A/N: Sorry for the wait. Life happened.

Disclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the plot.

Hermione didn't hear from him for three days.

She wasn't too surprised, since there was a good chance he was still feeling a bit angry at her for forcing him to face his mother. Even though Narcissa had clearly forgiven him (which Hermione knew she would), Malfoy had seemed quite distressed over something that had transpired in their meeting. Hermione had an inkling that whatever this 'promise' was that Malfoy had made was behind is distress.

Hermione was definitely curious about this promise. Even though she knew it was none of her business, Hermione was a bit annoyed that Malfoy had been unwilling to fill her in, considering their…er, relationship.

Regardless, Hermione was starting to get antsy at Malfoy's non-presence. So she felt both relieved and annoyed when she arrived home from work on the third day since visiting the Manor to find Malfoy leaning against her door.

He looked marginally less pissed off than the last time she'd seen him, and once again he was violating her building's no-smoking restriction. Hermione's eyes flickered up to his hair.

"You got a haircut," she said.

"Yeah, my mother made me promise to cut it," he mumbled around his cigarette.

"Is that the promise she was talking about?"

"N- uh, yeah…"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she prodded him out of the way so she could unlock her door. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I was feeling a bit twitchy and decided to come here rather than steal Addison's liquor," he said, following her into her apartment and stamping his cigarette out on her counter.

"And what were doing the last three days whenever you felt twitchy?"

"Stealing Addison's liquor."

"You shouldn't joke about this."

"Who said I was joking?"

Hermione groaned. "Malfoy, I had almost been impressed by your proactive avoidance of alcohol."

"Hey, you could have come over and made sure I was alright after forcing me to visit my mother!"

"You're right, I should have," Hermione admitted. "But you need to be willing to help yourself, Malfoy. I can't do everything for you."

"I came here today, didn't I?"

"Fair enough," Hermione conceded.

Malfoy smirked in triumph, then looked around her kitchen area. "Do you have any whiskey, by chance?"

"No," she said truthfully. "And if I did I wouldn't give you any."

"Of course not," he scowled. "Do you mind if I watch the telly, then?"

"Go ahead," she sighed.

Hermione watched Malfoy skulk towards her couch, once again wondering at how weird this entire situation was. Is this how it was going to be from now on – Malfoy showing up at her flat, hanging round in her sitting room watching the telly?

Malfoy reached to pick the remote off the end table, but paused.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked, walking up to see if her remote was broken.

"Is this them – your parents?" he asked, picking up a framed photograph.

"Yeah," she answered sadly. "That was taken a few weeks before – you know."

"You look like your dad," he said, glancing at her. "Except for the hair."

"Uh, yeah, I suppose."

"Why do you live here?" he asked suddenly, putting the picture back on the table.

"What do you mean?" she asked, perplexed at the sudden question.

"Why do you live in Muggle London and work in a Muggle bookstore?"

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"What's that?"

"Never mind," Hermione said, sighing again.

"Why didn't you mention that you were doing the same thing I was?"

"I'm not. Not really, anyway."

"But you live here and you work-"

"I own a chain of Wizarding bookstores, too. And I still have all my friends from the magical world and I still see them."

"Owning a chain isn't very involved, and I would have thought you'd be living as close as possible to those two thugs of yours."

"It's not, and they're not thugs," Hermione said patiently. "I just wanted some space away after everything that happened. My entire experience with the magical world had been so hectic and dangerous and involved and war torn…I just needed a break from it all."

"A break?"

"I spent ten years having my life defined war and my best friend's fate. I needed to be independent for a bit, and I thought the best way to do that would be to put some distance between myself and the magical community. Other than my friends, of course."

"So you're – you're upset because Potter stole your adolescence?"

"No – of course not!" Hermione sputtered, horrified at the suggestion. "No – that was a bad way to say it. I'm not upset about anything that happened, not at all, and especially not at Harry. I just needed a break so I could focus on me for a while. I never really got the chance to just focus on myself before with everything that was going on."

"I see," Malfoy said, looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "So now I'm ruining your break?"

"No, you're not ruining it," Hermione insisted.

"That's alright, I get it," he said, suddenly cold. "You wanted some time to yourself, and I barged in on it."

"No, Malfoy, stop assuming things! I didn't say any of that!" Hermione pleaded, reeling over his sudden mood change.

"But it's the truth, isn't it? I'm disturbing your peace and quiet and you're going to end up resenting me for it more than you were already going to, like how you resent Potter now," he said angrily.

"No! I do not resent Harry and I'm not going to resent you! God, would you please stop putting words in my mouth?"

"They were there, you just weren't saying them!"

"No, they weren't," she said firmly. "I don't think of you as ruining my break!"

"Then what do you think of me as?"

"You're just – you're part of it now, and that's as much as I know at this point," she said truthfully. For all she knew, he could end up ruining her break if this all didn't work out well. She wasn't going to say that, though, seeing as it wasn't a certain truth.

He seemed to cool off a bit at that, studying her face in what was probably an attempt to detect insincerity. "Okay," he finally said, turning away from her to reach for the remote again. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that these extreme mood swings wouldn't be permanent.

Permanent. What a strange concept, that Malfoy could end up permanently part of her life in any capacity.

She watched him settle onto her couch before switching the telly on, immediately flipping on a football match. Hermione was not a sports fan, but after Malfoy's recent determination to get her to admit that he was ruining her life she felt she should probably join him. She wasn't going to kid herself and actually watch the match, but she'd compromise and sit in the armchair next to the couch and do some paperwork for her various stores.

