Draco opened the front door of the burrow and walked in, wiping his bare feet on the door mat. His toes were chilled by the early morning dew. He didn't pause long as the rest of the group followed him in. With a sigh he swung the rucksack off his back, plopping it onto the sofa in the living room.

"Well, seeing as how it's only 5:30 in the morning, I think everyone should probably be getting back up to bed for a few extra hours of sleep," Mrs. Weasley suggested. But again everyone knew that although Mrs. Weasley's suggestion sounded optional, it was in fact a politely disguised order. Everyone let out a small sigh for none of them felt very much like returning to bed. There were just too many things to think about, too many feelings bouncing around, their adrenaline still pumping from the fear they had felt returning to Malfoy Manor.

"You okay, Draco?" Charlie asked seriously.

Draco looked up, still surprised when he was personally addressed by any one of the Weasleys.

"Um… yeah," Draco said after a moment to think on it. "Yeah. I really am." He was rather surprised that he was indeed feeling better. Of course he was confused, his own emotions all over the place at the moment, but he somehow felt lighter. His mind drifted off again, remembering the tattered tapestry and then the flaming pillar, and finally the great piles of ash. The home he had known his entire life was no more and it seemed quite surreal.

Harry looked at Draco, an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Never before had he tried to put himself in Draco's shoes, but this 'event', for lack of a better word, had forced him to and he felt for him. He knew the look on Draco's face and was very familiar with the kinds of feelings that had to be circling around in him. Draco's fierce anger toward his family reminded himself of the Dursleys, but even though Draco tried to make himself believe that he didn't care that his family was dead, Harry knew that he was in pain from their deaths. No matter how he despised the Dursleys, you can't grow up with someone for several years and not feel pain and guilt at the news of their deaths. Draco was in denial, turning his mourning into anger. He was much more like Harry than Harry wanted to admit.

"Malfoy," Harry said suddenly, causing Draco to startle from his thoughts again. "Grab your broom. It's time for quidditch."

Everyone looked at Harry in stunned silence. Before anyone could speak Harry lifted his wand. "Accio Firebolt." Harry's broom zoomed from Mrs. Weasley's room, down the stairs and into Harry's waiting hand. Everyone looked even more shocked. Harry was disobeying two orders from Mrs. Weasley. Draco smirked and nodded. Mrs. Weasley stood gaping in disbelief as Ron also summoned his broom.

"Teams are uneven, so I'll sit out the first ten minutes," offered Charlie. "We play musical brooms though. Leave the Cleansweep Fives here. I want a real game."

"Oh this'll be fun," smiled Ginny.

"Fine," said Mrs. Weasley giving in as she knew she wouldn't win this time. "But you're all still in your pajamas. Why-?"

"We know," said Fred and George together, walking back out the front door.

"Draco," Hermione called as Draco started toward the door. Draco turned to her and had just enough time to catch the shoes that she tossed to him. "At least don't go barefoot," she smiled.

"You're not coming to watch?" he asked, slightly disappointed.

"Not this time," she answered. "But I'm going to want details so you better win."

"Absolutely," he said, slipping on his shoes and racing after the others.

"Those children," Mrs. Weasley said, shaking her head as she watched the pajama clad group holding an opinionated conversation around the broom shed. "I sometimes wonder if they'll ever grow up."

I think some of them just did. Hermione smiled at the thought. What Harry had done for Draco just then, though it seemed small and silly, spoke volumes to Hermione. It was very rare that he would disobey someone he respected as much as Mrs. Weasley unless he felt greatly convicted. Something in Harry changed just now. He saw something in Draco, his long time childhood rival, and was finally able to put the past behind him, not just for Hermione, but because he somehow made a connection of his own.

Mrs. Weasley, deciding that she really didn't want to return to bed either, sat down in a chair in the living room and pulled out her latest knitting project. Uncertain of what to do next, Hermione took Draco's rucksack up to Ron's room. As soon as she placed it on his bed, she looked around again in thought. There really wasn't much to do. She wondered why she had declined watching the quidditch game, but she already knew the answer to that. She was still shaken up. And though flying helped the others cope with their thoughts and emotions, that was not the way she worked.

Hermione slowly went down to Ginny's room and grabbed some clothes, deciding on a shower. But the shower didn't help like she hoped either. Still feeling flustered, Hermione walked back down to the living room. Without thinking, she automatically moved toward the bookshelves. Her eyes roved over the books without thought, her mind taking in the titles without actually concentrating on them, but a spark was lit when she came across a worn version of Tales of Beedle the Bard. With a small smile, she took the book off the shelf and took it over to the sofa.

