Author's Note: You might have some questions pertaining to George's role in this story after this chapter, but it will all make sense later. Let me know what you think.

Forgiving Fate

Chapter 7

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"So teenage muggles just come here to walk around and look at each other?" the blonde wizard scoffed. "I mean, I understand the concept from attending Hogsmeade trips, but some of them don't even look like they intend to buy anything. Is this some ill-conceived muggle courting ritual?" Draco asked Hermione, his voice so serious she couldn't possibly misconstrue his question as condescending.

Ever since they had arrived at the bustling shopping mall two hours before, Draco had been studying the crowd and what he considered to be their eccentric customs. The Slytherin had been surprisingly diligent in his observations, behaving as though Hermione was tutoring him in Muggle Studies and administering an examination later. The thought was truly surreal – and slightly unnerving.

His newfound muggle curiosity was partly Hermione's fault anyway. She had originally drawn Draco's attention to the odd behavior of the people at the shopping center accidentally, pointing out a speed-walking senior citizen doing laps around the mall for exercise. In her defense, Draco hadn't been watching where he was going and almost knocked down the elderly man clad in a skin-tight tank top, tiny blue spandex shorts, and bright white running shoes with black socks pulled up to his knobby knees.

For some reason it had never occurred to Hermione before that physical activity for weight management was a foreign concept to wizards, never having met an obese one except for Crabbe and Goyle who more or less grew out of their pudgy childhood physiques. She couldn't help but be patient and indulgent, appreciating the novelty of Draco's exposure to such previously unheard of concepts. If nothing else came of the outing, Hermione found the pureblood's genuine interest and lack of sarcasm optimistic.

"Yes, I suppose they are like a flock of preening peacocks, aren't they?" Hermione answered thoughtfully as she observed a group of kids squawking about this and that as they strolled by.

Draco had purposely chosen to people-watch on a bench in the center of the multi-leveled shopping mall, silently absorbing muggle culture while he finished his Cinna-Bon treat. Hermione was mystified watching him watching them. It appealed to the consummate learner inside of her, finding it incredibly interesting as she saw his thoughtful gray eyes draw tighter in concentration before darting in every direction to take in more information. Looking the way a scientist might when observing a new species of primate in the wild, Draco was genuinely attempting to understand the customs he was witnessing.

Unfortunately the specific group of "gorillas" he was most actively studying was very entertaining in their potential for trouble, though not the best sub-sect of the muggle population from which to draw any meaningful conclusions. Hermione had actually bumped into this particular group of unruly teenage delinquents on a previous trip to the shopping center. On that occasion they had tried to intimidate her for money and then cursed her out for denying them. The encounter had thankfully resolved before things got too out of hand, but she was currently hoping to avoid them in general, especially in Draco's presence. Considering the teens' natural propensity toward violent outbursts and Malfoy's well-documented ability to make others want to punch him in the face, any interaction between them would undoubtedly prove to be a combustible mix.

After Draco was finally done with his unexpected people-watching venture, he rose from the bench and tugged on Hermione's shoulder, ready to return to their mission for coming to the mall in the first place. As the muggle-born witch took the lead, Draco happily declared with a satisfied expression, "When Father decided muggles were inferior I have to believe he had never considered their ability to bake. That dessert was delightful."

"Yes, I can see that," Hermione said, smiling, choosing to ignore the topic of the elder Malfoy in favor of bringing a finger to her lips, tapping the side to indicate the Cinna-Bon lingering on the wizard's lips. Without hesitation, his tongue darted out to lick the spot of icing from the corner of his mouth, making Hermione laugh at his innocent enthusiasm. She was just thankful he had corrected the problem so quickly. It was the only thing she could do to suppress the urge she had to take care of the mess herself.

"I really am glad you're enjoying yourself, but you may want to ease up on the sweets lest you need to join that elderly man doing laps for exercise," Hermione added. Ever since the day he delivered his Pop-Tarts peace-offering, he had kept up the pace of his indulgence in anything sweet they came across. It seemed that everywhere they went there was something else he wanted to taste or try, something new which caught his interest in a decidedly exuberant way. If she was being at all honest with herself she enjoyed seeing this side of the snooty pureblood much more even if it made him a little rounder in the middle.

Distracted by her musings over the elitist's surprisingly open attitude to the muggle world, the witch and wizard had somehow managed to walk past the group of trouble-makers unscathed. Although she had yet to caution Draco of her concerns over the rowdy teens, Hermione managed to break free of her anxiety long enough to feel grateful they had avoided a potentially volatile situation. Now that they were thoroughly past the ragged-looking group, Hermione chanced a glance back over her shoulder, realizing she had been premature in deeming them safe.

Immediately noticing the dark, cunning eye of the group's ring leader fixating on Draco, Hermione balked. He had indeed been watching them, yet had made no move to accost them so far. It was alarming to the witch still plagued with post-traumatic stress. It was as if the muggle had some magical power of his own, one that zeroed in on a potential cash-cow target as he assessed the likelihood of finding a substantial amount of money in the aristocrat's pockets. The angular-faced hooligan's thin lips broke into a sinister smirk as his gaze flicked to Hermione, aware of the threat contained in that look.

