Author's note: It's 2 o'clock in the morning and I'm making rolls for Kupo's daycare that are coming by in the morning. The little one turned 2 last Friday, you know. :) Yes, yes, no1curr.

Draco scowled as yet another local passed him by, giving him a knowing look. Granger had been pouring over various big, old books with the librarian since they got there and he was bored. Now she was just sitting there, staring at the book and chewing her lip. Great. The book was in Greek and she couldn't even read Greek! He'd got that much from what he'd understood of those whispered conversations. Why was she so anxious about getting that annulment anyway? Of course they would get it. They hadn't actually known they were really getting married when they made their vows and that in itself should be reason enough to not hold either of them to it. Besides, what did she have to lose? Nothing! She was simply insane.

'Is your curiosity sated yet?' he asked, getting her attention.

'Hm?' She looked up. 'No, not really. It's all so vague.'

'Vague is good. Vague means we just have to convince the Wizengamot, and I don't see why they'd want us to stay married. Especially with Potter to speak for us. Case closed.'

She frowned. 'I guess.'

'Do you always worry about things you can't help?'

She shrugged. 'I guess. I mean, I can't just ignore things and hope for the best, can I?'

He got up and went over to close her book. 'That's exactly what you're going to do. Don't worry. Nobody in their right mind would saddle you with me.'

She wrinkled her nose. 'But Harry did, didn't he?'

'I said nobody in their right mind. Potter is many things, but I'm not sure that mentally stable is one of them.'

'Great, and now you're making digs at my friends again. Lovely.'

He crossed his arms and leant against the desk. 'You already forgave him? I have to admit I'm disappointed. I thought you could carry a grudge better than that.'

'Yeah, well...' she muttered. 'I kind of had to. Ginny is pregnant and they already asked me to be the godmother. With an underhanded tactic like that, I had to forgive him.'

Draco pursed his lips, processing that. 'How did he tell you this?'

She blinked and looked away. 'Um... Owl, of course.'

'You didn't get any owls from Potter.'

'Yes, I did.'

'No, you didn't.'

'Yes, I did!'

'When?'

'Yesterday. While you were taking a bath.'

'How convenient.'

'No, not really. With the length of your baths, it's hard to miss.'

He narrowed his eyes at her. So many things didn't add up. He had no idea why she felt like she had to lie to him or evade him when it came to stupid things like how she was in contact with Potter or her past relationship with Weasley, but it was beginning to really piss him off. He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet, ignoring her indignant objections. 'Fine,' he muttered against the shell of her ear. 'I'll pretend that you aren't the worst liar I ever met. But now it's time for you to soothe my ego.'

'What?' she hissed back, wrenching her arm from his hand. 'You want me to tell you that you're a big manly man? We both know you aren't.'

He wasn't even sure what he'd done to piss her off, but suddenly the witch was emanating pure poison. Even the way she looked at him was aimed to kill.

'I don't care about that,' he replied, backing her against the table. 'But this is a small community and with you acting like you hate me, there's only one way to rectify matters.'

'I don't act like I-'

'Worst liar I ever met,' he reminded her.

She avoided his eyes. 'Thought you'd pretend I wasn't that,' she muttered.

'I keep trying but it's hard when you keep reminding me.'

'Bloody hilarious.' She was actually pouting a little.

'I don't know what I did to make you mad this time, but I'm sorry,' he muttered.

That seemed to render her speechless, so he just bent down to give her a relatively innocent kiss. He meant to make it sweet and short, only enough to make whatever witches and wizards seeing them fighting believe that somewhere there was something else between them.

But then her mouth softened and opened to him. Her body pressed against his, and her arms went across his neck. He didn't quite understand why she did this; wasn't sure whether she really wanted to be kissed or whether she wanted a more elaborate pretence. In either case, he didn't want to stop, so he eagerly complied. Too eagerly; he was quite loath with himself for that. It must be this place, tampering with his mind, because quite honestly she was right to be so anxious to end their fake marriage. His lips didn't belong against her lips. They never had and they never would.

Suddenly there was a sound of splintering wood, and not a moment passed before he was propelled away from Granger as she had, without warning, violently shoved him off. He was completely unprepared and went without resistance, falling down on his arse just in time to see Granger getting hit by a torrent of falling books. For a moment he merely stared, unable to comprehend, but then he realised: One of the bookcases had somehow toppled over. It was too tall to actually fall and was instead resting against the opposite wall, but several shelves' worth of books and tomes had landed directly on Granger's head and she was now all but buried.

