Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but I'm sure you all know that.

AN: I am so sorry about the delay, I know I'm a rascal, slap my wrist and on we go. Given how long it took me to actually write this chapter, I just wrote like one third of it about a minute ago, and in my haste to finish it I'm sure it's quite poor, so do bear with it. Am I using the right bear? Is it bare or bear? Oh dear. Anyhow, I hope you like it I do apologise for the wait, and I know there are so many clichés in this chapter but I simply can't help myself.


Harry led Ginny by the hand to his room, feeling guilty as he glanced back at Ron and Hermione, the latter of which seemed quite distressed, despite her efforts to hide it. He frowned before closing the door.

Ginny knew Harry wanted to talk before they got onto any "bedroom fun" as Harry liked to call it, despite her many attempts to get him to just call it sex like a normal 18 year old. She could tell from his thoughtful expression and furrowed brow, and so was not upset when he simply stood in the middle of his room and pursed his lips.

She studied him for a moment and crossed her arms.

"What is it?" she asked, and he smiled crookedly.

"You know me too well, Gin." She shrugged, but looked smug nonetheless.

"I know you want to talk, so talk, you know I'll listen." She said, to the point as ever. His smile widened as he pulled her to him and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. His smile dissipated as his gaze became thoughtful again, and he looked hesitant as he thought about how to voice his suspicions.

"It's difficult to explain." He said vaguely. Ginny cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Well, what's it about?" she prompted, and he frowned slightly before answering.

"Uh... Hermione and I think... Ron?" he said, unsure. He didn't want to say anything horrible that may end up just being him looking too far into things. Ginny pursed her lips and nodded slightly.

"I think I know what you're talking about." She said quietly. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"You do?" well that just said Harry wasn't imagining things, if Ginny sees the same thing then it can't be all in his head right? If that's the case, however, then Harry was very worried.

"About how Hermione's been acting recently... especially... around Ron," Ginny worried her lip. "He's my brother, and I don't want to think badly of him... but ever since they got back together, Hermione's been very, well, withdrawn, for lack of a better word," She grimaced slightly "I hate to think he's upsetting her, but she does not look happy to be with him." Harry frowned worriedly.

"I kind of hoped it was just me overanalysing a situation, but you're right. Remember when Hermione originally denied she and Ron were back together, and she later came back and said it was a joke? Did you... did you see..." Harry looked away from her, wincing. Ginny furrowed her brow.

"See what, Harry?" she implored. He looked pained for a moment.

"The – the bruise, on her jaw?" Ginny's eyes widened at his words and she stepped back.

"You don't think –" she gaped as he grimaced and she frantically thought back to all her recent memories of Hermione, her lost expression, the forced smiles, flinching whenever someone came near her... oh Merlin, no, he couldn't be.

"It's what I'm afraid of, Gin," said Harry, "But I'd really like to give him the benefit of the doubt, and I mean... he's meant to be my friend, too, and your brother, but I think we'd need to look into it before doing anything drastic that could lose us a friend."

Ginny bowed her head and worried her lip. If Ron really was... hurting Hermione, she would've said something, right? It can't be... Ron would never hurt Hermione, there had to be an explanation.

"Ron would never..." she trailed off and Harry regarded her with a pained expression, and sighed.

"I hope so, Ginny, I really do."


Hermione woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed. It had been the first time she'd slept properly in months. No nightmares, no tossing nor turning, no staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It was a wonderful feeling.

Her eyes were heavy and reluctant to open, still dreary as Hermione started to wake.

She shifted and found her pillow to be harder than usual and frowned, before hitting her head into her pillow in an attempt to make it softer, not expecting the grunt of pain to emit from it.

Her eyes flew open and she realised her head was not resting on a pillow, but in fact a body.

Angling her head to look up, her eyes widened as she took in a disgruntled and sleepy looking Draco Malfoy studying her questioningly.

"Any reason," he drawled "Why you felt the need to head-butt my chest?" he reached a hand up to rub his eye.

Hermione just continued to stare, confused. She glanced around the area to notice they were cuddled on the sofa in their common room. She ignored the fact that Malfoy was immensely comfortable and that he had still not removed an arm from around her.

"Granger?" he enquired, an eyebrow raised. She looked back up at him, and was startled by the involuntary reaction in her body his sleepy smirk elicited. She blinked and pulled away clumsily, falling off the sofa with a thump in her struggle. Malfoy rolled his eyes at her and leaned over.

"You alright, there?" he asked and she scowled at him, standing up and studying his relaxed composure as he looked up at her.

"What – why were we – how – I don't –" she spluttered, causing Malfoy to smirk wider at her dishevelment. He found it quite endearing.