The thug's asymmetrical jet black hair fell into his face as he glared back at the young witch, looking down upon the couple with a sneer from his perch on the atrium's railing. Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but think he did look a bit menacing surrounded by his goth-enthusiast lackeys. Not wanting to judge him solely for that superficial observation, she met his hardened gaze and was convinced there was something else that disturbed her about him – a detachment in his cold stare.

A finely tuned sense of intuition that Hermione had developed during the war which was never limited by outward appearances caused her skin to flush. Her nerves were tingling with cautionary warnings. A sense of foreboding that her troubles with that bully were not quite over, Hermione knew by the disgusted look on his face - oddly reminiscent of Malfoy himself - she could count on it.

For the moment, Hermione chose to remain silent about her suspicion. Shrugging of the danger, she led Draco into yet another store to looking for a present for Arthur Weasley's birthday. Going about their search of this store as they had the others, he looked the items over on one side of the aisle as she considered the other like a choreographed dance. Stealing a covert look at her shopping companion, happy with her decision to include him despite his odd questions and incidentally insulting commentary throughout the day, Hermione couldn't help but be pleased.

In truth, both of them were simultaneously aware of and yet unwilling to admit aloud that they're day together had been fairly enjoyable. Trying half-heartedly to imitate their former rivalry lest things become even more awkward, they had difficulty accomplishing that feat with any success. There was no way to deny they had more in common than either could have anticipated, debating random points with enthusiasm as they found an easy companionable rapport while they shopped.

Although it had been George's idea to come to the mall, something Hermione was excited he'd suggested, the mourning wizard was far too depressed to leave the house when she'd come to collect him. After a very eventful visit she was forced to leave the grief-stricken man behind, knowing he really needed the gift since the birthday party was the next day. Since she wouldn't have another chance to shop on his behalf before going to the Burrow, Hermione had enlisted Draco's help instead.

After popping over to Snape's, her cheeks still rose-tinted courtesy of her encounter with George, Hermione found the former Prince of Slytherin unceremoniously flopped on the couch looking positively stir-crazy in his boredom. Apparently the paralysis in Severus' legs had resolved so much the night before that he left the hideout for an emergency visit to St. Mungo's which would last well into the night. She fought the inkling of regret that she had missed something so monumental on her mentor's road to recovery, reminding herself she would be living there again soon enough.

For the time being Hermione decided entertaining the Potion Master's godson for the day could be of some consolation. Overjoyed that Severus' legs were suddenly more operable, Hermione lost her sense of reservation and eagerly invited Draco to accompany her in George's stead. Despite his previous claims of intent, she was still surprised at how quickly the formerly bigoted wizard jumped at the chance to attend her muggle outing. With no other explanation available to account for his personality shift, she could only imagine that the time he recently spent incarcerated in solitary had made him accept her invitation instead of the lonely alternative.

"What exactly are we looking for again?" Draco asked. To his credit, there was only the faintest hint of annoyance in his tone. He was mostly mesmerized by the many muggle stores they had searched through already. Some of them were ridiculous, while other stores – like Sharper Image - were somewhat clever even if he was remiss to admit that to the witch in his company. Pastries and sweets were one thing, but he was not yet ready to claim muggle technology as having true merit beyond a wizarding counterpart.

"I don't know exactly. Usually when I shop for Mr. Weasley I just look around until something strikes me as appealing," she said, handling a few household gadgets before returning them to the shelves as they perused the aisle together.

"That is hardly efficient, Hermione," he said with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by the use of her first name.

She could not say the same for herself, however. Feeling instantly flustered with the smoothness in which her name seemed to roll off his tongue. She had to hope she wasn't blushing since her temperature seemed to skyrocket at his casually spoken utterance.

"Yes, well, I think our luck is about to change," Hermione said with a smile, pretending to be excited simply at the prospect of ending their endless search and not with the fact that their hands kept accidentally grazing as they walked side by side down the cluttered aisle.

"What is this place anyway?" Draco asked, looking around in confusion as he saw strange appliances he wasn't sure the purpose of as they neared the back of the store.

"They sell things related to the home," Hermione explained, looking at a promising display of "As Seen on TV" merchandise.

"The Weasels need things replaced at the Burrow, can't say I'm surprised. Don't they have any house-elves?" Draco asked haughtily, years of discourse between the two pureblood families making his voice sound arrogant and cruel.

Mindful of the strides Draco had made and the patience it would take to encourage more, Hermione chose to overlook the implied insult in his tone. Chastising him without being condescending in return, she said simply, "Molly would not take kindly to you saying things against her home. And the Burrow isn't fancy, but it is very cozy and well-maintained. Besides, we aren't here because they need things like this. The brilliant part about shopping in a gadget-type store is that no matter the intended use, Arthur seldom knows what muggle items do without an explanation. He imagines all of these fantastic things which are hardly ever correct."

Feeling reminiscent, Hermione explained further even though she wasn't sure if Draco would appreciate any Weasley details. "For Christmas two years ago I gave him a Stethescope, a medical device muggles use to listen to their heartbeats. Well, Arthur was convinced it was a tool to check the ripeness of melons. It was hilarious." She said with a snigger, "Right up until he asked me to bring him to the market so he could test it out."

"It's an odd tradition, but it seems we're looking to purchase a product to have a laugh at the expense of Papa Weasel," Draco said, sounding wickedly optimistic.

