Finally an update! I know, a month and a half. -hands out (whatever you happen to be craving at the moment)- Third quarter is over and half way through spring break already! It's ridiculous. We actually got snow, the first day of break. :P I don't have anything to go off of reviews-wise for my writing so hope you like this chapter. Although the only way you can decide is if you stop reading this so I'll stop now. (:

Disclaimer: Not mine (don't expect that to change any time soon)

x-x-x

"This guy is putting you to shame," Draco muttered, as he read over Abraham Figg's extensive notes that bore remarkable resemblance to a book he had remembered reading a few days ago.

"Oh, hush." To their great disappointment, Abraham Figg had not found much more than they had regarding curing the hex. Hermione found his meticulous notes on the condition of his patients heartbreaking to read. As she moved all of the parchments to the table, she noticed a little carving of a wizard's hat at the bottom right hand corner of the trunk that looked as if it were dancing. She took her wand and poked at it, wary about touching it with her finger after the trunk had glowed earlier. Hermione gasped as from the hat popped up an almost holographic screen hovering in front of her above the trunk. She backed a step away and Draco turned interestedly, upon hearing the distraction.

An old, wrinkly, grey-haired man rushed over in the screen to face them, almost as if he had something to say specifically to them and had recorded a movie to say it. He looked frenzied and nervously glanced from side to side. Draco squinted.

"That's old Figg!" he realized, whispering. Hermione nodded mutely, afraid that anything they did might disturb the on-playing video journal of sorts. He began to speak in a hurried and hushed manner.

"If you have found this, my trunk, you will have noticed that it's all… It's all my studies. On the Praefocom Hex. Everything I've compiled is in there. This is my end- I'm sure, they've found me." Abraham Figg paused from speaking to look around again. A few banging noises were heard in the background. He continued to speak quickly and quietly.

"They are the sent by the curse keeper of the Praefocom. I don't know how many or if the keeper is with them. Please. Please, whoever you are. Cure this terror. Make it." he chuckled humorlessly.

"It took me this long to deduce. There is no cure. It must, it must be created. Do not bother with the wandless cure to Apethanon Stragkalizo; it does not work." The background hammering got louder. Abraham Figg looked thoughtful as he turned back to the screen which Draco and Hermione were watching intently.

"I have no regrets. On how I've spent my last years. No. None at all. I only wish that it will not all be wasted. I expect that you who are viewing this are not of any relation to me. No, they will put all my things in the trunk and into the attic it shall go. But it is of no matter to me. Please, if you are not intending to make an effort, give this trunk, and its-its contents on to someone who may. But be careful, do be careful. The curse keeper, if you have not figured out; he or she is trouble. Nothing but trouble. My wish is that the curse will lead itself to extinction and the keeper should do the same but alas, I know better than that. They are here. Merlin, they are here! Remember what I've said!!"

"What are you doing there, old man?" a silky voice sneered as a cloaked figure appeared in the background of the screen. Abraham Figg's voice could be heard whispering something before the holographic screen shrunk and disappeared back into the dancing wizard hat carving on the bottom of the trunk just as the figure drew out his (presumably) wand. A shocked Hermione turned to Draco, whose neutral face was given away only by widened eyes.

"So it wasn't old age that killed him." Draco was first to break the silence.

"Do you think anyone knew?" He shook his head.

"Events played out just like he predicted, it seems. After his death, his family probably paid little attention to his beloved trunk. I'm willing to bet that whoever these "keeper" people are concealed any evidence of their dirty deeds."

"A curse keeper, he said?" reflected Hermione. An affirmative nod. "I've never heard of that, have you?" Draco mocked astonishment before admitting the same. Hermione suddenly stood up and sprinted up the stairs to the small library of the estate. Taking a moment to consider what had just happened, Draco followed soon after, albeit with noticeably less excitement that his female partner. By the time he had reached the library, Hermione was already perched on edge of the window seat with an old book that was sending tiny clouds of dust through the air as she flipped through its pages. He smirked as he thought of how only a spontaneous explosion of the book would distract her at the moment. A look of satisfaction spread across her face; he walked over to see what she had found.

"I'd remember seeing it somewhere, look!" Hermione pointed to a short passage.