She opened the book to Babbity-Rabbity and her Cackling Stump. She remembered when Ron spoke so casually of the story and she and Harry began laughing. Then she and Harry began listing muggle fairytales and Ron laughed even harder. 'Cinderella --' 'What's that, an illness?' And then telling the tale of Hansel and Gretel to Draco. She was sure he would laugh as hard as Ron, but he didn't. He was actually rather insightful, dissecting it and the characters for what they really were. She wanted to tell him the story to see him laugh, and she did get a few chuckles out of him, but he was fascinated even more. And she realized then that she liked that reaction much more. She couldn't wait to buy Tales from the Brothers Grimm for him. She would love to read it with him.

This thought, of course, brought her back to her thoughts on Draco, remembering the great time they were having in Diagon Alley before Seamus and Dean showed up. Then the horrible news that the afternoon brought… But this morning, now was the time to consider what feelings this morning had brought.

She had been terribly afraid when she followed Draco to the mansion. It brought back so many terrible memories, making them almost tangible. But now that she was no longer there, it hardly felt frightening at all. The thing that was truly frightening her was Draco. She had been able to read him so very well before yesterday afternoon, but when she found him in the orchard he seemed different. She could see his pain and that he was trying to force it to become anger, but there was so much else that he had bottled up that she just couldn't understand. His fear, his greatest fear was becoming like his father. No better fear could he have. That fear would only help him, help him strive for something better.

His actions seemed so extreme though. She knew that he wanted to put his past behind him, but the way he was going about it was a little unsettling. But Hermione thought back to the look on his face. So many things she had seen in him. His fear, his uncertainty, his feelings of inferiority, but they had vanished with the first fire spell he cast. As she walked back out of the house, Draco setting fires as he went, his feelings were completely different. He looked bold and empowered. Looking up at the house from behind the gates, Draco looked free, maybe not at peace yet, but he was free. It was as if his fear and insecurities were destroyed in the place of their birth, reduced to ashes along with the other reminders of his past life. His pain and memories were with him, but he was shouldering them now with fierce determination and strength of spirit. His actions may have been rash but Hermione decided that it was for the best. It was Draco's first big step toward healing.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking up from her knitting.

"Yeah, of course," Hermione said, looking up with a funny smile.

"Are you sure? You've been on that same page for about fifteen minutes and I daresay that Babbity-Rabbity is hardly a difficult read," Mrs. Weasley said, giving Hermione a disbelieving look. Hermione blushed furiously, not knowing just what to say to that. "You don't have to talk about it. But I really want you to know that if there's ever anything you want to talk about, I'm always here and I'm not one to judge."

Hermione gave Mrs. Weasley a warm smile. She was so very touched by this. She missed her own mother terribly and though Mrs. Weasley could never replace her own mother, it was nice to have a motherly figure around. She had come to know the woman so well over the years that she was what Hermione considered her second mother.

"Thank you Mrs…. Molly. That really means a lot. I'm doing okay, really. There's just so much to think about," Hermione replied.

"Now that I can agree with," Mrs. Weasley said. "Oh my, look at the time! It's already after eight o'clock. "I better get breakfast started."

"Can I help?" Hermione asked, closing her book and standing up.

Mrs. Weasley stopped halfway to the kitchen and turned back to Hermione. "Oh, that's okay dear. I have it just fine."

"You always do, but if you don't mind, I really would like to help," Hermione requested. "I rather miss cooking."

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley smiled.

"D-do you think you could teach me a few spells that you use in the kitchen? I've never cooked with magic yet," Hermione continued as she followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen.

"It would be my pleasure," Mrs. Weasley beamed. "I always wished I had a daughter to pass such things onto."

Hermione looked at her quizzically.

"Oh, Ginny takes after her brothers more than me," Mrs. Weasley said, noticing Hermione's confusion. "She'd much rather be just about anywhere but the kitchen unless the food is already on the table."

Hermione chuckled. "I guess I could see that. She seems to do okay when she does help out though," Hermione offered. She felt wrong if she didn't defend her friend.

"Oh, she does well enough. Just grudgingly is all. Perhaps she'll enjoy it more when she's allowed to use her wand," Mrs. Weasley said hopefully.

About forty-five minutes later, just as Hermione was placing the last platter on the table, the pajama clad quidditch players walked in through the kitchen door, almost as though they sensed breakfast was ready.

