've been acting strange since last night." She paused and eyed Hermione beadily. "Is this something to do with Malfoy?"

Hermione jumped slightly at the mention of Malfoy. She had not spoken to anyone about their emotional exchange the day before. Indeed, she had not had a chance to, being as busy and preoccupied as Ginny had been the previous evening. Now, she supposed, was probably the best time to do it.

She sighed. "Maybe a little."

Ginny pounced like a ginger cat on this little piece of news. "What happened?" she demanded. "I know Harry went and talked to him yesterday. Did you too?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, I bumped into him again at the cafe on Diagon Alley... and he invited me for a walk." Ginny looked shocked, but motioned impatiently for Hermione to continue. "Well," Hermione said with difficulty, for some reason a lump seemed to be rising in her throat. "He apologized... about everything. About all those times at school when he teased me, and called me a mudblood. He even..." She stopped for a moment, and took a deep breath. Even now, years later, when the pain was long past, the memory of Bellatrix's brutal torture of her was difficult to talk about. She swallowed. "He said he was sorry that he didn't do anything to help be when I was being tortured my Bellatrix. He said it still haunts him." It was taking all her strength of will not to start crying. Even so, she felt the tell tale sting in the corners of her eyes.

Ginny was examining her friend closely and Hermione could see sympathy in her friend's eyes. It sometimes surprised her how well Ginny knew her. She sometimes had the strange feeling that Ginny knew exactly what was going on in her head, perhaps even better than she, Hermione, did.

They had never spoken much about Hermione's time in Malfoy Manor. Harry had possibly told his fiancé his side of the story, but neither Harry nor Ron had experienced the horror of the Cruciatus Curse being inflicted upon them multiple times.

Not wanting to relive it at the present moment though, with her emotional strings already stretched tight enough to snap at any given moment, Hermione – once again – decided to lay that topic aside for another time.

Ginny frowned and chewed her lip thoughtfully. "He apologized about your time in Malfoy Manor?" she asked quietly.

Hermione just nodded.

"And you're he was being genuine?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Absolutely... there was no way you could suspect that being false," she said, remembering the tears that dripping down Draco's pale face.

Ginny stared thoughtfully out of the window, where the vegetable patch and surrounding hills were thrown into sharp relief by the sun's dying rays. A slightly bedraggled looking gnome ambled through Mrs Weasley's carrots. When she spoke, her voice was even quieter than before.

"So he really has turned over a new leaf then."

Hermione nodded.

"Well," said Ginny, turning back to Hermione, a smile spreading over her freckled face. "That's great, Hermione... really amazing. I would never have expected that of him. Not that I knew him very well," she added hastily. "But still... it looks like the world really is righting itself again."

Hermione smiled weakly, she did not know exactly why this whole conversation had affected her so thoroughly, but she was eager to move onto another topic as quickly as possible. She did not want to explore, however interesting it may sound, The Life and Lies of Draco Malfoy, not at least, at the present time, when the mere thought of him sent her mind into an utterly confused whirlwind of thoughts.

Ginny straightened up from her unbecoming slouch and extracted herself from the sofa with a groan and a stretch. "Are you hungry?" she asked, heading towards the kitchen. "Mum and dad have gone out tonight so it's just the two of us, I thought I'd make a quick pasta dish and we can catch up?"

A smile spread across Hermione's face and she, too, sprang to her feet. "I'll come help you," she called. She took a moment to root around in the crevices of the couch to locate her bookmark, which had an annoying tendency of losing itself in the depths of the upholstery on a regular basis, before hurrying to join Ginny in the kitchen.

Two days later found Hermione dozing on her desk over her half finished report of renewed elf rights. Her quill dripped softly onto the blank half of the parchment as her mind wandered and she found herself gazing unseeingly at the fresh vase of jasmine she had picked just that morning.

Sunday had been quiet and uninteresting. She had spent it chatting aimlessly with Harry and Ginny and not a getting any work done at all. It was no surprise, then, that work this morning had hit her with full force, which was why she had sat down immediately to complete her house elf report. However her mind had, most uncharacteristically, wandered when her quill had filled almost two thirds of the long roll of parchment with her neat, carefully spaced handwriting; which was why she found herself staring absentmindedly at the delicate, white jasmine flowers.

Before she could get her unruly thoughts in order, they had meandered slap bang into worrisome topic of Draco Malfoy. She had neither seen nor heard from him since their stroll in the park on Friday. They had parted on fairly friendly terms, given the fact that they, along with Harry, had just called a truce and decided to start over fresh. Glad that that obstacle was safely out of the way, Hermione was really quite keen to see the blond Slytherin again soon. His change intrigued her, as she had never seen such a transformation quite like this before – from a snide and snarky school bully, to a mature, understanding man. She was eager to begin what she hoped would be a friendship with him.

But nothing more, of course. She was, as she reminded herself several times a month, a happy and successful single woman, with no need or inclination to begin a romantic relationship with any man. That, coupled with the fact that her parents had recently filed a divorce after ten years of an unhappy marriage, made her certain that she did not need anyone in her life right now.

To be honest, she had a quiet fear of entering into a relationship which would only bring heartache, misery and a break up. If she had learned anything from her parents, it was never to give you heart wholly to someone else, and she intended to keep her heart entirely hers.

This fear of romantic love had started at a young age, when she had first witnessed one of her parents nastier arguments, and from there on after, she had realised that marriage was not, after all, a happily ever after situation. Love was a ruthless game unless you played it right.

She used to, and still did at times, wonder why people even bothered with love, if it never lasted anyway.