A curse keeper is a single person that is or is chosen by, the creator of a curse, hex, or spell. Popular in the very early centuries of Wizarding history, the job of a curse keeper could vary. In some instances, they were to regulate and/or record use of the particular curse, hex, or spell (for future references, referred to as c-h-s) Special charms could be performed that would let the curse keeper know every time the c-h-s was performed. Others could also use aforementioned charms to persecute anyone with knowledge about the c-h-s, useful in keeping it a secret.

Every single c-h-s has a curse keeper, from the Killing Curse to the Stunning Spell. Over the years as the population of wizards and witches increased to a much larger number, active curse keepers became much less common. Many curse keepers may be unaware of the fact that they are one, themselves; in other cases, may have just disappeared with the death of the creator. Others are lost in history, either existent but unawares or long deceased. The few curse keepers that are active generally keep a work of the Dark Arts.

Draco let his head fall back in annoyance.

"Lucky us to be researching a Dark hex from a family dating back centuries. We haven't got enough to handle yet, have we? Gotta love Figg. Ah yes, you get to create the cure! And someone might try to kill you since you're attempting to do good for humankind. I only spent some fifty years of my life without success at it, why don't you give it a bloody go!" He finished his summary of the problems they now faced and put his head in his hands. Hermione bit back a smile that disappeared on its own accord once she realized the truth of his words. They made their way back downstairs with visibly less spring to their step.

Skimming through the rest of his journals and records, Hermione and Draco found themselves left with a thin pamphlet.

"Azure fire crab jewel, salamander blood, shrake spikes, crushed Mandrake root… It seems he was aiming for a potion as the cure," Draco observed.

"Odd, considering most spoken hexes or spells are countered in the same form that they are inflicted. What results did he have?" His grey eyes scanned the few parchments inside; it seemed that Figg felt he was close to something, as the many potions listed all seemed similar, with only slight distinctions between them. At that moment, Draco Malfoy hated the precision of potion making, and how one ¾ turn in the wrong direction at the wrong speed could make the difference between failure and success. He handed the last parchment to Hermione, the only one that had no big red X's on it.

"He hadn't gotten around to trying these three variants of the potion yet." She looked over the ingredients and instructions; he could tell she was contemplating the best way to go about making the potions.

"Diagon Alley tomorrow?" she asked.

"Like my saying 'no' will make a difference?" he questioned in rejoinder. She gave a short laugh.

"I suppose not." He glared half-heartedly, a traitorous corner of his mouth lifting into a tiny half-smile.

x-x-x

"Granger! Her-mi-o-ne! Hermi-bloody hell. Emme!!" Draco had been unsuccessfully trying to wake her up for the past few minutes in between knocking on her door and yelling. He poked his head in the door with thoughts of tossing a pillow at her when a messy head of brown curls appeared from the covers. Contrary to what most people thought, even though Hermione Granger could function on few hours of sleep, she treasured it when she could get it. She gave him a funny look.

"Emme? Did you forget my name for a moment?"

He shrugged. "Well, your name is too bloody long, with its intended four syllables (even though everyone only pronounces three), and your genius friends' nickname of "'mione" remains at three syllables. Herms and Hermy are simply demeaning so I figured Emme (A/N: pronounced like the letter "m") would be easiest. It's in every variation of your name possible so why not? And it's bloody well shorter too."

"Huh." She continued to peer at him interestedly.
"Well if it bothers you that much, then Hermione it is." She shook her head quickly.

"No, no, Emme is fine. It's just… different."

"Would you prefer Herms?"

"Different in a good way!" she amended. He smirked, before closing the door. As he sat down for a late breakfast, he waited for the exclamation that would come from Hermione once she realized the time.

"Damn!" he heard her voice upstairs. Yep, he was good. Accio-ing parchment and a quill, Draco decided to write a reply to his friend's owl yesterday. What had he said? Oh yes, that's right: you sodding arse, with a bit more dramatic flair.

F. Page,

Her name is Hermione Granger.

He paused, not knowing what to say after that. He settled for:

You should come visit. We'd be delighted to have you.

Draco Malfoy

He knew Forrest wanted a detailed description and would be frustrated with that response. A bit of his obnoxious inner teenager shining through, he tied the letter to the tawny owl's leg (which seemed quite annoyed at his delayed response) and shooed it away.