"You came home a mess, I helped clean you up, then you fell asleep on me and you looked so damn peaceful I didn't want to disturb you, so I didn't move." He shrugged and Hermione blinked, mouth hung open slightly. She remembered, now, his kindness the previous night, his angry reaction to her bloodied state, his comforting. Hermione pondered on the out of character caring behaviour coming from none other than Draco Malfoy, and simply could not get her head around it.

"I – I don't know what to say. I guess... thank you, for last night I mean." She murmured. Malfoy shrugged, and suddenly the air became thick with tension. Hermione studied Malfoy, Malfoy studied Hermione. Both were thoughtful.

Malfoy's behaviour puzzled Hermione, why he'd been so caring, so thoughtful, he could've simply dragged her to Madame Pomfrey's, or left her to heal herself, and ignored her. Worse, he could've taunted her, like the old Malfoy would've done. She'd known he'd changed, yet she hadn't really contemplated how much. It was... unsettling, but nice.

But then again, from her observations, Hermione hadn't really spotted any of this kind behaviour towards anyone else, maybe it was because he felt guilty, for what happened at the Manor or perhaps... no, it couldn't be, could it? She blinked and pressed her lips together determinedly.

"Malfoy?" she asked, in a whisper. He hummed in acknowledgement. "Who – who's your mate?" she almost instantly regretted asking him, for his calm and thoughtful expression suddenly became hard, and he blanched. He looked away from her.

"Granger, I –" Hermione stopped him with a gasp and he flinched, looking back up to see her, open mouthed and wide-eyed, staring at him.

"Oh my god, Malfoy," her voice was reverberating with shock.

"Listen, I don't –" He was interrupted once again as Hermione slapped him on the arm, scowling at him, eyes alight with fury. Malfoy blinked and stared at her wide-eyed.

"What was that for?" he asked shrilly. She put her hands on her hips and her jaw clenched.

"Why on earth did you keep this from me?!" she yelled, cheeks pink with anger as she stood over him. Malfoy stared blankly at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"I – I –"

"Well?!"

"I didn't want you to feel... obliged... to be with me." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh right okay so it wasn't because you were scared of me getting angry was it?" she accused. Malfoy frowned at her confusedly.

"Well, judging from your current reaction could you blame me?" as soon as he said it he knew it was the wrong thing to say. He could practically see the steam erupting from her ears.

"Ugh, you're impossible, I'll see you later, Malfoy, I need to – I need to think." And at that she stomped up to her room, leaving Draco on the sofa staring after her in a confused daze.

What on earth invoked that reaction, he wondered.


Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic.

The stout witch stood outside the office door, shuffling her feet. For what seemed to be the millionth time, she reached out to knock, then withdrew her hand once more.

She let out a breath of frustration and shook her head, mentally preparing herself for this. She knew the Minister would not be angry with her, and yet she was nervous to explain the situation to him. It was quite a conundrum.

"Oh for the love of Merlin, Harriet, get yourself together and knock." She muttered to herself. Passers-by eyed her warily but carried on about their business. Ministry workers were busy, and had little time to observe the flustered woman outside the Minister's office.

Harriet Keat, Head of Law Enforcement and Manager of Azkaban, rolled her eyes at herself and flung out her hand, rapping on the wood twice quickly before her nervousness could stop her once more.

The door swung inwards, startling Harriet slightly, as Kingsley looked up from what seemed to be paperwork, and gave her a smile.

"Come in, Miss Keat, to what do I owe the pleasure?" he said kindly, and Harriet flushed with nerves and practically stumbled into the office, starting slightly when the door swung shut behind her.

"I – uh – Minister, there has been a – um – a situation..." she said hesitantly. Kingsley raised an eyebrow at her.

"What it is?" He enquired. Harriet swallowed loudly and took a deep breath.

"Three Death Eaters have escaped from Azkaban, sir." She blurted loudly. Kingsley raised his eyebrows and leant back in his seat.

"Ah, I see. Well I'll get the Aurors on it. Must get someone to figure out how they did it to prevent others from escaping the same way. Might I have the names, please?" his exterior was calm, but Harriet could see the alertness in his eyes. Harriet nodded and fumbled around in her pocket for a slip of paper, which she pulled out moments later, and unfolded, studying the writing.

"Uh – Rabastan Lestrange, Yaxley, and uh –" she squinted at the paper before her eyebrows rose in slight surprise. Kingsley frowned.

"Who's the third, sorry?" he asked. Harriet looked up at him.

"Lucius Malfoy, sir."


I know, it's awfully clichéd. I know Hermione seems a bit irrational but thank god she finally cottoned on. At least now the Dramione aspect can properly progress given she now knows she's his mate and we can avoid the terribly cheesy secret admirer thing. I was originally going to continue with that but I couldn't actually bring myself to write it it's just too corny (not that this story isn't corny at all oh no).

Thank you all for the follows, favourites, reviews, all feedback is appreciated, and so long as it's constructive I welcome a bit of criticism now and then.