Mind frozen with shock, he scrambled to get her out from there.

'How long is she supposed to be gone like this? It's been hours!' It was Malfoy's voice coming from somewhere in the dark.

'Mr Malfoy.' It was a female voice, answering him. She sounded stern. 'Your wife took some fairly severe blows to her head. I'd say we're lucky she's still with us.'

'We? Who's we? You don't even know her. Can't you give her a potion to wake up?'

A long-suffering sigh. 'Time, Mr Malfoy. Time. Talk to her; that sometimes helps.'

'I don't know what to say.'

'She's your wife, isn't she?'

'Yes, but anything I have to say to her would probably shock you.'

'Nothing you can say at this point will shock me. Pretend I'm not even here.'

'Fine.' Hermione felt someone taking her hand. Her hand felt oddly heavy and disconnected. Her whole body felt like that. It was strange, because at the same time she felt weightless. 'Granger, wake up. You don't want to die married to me, do you? Just imagine that. Your tombstone would say Hermione Malfoy - because you actually signed away the name Granger, you know. You were so busy not caring about that, and now we can't put your name on your grave. And I don't think I can divorce you after you die. So, you see, you need to wake up.'

They could put Granger on her grave if they wanted. There was no law against that! She wanted to open her mouth to say it, but it was too hard. Everything was too hard. It was easier to just... float.

'Ok,' the female said in a remarkably dry tone. 'That was a little bit odd. But I think she reacted. So keep going.'

'That was really the best I had. Except, Potter would probably name his brat after you if you died and it came out a girl. Imagine that. Hermione Potter, with the Weasley hair and Potter glasses. If it came out a boy, he'd probably call it Herman or something. And he or she'd always get teased for... well, that, but also for being named after someone who loved to be buried in books and died because she was quite literally buried in books. I'm beginning to feel like whoever did that has a good sense of irony.' He paused. 'Is this still good?'

'You're blabbering and quite offensive, but if your intent is to annoy your wife back to life, don't let me stop you.'

'That's all I'm good at.' Another pause. 'I still don't get why she shoved me away. I could've taken the brunt of it.'

'And would probably have been much worse off for it. From the state of the books, I'd say she managed to partially shield herself from the worst of it.'

'Why am I not surprised? She always was a swot. It figures she would try to learn wandless magic too.'

'You're really quite fascinating, Mr Malfoy. Your words say you couldn't care less, yet your actions...'

'Don't even go there,' he warned. 'I married her, didn't I? That should tell you all you need to know.'

'But most husbands would tell their wives they loved them when attempting to bring them back to consciousness. You, on the other hand, are trying to lure her back with talk of divorce.'

'If I told her any such thing, she would make a run straight for the other side. Besides, nobody likes unnecessary sap. You said she'd be fine.'

He was so good at pretending their union was real without actually lying about the nature of their relationship. She'd never considered him smooth before, but he certainly had a way with words.

'But you didn't believe me,' the female pointed out. She must be some kind of Mediwitch to have authority over Hermione's health.

'No, I did. She has to be fine. Because she can't die.'

'Like I said - fascinating.'

Hermione groaned. Why wouldn't the two of them shut up so she could go back to sleep? This incessant yammering was giving her a headache. A rather large headache, actually. In fact, considering the nausea she felt when she tried to open her eyes, she'd say she had a migraine.

'Looks like she's waking up,' the female said.

'I told you she'd be fine,' Malfoy responded.

Prat. He'd probably been worried that he wouldn't get his money. And quite possibly the tombstone thing was an issue as well.

Hermione tried again to open her eyes, but the light was too bright and she had to quickly squeeze them shut.

'Welcome back, Mrs Malfoy,' the female voice said. 'Just take your time. It's quite common to feel sick. I have a few potions to help and I'd advise you to take it easy for a few days.'

Finally, Hermione succeeded in opening her eyes. Malfoy was sitting next to her whilst she was on some kind of bed, and the female was seated at a desk in the same small room.

'M-my handbag? Where's my handbag?' Hermione rasped.

Malfoy stared at her. 'Have you completely lost it? You could've died and you're worried about your handbag?'

'Don't scold her,' the witch said. 'Your handbag is right here, Mrs Malfoy. I'll just have a look at you and then your husband can take you back to your hotel room, ok? And don't be surprised if you get a visit from a couple of local Hit Wizards later. That bookcase shouldn't have been able to fall over.'

