Chapter Fourteen

Hermione freshened yesterday's clothes using a nifty spell. She went into work, aching from the spring that stuck her through the cushion of the couch. It bruised her hip and she had a horrible stiff neck from her odd angle of laying half on top of George.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy," she greeted, spotting the top of his head over the back of the couch. "You're here early."

"Are we not speaking of what happened?"

She felt warm. "I'd rather not..."

"That's fair," he agreed, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was because it was less than his expectations, but if she was bold, she would've questioned aloud if it was unsatisfactory. Why she troubled herself with it was of greater concern.

"I hope you don't mind, I was reading one of your books."

There in her bookshelf was a gap. "Which one?" She knew exactly which one, as she has spent painstaking hours putting each of them in order of reference and then alphabetically.

He lifted the book over his head, turning it to show her the cover briefly.

She approved. "That's a good one."

"It's alright. Mr. Boddock would've won his case months earlier if he bothered to think of using the Classification of mistreatment, 17.4B."

She paused incredulously. "You studied law?"

Without turning to her, he said lightly, "don't look so surprised there, Granger."

"Have you considered taking the board test?" She plopped down beside him.

He closed the book with care she never saw used before. "Tell me, who would want me as their lawyer?"

"I would." He didn't believe her, obviously. "No, no," she assured, "I would! You have experience with the Dark Arts, you know the way they think. You'd be valuable. I could help you."

"Why do you want to help me?"

"I think you're a good man, Malfoy. We've been over this." She took the book from him, her fingers grazing his. It sent something unfamiliar through her stomach, a swooping and dizzying feeling. "The past should be forgiven," she continued shakily, "that's what my book is about. The power struggle between bloods has ended - Malfoy!"

"What," he muttered, his head back and eyes closed, faking sleep. He popped an eye open, a smirk pulling at his thin lips.

"That's not funny. My book will be important to our world."

She expected him to argue with her plural use of their world, but his eyes were glazed over. Why did she bother? He was as bad as Harry and Ron, and it was quite a shame that they spent so many years as enemies, because frankly, they all three would have gotten along swimmingly.

There was a tug on her sleeve, Malfoy poking his little finger through a blackened hole.

"Oh no," she exclaimed. "I thought I fixed all of them!"

"No need to fret." He pointed his wand at the tear, and it raveled itself back together, as good as new.

"Thank you. I suppose I'll have to go shopping..."

"Did something happen?"

"My house caught fire last night."

He appeared sincerely alarmed. "I'm sorry to hear that, Granger..."

"Thank you..." She wiped a stray tear, searing on her heated cheeks. "I lost everything. Except my wand." And George, she added silently.

"Do you have a play to stay?"

Did he really care? "Yes." She glanced at her desk, and the work that awaited her. "We best get started today." She stood and walked over to it. "Do I have any messages?"

"Forget work today." He waved his hand and followed her.

"Malfoy," she chastised. "I cannot take the day off."

"Sure you can. Walk out the door. It's easy, I'll show you -" He reached for her hand and she stepped back out of his reach.

"Malfoy!"

"You say my name with such disdain. Is it wrong that I love that so?" He didn't wait for her response, but made for her hand again and this time he was able to steal it "We'll make a day of it. It'll be fun."

"I'm not sure I'll like your idea of fun." She wrinkled her nose at the distasteful memories of him in their school days.

"You say you've forgiven me."

"I have!"

"Prove it."

And so they walked out of her office, out of the Ministry. The Autumn wind caught her hair, flying it behind her. They gray clouds rolled by, threatening rain. Malfoy took off his cloak, draping it over her shoulders. It was warm, and smelled of him, and in their strolling to the nearest clothing shop, she strolled a little closer to him.

The shop was long, moving far back, but its width made the building cramped. Malfoy sneered at the passing customers that brushed his shoulders. He moved back, as if afraid of being touched. "Good luck, Granger. I'll be over here, if you don't mind."

She shook her head, fingering through the various materials, cuts, colors and sizes. She pulled a couple out and put them back. She checked the prices in consideration. She didn't mind shopping but she was certainly not a fashion expert; she didn't know what she looked best in. The only compliments she ever received were in her Fourth Year at the Yule Ball at Hogwarts. She wore a periwinkle blue dress, she had coated her face with makeup and used a pint worth of Sleek Eazy. Her hair came undone, her makeup smeared all when she fought with Ron. That night was ruined because of him, but many things were.

Hermione felt a tap on her shoe. Bouncing off of her heel was a green ball, and a blond boy of the estimated age of seven was chasing after it. She knelt and picked it up, holding it out to the familiar child. He looked just like...

"Here you go," she offered kindly.

Not a bit shy, he took his toy. She expected a frantic mother to come forth then, but no.

"Where's your mummy?"

"Working." he threw the ball high in the air, catching it as it descended.

"Who's watching you?"

"My aunt, but she's not very good."

Evidently, thought Hermione searching for a woman who was searching for him. No woman appeared to have noticed she lost something - or someone. Whoever boy's parents were they were terrible judge of people to have let someone (even a sister) watch their child who did not seem to care.

"Where is your aunt at?"

He shrugged, but suddenly he lit up, and waved. "Daddy!"

She turned and saw Malfoy running towards them. No... It couldn't have been... No, of course it was possible. She was just thinking that the boy looked much like her assistant. The similarities were striking. The boy was his father when Malfoy was that age.

"Scorpius, what're you doing here?"

"Aunt Daphne dragged me."

"Where is she?"

He shrugged once more, this action causing the senior Malfoy to sigh loudly. "Ms. Granger, may I request the rest of the day off?"

"We're not at the office, so of course."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes vexatiously at her, just like his father did.

"Who is she," he asked rudely.

Oh yes, definitely Malfoy's child!

"Scorpius, you will have respect. This is Ms. Granger. My boss."

Scorpius inspected her in judgment. "Okay." She passed whatever test he had put her through.

"Come son, say goodbye to Ms. Granger."

"Where are we gong?"

"We're going to have dinner, and it would do you well to speak to me with more respect."

"Sorry, dad. Why doesn't Ms Granger come with us?"

Malfoy appraised her thoughtfully. "You're more than welcome to join us, Granger."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"We'd be honored."

She was hungry... And curious. "I'd love to."

Malfoy offered his arm again, and she accepted.