Author's Note: Thanks for the feedback, you guys :) This chapter's a little shorter than usual; there's a fall after every high.


"How are you doing?"

Hermione looked away from the blazing fire to the woman sitting across from her on the sofa and smiled at the concern she found in Millie's large brown eyes. She turned her face into the fabric of the sofa, loving the feel of the fabric against her cheek before sighing. "Fine, I suppose."

"You don't have to be fine, you know. You can be sad, or angry… I'd be okay if you incinerated this pillow, for instance," Millicent said as she held up a fluffy beige pillow. "As long as you did it near the fireplace, of course, since I really do like this house and would prefer it to not go up in flames."

Hermione laughed. "No, I'm fine. You did your duty in numbing me and this," she said, holding up the glass of amber liquid she'd been holding near her thigh, "is definitely working."

"And when it wears off?"

"Then I suppose I'll have to know if that is the only pillow I can send to its doom since I'm rather fond of it. That one in the drawing room, however, might have to go."

Millicent grinned. "That would be the one Cormac's mother gifted us and I just might have to turn a blind eye when it disappears all of a sudden."

She held up her glass towards Hermione who copied the action.

Clink.

"Deal."

"I'm proud of you, you know. For standing up to him."

Hermione hmm'd and took another sip.

"Really."

"I don't know if there's anything to be proud of. I've been standing up to him since I was eleven years old and forced to learn that my kind was inferior to his."

"Yes, but that isn't the same when feelings get involved."

Hermione looked up at Millicent, unsure of where this turn in conversation was heading.

"I've seen the way you look at him, and that's okay. The point is that you saw past that and didn't let your character become corrupted by whatever you might feel. I know too many women that would have jumped at the chance to satisfy their cravings, conveniently forgetting that the guy's a creep."

For a second, Hermione was still trying to track how much this conversation applied to her, when it struck her that maybe it didn't. Maybe Millicent was trying to apologise for her own actions, not knowing that she didn't need to. "I'm sorry about before, in my flat that day. I shouldn't have jumped on you like I did and judged you so harshly."

"It's all right," Millicent said, waving her hand.

"No," Hermione said, resolute. "No, it's not. You came to me for support and I threw you in the gutter. I didn't bother thinking of your position or your reasoning. I want you to know that I'm quite proud of you too, for the life you've created here. It must've been very hard to drop everything and start new, but you did it and you did it well. I heard you talking with Cormac the other night. I know that you've not only managed to get his boss to take a look at your potion samples, but that he approved them."

Millicent looked down.

"Millie, that's incredible. You finally get what you've been working towards. And you get a man to stand by your side who adores you, and who you adore. There's no shame in that."

"Thank you," Millicent muttered softly before reaching up to wipe at her eyes. "Look at this?" she asked accusingly. "You're turning me into one of your sappy Gryffindors."

"And I just repeatedly insulted a man who'd declared his love for me. I do believe we've effectively switched houses and are now a disgrace."

Clink.

o-o-o

Hermione stumbled down the hallway towards the kitchen where she could hear pots clanging and a pair of voices, one male and one female.

Need. Potion. Now.

She had a mind-numbing hangover from the night before of consuming a little too much firewhisky and only passingly acknowledged that her last hangover had been the result of Malfoy as well. Now was not the time to dwell on particulars, however, as she groggily muttered, "Millie?" upon entering the kitchen before flinching at another clang.

"Morning, Hermione," she said, chopping onions as her husband added water to the kettle. With the knife still in hand, she pointed towards the potion waiting on the counter.

Hermione gasped. "Bless you," she said as she unstoppered the potion and downed it in one go, forcing the thoughts of how the too-sweet chalk made her want to gag and focused instead on the potion's effects. Instantaneously, the veil lifted and her body rejuvenated, leaving her feeling much, much better than just ten seconds ago.

"Better?"

"Loads."

"Morning, Granger."

"Good morning, Cormac. Thank you," she said, accepting the cup of coffee he'd just placed in front of her and taking a sip of the dark liquid.

As she sat, quietly drinking her coffee, she watched the interactions between the couple and smiled softly. She didn't understand it, definitely could not have foreseen it, but Millie and Cormac somehow fit. She was happy for them, but the niggling at the corner of her mind couldn't help but picture herself in Millie's place… couldn't help but think about what she'd given up.