"No, nothing so sinister, you Slytherin arse. It just needs to be something that holds his interest. For example, for his birthday last year I got him a special calendar that had notations for the important events which occurred in the muggle world the year he was born. He absolutely loved it. This time I just have to get creative because I need two special things since George really wasn't up to coming out today."

"Yeah, I could imagine," Draco said quietly. The sincerity of his comment struck Hermione. She could actually tell he had given this some previous thought, the shock of which showed on her face. "Why so surprised, Granger? Thought that the cunning required of Slytherins meant we're devoid of all human emotion?" he asked, shrugging. "Quite the contrary. You have to be able to identify those emotions which convey weakness to be able to hide them properly… I feel things. I just don't let others see it too."

Seeing the look of awe on her face, feeling her rapt attention as he spoke so candidly, he continued, "Besides, I remember how close those twins were in school. I'm sure it's difficult to get along after losing a regular brother, but a twin, especially those twins… even I can understand that," he stated resolutely, seeing the emotions playing in Hermione's eyes. "You really do care deeply for all the Weasels – excuse me, Weasleys – don't you?"

Pleased with the correction he made on her account, she spoke candidly. "They have been a family to me when I truly didn't have one. I have been helping look in on George because… well, he doesn't want the others visiting him. He's embarrassed and uncomfortable, and I… understand him without having to actually discuss anything," Hermione said, her mind drifting back to the unprecedented emotional outburst George had just before she ventured to Snape's earlier. Usually more withdrawn than confrontational, the whole encounter had alarmed Hermione on so many levels, some not even pertaining to the wild-eyed red-head.

Having just arrived at his flat via her usual sneaky maneuverings of disguises and quick apparations, Hermione found George standing in the middle of his living room looking exhausted, sweaty and panting like he had just played every position of a vigorous game of Quidditch all by himself. His eyes went wide when he noticed her standing in the doorway, almost like he had suddenly realized he had done something wrong and would have to explain himself since she had essentially caught him in the act.

Angry at her or himself over this revelation, George screamed at her accusatorily, "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing," she said firmly, closing and warding the door behind her so no one else would hear him yelling. "You never have to say one thing to me, George. I'm only here because I care about you. And even if you don't realize it right now, you need me to be here, if only just to have someone to yell at. Go ahead if you'd like, have a go. I really don't mind."

She then sat down cross-legged on the floor next to where he had suddenly collapsed in front of her. Her selfless declaration had effectively suffocated the flash fire which had sparked his temper. Evidently his anger was the only thing that had been holding him upright.

Scooting forward a little closer, Hermione kneeled and put her hands on his shoulders to get a better look at his tear-stained face. With gentle caresses, she carefully dried his eyes with the pads of her thumbs. "You can tell me anything. You can yell if you want. Cry if you want. I love you. I won't judge you no matter what you say to me, George."

"No, see… there it is again. Please, just don't call me 'George'," he pleaded, fresh tears forming in his already reddened eyes.

"I… well, alright, though I'm not sure how to avoid it unless you give me an alternative," she said, pushing the damp, sweaty hair from his face again. Knowing he responded best to small changes in the conversation rather than obvious segues, she went with subtlety to get him to respond. "To be honest, I've never been a huge fan of 'Hermione' myself, so maybe we can pick out some interesting new ones together. Off the top of my head, how about Jack and Jill? Perhaps Hansel and Gretel? You know, come to think of it, I'm actually partial to Peter and Wendy?

"You're lucky Mum read us some muggle books as children or I might have taken you up on the offer… Look, I am sorry for yelling at you," he practically whispered, his frown deepening as he nervously glanced around the room.

Hermione noticed his hands were shaking terribly. It was obvious something had unnerved him and though she wouldn't press him for information she needed to know what set off his wild behavior. Following George's eyes as they darted over the expanse of several walls, the subconscious action betrayed him. There was something vital missing, making the flat look almost stripped bare.

When she had initially entered she was distracted by the fuming red-head, only noticing the open space on the dark blue walls now that George wasn't in such a furious state. The walls no longer held the countless pictures they once had, scenes of identical faces in front of all types of backdrops. The Weasley twins' accomplishments had been abundant in their time together, something that was obvious by the moving photos which captured each happy moment from Quidditch triumphs to the day they opened the 3 W's. As striking as those radiant smiles were, it was the notion of togetherness that seemed so intangible now, the pictures a haunting reminder of an unattainable feeling George would never experience to the same degree without Fred.

Biting back any commentary for fear of inciting another heart-wrenching reaction from George, she continued to kneel in front of him. Stroking his red hair lovingly, Hermione realized she was almost petting him the way she did to Crookshanks when her emotions felt particularly strained. She wanted to offer more comfort, a hug and gentle words, but Hermione thought it best to let George work through things at his own pace today, without any pressure to force him before he was ready.

It was when she noticed the box in the corner, barely able to hold its contents as it was bursting with life that she decided to speak again. With the hard angular edges of the frames jutting from the box in every direction, Hermione saw a container which evidently now held every image of Fred Weasley that George could find. "Is that what I think it is, He-Whose-New-Name-Has-Yet-To-Be-Determined?"