Hermione slowly nodded, accepting the bag and checking its contents. Everything was as it should be. When she closed it and looked up, Malfoy was watching her with narrowed eyes.

The potions perked Granger up some, but when they got back to the hotel, the first thing she wanted was a bath, and the second a nap. Draco didn't argue against either because both things sounded quite sensible to him. She brought her handbag with her when she bathed, but when she napped, he managed to get hold of it and was now unceremoniously going through its contents. There was nothing exciting in there at all. Lipstick, blush, a quill set - what a swot - a hand mirror, a pocket book with no exciting notes, her purse, and a tiny tin of mints. Heart-stopping. It was perfectly understandable that this would be the first thing she'd ask for. Only, rather not.

He'd been back to the library whilst she'd lain unconscious, and he'd found that the bookcase that had tipped over had been both bolted and welded to the floor. Once the mess had been cleared enough for anyone to get a look at it, it was clear that the wood had been ripped apart near the base in a very unnatural manner. And Granger must've seen or heard it falling, because why else would she have shoved him aside at that precise moment?

But that was something else entirely. Why hadn't she done something? Shoving him aside and taking the hit didn't count as doing something. Why wasn't she doing her job?

All these thoughts and more were going through his head when she finally emerged from the bedroom, yawning and rubbing her eyes.

'What's next?' he snapped at her.

She blinked a little sluggishly. 'I thought there was still time for the beach?' she said, stretching and wincing. The potions had helped the bruising a lot, but she was evidently still sore.

'The beach? The beach?' He stared at her. 'Why are you so passive? Weren't you supposed to catch this... this person?'

'Oh...' She shook her head. 'I think you misunderstand. I'm an important part of catching him, but I'm not an active part. I'm bait.'

'What?'

'I'm bait,' she repeated. 'I get to have a holiday where someone tries to murder me, but I'm not supposed to go out of my way to hunt him down. Harry's Auror and Hit Wizard are on that. Meantime, I just stay alive and make sure to stay in touch if there's a change of plans. It's fine, though. My training allows me to stay alive better than most, even if I have to be subtle about using it.'

He stared at her. 'How can you just do nothing?' he finally asked.

'See, this is one of the many, many reasons I couldn't do this with Ron,' she said, very carefully sitting down on the couch. 'He'd go into a frenzy. You, on the other hand, are a good choice. You're not emotionally involved and you're good at staying passive, which is exactly what we need for this. Just stay calm and trust that I won't let them harm you.'

Again, he couldn't stop staring at her. She'd been buried under dozens of heavy tomes today. They hadn't been sure whether she'd been alive or dead when they'd dragged her out. She'd been passed out for hours. And now she preached... being passive? It was maddening!

'But how can you work with Potter's people if they don't even know we're faking it?' he hissed. Not to mention that he'd not seen anyone even remotely British-looking helping with digging her out from that pile of books.

'They know we know that we're under protection,' she said. 'That's enough. Don't look so upset. You'll get your money, even if I should fail at staying alive. And, by the way, you can write Granger on my headstone.'

She'd heard that? And how cold exactly did she think he was? 'I'll have it say "Malfoy" just to spite you,' he warned.

She laughed at that. 'I doubt I'd care either way. Are you coming to the beach with me?'

'Sun's setting.'

'I don't care. I'll wear more clothes if I have to, but I want to go.'

Draco shook his head. Why did witches always have such nonsensical priorities?

Hermione drew her poncho closer around her. She should probably have worn a real cloak or a coat, but she wasn't going to let Malfoy know that. They were sitting in the sand, catching the last rays of the sun as it was setting. It would have been quite lovely if the wind hadn't been so cold and she didn't feel so beat up.

Already two attempts, and according to Harry, they had no clue who it was. They hadn't seen anyone suspicious, and the evidence hadn't pointed towards anyone in particular. They had to wait until the killer stopped trying to off her from afar and came after her in person.

That was so easy for him to say. He wasn't the one risking his life. He wasn't the one who'd got out of the bath and jumped at the flicker of his own image in the mirror from out of the corner of his eye. Malfoy would have loved to see that, she was sure. He'd have great fun at her expense if he realised just how frazzled her nerves were after what had happened. She'd thought the killer would try to make it look natural. She hadn't counted on him using spells to sabotage the balcony - which she couldn't get herself to use any longer, even if it was now repaired - or push over bookcases that shouldn't be possible to push over. The killer was trying to send a message by making her demise a dramatic one, it seemed.

