I don't own Harry Potter. Bleeeh.

AN: Wow, yet another chapter. Also, it's come to my attention that it's about time I included a much belated warning that this story is totally AU after book seven, EWE, and contains completely ooc behavior. Consider yourselves warned.


Hermione parked the car and walked back into the house. She let the door swing shut behind her and started for the kitchen, then changed her mind and walked back through the living room to her bedroom. When she got there, she picked up the phone and the first thing she did was call her stylist and make sure she was on for her three month straightening. It was only 8:30, so she left a message. Then she paced for a few minutes, debated calling Ginny to check on her, decided she was being ridiculous, and finally put the phone down again.

After that she sat on the edge of her unmade bed for fifteen minutes, staring out her windows at the trees and sunshine.

What the hell was she doing?

Seconds later she nearly jumped out of her skin when her thoughts were echoed by the figure standing in the open doorway.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, innocently, he thought. He'd waited in the kitchen for the last thirty minutes, first for her to come back, and once she had, for her to come looking for him. When she hadn't, he'd continued to wait until he'd gotten tired of watching the dishes dry.

Surprisingly, the activity of washing the dishes themselves hadn't been so bad. It had almost been relaxing, to stand and look out the window; and think about nothing while he wiped the washrag along the dishes, over and over. But he drew the line at watching them dry. Not that he had the right to draw any lines, but he'd rather be kept busy than sit and stare at nothing all day like his father did. Otherwise he'd go mad from thinking of all the mistakes he'd made and how wonderful his life had been, back before Hogwarts. Back when his family had renounced Voldemort and he could play with his other elitist friends without worry that someone might make fun of him, or worse, attack him.

Of course, those days hadn't exactly been fancy free, either. But he had to have something good to cling to. Otherwise there really was nothing, but a long stretch of horses and mucking stalls from here to the day he died. And doing it all for a nutcase. For two nutcases, really, if he counted his father.

But he tried not to think about his dad that way.

Now he stared at Hermione expectantly and she returned his inquisitive look with a blank stare.

"What?" she said.

He looked away. Merlin, her face was disturbing. One half Granger and the other half something else…he'd heard about it, of course, but he'd never seen it. And who'd told him about it? Zabini.

"I wanted to know if there's anything I can do," he tried again. "Er, I mean anything for me to do."

Hermione took a deep breath and looked back out her windows, clearly considering his question this time.

"There may be." She looked back to him. "Fancy a riding lesson?"

He sneered. "What is this place, Granger's Country Resort for Criminals?"

Hermione glared at him. "No, it's a horse farm run by a trained therapist and since I've canceled classes here for the next four and a half months, I have nothing to do except teach the likes of you." She stood up, crossed her arms. "You asked if there was something you could do, I've told you. And later today, after the lesson," she continued, "you can start reading my Encyclopedia Britannica."

Draco made another face, this time thoroughly confused. "Encyclopedia what?"

"Britannica. Yesterday, you said you should probably learn more about the muggle world. Well you can start with the As and work your way through the alphabet. Furthermore, tonight you will sit and watch the BBC news with me. I'll start taking the local paper too, that will help."

"I really-"

"Tomorrow I'll start giving you lessons on the computer as well. Also, I'd like to try some therapy with your father-"

"Now hold on!" Draco shouted angrily. "You can do whatever ridiculous things you want to me, force me to learn all about muggles, make me ride your damned horses, but I draw the line at you doing a thing to my-"

"He's a sick man, Draco," Hermione inserted, her voice gentle, but firm. "And I think I can help him. You saw how he came alive yesterday in the barn; I think that with enough time we can draw him out of his shell." Draco stared at her warily and she offered him a small smile. "We- us working together, to help him."

"I…why?"

"I already answered some of your questions," she reminded him. "Now is not the time to ask anymore, I promise you. But you can trust that when it comes to your father, I really don't see the snide man from Flourish and Blotts, or the dangerous one from the Department of Mysteries. He's not there anymore. Those things happened a long time ago- not just in physical years, but in experience. The three of us, we're completely different people, Draco."

Draco forced himself to look directly at her, forced himself to voice his one concern. He had to wonder whether it was a concern he had for the sake of himself, his father, or- heaven forbid- her; but he said it anyway.

"But what if he's not? What if, after you wake him up, or bring him out of his shell- whatever you said- he's still that man, underneath?"

"We've already established that neither of you can lay a finger on me in violence," Hermione replied, her voice reasonable, soothing. Clearly there was nothing wrong with her vocal chords. Draco let his eyes roam over that scarred face freely and he only saw hope and the determination to at least see things through.