As Hermione peered through the expansive closet, looking for something to wear, she realized she had a large smile on her face. Emme, she mused. Her eyes widened. If she wasn't careful, soon she'd be in too deep to resurface. It's strictly professional, Hermione told herself. Damn! she let out, looking at the clock. After glancing at the mirror and finding her appearance decent enough, she made her way to the kitchen.

x-x-x

Illaron Wicksby prepared himself as he heard his irate wife enter the room muttering about her father, using colorful adjectives he'd rather not repeat. He listened patiently as she explained the source of her frustration and thought carefully when she asked for his advice.

"Did he specify who was to carry out the implications of your, erm, duty?" She bit her lip in thought, eyes lighting up when she shook her head no.
"Now I remember why I love you, my dear Ronny!" Constantia smiled broadly.

"Dear Ronny does not wish to be called so, Tannie lov-" She shut him up with a kiss.

x-x-x

After carefully copying down the ingredients necessary for Abraham Figg's potions, they split ways after arriving at Diagon Alley. Hermione headed for the Apothecary there, while Draco made a few stops around shadier places. Looking at her list and feeling almost as if she were back at Hogwarts shopping for school supplies again, Hermione set out with a determined attitude.

With his hood up over his trademark platinum hair, Draco Malfoy immediately took on his air of holier-than-thou-don't-piss-me-off-if-you-like-having-all-body-parts-intact as he entered Knockturn Alley. The alley was eerie and derelict as always and a man sitting hunched over on the outside of a bar flagged him over, presumably still moderately drunk and very hung-over from the night before.

"'ey there Malfoy!" he attempted to shout, in a voice that croaked a little from disuse. Yep, probably drunk already. Draco narrowed his eyes as he walked closer, attempting to figure out who this man was.

"Pucey?" he asked, overwhelmed by the smell of liquor and vomit. Adrian Pucey gave a low laugh.

"Smarrrt boy! Whatcha been upta?" Draco flicked his wand at Pucey to rid him of the smell.

"More than you, apparently. Get yourself cleaned up, you're an embarrassment." With a sobering charm that immediately left Pucey with a full blown hangover and groaning in protest, he left, heading for a small shop with a creaky door that he knew sold potions ingredients.

x-x-x

"Oh my Merlin! Excuse me ma'am; is that you, Hermione?!" Hermione grimaced and prepared herself for an onslaught of rapid excited talking.

"Um, hi?" Lavender Brown beamed and ran over to envelop her in a hug. Hermione noticed a tall brown-haired man standing politely off to the side. Noticing this, Lavender quickly pulled him by the arm and sped through introductions.

"This is Peter, a Ravenclaw two years above us. Peter, love, this is Hermione Granger, but I'm sure you knew that already," she said laughingly. Peter shook Hermione's hand and nodded to her.

"Pleasure to meet you Miss Granger," he offered politely. She smiled back. Lavender's latest catch, probably. Lavender seemed to be looking around for someone.

"Are you here alone, Hermione?" Oh no, here it comes, she thought.

"Yeah. Just purchasing a few potions ingredients for a project." Lavender rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.
"'mione, we're out of school already! Are you still with Ron? Single?"

"Ron and I are just friends and yes." Lavender beamed.

"I know someone you must meet!" Hermione prayed for the ground to swallow her whole.

"I'm afraid I mus-"

"Oh, nonsense! Peter!" Lavender's companion had excused himself to continue perusing through the shrew tails but looked up at her call.
"Yes, doll?"

"Do you think Res is still here?"

"Probably, we left him but an hour ago." Lavender looked pleased. Hermione did not.

"Lavender, I appreciate the effort but I really must finish my shopping first and then I have to meet-" Oops. Better not let that slip, she decided. Before she had a chance to worry about a cover-up though, Lavender had continued.

"An hour then, at Fortescue's. You'll see him. Tall. Dark brown hair. Wearing, erm, blue I believe." Eager to get Lavender off her case and back to the potions ingredients, Hermione reluctantly agreed.

"Fine, but don't expect me to be enthusiastic and I may have to leave before tha-"

"Fantastic! You need a guy in your life; you'll thank me for it later." Hermione gave a smile, if only Lavender knew about her current living situation.

