Author's Note: Thank you iwasbotwp for your review.

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"My father told me you had a disagreement with Perseus Lestrange at the last Society meeting."

Draco made a noise of derision, recalling the conversation. "I think the word disagreement is an understatement. He thinks the time is right to prove pureblood superiority… he's an idiot. I told him so and he threatened me."

Astoria ran her fingers through her hair, which was a little nervous habit of hers. Draco loved watching her long, porcelain fingers run through her dark locks, the toffee waves rippling and falling gently again about her shoulders. "You don't think he'd make good on it, do you?" she whispered anxiously.

"Of course not, he's actually a coward. He says these things just to get a rise, then gets someone else to do his dirty work for him. That's how he's always been, and that sort of behavior is what got his brother killed. He doesn't have a puppet to act through anymore, not that I'm sorry about it. Rodolphus was an idiot, too."

Astoria looked thoughtful, "Will you go back to these meetings?"

Draco shrugged. Truth be told, he really wasn't sure why he went in the first place. He supposed it was because he was expected to be there, though he wasn't sure who it was he was trying to please by fulfilling expectations anymore.

"I'd like it if you didn't."

Draco gave her a searching look. Astoria didn't often ask things of him, so the request was markedly unusual.

"I know my father goes, but I really think it's time that purebloods set a true example, of tolerance," she continued. "You know my family was never involved with the Dark Lord, though my father thought he had the right idea. But we never supported the hunting and persecution of Muggleborns."

Draco sighed, "I knew it was wrong, too - eventually. I just was too much of a coward to do anything about it."

Astoria moved toward him, sitting beside him on the leather couch of his study. A chaperone was seated on the other side of the study, reading a novel. Astoria never visited Draco without a chaperone, as part of her dowry agreement. She ran her fingers through his platinum hair, and Draco closed his eyes, savoring the feeling. "You were only a boy," she whispered. "What could you have done? You were already in so deep. You kept your head down: that was all you could do, or you would have been killed."

"I just feel like I've had enough of violence to last a lifetime," he sighed, opening his eyes to drink in the sight of Astoria's large, blue eyes filled with concern for him.

"That's because you are a good man."

Draco shook his head, "I don't think I'm a good man, but I'm glad you believe it."

"You are a good man. You were strong enough to renounce your father's ways, even though you cared for him. You had plenty of opportunities to torture and murder and you couldn't do it. That's not cowardice, that's strength. I admire that about you." Astoria kissed his forehead as she murmured the last part.

"I don't deserve you."

She laughed. "Just promise me that we will raise our children with tolerance."

"For you, I will try my hardest." He shuffled her on the couch so that she was sitting on his lap.

Seeming to enjoy the change of position, she cocked an eyebrow at him and said playfully, "I've picked out a wedding dress."

Draco kissed her neck and felt her begin to melt. Softly he whispered, "I'm sure it will look lovely on the floor on our wedding night."

She shrieked with laughter and pretended to be affronted as he smirked at her, pulling her in for a deep kiss. The chaperone cleared her throat loudly and the two were obliged to separate, grinning at one another knowingly.

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The weekend had dragged slowly, as had Monday morning. Toula was sick and hadn't come in that day; Hermione thought this was a mercy as she wasn't sure she could have stood for her friend teasing her for the entire day about seeing Draco after work.

Now that she was putting her things away for the evening, Hermione was in a panic. Was Toula right? Should she be worried about how this looked to other people? A inter-departmental memo from the Department of Magical Transportation informed her that everything was all set for her to travel to Italy again that evening, which confirmed that Malfoy still wanted to see her, though they hadn't been in touch since the last time they'd spoken.

Hermione studied her reflection in the mirror critically. The longer she looked, the less pleased she was. It seemed wrong somehow, to visit a place of such beauty in clothing that was so plain.

It will have to do, she decided resolutely. She had no desire to dress nicely only for Malfoy, anyway.

Hermione was met once more at the fireplace grate by Donato, the same servant who'd attended her the last time. She thought the trip there wasn't as bad as it had been before, perhaps because she was expecting it this time.

"Tergeo," she whispered, pointing her wand at her clothing and siphoning the fireplace ash from her ensemble. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten to use that one last time.

The sun was low in the sky but not ready to set yet, casting near-horizontal rays across the vineyards. Donato took her a different route this time, twisting through the long hallways of the house instead of through the courtyard with the magnificent mosaic. Hermione found herself disappointed she didn't get to see it.

One of Malfoy's greyhounds and the Doberman were wandering down one of the hallways they passed through. The dogs did an about-face as if they knew where Hermione and Donato were headed, following them.

"This way, miss."

Hermione was shown into a room that turned out to be the library. A glorious, knowledge-filled library with a luxurious collection. Many of the books seemed quite old, though there was a good portion of volumes that seemed more modern. Long windows faced the sea, where a tall ship and a scattering of sailboats were coming in to port. The two dogs trailed into the room after them and joined the English Setter that lay at his master's feet. Without warning, Hermione felt odd bringing her little volume of philosophy into the presence of this impressive collection.

Draco sat unceremoniously on the window ledge, his back leaned against the clear glass of the window, bent over a smooth wooden easel on his lap. He seemed to be writing in very cramped letters as his nose was very close to the parchment. He was dressed more casually than she was used to seeing him and his hair seemed to have been recently cut, which confirmed he was no longer keeping it long like Lucius had.