'So what was your plan for tomorrow?' Malfoy asked, sounding calmer than he had all day, but still sounding angry. She wasn't sure why he was angry, but it must be the shock. After all, he'd almost been hit too.

'Forget the plan. I think I'm going to take a walk up the hills.'

He glared at her. 'That's your death wish talking, Granger.'

'I'll be fine by tomorrow. These bruises are-'

'If you go up there, they can just make it look like you fell and broke your neck!'

'Oh, but he won't want to. He'll want to make sure that everyone knows it wasn't natural.' And then, if she was lucky, she could draw him out and be done with it all. 'But let's talk about something else. Like, how I think you're getting a sunburn on your nose.'

He reluctantly grinned at that. 'We could also talk about how you're turning blue from the cold yet refuse to acknowledge it.'

She shook her head. 'No, don't talk about that. As long as we don't talk about it, I can ignore it.'

'I could warm you,' he offered.

'No, thank you.'

'You're so boring.'

That was one way to look at it. Personally, she just felt like cuddling with him under the stars was a really bad idea. 'Tell me why you and Pansy broke up,' she said instead. 'From how the two of you interact, that has to be an interesting story.'

He grimaced. 'Nobody likes an ambush like that, Granger.'

'What? That wasn't an ambush!'

'Yes, it was.'

'Come on, it can't be that bad,' she prodded. 'Didn't you say you didn't tend to fall for witches or something? Was that what drove you apart?'

'Wrong. I said I didn't like it when I did, implying that I do and it's annoying.'

Hermione wrinkled her nose. 'Huh. I'll let you explain that one instead, then.'

'I guess that's marginally better,' he muttered and then sighed. 'I don't know. I was with Pansy all of my adolescent life and even a bit beyond that. When I messed that up-'

'How?'

'Not telling.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's bad.'

Hermione shrugged, unable to see the big issue. 'Meh. It takes two to run a relationship into the ground.'

'No. In this case it only took one and for the other one to have some self-respect. In any case - shut up. After I'd messed that up, I spent some time trying to get her back, but when I couldn't, I felt lost and sure that I'd never ever fall for another witch.'

'Aw, how cute,' Hermione couldn't help but tease.

He scowled at her. 'Could you leave off the sarcastic comments? It didn't take me long at all to find out that I was wrong and fall for another witch.'

'What was her name?'

'That really doesn't matter to this story. It took her a couple of weeks to get back with her ex, leaving me heartbroken for... I don't know. Not long. Until I saw the next witch.'

'And let me guess, she left you too?'

'No, I think I bored of her after about a month, maybe two. And then there was another witch. And another. At some point I decided that I needed to get better at staying involved longer, and I did, but that didn't really change the sequence of events and eventually I got sick of doing the same dance over and over and stopped bothering. But then I met this beautiful, clever, kind witch, who I didn't actually fall in love with but could see myself growing old with, and asked her to marry me.'

'And she said yes?'

'No.'

'Oh. I thought we'd reached your engagement.'

'Well, we have. Except, she was not at all certain we'd make a good match and I did everything in my power to convince her and eventually she was somewhat convinced and we got engaged.'

'And then she stopped being convinced.'

'Quite.'

He didn't really seem that interested in elaborating, but Hermione wasn't one for reining in her curiosity. 'Why?' she asked.

'I think I told you. She decided she wanted the whole in-love bit. I think she's actually engaged to someone else now.'

'Yes, but wasn't there some kind of thing triggering it?' she prodded. Somehow, finding out every detail seemed important right now.

'Not that I recall, really,' he said, extremely uninterested in sating her curiosity. 'She merely broke off our engagement over dinner one night and I was left without a fiancée.'

She gave up on that particular point. Who knew, maybe there really wasn't anything to tell. 'What then?'

'Not much, really. Now I'm sort of married to you for the time being.' He flashed her a cheeky grin.

'But you left out that whole part with the witch in France!' she objected.

'Ah. That. Well, my mother thinks I'm rubbish at finding and keeping a witch, so she asked if an arranged marriage was what I wanted. I said yes, as long as I liked the witch. So she started arranging.'

'Wow.' Hermione leant back on her elbows next to him. 'And you call me boring!'

He gaped at her, apparently not realising how boring his tale had been. 'Excuse me? Tell me how your love life's more exciting than mine!'