She hadn't wanted it at the time, still didn't want it now—even though she now saw what kind of man Cormac was in a relationship—but the thought was there, nonetheless. Her mind then drifted over to Malfoy, last night, looking flushed, panicked, and telling her he loved her despite his better efforts not to, and her traitorous mind thought about what she'd given up there as well.

Hermione didn't know what she was waiting for, but she really and truly hoped that she hadn't turned it down twice when it offered itself to her so willingly.

"We were thinking omelettes this morning," Millicent said, putting the chopped onions in a bowl and starting on the bell peppers.

"Excellent," Hermione replied, happy for the distraction. "What can I do to help?"

"The cheese needs grating, if you wouldn't mind."

Hermione stood and went over the refrigerator to grab the cheese, then the second cabinet to grab the grater before making her way back to her seat and began grating the cheese. She knew that many witches and wizards would walk in on this scenario with a raised eyebrow and a haughty comment about how they could have just done everything by magic, but Hermione had always preferred to cook the Muggle way—and she knew Millie did too. There was just something about working by hand that made the food taste better.

Made with love, her mum would've said. Hermione sighed. She missed her mum sometimes.

Halfway through, she heard the fireplace in the den roar to life, then disappear as suddenly and she looked up in surprise towards Millie, then Cormac. They had on equal expressions of confusion, and before turning to look behind her to see who had just come through the Floo, she caught Millie's eye and recognition passed between them before panic settled in Hermione's gut. Why was he here? Again?

All three stood silent and still, waiting for the person to walk in the room when suddenly Hermione felt all the air leave as Draco Malfoy rounded the corner. He looked impeccable, which was very unfair for this early in the morning considering the brilliant row they'd had just the night before. He nodded towards Cormac, said good morning to Millie, then his eyes landed on her; and Hermione, for one brief, horrified moment, realised she was wearing blue puppy pyjamas and had forgotten to brush her hair before she'd come down.

At the time, it hadn't seemed like a big deal since it was just Millie and Cormac who would see her. However, now all she could think about was how amazing he looked and how dowdy she felt.

The look in his eyes, however, was not of repulsion. Rather they softened into something unidentifiable—or rather something she didn't want to identify outright. "Granger," he said softly with a nod of his head. "Sorry to disturb. And I apologise once again," he said looking up to the couple standing in the kitchen, "to drop in unannounced like this. I assure you it won't happen again." He looked back down at her. "But I wanted to leave you this."

He held out an off-white envelope with a large "M" emblazoned on the front, a watermark, and she lifted a steady hand to take it. Silently.

He looked into her eyes so intensely that she felt something bad would happen if she were to dare look away. "I won't bring up again the subject that you found so disgusting, but I will attempt to set the record straight, if you'll let me."

She gave a hesitant nod, still not trusting her vocal chords enough to speak.

His eyes roamed over her face and her hair one more time—she thought she saw the brief hint of a smile forming at the corner of his lips—before he looked away from her. "I'll see you at the meeting, McLaggen. Sorry again to intrude, Millicent." Then without another glance in her direction, turned abruptly and walked back out as quickly as he'd come in.

Once again, he'd left her dazed, confused, with her heart pounding, and unable to breathe.

o-o-o

She sat at the desk in her room, her nerves frayed after staring at the letter for the past hour and obsessing over what could possibly be in it. She'd managed to steal herself away under the ruse that she'd need an hour to get ready for the last bit of sightseeing she and Millie were to do that day, but Millie had been no fool. She'd just rolled her eyes, told her to go read her letter and that she'd meet her by the Floo at eleven.

With shaky fingers, she opened it and unfolded two pages of writing, front and back, in black ink. With a deep breath, she began.

Hermione,

Hermione paused, shocked at how natural her given name sounded in his voice when she'd never once heard him mutter it, when she suddenly remembered. At the quirky Ye Olde Curiosity Shop he had said it, and so naturally that she'd completely bypassed it in the moment. She can't believe she'd forgotten about that.

Hermione,

Do not worry. This letter will not be a long and drawn out explication of my feelings for you. I understood perfectly what you said last night and will leave you be on that account. The conversation between us, however, was illuminating in more ways than one, and with it arose many matters that I wished to settle—trusting, of course, that you haven't already chucked this letter in the fire and wiped your hands clean of me. I would understand if you did, but beg you not to. Not yet.

