Ten
"What day is it?"
Draco looked at her in confusion, a bite of lamb halfway to his mouth. They'd been discussing a book on fabled potions and the logistics of creating them. He'd quickly learned Granger was as intelligent as she'd ever been once she got her footing back.
She was still staring expectantly.
"Thursday," he said.
Her brows furrowed. "The date, I mean," she clarified.
"Oh. Thursday the second of August then."
She nodded.
"Why?" he asked.
At her answer, he realised what a stupid question it was. "You tend to lose track of the days when there's no daylight."
He'd worried about something like this happening, and he still hadn't decided a course of action for when it did. Maybe it was inevitable.
He was almost hoping she didn't want to talk about it. In fact, it seemed that was the case. She never spoke a word about her time outside the manor walls; he never dared to ask. After all, he couldn't save everybody. There was no sense listening to the sordid tales when there was nothing to be done. It was best she just move on and try to forget the way she lived before he took her in.
It had been silent for quite a while then.
"Where do you work?" she asked.
He put his fork down, finished with his meal. "Granger, I think we'd both do well to let all outside encounters remain outside."