"If you think it is a box of pictures of me and Fred then you are as smart as ever, She-Whose-Name-Need-Not-Be-Changed-Because-I'm-A-Pathetic-Fool-Who-Doesn't-Deserve-Her-Kindness."

Smiling at the ridiculously long moniker, Hermione asked, "What happened today, um, Mr. Weasley?" Squinting at him, she tried to find a more suitable alternative to George's given name that wasn't so awkward or so close to home.

"I went out today, you know?" he blurted, speaking before he seemed to realize the words left his mouth. He paused to let his brain catch up before he continued, his voice strangled as the threat of tears renewed. "I thought if I set a small goal and went out for just a little while, even if it was just to walk around outside then when you got here to bring me shopping I would seem… I don't know, maybe not quite as pitiful."

He paused for a moment, his voice was bittersweet and wavering when he continued, "I wanted to seem stronger or something for leaving the flat without you as my crutch… but I'm hopeless, really. I managed to get downstairs and a whole two steps out of the shop before one of my neighbors whose name I don't even know said 'Good to see you out and about, George'." He was breathless by the time he finished, Hermione looking at him expectantly. She was unsure for the moment where the problem laid in that friendly interaction and simply tilted her head at him in return.

Noticing that she was not commiserating with what he considered to be an obvious issue, he huffed. "Don't you see, woman? They will always know it's me now? There'll be no more hesitation or covert looks to see if I have an ear or not before venturing a guess at my name. I'll always be called George now, and I hate it!"

"Oh, I see," she said, his eyes finding hers as if to verify the truth. "I really do. After a lifetime of that confusion, even from your own mother, I can understand how jarring it would be to you. I'm slightly surprised this hasn't come up before now actually, but other than me who has really been around you?"

"No one. I don't want them here and I don't want to go out there where everybody knows my name," George said, causing Hermione to smile slightly even though she tried not to.

Looking at her as if she'd gone mental, she explained her inappropriate reaction. "Oh, Geor… um, I mean, Peter, I didn't mean to giggle. It's not you at all. There is just this old American muggle television program my father used to watch. The theme song is about how wonderful it is that everyone knows each other's names at this local bar. I apologize, it's just your phrasing was exactly the same as the lyrics. I imagined you singing the 'Cheers' theme song for a moment. Please don't be mad I laughed."

"I will never get angry hearing you laugh, Wendy. Fred and I spent many hours trying to plot and scheme on how to achieve just that elusive goal. Come to find out that all we had to do was sing, who knew? He'd never have believed it, that's for sure." George grasped her chin, tilting her head up. "Did you know Freddie always had a bit of a crush on you?" His eyes were already on hers as she lifted her gaze in surprise. It was as if he was waiting for her response like it would change everything. Little did she know how true that was.

"Hey, Granger, are you even listening to me?" Draco asked in annoyance, startling Hermione out of her memory from her awkward morning spent with George. "What about something like this?" he asked tersely, shoving a box into her hands. She was a little surprised with his sudden flare-up of hostility, but resolved not to dwell on it as anything more than a minor set-back. Still, sensing his ire with her, unaware of what caused it, made Hermione very uncomfortable.

Putting those perplexing thoughts out of her head temporarily, Hermione looked down to see a package of jumbo-sized Space Bags. Knowing Arthur had a magically converted vacuum cleaner with attachments which the item required, Hermione smiled indulgently at Draco. Arthur could be so silly at times that he might actually think they were some kind of flotation device and nearly drown himself trying to test them out. It was oddly perfect and would undoubtedly provide hours of hypothesizing for the inquisitive wizard.

"Terrific," Hermione said, shaking her thoughts off completely as she gave Draco's suggestion more thought. "I think I'll make this one from me, and now I just need something for George to give. I want it to be something he might have picked had he been here, so why don't we head to a toy store? That would be more appropriate."

After paying for the ingenious space-saving bags, Hermione led Draco to a large toy store she discovered when buying some presents for her youngest cousin Cassie in the States. Unlike in the home store where the wealthy wizard had looked at everything with a modicum of disdain, Draco was very interested to explore the muggle toys and games. It was refreshing for Hermione, who couldn't help but think his whimsy –even if it was hidden under an arrogant façade- was contagious.

He walked swiftly around the many displays, barely able to keep his eager grin from spoiling his typically aloof aura. No matter how removed he was trying to appear, Hermione could feel the happiness emanating from the aristocrat. His eyes were alight with wonder as he scanned the many colorful boxes, making Hermione have to suppress a girly giggle from escaping with the realization that whether they were muggle or magical, boys loved toys.

She was enjoying his reaction a bit too much, something which would certainly have aggravated the typically reserved Pureblood if he hadn't been too preoccupied to notice. Taking a deep breath, Hermione tried to quell her overwhelming excitement, unable to understand why she felt so affected. Muggle toy stores were not usually so impressive to her. It was difficult and a little disturbing to consider why on this occasion she felt so invigorated by it all.

With a glance at her shopping companion, Hermione looked first through the toy guns and other "boy" toys before moving on to remote controlled helicopters. It had potential since the elder Weasley would be both entertained and interested in the mechanics of flying without magic. Plus, both Fred and George had such a love for riding their brooms that this kind of gift for Arthur could easily convey that sentiment as well as being believably chosen by his son instead of Hermione.