He finally nodded.

"So, Muggle Lessons for me and Riding Lessons for both of us. This will be different."

At that, Hermione smiled broadly, even if it was a rueful one, and Draco could see, for the first time, how that smile transformed her face. It nearly made her look herself again, almost made him forget the scars were there in the first place…but not entirely.

After a second, he forced his own lips up in a poor replica of that smile. Then he left the room to put on his new blue jeans and collect his father. They had a full day ahead of them, it seemed, and there was not a second to lose.


In London, at the door outside Ginny's flat, Harry was standing, waiting for her. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and he'd just checked his watch for the fifth time…and he was starting to lose his temper. Had Hermione forgotten he'd said now? Had Ginny deliberately gone elsewhere, to avoid him?

And then he smelled it. Cigarette smoke.

Damn it, that was Ginny's brand or he'd eat his robes. He hated that she smoked now. Not to mention everyone else who knew her. Molly was constantly begging Arthur for information on cigarettes, lung cancer, and quitting treatments. Harry wouldn't even let her smoke the few times she came over. The minute she pulled out her pack it was time she said goodbye. Fleur and Bill were the same way, but then again they had children now. Hermione was the only one who seemed to display any sort of tolerance for the filthy habit.

Not that Harry was happy about forcing Ginny to leave once she decided it was time for a smoke, but damn it all, he'd nearly lost her once. He would not stand by quietly and watch her try and kill herself with the damned cancer sticks now. So it was with great pleasure that he walked over the window over looking the front stoop, leaned out and called down the three stories to the redhead standing outside, having a cig.

"Ginny!" he called. "Get the fuck up here!"

She jumped and whipped about, looking for him, before she finally glanced up. Harry frowned when he saw her face- it was pinched and she was clearly scared. He motioned to her.

"Come on, Gin- let's take care of this."

For a brief second, Ginny looked very much like she wanted to take off running down the street or apparate again.

"No," Harry whispered. "Please, Gin."

She must have seen the desperation on his face because she frowned, suddenly, stuck out her tongue, and then put her cigarette out. A second later she disappeared from sight and he heard her on the stairs. He smiled and greeted her when she arrived at the top, but she ignored him and moved past to open the door. Then she swung it inward and gestured.

Harry took a deep breath and headed inside.

There was nothing there. Rather, there were things inside, the things he remembered. But they were all neat and in order, in good repair. From what he could see there didn't seem to be anything the matter on the surface.

But that was what he'd thought the first time he saw Ginny after she'd returned, and it had been a lie. Cautiously he worked his way around the sizable apartment, inspecting everything in sight, double checking his and her work on the wards and other spells. He could hear Ginny behind him, tapping one foot impatiently, or from nerves, but he didn't let it affect him. He did his fucking job. No one could ever accuse him of not doing his job, not when it came to the things he cared about the most.

Finally he was done with the main spaces. Ginny had refused to let him in her bedroom. She'd also refused to unlock Blaise's room. At that, Harry crossed his arms again.

"I came here specifically to make sure you were safe. Hermione said-"

"Hermione had no business calling you."

"Just like I had no business sending you an owl about her plans, right?"

Ginny flushed. "It's not the same."

"It's exactly the same, Ginny," Harry replied patiently, if a bit tiredly. He ran a hand through his hair and missed how her eyes followed the motion with sudden wistfulness. "This is what friends do, never mind what my job demands of me. We look out for one another, even when one of us would prefer to be left alone. And we never, ever give up."

Ginny drew a sharp breath at the intense look Harry gave her, the meaning behind his words quite clear. I love you, he was saying. I love you and I won't stop, no matter how many times you push me away.

Ginny looked anywhere but at him. "I willingly took part in RATS," she said, as if she could convince him of why she was no good for him.

"And I helped found it," he returned. She frowned.

"You hate that I smoke."

"I do," he replied. "But if our positions were reversed and you'd nearly lost me, you'd hate to see me killing myself that way, believe me."

Ginny looked at him then, anger on her face.

"I did nearly lose you, Harry Potter," she replied. "I nearly lost you again and again- did you ever stop to think that maybe you've been part of the problem all along?"

Harry stiffened and Ginny could see him fighting that particular horror- the knowledge that her love for him had brought her great joy…but great pain as well.

"I tried to do the right thing, that year," he murmured. "And I thought you-"

"I understood all that! But I knew the same fucking terror everyone else did, that last night at Hogwarts. And then we had that one blissful moment of peace, followed by hell for weeks. Months, Harry! I had one second with you and then everything was gone- how can you expect me to just go back to you after that? There's too much there."