Such were the thoughts circling Hermione's mind when Barbara Hopkirke, another witch from her Department entered Hermione's office and dropped a letter on the curly haired witch's desk.

"This just came for you, Hermione," said Barbara, with a smile. She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Jonathan says he wants that report on his desk this afternoon," she added apologetically, before leaving and closing the door behind her.

Hermione sighed as she siphoned off the ink splotches on her unfinished report, and then turned her attention to the letter that had been dropped among her books. It was neatly addressed in emerald green ink.

Hermione Granger

Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures

Ministry of Magic

London

She slit it open with deft fingers and extracted the sheet of parchment that had been folded inside. She sighed. It was just another reminder from her head of office on the upcoming house elf convention. As if she had not been preparing for it for weeks already.

Sighing, she returned to her report.

The day had passed fairly quickly and before she knew it, Hermione found herself in the queue for the floo fires and then shouting the words "Diagon Alley" into the emerald flames. She was not, however, headed for her favourite coffee shop, but rather to Flourish and Blotts, to pick up an order of books she had placed a while back.

Hermione stepped over the threshold and into the tranquil silence of her favourite book shop. A faint tinkle as though someone was ringing wind chimes, ran through the store to announce her presence. A short, middle aged wizard bustled into view from between the looming bookshelves and positioned himself behind the counter before turning to the curly haired witch.

'May I help you?'

Hermione, who had been rummaging through her bag in an attempt to locate the slip of parchment that held her order, looked up and hurried to the counter, placing a rather battered receipt on the shiny counter top.

"I placed this order about a month ago, I was wondering if it had come in yet?" she asked, rather breathlessly.

The man examined the parchment closely before nodding. "Yes, Miss...?"

"Granger," Hermione quickly supplied.

"Right... yes, it arrived yesterday if I'm not mistaken. If you will just wait here for a moment...' He bustled off, leaving Hermione to examine the packed shelves of the book shop alone. It was quiet, almost eerily so, but it was a silence that Hermione had grown quite accustomed to during her long hours alone in the library at Hogwarts.

She strolled through the towering shelves, running one hand delicately along the soft spines of the books. Reaching the section on house elves – what else – she was forced to climb a precarious ladder to reach a certain tome that was out of her reach. She slipped the book from the shelf and, without waiting to descend the ladder again, opened the book, flipped through the stiff pages and began to read . And, perched precariously as she was at the top of a wooden ladder in a bookshop, she was soon lost within the pages.

She was so engrossed in the account of a certain female elf who had served her family for ninety six years without one day off that she failed to notice the tinkle of the doorbell and the arrival of a tall, pale, blond Slytherin, that is, until he spoke to her.

"Hermione?"

Jolted suddenly, and shockingly, out of her reverie, Hermione shrieked and dropped the book, which landed, splayed and crumpled on the floor below. She, herself, only just managed to grab onto a shelf divide to prevent herself from following in its wake.

Breathing heavily, she had always been easy to scare, she glared down at Draco with an interesting mixture of shock, anger and amusement, as she realised her current predicament.

"Draco!" she gasped, and despite the pounding of her heart, she felt a smile creep over her flushed face. "Merlin, you scared me! What are you doing here?"

Draco peered up at her in amusement. "I might ask you the same thing... reading the top of a ladder is hardly the safest occupation." He crouched down and retrieved the crumpled book. He examined the creased and dusty pages carefully before tapping it with his wand and restoring it to its previously spotless condition.

He reached up and handed it back to Hermione. "You should probably put that safely out of harm's way if you don't want to have to end up buying it," he advised. Hermione nodded quickly, slipped the book back onto the shelf and hurriedly descended the ladder just as the book-keeper returned from the back room, hauling along a large parcel.

Hermione gave Draco a fleeting smile as she brushed past him. "Hang on a moment," she said, and hastened towards the counter to pay. Five minutes later, she had hoisted the bulky parcel into her arms and turned to Draco, who had been waiting patiently behind her, and beckoned to him. She was making her way to the door when she realised Draco's absence. He was standing at the counter, a slim volume in his hands, and was filtering through his money bag.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

Draco quirked an eyebrow and a grin flitted across his face. "Hermione, as much as it may appear that I only entered this shop to frighten you off your ladder, I actually came here for a bit of shopping of my own."

Hermione flushed, feeling stupid. "Right," she muttered, using her knee to lift the heavy parcel more securely into her arms. "Well, I'll be outside then," she muttered, and backed out of the shop. Outside, she dropped the books onto a bench, panting. What had possessed her to order such a vast number of books was completely beyond her at the moment, wiped away by the sheer weight of the parcel.

A few minutes later, Draco exited the shop and made his way over to her, tucking a book into his robes. He sat down beside her and took a moment to examine her state, before he grinned and voiced Hermione's exact thoughts.

"What on earth possessed you to buy all of these books?"

It took Hermione a moment or two to force herself to see the absurdity of her situation, and take her mind off her already aching back. She smile ruefully and said, "Well... I've a got a reputation to uphold."

Draco burst out laughing. Real laughter, true and full of happiness, not his old sneering laugh that used to mock her in the castle corridors for being in situations not dissimilar to this. And all of a sudden Hermione found herself laughing along with him. And they sat like this, two young adults, former enemies, laughing together in the quiet streets of Diagon Alley.

And that was all it took to remove all past disputes, enmity and disagreements from their memories. A burst of genuine laughter.

And just like that, they were friends.

A/N. I know it wasn't particularly long, but I have big plans for the next chapter and had to finish this one off on this note. Would love to know what you think! Any input is greatly appreciated! Skye xx