Just thinking of George made Hermione feel a creeping sensation in her body. She wasn't sure why thoughts of her distraught friend conjured her bond-sickness reaction, but Hermione was fairly certain it had to do with guilt over what had happened earlier in the day. The whole situation with George had proven to be more disconcerting every time she considered the implications of what had transpired.

When George had looked at her, sitting on the floor of his flat with their knees touching, his eyes glistening with unshed tears again after mentioning his twin's name, her heart broke for him. She leaned closer just to give him a hug, unable to say anything after his startling admission about Fred's secret feelings for her. It wasn't until sometime after George's lips touched hers and she found herself partially underneath him on the floor that her foggy head cleared and Hermione realized why he chose that moment to kiss her at all.

In fact, they both seemed to make sense of it in the exact same moment. Neither spoke about the line that had been crossed or how wrong it was that he kissed her simply because it was something his brother would have potentially done. Instead they righted themselves and their clothing before getting up to sit on the couch, completely ignoring the incident and trying to move on without adding any unnecessary emotional drama to the already tense moment.

Though the strange incident seemed to naturally resolve without them addressing it, the way she felt during that moment with George pressed against her was still nagging at Hermione. Immediately blaming the awkwardness she felt from kissing her grief-stricken friend as the reason for her unease, the part of her logical brain which wouldn't let her fool herself was demanding answers.

The knowledge that her feelings of discomfort went far deeper than such a simple conclusion could quantify were puzzling to the usually shape-minded witch. For whatever reason, her blood felt like it was boiling. The instant she felt his weight on her, his lips passionately pressed to hers, she had become nauseous, dizzy, and feverish in her desire to make him stop. That was the element of the encounter which needed a better explanation.

Why had kissing George felt like she was committing such an unforgivable crime, a soul-crushing betrayal? In truth, had George not pulled away from her when he did Hermione would have harshly shoved him off only seconds later. She might have even thrown a hex his way just from the sheer level of escalating pain which began surging through her body from his kiss. It was too much to not react with repulsion despite the simple, sweet way their lips had met.

Whatever it was that occurred earlier that morning, Hermione was certain it had something to do with Draco and the damn bond that connected them. Just thinking of the blonde Slytherin made her want to throw herself at his feet and kiss her way up from there. Even her dramatic mental shudder at her own desperation did nothing to change her compulsion.

Chancing a glance at him, as if she could honestly help herself with him standing so close by, she noticed Draco's stormy gray eyes already fixed upon her. Somehow he looked just as confused as she felt, eyes simultaneously fixated with an unforgiving intensity on her face yet somehow unfocused like he wasn't really seeing her at all. Suddenly aware of her attentive eyes on him, however, Draco gulped once and forced himself with obvious difficulty to inspect a rack of books at the end of the aisle.

His thoughtful countenance was something she had noticed more than once throughout the day, always deeply contemplative while facing in her direction. Attempting to hide this behavior had become decidedly futile as Hermione witnessed him glance at her yet again before turning away in frustration. It was almost as if he wasn't sure where to train his gaze to avoid his incessant staring, unable to prevent it from reoccurring seemingly against his volition. The thought she was affecting him in such a similar way caused Hermione's heart to flutter in excitement, a wicked sense of retribution and equal-footing pervading her body for only a moment before it gave way to an intense concern for Draco's well-being.

It was all Lucius' fault. With something akin to evil glee, Hermione suddenly had it in her mind to send the elder Malfoy a scrapbook of the muggle corruption of his son. Every time Draco discovered something he enjoyed or could begrudgingly respect despite Lucius' engrained pureblood mantra, Hermione could take a photo to really drive the incarcerated dark wizard mad. Though it would be difficult to get something like that sent to the Death Eater's cell, Severus had said something in passing that the guards were easily manipulated so long as their prisoners remained in custody.

"Granger," Draco said with amusement, walking towards her with an almost knowing look in his silvery eyes, "Since George likes pranks and jokes, perhaps his father would believe this book came from him. Apparently it holds the recordings of incredible feats of stupidity and athletics from the muggle world. How is something like that?"

"Perfect, actually," Hermione said, knowing no one would expect the kind of outlandish gifts the twins would have traditionally given their father considering George's current emotional state. "Did you read over some of the entries?"

"Yes, and I have to say that the idea of stuffing large quantities of food in your mouth for the purposes of recognition does nothing to negate the stigma of muggles being utterly stupid," he said with derision, amending with a casual shrug, "Sorry, Granger."

Hermione beamed at him for his effort. "Thanks, Malfoy, but I think I will let your prejudice slide just this once. I read one edition of this book when I was a child and I have to say that I am not at all impressed by seeing how fast one might be able to go on a lawn mower or the greatest amount of men dressed like Santa that can fit in a row boat," she said, fighting a huge smile when she saw how relieved Draco was by her reaction to his muggle barb. "Arthur will at least find some entertainment value from it. That is what counts after all," she said, wandering the next aisle beside Draco as they made their way up to the counter to pay for the book.

"Have you ever played any muggle games?" she asked, eyeing the myriad of interesting merchandise along the shelves.

