Going to the vet tonight with my kitty cat. He's been walking like a drunk the last couple of days, which concerns me because I never keep alcohol in the house. And he doesn't have opposable thumbs to open bottles. Fingers crossed my baby boy is okay!

Chapter 4
Those words had never passed his lips before. Others had died, people he was close to, but none that he loved as much as his mother. The death of Narcissa Malfoy had been his secret reason for leaving the wizarding world behind. As far as he knew, no one had made the connection, and he hoped it remained that way.

"Draco?"

Hermione's voice was a soft murmur, but it was enough to pull him from his thoughts. He looked at her and smiled, assuring her he was alright. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he finally said, letting go of her hand.

"You didn't," she promised. "I have nightmares too, ya know."

Draco nodded as if he had first hand experience with her dreams. "I should go," he said, getting to his feet. He moved quickly toward her front door, and it wasn't until he stopped with his hand on the knob that he realized she had followed him. "Thanks for last night. I had fun."

He pulled the door open, but Hermione's hand stayed his arm. "Are you alright?' she asked, worry lines forming between her eyebrows.

"Not falling in love with me, are you, Granger?" he asked, doing his best to slip back into his old, self-important routine.

Hermione pulled her hand back. "No, it's just concern for a friend," she replied.

He lingered in her doorway a moment longer to ask, "Is that what we are?" But before she could reply, he turned and entered his own flat.

She felt stupid. He hadn't really wanted her to sleep with him. He hadn't really wanted her to call him a friend. Draco Malfoy didn't have friends. He had lackeys and people he kept around for entertainment. There was no place in his life for a friend like her. "Just forget about it," she told herself as she locked the door and began to clean up.

An unexpected visitor awaited Draco's return, startling him when he entered his flat. "What are you doing here?" he demanded when he saw Astoria Greengrass reclined on his sofa.

"I could ask you the same question," she replied, arching an eyebrow at him. "Living like a muggle is beneath you, Draco."

"I happen to like it here," he said, making a pot of coffee.

Astoria rose from the couch, tossing her perfectly curled dark hair over her shoulder. "And what was the emergency that forced you to cancel our plans last night?" she inquired, joining him in the kitchen. "The emergency that must have been so dire you just got back now."

"Not that I owe you an explanation, but a friend needed me," he told her. "Besides, you were the one who said we needed to talk, and I have nothing to say. "If you want to play intermediary between my father and me, have at it. I'm not interested in anything he has to say though."

"But he wants to make things right between the two of you," Astoria insisted.

Draco rounded on her and backed her up until she hit the counter top. "There will be no setting things right between us," he informed her, snarling as he spoke. "He destroyed my family, he's the reason my mother is dead. What could he possibly say that could make any of that right?"

"He didn't kill her," she replied softly. Despite her best effort to remain calm as he towered angrily over her, it was her wide, fearful green eyes that betrayed her.

"Well, you're his mistress, so I guess I have to believe you," he said sarcastically.

Draco moved away, but Astoria stayed glued to the counter. "How did you know about that?" she asked, fear still thick in her words.

"Just because I don't live there anymore doesn't I've lost touch with people who do," he responded. "The two of you aren't very subtle from what I hear. Snogging in the middle of crowded restaurants will get you noticed, my dear. Especially with the way you dress, or should I say how little you wear when you get dressed."

"I don't have to stand here and listen to you insult me," she declared angrily. "I delivered your father's message. Maybe he's the one who's better off without you."

"Bye, then," he replied, turning back to the freshly brewed coffee. The door slammed shut with enough force to rattle the wall. Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he wondered how much of the argument Hermione could hear. Chances were if she was in her bedroom, she heard every word. He smiled at the thought of her running over, wand at the ready, and blasting down the door to ensure he was safe.

But that didn't happen. She stayed in her flat. She ignored the noise. Hermione Granger wasn't going to come to his rescue. And suddenly he felt bad. Pouring another mug of coffee, he eased out of his flat and knocked on her door. She opened it and smiled. "I can't seem to get rid of you, can I?" she asked, opening the door wider to grant him entrance.

He handed her a mug as he passed and settled down on the sofa. "This is one comfortable couch," he stated, propping his bare feet up on coffee table.

"That's why I bought it - comfort," she replied, sitting down beside him. "Why is your face all red?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Would you believe me if I said the coffee's too hot?" he asked.

She took a tentative sip and swallowed. "No," she replied.

Sighing, he slouched down further. "My father's little minion paid me a visit this morning," he informed her.

"So, it's an angry red," she surmised. Draco nodded and drained the contents of his mug quickly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shrugged. "What's there to say?" he wondered. "He wants to talk. I don't. End of story."

"What do you think he wants to talk about?" she asked, fiddling with the handle of the ceramic coffee cup she held.

He eyed her, expecting her to already know the answer to her question. But she sat quietly by his side, one hand holding her coffee and the other resting supportively on his arm. "It's obvious isn't it?" he finally said. "He wants me to go back."

"Would you?"

Draco shook his head. "No," was his definitive answer.