"Here is Miss Granger for you, signore."

Draco didn't even look up from his work, "You're late."

Affronted, Hermione scoffed, "We never set a time. I came when I was done with work."

He smirked at the page and his hand paused with the quill still poised as he looked up, "You work too hard, then."

"Will you be needing anything, signore?"

Draco waved the man away and Hermione was left alone with him. Her gaze roved around the shelves upon shelves of books, enraptured by the wealth of information contained there.

Her admiration must have shown on her face, for Draco's next words were a sarcastic drawl, "Figures you'd feel right at home in a library."

Hermione was torn between a biting comeback and a realization that he was absolutely right. She compromised and didn't say anything at all.

Draco had started scratching away at the parchment on his lap again. Not looking at her, he added, "I've not got all evening, Granger. I'm meeting an agent of mine in an hour and a half."

"You know, Malfoy, it wouldn't kill you to be civil. I have other things I could be doing right now, too."

"I'm sure you do, but this was your idea…"

"…Which you agreed to!" she exclaimed, growing heated. "With very little convincing, I might add."

"Don't read into it too much, Granger," he drawled lazily. Gesturing to a nearby chair, he offered, "Have a seat. I hope you've brought something interesting."

The Doberman was sitting by the side of the seat she indicated, making her hesitate. She'd never been fond of large dogs and the Doberman was broad-chested and seemed highly protective of his master. Hermione defiantly stalked over to a different seat than the one he'd indicated, situating herself farther away from Malfoy and the dog.

"He doesn't bite," Draco snapped irritably.

"Mm, but perhaps you do."

He laughed at that, a true laugh. It was an unexpected sound from him and Hermione found herself smiling as well. "Fair enough, Granger. Perhaps I do bite. What did you bring?"

She showed the front of the book, which was Kant's 'Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals'. "Kant argues that there are only two things in the world that inspire genuine awe: the starry sky above and moral law within. Since you're so interested in morality, I thought…"

"Get on with it, Granger."

Hermione stood and made to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not interested in being belittled by you, Malfoy. You're not doing me some huge favor by inviting me here. I can read this at home on my own."

"Come back and sit down… please," he added as an afterthought.

It was the please that made her return to the far-off armchair. The greyhound got comfortable by her feet, cementing her in place for the moment.

Hermione began to read, but paused only a few moments in. Draco was still bent over the parchment, fastidiously scratching away. "Are you even listening?" she demanded irritably. He was really getting on her nerves that evening.

"It helps me to pay attention," he explained.

Hermione huffed, but read aloud for a little less than an hour nonetheless. She didn't look up from her book, and Draco didn't look up from his parchment. He didn't interrupt her either. The sun was beginning to spread tendrils of pastel color through the sky when Hermione finally closed the book and placed it on her lap.

Draco's quill stilled and for a moment they both were silent. The sky was a hazy orange, splashed with pink and the sea was sparkling with the sun's glory. Neither said a word, as if they were both waiting for the other to break the silence.

"He's from a few centuries ago, this man – isn't he?"

"How do you know it's a man?"

"It is, I can tell," he responded cryptically.

"He wrote this in the later half of the eighteenth century," Hermione confirmed.

"He talks himself in circles, this man Kant."

She smiled because it was true. "He does try to answer questions in a way that raises more questions."

Draco looked thoughtful. "He's got a thorough mind. He realizes it isn't a simple matter with a simple answer: people have subjective impulses – desires, inclinations – that contradict the dictates of reason."

"Therefore we view reason as an obligation, in an ideal world," Hermione continued, noticing the parchment he'd been so fastidiously working on was now slack in his hands as he mused to himself.

The library door opened to reveal a different servant, this time a rather thickset woman, "Un uomo è arrivato, signore. Egli vuole intervistarla."

"Mettere il visitatore in ufficio . Io sarò lì a breve," Draco answered.

"Signore," she curtseyed and closed the door.

"My agent is here," Draco explained with a sigh, glancing at the clock on the wall. "He's early."

Hermione stood to leave and he looked up at her. Her eyes shifted to the parchment on his lap, and she realized, "You were drawing?"

"It helps me to concentrate."

The sketch was very good, despite being done with only simple ink. He'd drawn the English Setter that was still dutifully laying by his master on the carpet.

"You draw well."

"Don't seem so surprised, Granger."

She opened her mouth to retort, but shut it when she realized he wasn't meaning to be offensive. "I'd better be on my way." She tucked her book under her arm and disentangled herself from the greyhound who'd become quite comfortable by her feet.

"Come back Wednesday, will you."

It wasn't really a question, which bothered her. She wasn't a servant. She sniffed with a small measure of disdain and answered, "I am helping Ginny with her wedding things on Wednesday."

Draco seemed unfazed, "Thursday then."

Hermione looked thoughtful. She knew she had nothing to do on Thursday, and she had to admit to herself, this meeting hadn't been all bad, "Alright."

"You can use the fireplace in here to get back." Draco stood to show her around a nearby bookshelf where a brick fireplace and a bowl of Floo Powder were.

"Thank you."

"Oh, and Granger," he added, smirking at her as she took a handful of the green powder, "don't be so late next time."