Looking at the boxes on either side of them, Draco considered her question before answering. "None like these, I believe." Thinking on the subject for a moment longer, he added, "Actually, other than Truth or Dare during first year I really don't think so. My friends really did not come across anything muggle when on holiday. Well, except for Nott maybe, but he'd have never brought something like that up to the rest of us. Besides, no matter how interested Papa Weasley is in muggle culture, I don't think he would fancy telling everyone about his first kiss or doing a dare like running naked laps around the Burrow if that is what you're getting at."

Hermione's uproarious laughter at the imagery he presented was a welcome respite from her previously disturbing musings about her kiss with George. She couldn't help but keep up the levity by countering Draco's comment with a smile. "First kisses and naked laps? That was your experience with Truth or Dare, and first year you say? Didn't realize you had been a snogging nudist as an eleven year-old, Malfoy. That sounds positively scandalous. How did you possibly manage to top that second year?"

Hermione was pleased to see him laughing too, finally understanding every good-natured joke made at his expense didn't warrant a biting retort in return. "Say what you will, but we Slytherins had to find some regular ways to have fun. Can't all be brave little Gryffindors off dabbling in various acts of heroism as children, now can we?" She looked at him in disbelief. "It was hard to compete with some of your more death defying stunts, Granger," he said haughtily.

"Some of them were quite death defying, weren't they? Could have done without being petrified by the Basilisk though," she said as she grabbed his hand to lead him to the register. Dropping her grasp of his warm fingers the second she realized what she had done, neither commented though she couldn't help but wonder if he felt like she did from the simple touch. It had powerfully magnified everything she'd already been experiencing in his presence, a comfort so undefinable that it begged to be explored further if she could just gather the nerve to bring it up.

"I think you've got a brilliant idea with playing a game though if that was your intention," Draco remarked, his voice oddly nervous. Hermione must have looked confused so he explained, "Wouldn't it be easier to deal with that uncomfortable family dynamic with some sort of distraction like a game that everyone has to learn?" She nodded her head in appreciation before turning away from him to better hide her grin, pretending to look at the titles on the board games to her left.

Feeling over-exposed in front of Draco, Hermione knew she needed to safe-guard the parts of herself which could be disappointed by him yet again. Sobering herself, she regained her ability to read and saw a few titles she was familiar with playing as a child. "Actually, that is rather brilliant," Hermione said as she thought over the clever idea more thoroughly. "The boys have always played Quidditch at family get-togethers. This is the first party since Fred died and the awkward notion would certainly have come up at some point. Probably an inconsiderate comment on Ron's part and then George would be rendered incoherent, undoing all my hard work in getting him out of his flat in the first place."

Draco nodded as he watched her pay greater attention to the board games and boxes surrounding them, slightly disappointed he wouldn't get to see his idea come to fruition firsthand. It really wasn't an aspiration of his to absorb all aspects of muggle culture, but Hermione's enthusiasm and nostalgic expression as her nimble fingers ran over the edge of a box labeled "Snakes and Ladders" left him more envious of the Weasleys than he would ever admit.

Hermione stated optimistically, "I could conceivably make the day all about having a muggle game marathon without making things obvious that I'm avoiding the Quidditch Pitch. Molly would be relieved and happy to help too I'd bet." She looked at Draco thoughtfully, her gratitude evident in her kind eyes as she tried to determine how to properly convey the sentiment.

"No need to thank me, Granger," he commented, somehow aware of her feelings again as he meandered down the aisle just ahead of her.

After quickly gathering some surprises for the Weasley family, Hermione proceeded towards the cash register. Draco had said not to thank him, so she didn't. Instead she focused on paying for the book, a laser tag set, a deck of cards, and a Twister mat before discreetly grabbing a few other items from the counter display while Draco was distracted.

He was busy staring at various wind-up toys walking around a fenced-in area, bumping into the walls before flipping over to walk in the opposite direction. Along with her other purchases, she bought a pocket edition of a book of baby names for George and a few packages of Pop-Rocks and an assortment of other muggle candies for Draco. She wanted to surprise both of them with something from her shopping trip too, and the surprisingly helpful Slytherin seemed to have a very potent sweet tooth she knew she could exploit.

She approached Draco with her hands full of bags, barely able to make her way into the front corner of the store where he'd been perusing a rotating display of new video games. Noticing her predicament, he discreetly blocked her from view with his body and gestured to the packages. Recognizing his cue even though it went unspoken, she immediately shrunk the bag containing the ten extra laser tag guns to fit into one of the larger bags, making the abundant purchases seem more manageable.

"Ready?" he asked, sauntering out from behind the display with his hand on her shoulder. Hermione nodded and exited the store a step behind him, unsure of how she had become so in-sync with the Slytherin.

As soon they left the shop and fell in line with the other people milling about the sunny second floor atrium, Hermione noticed the group of delinquent teens from earlier already walking in their direction. The leader's sharp gaze was piercing despite the distance and it seemed conceivable that he and his gang of misfits had been waiting for Hermione and Draco to emerge from the toy store. It appeared they were even heading towards the corridor which led to the parking garage which Hermione routinely used for inconspicuous apparation. She couldn't be sure, but it was possible they had seen her exit this way before and knew it would provide the best place to corner her.

Uncomfortable with walking anywhere near them without at least warning Draco of the potential danger first, Hermione put her hand on his forearm and blurted out, "Can I ask you something I've never had the nerve to say out loud?"