'I guess it's not. But it's not any less exciting, that's for sure. You simply got sick of having feelings, just like that, and started pursuing an arranged marriage instead? Wow.' She shook her head. 'You could at least have made up some deeply tragic tale of woe for dramatic effect.'

He sighed and shot her a dark look. 'I guess there's a little more to it.'

Of course there was. He really was easy! 'Like what?'

'Like if someone were to map out most of my love life, they could pinpoint exactly when my ex fell in love, got engaged, got married and had a child, just by looking at whenever I did something mind-numbingly stupid. It's pathetic, really, how I always thought she'd marry me and her progressing with someone else made me react.'

'Huh.' Hermione stared up at the moon. She'd never even considered that Malfoy might still have a thing for Pansy Parkinson. 'You could marry her now,' she then said. 'I mean, after her divorce.'

'She doesn't want a divorce, and she wouldn't have me even if I asked. Believe me, that door is closed.'

'What exactly did you do?' she couldn't help but ask, even though the answer could hardly be something good.

'I can't tell you that, Granger.'

'Why? Are you afraid I'll think less of you?' she taunted.

He didn't reply, and after a while she looked over at him to find that he'd laid down on his back and was just staring up at the sky.

Realisation hit her. 'You do think I'll think less of you!'

'Let it go, Granger,' he quietly said. 'I paid for my mistake.'

'Here, let me help you: You cheated on her, didn't you?' She'd said it casually enough, but she didn't really feel casual about it. Infidelity was something she had a hard time stomaching and she felt oddly disappointed that he'd probably cheated on Parkinson.

Again, he didn't reply.

'It's funny,' she said, trying to be neutral and fair. 'If you really tried to make up for it as hard as you did and you'd been together years, I don't see why Parkinson would be that inflexible. She obviously still likes you - in a friendly way, at least.'

'Would you forgive a cheater?' he asked. 'Or would you walk away, never to return?'

'It would depend a lot on the circumstances,' she replied, although she knew she was fairly inflexible on that score herself.

'Say he was your first love. Say you'd been together for a decade. Say you wanted to wait until you were married to sleep together, but he gave in to the pressure of still being a virgin in his early twenties and-' He stopped and glanced at her, making her aware that she'd sharply inhaled a breath. 'Yeah, that's what I thought.'

'Prick,' she said, currently unable to say anything else.

'Yes, that's what I was thinking with.'

'Is that all you have to say for yourself?' And why was she surprised? This was Draco Malfoy. He probably thought he was entitled to be unfaithful to anyone he pleased.

'What do you want me to say for myself?' he shot back. 'She wanted to wait, so I'd been waiting. She wanted to get married first, so I'd proposed. But she still didn't want to get married straight away, so I kept waiting. Everyone was always talking about sex like it was the greatest thing ever, and in a moment of weakness, I threw away everything that I had in order to try it. And you know what? It wasn't even good. I can't even begin to describe how lousy it was, and how crappy I felt after, and how badly it hurt to look her in the eye and know that she knew what I'd done.' He paused, but then proceeded more quietly, 'She wouldn't stop crying. Nothing I said could make her stop crying, and then she threw her ring in my face and screamed at me to get out, and she never forgave me. Even now, I don't think she's really forgiven me. So, please, Granger. Do enlighten me about what I've done wrong and tell me how to properly feel remorse for it.'

She looked away from him. She'd guessed that he'd cheated, so it made no sense that it would upset her when he admitted it, but... she couldn't think of a worse scenario. His fiancée had wanted them to wait with their very first time, to make it special, to make it a rite of love, and instead he'd just... gone out and "thought with his prick", not caring one whit about Parkinson's feelings, no matter what he said. If he'd cared, he wouldn't have done such a thing. He'd ruined Parkinson's dreams of the perfect, pure union, and had probably driven her off into the arms of the heartless git she'd then married. Being so disillusioned by someone you'd been with all your life was bound to lower your standards considerably.

'See,' Malfoy muttered. 'Now you won't even look at me.'

She shook her head. 'It's fine. We should go back inside.' She got to her feet and began walking without waiting for him.

What did she care, anyway? She didn't! She had no reason to care. She just felt sorry for Parkinson, that was all. Yeah, all of this upset was on Parkinson's behalf. No way did it have anything to do with herself.

But suddenly the night seemed a lot colder than it had only a few minutes ago.