Thanks to Running Quill, Heart of Aspen, Montara, Hiddenhiberian, and Dekaying for taking time out of your own writing to read this little fic; thanks to Serenity Rose for the faithful reviews! Now to get Draco back into the story...

Chapter Ten: Hellos

The rap on the door was insistent, so Hermione picked herself up from the chair by the garden window and walked the entire length of the tall narrow house to the entryway. She opened the door.

There stood Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" she squeaked. Her surprise outweighed anger; indeed, her anger had faded the past four months along with her nightmares, so she quite forgot to look coldly at him.

"Granger," Malfoy sneered, eyeing her from the top of her bushy head down past her lightweight, fitted tank top to her skimpy shorts and long tanned legs. It was a revealing outfit; Malfoy was frankly surprised to see that Granger had such long limbs and enticing curves. He lifted his eyebrow, "Muggle clothing?" he asked skeptically.

"Hello to you too. What are you doing here?" Her lips quirked at his Wizarding winter attire, layers of heavy fabric quite out of place in the heat of Australia, not to mention the Muggle section of town. As one might expect, Malfoy looked cool and composed. Must use a cooling charm, she reasoned. Her eyes traveled back up to Malfoy's face.

"Potter sent me," he grimaced with narrowed eyes. "To check up on you."

He waited for the spiteful outburst that he had come to expect from this volatile witch. Unexpectedly, instead of anger, her eyes slowly warmed and a smile curved her lips.

Draco was mesmerized by the light in Hermione's eyes.

His heart stopped beating.

He took a breath to get it going again.

"He did?" She blinked tears back through her slowly spreading smile.

Draco was taken aback by the realization that the warm smile was for Potter, not him.

"And you traveled all this way? Come in, Malfoy."

She opened the door further, and Draco Malfoy brushed her arm lightly as he passed. He caught a whiff of a vanilla scent and couldn't remember ever smelling her before. Inhaling deeply, the scent went straight to his head.

He stood in the narrow hallway and surveyed the interior of the well kept home. The floors were a polished wood. To the left was a den with books lining the walls, cushioned armchairs, and the tiniest fireplace he had ever seen. Down the hallway straight ahead, he could see a glimpse of a garden through a very tall and wide window. Not much of a house.

He held himself stiffly and masked his face from showing any emotion simply because he was unsure of his reception. And he felt disoriented after his international portkey travel. Australia felt different. Granger seemed different too.

She laughed at his discomfort. "Look at Draco Malfoy inside my house! This is so odd. Harry and Ron have never visited me at my Muggle home before."

That was interesting. Maybe the Golden Trio wasn't as tight as he had thought.

"So Harry sent you to check up on me?" she asked in a more hushed tone. "Why you? When do you ever see Harry?"

Malfoy scowled and then rolled his eyes. "Parole," he muttered.

Hermione frowned up at him, "Parole? Your verdict was Not Guilty. Why on earth do you have parole?"

Malfoy tapped his left forearm and then narrowed his eyes.

Hermione gave a hiss of disgust. "What? You have parole for a crime that you were exonerated from? I absolutely cannot believe it."

Malfoy lifted his brow and looked like he couldn't believe what he was hearing either.

"Do you think a Death Eater like me can be trusted in society without even a parole?"

"Yes. Because you were found Not Guilty." Hermione gave an exasperated huff, but whether it was because an "innocent" Malfoy had been given parole or whether it was because some precious legality was broken, he couldn't tell.

"And why is Harry overseeing your parole? He's in Auror training."

"Boy Wonder. Savior of the Wizarding World. He usually gets what he asks for," Malfoy drawled.

So Harry asked to oversee Malfoy's parole. Hermione filed that away for further consideration and was about to ask how Malfoy was permitted to travel to Australia while on parole when she was interrupted by another voice in the little house.

"Hermione? Who's at the door?" There was a clatter of shoes coming down the curved maple staircase on the left.

"Quick Malfoy," Hermione hissed. "Lose the cloak! Get rid of it! And the robes!"

Malfoy glanced down at his heavy black cloak. He shrugged it off and waved his wand over it to shrink it into his blazer pocket. He did the same with his robes.

"Wand!" Hermione waved frantically at Malfoy's wand, and he tucked it into his blazer pocket quickly.

A woman who looked like an older version of Hermione Granger stepped from the staircase into the entryway. She had graying curly hair and a warm smile.

"Oh, hello there. I'm Monica. Are you here to see Hermione?"

"Monica, this is Draco Malfoy, a ... friend...from school," she glanced up at Malfoy wryly. "And Draco, this is Monica Wilkins... my landlady."

Malfoy was stunned to hear Granger call him Draco. He stared intently at Hermione, trying to read her expression. Now she was frowning and shaking her head slightly, but Malfoy had no idea what was going on.

"Is Draco a friend from uni, Hermione?"

"No, ...Draco is a ... friend from England." Hermione had a bit of trouble saying the word friend and Draco in the same sentence. She coughed as she glanced at Malfoy.

"All the way from the UK? How wonderful! Where are you staying, Draco?"

"I'm staying in a nearby... hotel."

"Oh, you don't want to stay in a cheap hotel. Stay here. We have plenty of room upstairs, and we'd love to have you."