He stared at her hand on his arm for a moment before responding with a smirk. "A question you are afraid to ask? Well, let me owl Snape immediately and let him know. Barely mobile or not, he will find a way to come here and see this for himself." Draco laughed, taking the two heavy bags out of her hands like a gentleman. She didn't stop him, figuring his upbringing made the move almost instinctive, though it brought a blush to her cheeks nevertheless.

"Stop laughing, I'm serious," she chastised with a small smile. It was supposed to be for medicinal purposes, a way to mitigate her symptoms, Draco had provided great company and Hermione was even more thankful that Severus was such a wise man to insist they spend time together despite her initial reservations. She had to hope she wasn't going to ruin their current rapport with what she was planning to say next. "I need to know something," she admitted in a more serious tone.

"What is it?" he asked, still chuckling slightly as they strolled a little slower.

"The blood. Do you… can you… as a pureblood, can you actually tell I'm muggleborn somehow?" she asked, embarrassment clear in her shaky voice.

Hesitating with his answer, Draco stopped walking entirely, causing them to get trampled into by the people who had been walking behind the couple. "I'm not sure what suddenly brought this on, but…" he said, trailing off as his brow furrowed in frustration.

After a deeply troubled sigh, he continued, "Honestly, yes, but not for the reasons you might think. We all know each other, or at least purebloods know each other's families and histories. Some people have attributes which are immediately recognizable, like the Weasleys' flaming red hair or the Malfoys being blonde."

That had been obvious to Hermione the day she arrived at Platform 9 ¾ before her first year at Hogwarts. Distinctions between the wizarding families had made themselves obvious to the observant witch at the train station long before she understood the division was based on bloodlines.

Draco continued cautiously, "Without those indicators, if you factor in the way a person carries themself, the way they dress, or the way they speak, then it becomes easier to guess who has first or second generation magic. It's not something I was taught, but I suppose you could say it was something I learned from running in certain social circles. Out of curiosity, why did you ask that all of a sudden?"

"Because they can tell we're different - both of us. Muggles, I mean. I just wondered if you could feel it on some level too," she said, finding his expression confusing.

"What is bringing on these questions now?" he asked, looking slightly hurt but the glimmer of emotional vulnerability in his eyes quickly gave way to irritation. "Are you really so uncomfortable with me still?"

"We are being followed by the group of muggles who you were watching earlier. I didn't mention it before because I hoped it wouldn't be an issue, but they harassed me the last time I was here. Their leader tried to bully me into giving him money. When I refused they got very hostile and made some threats." Hermione wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Draco flinch.

Deciding not to press the possibility of what that might mean given their circumstances, she continued quickly, "I didn't think I had a choice and was about to pull my wand to defend myself when a security guard just so happened to walk by. That diffused the situation entirely. The thing is that this time it's just us and them, and I really don't want any trouble."

Draco scowled but nodded along. "Judging by the way the main trouble-maker was already glaring at me, I have a feeling that is exactly what might happen now that they've clearly spotted us again. And since we have to get to that parking garage over there to apparate in secret, I don't see how we could do that with them in tow."

Draco seemed to think over her statement, discreetly eyeing the group in question out of the corner of his eye as he kept his face turned to her. "Do you think there will be trouble this time considering you aren't alone?"

"I have every reason to think there will be, maybe more so because there are two of us this time. They know we're different. They can feel it. Oddly enough, they consider us the same, both just as strange. So for all the reasons blood purity never made sense to me, it's a moot point with the muggles who think we're all a bunch of freaks no matter whom you're related."

"Well, I do believe we will find out shortly. They appear to be waiting for us to start moving again." Shockingly, Draco seemed to be handling the news in stride, not letting a shred of worry alter his aristocratic features.

Hermione was flustered over her options, trying to think quickly of how a peaceful resolution could be reached if they were accosted by the teens. It was obvious the group was indeed following them and they were much closer than she had realized the next time she ventured a look over her shoulder. It seemed that the juvenile hooligans had chosen to stall near a sunglass kiosk until the couple finished their discussion. Probably waiting to openly target them until the moment they were in the darkened parking garage, Draco looked a little more uncomfortable now, almost angry that the delinquents were bothering them at all.

As they resumed walking, he began a resentful diatribe, complaining under his breath that he knew muggle crowds were trouble. Distracted by his muttering, Hermione was about to steal another glance over her shoulder when their progression was halted completely. With Hermione pulled back by her free hand, Draco, who had been holding on to her other hand, found himself yanked backwards as well.

Without hesitation the young wizard swiftly whirled around and effortlessly pulled Hermione behind him, dropping the bags from his hand with the pile collecting at his feet with a thump. Aside from the novelty of his behavior towards her specifically, she was very impressed by his quick, protective reaction, the speed of which came as a shock.

"Need something, mate?" Draco asked derisively, cocking his head to the side as he challenged the ring leader. "Or perhaps you think it is okay to just grab women like that whenever you please? The slag on your arm does look a little used up, so I suppose I understand you trolling." Draco paused, ignoring the sharp gasp from the worried witch pressed up against his back, clearly enjoying the insulted reaction on the faces of the muggle delinquents. "This lady, however, is not to be touched by the likes of you – not ever."

