A/N: Back in the saddle. This will be my longest chapter yet, and rightfully so. Lots happens and I literally couldn't stop writing. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make money from this. I'm a fan.


July 12, 2002 London, England - Department of Mysteries Library

Hermione dropped the fifth book of the day onto the table loudly, causing Draco to jump and look up at her with wide eyes. She'd been getting increasingly frustrated at her inability to find another page of Armand's notes. She'd almost exhausted the list of transfiguration books written before or during the life of Armand in the Malfoy Compendium and was sort of grasping at straws now.

It had been just over three weeks since she and Draco had begun their daily research sessions in the library, and it didn't frustrate Hermione any less that Draco had been equally unsuccessful in his search of Charms books. She sat down in a huff, ignoring the slight look of amusement on Draco's face.

"If I read another experimental transfiguration journal from one of your dim-witted ancestors, my brain may explode." She claimed, showing Draco the cover of the book, which, like countless others that Hermione had read, or in some cases, merely flipped through when there proved to be no decent content, bore the Malfoy crest and the words "Transfiguration in Practice". She'd exhausted the list of books and journals written by Armand Malfoy about transfiguration two weeks ago. She'd since moved on to publications written by family friends, and Armand's son, Helias Malfoy. Now, she was reduced to searching the journals of Armand's grandson, Eustacius Malfoy, a wizard who seemed to lack even basic knowledge of transfiguration, yet insisted on theories that he claimed were ground-breaking.

"Very original, my elders. Great thinkers, the lot of them." Draco said with a wry smirk. Hermione knew he'd run into some of the same mind-numbing idiocy in his search. She allowed herself a small smirk at his joke then opened the book, wanting desperately for this to be the last.

"Hey, Hermione?" Draco called, his brows furrowed as his eyes re-read a sentence or two from the book he'd been taking notes on. "What do you know about transmutation? I've seen the word a few times in this book, but old Armand seems to use it interchangeably with transfiguration." Hermione frowned.

"From what I've read about it, it was an early form of transfiguration, an offshoot of alchemy. The main law of transmutation is the Law of Equivalent Exchange. You can't make something from nothing."

"I wonder if that was how Gamp started his research into the five principal exceptions?" Draco mused. Hermione's eyes lit up.

"Draco, remember the first parchment? How it connected alchemy with modern wizardry? What if this is the same? What if I should be looking for transmutation as opposed to transfiguration?" she reached for the Compendium list between them that they'd each been using to eliminate books they'd check already.

"I didn't think I saw any books on the list with something like that in the title." Draco said. "But then, there's a possibility that there are books that were gifted to the family along those lines. I'll have to cross-reference the inventory of the donation set." Hermione sighed. She knew, at that point, that there was no reason to read the dull book in front of her. Her instincts were screaming at her that transmutation and it's connection to Gamp's Law was the direction she needed to go in.

"Well, looks like my research for the day is done. Until I can get my hands on a list of transmutation books, I'm not going to be able to make much progress. How's your search coming?" She asked Draco.

"Slowly. Armand wasn't the most well-read on Charms. He was much better as at offensive and defensive spells, in my opinion. He keeps proposing absurd-sounding applications of modifications to pre-existing spells." Draco shut his book, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I think I agree with you. This nonsense is getting me nowhere. I'll start in on Eustacius's works on Monday." Hermione nodded, banishing the books that littered the table back to their appropriate shelves. Her stomach growled loudly in the silent library and she blushed as she saw Draco's eyebrows shoot up.

"Have you been not eating again, Hermione?" Draco questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. Hermione looked down shyly.

"I may have skipped lunch to finish that book earlier." She said, not able to meet his eye. He shook his head and sighed, his the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.

"What am I going to do with you?" He muttered, starting to but his papers and journal away in his bag. They both busied themselves with packing up for a few moments, then stood and strolled out of the library together. They made it to a lift and as they waited for it to descend, Draco turned to Hermione.