After about thirty minutes of filling out order forms and reading through inventory reports, Hermione glanced at Malfoy. He hadn't made any type of reaction to what he was watching, just sitting there and staring blankly at the screen.

"Malfoy, do you even like football?"

"No," he said flatly.

"Then why are you watching it?"

"Well until the Wizarding world wises up and makes watching Quidditch matches available through a television or a similar magical contraption, this is the closest I can get to being able to watch a real sport."

Hermione barely had time to register how absurd it was that Draco Malfoy had basically just admitted that Muggles were in at least one way superior to witches and wizards before she heard the familiar rushing sound of someone Flooing into her fireplace. She jumped up in trepidation, scattering her papers all over the floor and turned to see Ginny staring, eyes wide and mouth hung open, at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting on Hermione Granger's couch.

"What the – Hermione, what the hell is Malfoy doing here?" Ginny said, snapping out of her state of disbelief to glare at the blond man on the couch.

Said man, Hermione noted unsurprisingly, just stared blankly back at the redhead.

"Um, it's a long story. We should talk," Hermione said, gesturing Ginny to follow her into her bedroom.

"Okay, out with it," Ginny said immediately as soon as she had shut the bedroom door and dropped her bag on the floor. "What is going on?"

Hermione patiently recounted the whole story to Ginny, who, for her part, listened attentively (if a little impatiently).

"Do Harry and Ron know about this?"

"Not yet."

"Are you going to tell them?"

"Yes, of course! I didn't want to tell them too soon because I didn't want them to try and convince me to not to help him."

"They still will, you know," Ginny sniffed. "He's a pig."

"Ginny-"

"You really think that he's going to change? Isn't there some Muggle saying about teaching an old dog new tricks?"

"He's not that old, Gin. And humans have bigger brains than dogs, so they have a better capacity to learn new tricks."

"What about old habits living hard?"

"It's dying hard, and that doesn't mean it's impossible," Hermione explained.

"Maybe not impossible, but still pretty damn hard."

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean, it's Malfoy. Malfoy. Do you really think it's worth the effort?" Ginny demanded.

"He deserves a chance," Hermione said quietly. "Everyone does."

"But it's Draco Malfoy. Don't you remember what his father did to me when I was eleven?"

"That was his father, Ginny. His father's in jail where he belongs."

"Dumbledore died because of him!"

"Dumbledore planned his own death."

"That doesn't change Malfoy's intentions!"

"He wouldn't have done it and you know it, Ginny," Hermione said firmly. "He's different now."

"How different can he really be, Hermione? Be realistic!"

"He's trying, Ginny! He's the one who came to me for help! Doesn't that count for something for you?"

Ginny glared at her, grinding her teeth.

"Look, you don't have to agree with me here, but you can not tell Harry and Ron?"

"For the record, I don't agree with you, but it's your decision so I'll stay out of it. And I don't think spouses are supposed to keep secrets."

"It'll only be for a week and half. I was going to tell them at George's party next weekend."

"Okay, fine. But you owe me," Ginny grumbled.

"Thanks." Hermione sighed in relief. "So, did you need something?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you obviously didn't come here to confront me about Malfoy considering you had no idea about him, so you must have had a reason for popping in."

"Oh, right. I got something for you," Ginny said, perking up a little bit and reaching into her bag. "Should help with that frizz. George fiddled around a bit with that old stuff you used to use and came up with a new and improved formula," she said, pulling out a canister of hair product.

"I don't really need any – hey!" Ginny had sprayed the stuff before Hermione had finished her sentence. She could feel her hair defluffing and defrizzing before she had finished glaring at Ginny. "Come on, you know I don't even do my hair enough for that."

"It's free. Don't complain, just save it for the two formal occasions you'll attend in the next year."

"Alright, thanks."

Hermione followed Ginny out of her room and wished her goodbye before the redhead Flooed out. She figured now would be a good time to tell Malfoy that his old rivals would soon be learning about his newfound presence in Hermione's life and the circumstances involved.

"Malfoy, I need to tell you something," she said, turning towards him.

Malfoy, who hadn't moved an inch, diverted his attention from the television to look back at her.

"Okay, so you should probably know that I'm going to have to tell Harry and Ron about you and me. I mean, about this situation."

"Why?" he asked, stirring out of his state of disinterest to look a bit irritated.

"They're my best friends, Malfoy."

"What's your point?"

"Don't start with that, Malfoy. They're my best friends and we don't keep secrets from each other."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Make an exception."

"No."

"Why? You know they won't let you continue being around me."

"It's not a matter of them letting me," she said heatedly.

"What, you think they'll jump up and down with excitement and offer to help?"

"Don't be silly."

"They're not going to like it and you know it."

"Yes, I'm aware that two people who hate your guts won't like that they're best friend is hanging round with you."

"Then why even bother telling them?"

"Because they should know!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration. "They're my best friends and it would be wrong for me to keep this from them. No, they're not going to like it, but they would like it even less if they I didn't tell them and they found out anyway."

After they glared at each other for another few moments, Malfoy finally relented.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Do it."

"I'm going to."

"Good, tell them everything."

"I will."

"Yeah, good. You should even wear your hair like that when you tell them. They'll be too busy laughing at you to care about me."

A/N: Why yes, I did have Ginny spray a hair product on Hermione just so Malfoy could make a joke about her hair. Cheap shot? Indeed, but I happen to endorse cheap shots.

As always, reviews are lovely.