Hermione was rendered speechless by his words. Draco was displaying every bit of the Slytherin attitude she had become accustomed to over the years and the flashbacks were quite unpleasant. Although his claim over her caused chills of a completely different nature to thrum through her body, at war with her memories of being on the receiving end of this same treatment while luxuriating in the way it felt to have his loyalty directed at her.

The quick-witted insult didn't seem to deter the leader of the group, however. In fact, Hermione couldn't help but think he looked almost excited to have someone finally dare to fight back against their harassment. She had seen the bullies in action enough to know that almost no one ever did. The leader scowled, jeering, "We were just hoping you'd share the wealth, mate. You both seem to have more than enough for your own good. Thought you might want to invest in an insurance policy."

"An insurance policy?" Draco asked with mirth. Hermione wasn't certain if the wizard even knew what insurance was, or if he did whether he was aware it wasn't typically offered by teens roaming a shopping mall.

Although his beady eyes gave away his annoyance, the ring leader spoke with a detached, almost bored tone. "Your little bitch has been here before, and quite a mouthy little thing too if I remember correctly. Well, she got out of paying her dues last time and we've come to collect with interest. This place is ours, you see, and if you plan on coming here you'll need to pay something akin to a tax for the right to leave here unharmed."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said over Draco's shoulder, looking at the group of menacing faces in front of them. Behind their leader stood three hulking boys in skin tight jeans and an array of metal-studded black clothing. Beside him was a stick-thin girl with far too much makeup and too few clothes. Despite the small differences, there was something eerily similar about being in this position with Malfoy, even though the lines had been drawn much differently this time.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," Draco said smoothly, something Hermione recognized was going to be followed by a thinly veiled insult by the slick tone of his voice. "I'll give you more money than your parents probably make in a year if you can admit something for me. Just admit to being a mindless bunch of losers who are either too lazy or too stupid to work for your own so you resort to begging like desperate degenerates looking for handouts."

Hermione inhaled sharply, almost painfully, shocked that Draco's idea of settling matters between them and the unruly bunch of teens was to purposely antagonize a fight. "Draco," Hermione cautioned, "Please stop. Let's just leave before someone gets hurt."

"Yeah, that's right. Run away, you coward," one of the followers in the back taunted. She rolled her eyes, knowing the muggles were unaware the people Hermione was referring to, the ones she was trying to protect were the cat-caller and his friends.

Apparently "coward" was the wrong thing to call Draco, probably a sore spot after the punishment he endured from the Death Eaters who claimed him weak for not killing Dumbledore. Even though the kids missed the draw of Draco's wand from behind his back, having had it tucked into the waistband of his pants under his dress jacket, Hermione had a very good view of the Hawthorne wand that changed the tide of the war as he maneuvered it between their bodies.

Harry had returned the wand to Draco just after his trial. It was as a thank you for Narcissa's deception in the Forbidden Forest, figuring Draco would be able to return his mother's wand to her if he had his own again. Now Hermione feared she was about to see that very same wand used on these idiot muggles, landing Draco right back in the Ministry jail without any possibility of avoiding Azkaban for a second time.

"Please don't hurt them, Draco," Hermione begged, pleas which were muffled by the condescending laughter of the group of five looking forward to what they thought would be a one-sided fight in their favor.

"Yeah," one kid laughed, mocking Hermione in an effeminate tone, "Please don't hurt us, Draco."

To Hermione's surprise, the Slytherin looked absolutely unfazed by the teens, concentrating on his next move as he kept his wand concealed behind his body. Hermione noticed his wrist twitch along with his lip, a satisfied sneer on his face before he slid his wand up his sleeve, careful to keep the tip extended just beyond his middle finger.

"I won't have to hurt you if you take this opportunity I am graciously providing and run back to the squalor from which you came," Draco said flatly, almost bored of the situation.

Offended for what seemed like the first time, Draco's comment stirred the group's leader into action. Bringing his arm from around his back, Draco made a broad gesture with his hands the moment the leader indicated for his group to advance. At least that was what it must have looked like to the muggles just before they all fell to the ground like tumbling dominoes.

Hermione wondered what Draco had cast, noting a familiar looking purple color at the end of his sleeve a moment before the group had stepped back in unison. Probably a revulsion jinx, she decided, but wondered why they fell at all until she realized that they had stumbled over each other because they were standing so close. It seemed all bullies liked that tight-knit approach. Hermione was positive she'd seen Draco and his lackeys in precisely the same formation a time or two over the years.

Taking the opportunity to pull the angry wizard away before he got any ideas to continue taking out his frustrations on the gang of muggles, Hermione shoved her hand back into his to get his attention. Swiftly picking up the previously discarded purchases, she clasped her fingers over his, pressing her palm against the slender shaft of the wand still in his hand before pulling him out the nearby exit.

Once in the darkened parking garage, Hermione found a large deliver van and ducked behind it. Hearing the door they had just gone through opening again, the raucous group of angry teens tumbled out of the narrow passage two at a time in their hasty pursuit, yelling nasty slurs and hateful intentions of what they were going to do when they caught the couple. Hermione didn't hesitate for a moment and apparated them both away, Draco's hand still firmly locked around hers.

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A/N: I don't make money from these characters or concepts, but will happily accept reviews as compensation.

Next time – Hermione and Draco have an illuminating discussion and Snape makes an appearance.