"Have dinner with me." He said, bluntly. His cheeks were dusted with a very faint tinge of pink, very hard to see in the dimly-lit corridor. Hermione blinked at the suddenness of the request.

"Um. What?" She asked dumbly. Her heart had sped up as soon as she'd registered what he said, and she was certain that even though he stood a foot or so away from him, he could the blood pounding as clearly as she could. Her face heated as he sent her a half smile.

"Have dinner with me." He repeated. "I haven't gotten to repay you for sharing your dinner with me the last time. And we Malfoy's hate being indebted to anyone." His eyes sparkled in the dim light, a faux haughtiness making its way into his voice. She smiled at that, and nodded as the lift arrived.

"Alright. But I've got to shower, let Farsight out, and drop my things off first. Could you come after me in an hour?" She asked as they entered the lift and it sent them on their way to the atrium. He grinned widely, adjusting the dragonhide bag on his shoulder.

"Of course. I'll Floo over then." he said, exiting the lift with her. She moved to the row of Floos and smiled.

"See you in an hour." She said, before taking a handful of the powder and disappearing into the green flames.


Hermione smiled widely as she stepped through the floo into her living room. He'd totally been flirting, right? And asking her to dinner? Her heart was still pounding as she dropped her bag on the couch and moved to the window to let Farsight out to hunt. Neither of them had acknowledged it as a date to the other; Hermione thought she might be getting a little ahead of herself as she prepared for her shower. Normal people invite their colleagues to dinner all the time, right?

She showered as quickly as she was able, needing time to dry her vast amount of hair. She towelled off as she checked the time on her alarm clock beside the bed. She groaned as she realized she only had about forty-five minutes to get dressed and be ready. She tied her wet hair back, squeezing out the excess water with the towel, and made her way to her closet.

She decided to go for casual, pulling out a floral patterned dress and a denim jacket. She pulled out a pair of black flats and decided the outfit would work, getting dressed quickly. She returned to the bathroom a few minutes later, deciding she'd have to at least try to tame her hair. She didn't have time to straighten it, that took hours. But she did have time to blow dry and and organize it into an elegantly messy mop on the top of her head, with a few loose curls framing her face. She was debating putting on a touch of makeup when she heard the soft whoosh of the floo. She hurriedly applied a little blush and some eyeliner, before hearing Draco call for her.

"Hermione?" His voice was closer than she'd expected and she turned quickly, her face meeting his chest.

"Ow." She grumbled, rubbing her nose.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, but I did call for you twice." He said, eyes roaming over her hair and face. He wore the same almost-amused grin he had earlier, but his grey eyes told a different story. Hermione looked up at him and her mouth went dry when she saw the way he was looking at her. She bit her bottom lip and looked down, feeling very self-conscious. He must have realized why, because he immediately shifted his weight and looked away.

"Ready then?" He asked softly. She nodded and they both returned to the living room. Hermione ensured the door was still locked, turned on a lamp in the living room, and turned to Draco, who already had a handful of floo powder.

"Alright." Draco said, holding out his arm to Hermione. Her stomach clenched as she took it, both of them stepping into the fireplace together.

"Draco Malfoy's flat." Draco called, the fire enveloping them. Hermione waited for the tug of his arm to move out the floo. She dusted herself off as she looked around. His flat was quaint, the walls a light blue-grey, and most of the furniture cherry wood and leather. She smiled when she remembered his description of her flat needing a bit more color.

"You're going to have to help me decorate my flat. I love this." She spun slightly, taking in the space. She heard a deep chuckle, and looked back at him.

"Guess it's the perks of being a pureblood. If there's anything I know, it's how to make something look good. Aesthetics have been ingrained in me since birth." He had a slightly far-away look cross his features, but shook it off as he moved further into the flat. She followed him into the dining room, where he'd already set the table for two, complete with china that looked as if it belonged in her mother's china cabinet instead of on the table, and crystal goblets. There was a bottle of chardonnay in a bucket of ice in the middle of the table.