I've come under the belated realization that I never apologised to you for the wrong doings of my past. For this, I am truly sorry. It is no wonder you think me so reprehensible when I have given you no reason to think otherwise. For that, the fault is mine. Hermione, I need you to understand that on the astronomy tower that day, I made the worst decision of my life by not taking up Dumbledore's offer and joining the light. I wanted to, so very much, but pride and fear kept me rooted to the spot, and then my chances were ruined when my aunt and her lackeys entered. What followed were just blank, empty movements as I followed orders out of fear for my family and myself. How could I turn back now with him in my home, watching over our every move?

And then you showed up, with Weasley and Potter, and I thought that maybe this might be my chance. I must confess that in those horrible moments of hearing your screams, I envisioned rescuing you and your friends and leaving everything all together. But again, fear stopped me and my chance of crawling out of my cowardice was thwarted and you disappeared as quickly as you'd come, safe. For that, at least, I was relieved. Starting that night and for the next few years following, I began having dreams—or nightmares, I suppose you could call it since they could never come true and I'd so wanted them to—of protecting you. I'd thrash throughout the night, only to wake up in the coldness of the manor in the morning and feel that pain of missing out on my chance once more.

You inadvertently saved me that night as well. The visions I'd entertained of becoming your rescuer and protector are what kept me sane for the next month—it gave me the courage needed to fight back against what I'd been taught my whole life, and subsequently, my own side. I am not the same person I was, Hermione, and I have you to thank for that. You have no reason to believe me, but since that night of watching you writhe in my drawing room, I learned that blood was of no importance. I'd begun to understand, and have understood for some time now, what you had been fighting your whole life for people like me to learn: that we are the same. We are equal. I am no better than you. Quite the opposite in fact. Please understand me—I am so very sorry for what an idiot I was as a child and the pain I ever caused you as the result of it.

On the matter of Nott, I do heed my warnings heavily. We were once best friendseven more than Crabbe and Goyle, if you can believe itbecause I saw him as an equal. We grew up together and my father became fond of him. So fond, in fact, that he took a great interest in his future. After Nott Sr. died in sixth year and Theo came to live with us, I became aware that my father had set aside a generous sum in order to fund Nott's desire to study to become a potion master. I had no problem with it. He was my best friend, after all, and anything I could have done to help him achieve his goals, I would have done so. After my father died in the final battle, I became the head of the Malfoy name, which included the household, property, the company, and our funds. I ensured that Nott received every knut of the inheritance he had been promised, and watched in fury as he squandered it away within weeks on booze, women, and gambling.

He came back two months later asking for more money, and I outright refused. He severed acquaintance with me and I had not heard from him at all until last year when Pansy came to me telling me she'd fallen head over heels for him. I was hesitant to accept their relationship, now aware of his character, but I wished her my best as I wanted nothing more than for her to just be happy. Perhaps she could be his cause, after all, and make a changed man out of him as you had unknowingly out of me. I was hopeful. Unfortunately, I overheard a conversation in which he revealed his true intentions. Pansy, upon her father's release from Azkaban in two years, is set to inherit half of her family's estate. Being a pureblooded witch from a very old family, you can only imagine how much that is—and Nott knew as well. What he hadn't known, however, and that which I made clear to him, was that her father had made a stipulation that any spouse she may or may not have would not receive a knut of it: the estate she was to inherit would be hers, and hers alone.

He left abruptly and until seeing him with you in the restaurant that day, we hadn't heard from him since. You can only imagine the lengths of Pansy's despair.

Which leads me to the matter of her and Potter. You may not agree with my actions, but they were done for her. I had already been forced to watch her heart be destroyed at the hands of a man who didn't care for her as he should have and couldn't bear to watch it happen a second time. Please understand that I did not wish to separate her from Potter, as a match between them would have been a delight, but only wanted to save her from further despair of falling for a man who would not fall for her as deeply in return. As you well know, Potter isn't my favorite person, but my actions were in no way of malicious intent; I never meant to purposely harm.

I expect no return reply, just hope that you have read this with a clear and open mind.

Yours,

Draco Malfoy

o-o-o

yours…

"Are you sure you're all right? Hermione? Hermione. Hermione!"