Hermione froze.

Malfoy grew nervous under the eyes of two expectant women. One clearly intended for him to stay; the other was clearly horrified by the invitation. The idea of escape suddenly sounded enticing. Escape from this overly friendly Muggle woman. This Muggle house with different air and smells and smiling people seemed surreal; he rather wished he were home again. Why had he volunteered for this? What had he been thinking?

He glanced longingly back at the door and said stiffly, "I'm very comfortable at my hotel, thank you."

Hermione stared at him coldly as if she could guess his thoughts.

He had come all this way, and now he wanted to leave?

Must not want to tarnish his pureblooded self by being around Muggles, she thought. Fine. Go to your fancy Wizarding hotel and be comfortable.

"Let me take your coat at least, Draco. You must be sweltering in this heat," Monica went on.

Draco politely declined. His wand was in his blazer pocket, after all.

"Well, thank you for stopping by, Malfoy. It was ...lovely seeing you again. Tell Harry hello, and tell him I'm fine." Hermione began to push him forcefully back toward the door.

"Oh, Hermione, don't be rude. Why don't you two catch up out on the patio. Or maybe Draco would like to see the beach. Show him the sights. Draco, will you stay for dinner? I'm sure Wendell would be interested in hearing all the news from the UK. I'll have him start the barbie. Can I offer you a drink?"

"Thank you, no," Draco said hurriedly. "I will contact you again before I leave Sydney, Granger."

Hermione frowned resentfully as Malfoy hastily turned to leave. Why on earth was he here? Why had he bothered to come?

Monica Wilkins stared after the departing Malfoy with raised brows. She then smiled at the back of the blond young man. "Draco is delightful. So handsome! And so shy!"

Hermione shuddered.

If only she knew...

The owl tapped at the window. Hermione rolled her eyes. This particular Australian Muggle house had no way of opening the window to let the owl inside since all the windows had tightly affixed screens to keep out the flies. And spiders. And snakes. And owls. Hermione had to run outside to the patio and call to the bird, hoping the neighbors wouldn't notice. If only she could get it to come in through the door! The entire wall of the room facing the patio opened up to let in the cool ocean breeze, enlarging the great room as if the patio and garden were a part of the architecture of the house, but rarely were the flyscreens off since insects and snakes were so prevalent.

This owl was affectionate, rubbing its head against her fingers like a cat trying to get a good petting. Hermione stroked the brown bird gently, then carefully took the scroll from its leg. He reminded her of Crookshanks, whom she had left behind with Harry.

"Thank you, sweet bird. I wish I had a treat for you," she cooed. She opened the scroll.

Granger,

Meet me for dinner tonight at the Sydney Seasons Wizard Hotel. 9PM.

Please dress appropriately.

I await your reply.

Malfoy

Hermione scowled as a wave of anger rushed forth. There was nothing redeeming in this message. Nothing. First of all, it was a slap in the face to Monica Wilkins, who had invited Malfoy for dinner. Second, it could not be considered a proper invitation since he was ordering her to come. Third, the late hour was not convenient as she had an early class in the morning and some studying to do beforehand. Telling her how to dress made her grind her teeth. Finally, she did not want to go on a date with Draco Malfoy at a fancy hotel in downtown Sydney. She began to think of ways to decline.

Sorry, Malfoy, I'm busy tonight with my Muggle friends.

Or

Thank you for the kind invitation, but I'm in the middle of a good book.

How about-

Until you ask politely like any other well-mannered adult, I will be most content to avoid your particular brand of Pureblooded snobbery.

No, that last one reeked of bitterness and condescension. The second was ungracious. Maybe the first? Hermione ran into the house for a pen, but stopped suddenly at a thought. A niggling thought. A wispy awareness that slowly became more clear. As you know, Hermione Granger was not the brightest witch of her age for nothing. She examined the invitation from another perspective entirely.

This was the third time that Malfoy had reached out with an olive branch.

Hermione stared out the window and recalled their history. Pain, sadness, anger, hatred.

She remembered that he had wanted to "make amends" back in London, but she had furiously rejected his overtures. Then he had stopped by the Wilkins' house, but fled soon after. Perhaps she should be more patient with his rudeness? He had begged forgiveness, after all. And she did hope to end her hatred of all things Malfoy. It seemed impossible, but the least she could do was to try to be polite. She sighed and slowly wrote:

Malfoy,

Thank you for the invitation. I need to make the time earlier. 7PM is better for me.

Hermione

With a sinking feeling, she re-entered the Wilkins home to let Monica and Wendell Wilkins know that she was going out to dinner. She then headed upstairs to check her wardrobe for something appropriate to wear. She scoffed at the thought of dressing to please Malfoy. In fact, she hated that idea and wished she could show up in shorts and trainers just to be spiteful. She dreaded the idea of spending time with Malfoy, but she did long to rid herself of the heavy burden of anger and hate that magically reappeared whenever Malfoy showed up. Maybe this dinner would help her get over the ugliness blistering inside.

Unbeknownst to Draco and Hermione, today was Victory Day. Both had made an effort to choose peace, although the reality was that they were each struggling to exit the battlefield.