"Ginny, I can't live without you," he replied simply and she gasped and stared at him. He went on. "And whether it takes you eight years or ten or twenty to forgive yourself for something that wasn't your fault, and whether it takes me a lifetime to forgive myself for not being there when you needed me most…I still want this. I still want us. I always will."

She wanted to scoff, to yell, to do anything, but she was frozen by his sudden declaration. The whole confrontation- she hadn't expected any of it. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotions- which was clearly a mistake, because seconds later she felt Harry's arms go about her.

She couldn't move at first, she was so shocked- it had been years since he'd held her this close. And he'd always let her go to him, first. He never, ever initiated contact. That thought jarred her from inaction and she opened her eyes, started to push away, to tell him to let go. His arms held on more tightly and she could feel him bending his head, burying his nose in her hair.

"Ginny," he whispered and inhaled deeply. She took a shallow, shuddering breath and with it came his smell- that spicy, earthy scent that had lingered on the shirt she'd found at home that summer he'd gone. She'd kept it beneath her pillow for months. It had kept her sane and alive when everything else told her to despair. And she'd fought, and helped others fight, and then he'd returned at the height of terror, when they'd thought all hope was gone…

She took another, deeper breath and allowed the memories and emotions to wash over her.

"Ginny," he said again, like it was a spell in itself and she felt the years of torment and anger begin to slide off her shoulders, from her mind. Her hands started to come up, to hold him as well and she opened her mouth again, but this time to say his name. To tell him…

There was a loud noise. Something being knocked over. Ginny jerked out of Harry's arms and had her wand out before he even did. The moment was gone.

"Stay back," Harry commanded. Ginny's eyes flicked to his face as he passed and she knew that though the moment was gone, Harry hadn't forgotten it, by any means- that he wouldn't forget it.

But instead of lingering over it, of pushing it in her face, he let it pass and insisted on checking the rest of the apartment. Of finishing what he'd gone there to do with nary a word or reference to what had just transpired.

Ginny didn't know whether to yell at him or let him hold her again. Then again, she didn't know what she wanted, anymore. So she stood back in silence and watched as he finally reached Blaise's room and spelled the door open.

The tiny space was a mess- Blaise had clearly thrown a tantrum, finally. He'd heard them talking and because Ginny hadn't lifted her Silencio yet, he'd decided to throw things about instead. From the far wall of the room- which really didn't afford him much distance, but he was trying anyway- Blaise glared out at them. Harry took in the disarray, the angry look upon Zabini's face, and the scared, but defiant look upon Ginny's face.

He immediately cast several highly protective and disarming wards on the other man and for good measure, a few upon Ginny. Finally, he added some more to the apartment itself and then, with one last glance at Zabini, closed the door again.

"The Silencio was a good idea," Harry said, "but I wouldn't do anything else."

"I haven't," Ginny replied with a bitter laugh.

Harry looked at her sharply. "What else is going on?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, really."

"Ginny…"

"I just don't like the way he looks at me. And before you ask me why I signed up for him then, let me mention that he didn't look at me that way before, at Sirius'."

Harry looked back at the closed door and frowned. "Have you checked his file yet? There might be something to explain his behavior there."

"No, I haven't," Ginny said. "To be honest, I'm not sure I care that much. Like I told Hermione, I thought I wanted this. But the reality isn't easy at all. The revenge everyone else is taking from this program isn't something I want to do, when it comes down to it. I can't actually…" She shivered and Harry placed one hand on her shoulder gently.

"I know what you mean, believe me. Eight years ago all we wanted was for things to be over and peace to follow. To forget it all. But the Wizengamot and others in our society…they're keeping the hate alive. And nothing has changed."

Ginny looked up at him. "But you- you're one of the toughest aurors out there. I read the papers. When you find someone you never-"

"You shouldn't believe everything you read in the Daily Prophet," Harry interrupted her. "Remember, they're not the most unbiased news source."

Ginny stared at him a moment, confused, and finally looked away.

"Whatever you say, Harry."

"Hey," he said. "I mean it. If you think you're weak for not being able to do to Zabini what was done to you…don't. Don't ever think that. All it means is that you still have a heart. And I love you for it."

Then he enveloped her in another, briefer hug, and set out the door. Ginny barely waved goodbye before he was gone, the scent of him lingering in the air around her. She didn't move from the spot for nearly half an hour.


AN: My, my. What IS the matter with Blaise?