"Huh?" Hermione looked up, startled, to see Millie looking at her with concern and exasperation. "Sorry, what?"

Millicent rolled her eyes. "I asked if you were sure that you're all right."

"Oh, yeah."

"Convincing."

"No, really. I am. I think."

"And you don't want to talk about what was in the letter that has gotten you so distracted?"

"I would love to, but there's a lot of personal stuff mentioned and I'm not entirely sure it's my place to tell."

"This isn't like you to be so secretive."

"It's not so much secretive as trying to figure out my boundaries now. You were right. I'm too quick to judge and don't give people a chance—bad mouthing people I shouldn't and trusting others that don't deserve it." A pause. "Did you know Pansy was with Theo?"

"I did, yeah, though she never said much about why they broke up."

"She didn't?"

Millie shook her head. "No. It was kind of strange, actually, since they'd seemed so inseparable. But she said it wasn't a big deal and that some people just aren't meant to be."

Hermione cocked her head to the side, confused as to why nobody seemed to know about his true character. Why was everyone so secretive? The thought almost stayed her, feeling as if she too shouldn't reveal his hideous nature, but her morality won out. She didn't want anyone she cared about to be tricked by him like she was.

"I should have heeded Malfoy's warnings a little more carefully."

"What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "I'll leave you to use your discretion about who you want to tell after, okay?"

Millicent nodded.

"When they were kids, Theo told Lucius that he wanted to become a potions master, but after the death of his father, had no way to fund the training. Did you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

"Well, I guess Lucius liked Theo so he promised him he'd give him money for it. After he died in the Battle at Hogwarts and his son took over for the family, Theo was given the amount, but he didn't spend it on the training that he so supposedly wanted."

"What did he do with it?"

"Lost it; gambling, women, alcohol—you name it."

"All of it?" Millicent asked incredulously.

"Yep."

"But… but that has to be at least fifty-thousand galleons! Training to be a potions master takes years and it's incredibly expensive—which is why there are so few out there."

"I know, and he did it all within a manner of weeks. When he demanded more money, Malfoy refused and Theo dropped him, just like that."

"That scumbag."

Hermione smiled humorlessly. A word she'd once called Malfoy, though she couldn't think to do so now. "Has Pansy ever told you about her inheritance?"

"Yeah, she said when Nicholas gets out of Azkaban in two years she inherits half of everything. What does that…no."

Hermione watched as comprehension dawned on Millie's face before morphing into horror.

"He was with her for her inheritance?"

Hermione solemnly nodded. "As I said, I should have heeded Malfoy's warnings more carefully. I remember on our first date he'd asked quite a bit about what I did at the Ministry. I'd told him eagerly, thinking it nice that he seemed to make such an effort to be interested. I mean, he must know that I have no significant amount in my vault at Gringotts, but figured that my status at work would aid in raising his own—and just like that, my value as a partner went straight up."

"Oh, Hermione."

"It had to have been the reason why he so suddenly started pulling away, too. He'd finally discovered I had nothing substantial to give. I mean, don't get me wrong—I do my job and make my difference, but I'm far from having real power…the kind that he'd take interest in, anyway. It makes me sick."

"Well, just think about it this way. You got out of there on time, right? No significant damage to speak of."

"Yes, and thank Merlin for that."

Millicent shook her head and looked back down at her sandwich. They were currently at Alki Point, sitting on a bench and eating the sandwiches—roast beef for Millie and tuna for Hermione—they'd brought, watching the waves crash and the children play. It was beautiful, relaxing, and made Hermione miss home a little bit less, wishing she could stay here longer.

"Goodness," Millicent said quietly. "And this was in the letter?"

"A part of it, yeah. He also mentioned the thing with Harry and Pansy, about how he didn't want to see that happen to Pansy again—be heartbroken by falling for a guy that didn't love her back. I get it, but still don't like it. And am honestly still a little miffed that he didn't so much as apologise for it."

"It makes sense though."

"It does. I'm trying to figure out how to get them back together though since Harry does love her, and I now know that she really cares for him in return."

"What've you got up your sleeve, Granger?" Millicent asked, smirking.

Hermione laughed. "Nothing so far. I'll keep you posted though."

"Do, please. I get a little lonely all the way over here with no knowledge of what's going on back home."

Hermione grinned. "I'll miss you too, Millie."


Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you thought-particularly about that letter!