Draco pulled out a chair for her. Her heart leapt and she blushed furiously. Ron had never done anything like that, not even when they'd eaten out in public. Draco remained standing, uncorking the chardonnay and pour a goblet first for her, then fo himself. He set the bottle aside and sat across from her at the little table. She looked down to her plate: grilled lemon chicken, seasoned with rosemary, and asparagus with a light sauce.

"This looks amazing! I'd never be able to whip up something like this in an hour!" She exclaimed, wide-eyed. He chuckled.

"It's actually pretty easy. I'm not the best cook, so it has to be super simple or I'll ruin it. Like I said before, I'm just really good at making things look good." He winked at her, raising his glass to his lips. She bit her bottom lip at the sight, then distracted herself by picking up her fork and trying the chicken.

"Merlin's beard! This is amazing, Draco!" Hermione exclaimed after her first bite. "I'm really going to need the recipe for this."

"Try the wine." Draco suggested, a glimmer in his eye. "I have a knack for finding the perfect pairings." Hermione took a sip of the chardonnay and almost moaned in bliss. The lemon- citrus hints in the wine complemented the chicken beautifully. Hermione tucked into her chicken with a vigor that suggested she hadn't eaten in a couple days. Draco's brow furrowed slightly at the sight, but he didn't comment on her behavior.

"I'm glad you let me cook for you tonight, Hermione." Draco said suddenly, an expression Hermione couldn't read on his face. She looked at him with a slight frown, but then gave him a reassuring smile. He sighed.

"It gets rather lonely around here. Mother and father are always more than happy to have me back at the Manor, but...it's hard going back there. Too many memories." Draco looked up at her, their eyes locking. Hermione felt a lump in her throat at what she saw in those eyes; they were the same she used to dream about. The tortured boy who'd had no choice was back, however briefly, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to hug him and tell him that it was alright. But then, the look was gone, as if Draco had put a mask on; his eyes lightened, his face visibly brightened.

"But having you here tonight - it makes me feel like I don't have to be alone. Thank you for that." He gave her a half smile and her heart felt as though it had burst. She smiled right back at him.

"Draco, you don't have to thank me. I completely understand. Being alone is sometimes the worst thing in the world. Honestly, I'm just as glad for your company tonight as you seem to be for mine." she blushed, taking a bite of asparagus to give her a reason to look away. He chuckled lightly under his breath and she looked up to see him looking down.

"What?" She asked, not getting the joke. His eyes met hers again and she nearly melted at the emotion in them.

"I never thought, in all my years of knowing you, that I'd be eating dinner with you in my flat, drinking chardonnay over a dinner I made myself, and trying this bloody hard to impress you." his cheeks flushed a vivid pink at his assessment and Hermione was sure her cheeks matched. She took a large sip of wine, hoping it would help to cool her off.

"If someone had told me I'd be sitting here, laughing and trying not to make a fool of myself in front of you three years ago, I'd have punched them." Hermione said quietly. She couldn't not let him know how she was feeling, not after that admission. Draco laughed loudly at that, a sound that made Hermione grin, too. He had such a beautiful laugh.

"I would have, too. But then, I'm glad that no one told me that; I wouldn't have believed them for a second." his eyes were full of mirth and Hermione allowed herself to relax a bit. He wasn't what she'd expected in private like this. She hadn't had much contact with him in a non-work setting. The first, and only, experience she could compare this to was the evening they'd spent in her kitchen almost a month ago. And that had been so very different than whatever was happening now. She hadn't laughed or blushed or smiled this much since she'd left Grimmauld Place. Hermione felt herself surrounded by a warm glow as the feeling of contentment, not to mention the feeling of being full after a fabulous meal, washed over her. Draco seemed to watch her before drawing his wand and sending the dishes to the kitchen with a murmured spell. From what Hermione could hear, he'd had them wash themselves too.