"Well I must be off now, it seems Peter is done and we've got to go let Res know he's going to meet a beautiful witch in an hour!" Hermione waved goodbye, more eager to finally be free to shop and think in quiet than meet this…'Res'.

x-x-x

Res ran a hand through his hair. Peter was a great bloke but his latest girlfriend could really be a handful. He was sitting at an empty table at Fortescue's, where a brown haired "beautiful" witch was supposed to meet him in about five minutes. He felt slightly insulted. Did they really think he needed help to find women?! Hmph. The late fall breeze was chilly and he cast a slight warming spell on his clothes as he waited.

Hermione Granger could not be less reluctant to meet this man but she valued timeliness, so in exactly an hour, she found herself looking around Fortescue's for a tall man with dark brown hair. Seeing one draped lazily on a chair, wearing blue as Lavender had described, she walked over as confidently as she could. How she hated set-ups. I'll be polite and courteous but let him know I'm not interested. Half an hour should do it.

He spotted a curly haired brown woman walking towards him, with a hesitant but self-confident look on her face as she approached him. She had hazel eyes and was dressed modestly but fashionably enough. Not bad, he thought to himself as he stood up to meet her.

"Hello, Res, I presume?" Hermione stuck out her hand and he bent down and placed a light kiss on it. She cursed her blush.

"You presume correctly. Forrest Page, at your service; Res, if you wish." He gave her a winning smile. He wasn't bad, Hermione decided, polite and definitely handsome with his deep ocean blue eyes and dark russet hair falling just barely into his eyes. He had a rugged and strong build but his dark blue eyes were dancing with amusement. His name did seem awfully familiar though. They sat down at a table.

"You have yet to tell me your name, brown haired hazel eyed beauty." She laughed and diverted her eyes for a moment.

"Hermione Granger, at your service." she mimicked him, smiling. His eyebrows shot up.

"Is there something wrong, Forrest?" He shook his head and seemed to be amazed at something.

"Shocked that Lavender Brown set you up with a best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived?" she asked, looking at him curiously. He laughed.

"Among other things, Hermione, yes. I do have a question for you." She shrugged.

"You don't happen to have recently talked with one Draco Malfoy, have you?" Judging by the shocked surprise that passed over her pretty face, he figured yes. So this was the one that one of his best mates was captivated by. (Not that he knew that yet.) Not bad, Malfoy, not bad. With his handsome smirk in place, Hermione was suddenly reminded of why his name seemed so familiar.

"You're Draco's friend!" She spurted out. He chuckled. It was 'Draco' already.

"The one with the tawny owl." Hermione nodded rapidly, then remembered something.

"When you wrote that letter to Draco and for whatever reason had written "you sodding arse," I remember saying to him that I had to meet you. And now I have!" They shared a laugh and he ordered them both a hot cocoa, as the late autumn weather did not seem to call for an ice cream. The next hour passed fairly easily and both found themselves enjoying the other's company much more than they had expected.

"Oh! Merlin, it's been an hour already! I'm supposed to go meet Draco in front of the Apothecary now."

"I've got a thing or two to say to him; let us go together." He held out his arm and she looped hers through it with a bright smile.

"Let's!"

x-x-x

With a multitude of potions ingredients shrunken and carefully placed in his robe, Draco Malfoy leaned coolly against a light pole in front of the Apothecary waiting for Hermione. He heard her laugh before he saw her and when turning to meet her found a most surprising sight. Looped though her arm was Forrest Page. His eyes narrowed slightly as Forrest's laughter mixed with hers and he walked up briskly to meet them.

"'ey Draco!" Forrest hollered, bemused by the look on his friend's face.

"I was set up with your lovely lady friend by a mutual…acquaintance of ours." Both Hermione and Forrest had a similar look on their face as they thought of Lavender Brown. Draco looked distinctly wary and ruffled by the two of them; one a friend, the other a…no he did not really know how to classify Hermione.

Forrest turned to Hermione. "Would I be wrong in saying that we shall both come away from this experience with one more friend?"

"Brilliantly said," she smiled. After a few more words of polite conversation between the trio, Hermione and Draco made to apparate away to the estate. With a pop, she disappeared but Forrest grabbed a hold of Draco's arm before he could follow her.

"Hold on to that one; she's something," he uttered, before smirking at Draco's confused expression as he too, disappeared with a pop.

x-x-x

Well? Please review! I'm less than a hundred hits away from 2000 but only nine reviews! Someone has to have an opinion!

Lurves till next time (hopefully within the next month),

Jadyn