"Would you like some treacle tart?" Draco asked, standing. "Blaise brought some round the other day, I could warm it up." Hermione nodded, drinking the last of her wine and handing Draco the glass so he could take it into the kitchen as he went.

She realized, looking at the clock on the wall of the dining room, that it'd been nearly two hours since she'd even thought about research. That shocked her. She used research to distract herself, to forget. She lost herself in her work so she didn't lose herself in more painful thoughts. But here it was, two hours after she finished work for the day, and she hadn't picked up a book, hadn't jotted down a single note. And she loved it. She felt an overwhelming sense of normalcy. This was how it should be. She jumped, startled by Draco's sudden closeness as he set the treacle tart with cream in front of her.

"Sorry," He murmured, his brows furrowed at her reaction.

"It's fine. I guess my mind was somewhere else." She blushed as he resumed his spot across from her.

"Ah. Lost in your head were you?" He smiled. "Place that vast, it's a wonder you don't get lost in it more often. Heavens knows I'd like to." She blushed yet again.

"You what?" She said, giggling.

"It's no secret you're brilliant, Hermione. I'd love to know how your mind works." Draco shrugged. "The human mind has fascinated me ever since Father began training me in Occlumency." he tucked into his tart, tearing his eyes from Hermione to do so.

"I should have guessed you knew at least a bit of Occlumency." Hermione said between bites. "I tried to learn from what I gleaned from Harry's lessons during school. I wasn't very successful, but then, neither was Harry."

"It took me years to understand how to do it properly." Draco said. "And with Father constantly drilling me, they weren't the easiest lessons. But I have to admit, it saved my arse a few times."

"Really?" Hermione's curiosity piqued. She knew better than to ask questions about the past, but sometimes, she couldn't help herself. His experience with the war had been so very different from hers. Draco sighed, seeming to steel himself up for what he had to say. He met her eyes across the table.

"That night, at the Manor, when you-" his eyes fell on her left arm where in lay in her lap under the table. She knew exactly which night he was referring to.

"It took everything I had, every brain cell, every bone in my body not to curse my aunt into next millennia." His voice had gone cold, his hand that had gripped his fork now lay on the table, clenched into a fist. "Seeing someone I'd grown up with, someone I'd teased mercilessly, Muggleborn or no, it- did something to me. Every second that I heard your screams, it was like Bellatrix was torturing me. And at some point, it became my torture. Not being able to help you, to stop your screaming, to do anything." Draco's voice cracked and he fell silent, eyes sliding from Hermione's to his lap. Hermione did the first thing she could think of: she covered his hand, still balled into a slightly shaking fist, with her own.

"Draco, I know." She whispered. He looked up, his eyes wide. "When I was - being tortured-" Her words stiffened slightly at that, "when I was looking for help, looking for you, I saw how you looked at me. And I knew. But, I also knew that if you tried to help me, you were as good as dead." Hermione said softly, not able to meet his eye on the last word. "I don't blame you. I've forgiven you for not being able to help me. You weren't able to." She finished softly. She looked back to his face and saw a single tear roll down the mask of his face. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Thank you." he whispered into his unfinished treacle tart. She stood, feeling it was time to go.

"Thank you for having me, Draco." she smiled at him warmly. "I'll see myself out." As she passed behind him, she gave his shoulder a little squeeze and she felt his hand come up and rest on hers for just a moment.

She floo'd home and as soon as she was met with her empty flat, she lost it. All the memories came flooding back, her heart breaking for what Draco must have gone through, as well as for what she herself had experienced. She found herself sobbing on the couch. She'd never lost her composure so completely like this. And maybe, she thought distantly, maybe that's why she was still having the nightmares. She'd never come to terms with her torture. With the death that surrounded her. She'd not allowed herself the chance to grieve and mourn and lose herself truly in the darkness that she'd survived for seven long years.

So she let herself.