"No better way to start the day than to see Malfoy Manor burnt to the ground, an amazing game of quidditch, and an awaiting breakfast," said George with a big smile.

"'Ear,'ear!" Fred agreed, tugging on George's only ear. George elbowed his twin in the ribs and sat down at his usual seat at the table.

"So who won this time?" Hermione asked, but before anyone could answer, her heart sunk. "Where's Draco?"

"He left about twenty minutes ago. He said he'd be the first one in the shower," said Charlie.

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley exchanged looks. "We didn't see or hear him come in," said Mrs. Weasley as Hermione was having difficulty breathing, let alone speaking. Everyone at the table exchanged slightly worried looks and Hermione raced up the stairs. At the third floor she saw that the bathroom mirror was steamed up. Perhaps he really had come in for a shower. She continued up the stairs quickly, stopping, out of breath on the fifth floor landing she pounded on Ron's door.

"Yes?" answered Draco. "Come in."

Hermione threw the door open.

"What's wrong?" he asked quickly.

"You didn't come in with the group," she explained quickly. "They said you were going to take a shower, but we didn't see you come in. I was afraid… What are you doing?"

Draco had one foot on his cot and was lacing up one of his shiny patent leather shoes. He was wearing black dress pants, a dark grey turtleneck and black suit coat, his silver-blond hair slicked back rather than the way it was usually parted and falling into his eyes.

"Getting dressed," Draco said with smirk.

Hermione usually found his sarcastic and smart-aleck comments both cute and amusing, but she wasn't smiling this time. "You know what I mean," she said. "Why are you dressed like that? Where are you going?"

"I have some business to take care of today," Draco said simply, lacing up his other shoe.

"What kind of business? Where are you going?" Hermione asked again.

"Personal business. Gringotts, among other places," he said offhandedly.

Hermione looked at him with concern, feeling slightly hurt but even more frustrated. Draco hadn't kept any secrets from her until now and it was making her feel very uncomfortable.

"I want to come," Hermione insisted.

"Not this time," said Draco, standing up and looking at her properly. "This is something I have to take care of on my own."

"Then at least tell me what you're doing!" Hermione persisted.

"I told you, I just have some business to take care of," Draco repeated.

"That's what you said this morning," Hermione said angrily. "Then you went and committed arson!"

"It wasn't arson as it was my own house," Draco chuckled. "But honestly, this is just actual business. Très ennuyeux."

"But you shouldn't be going out on your own. You saw what happened yesterday, just imagine if-"

"I'll be fine. I promise," Draco said, stowing his wand in the pocket of his suit coat. "I'll see you this evening."

"This evening?!" Hermione said, even more panicked then before.

Draco placed his hands on Hermione's arms and looked her in the eye. Hermione felt extremely uncomfortable. This man was not the man she saw yesterday. She knew that he had become bold and confident, but she barely recognized him. He looked so cool yet determined. "Stop worrying," he said with a small lopsided smile. He looked at her in a patronizing manner, like he thought her worry was needless yet adorable. "I promise I'll be fine and I'll be back no later than five o'clock."

"Five o'clock?! It's only now nine o'clock! What kind of 'business' could possibly take you eight hours?!" Hermione demanded.

"Hermione, I understand that it's hard for you to trust me, but I'm asking you to please try," Draco said seriously. "I'll be back by five."

"It's not that I don't trust you. It's that I don't trust the world anymore. I get worried for you," Hermione persisted.

"Please don't. I promise you I'll be fine and I'll be back by-"

"Four," Hermione interrupted.

Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Four? What's at four?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to make you come back sooner," Hermione admitted shamelessly. She wanted to trust him, but she was still so worried. The truth was that although she trusted him, she wasn't entirely sure she trusted his judgment at the current time. He just seemed so rash.

His smirk looked even more condescending. How was it that he could make her feel so loved and secure, yet make her feel so worried and self-conscious at the same time? "Four then," he agreed. "Now please don't worry." He brushed his thumb across her cheek and kissed her forehead. He gave her one last nod before he disapparated. Hermione cursed herself the moment he left. He felt both incredibly stable and unstable at the same time and he just went out on his own into a world where everyone hates him. How could she just let him go?

Hermione stood staring at the place that Draco had just been, too overwhelmed to think properly. It just felt so surreal. Draco looked and acted so different. She knew it was him, her Draco, but he was just so…so… driven. But it wasn't that he was so driven that scared her so much as that paired with his sudden unpredictability. But she trusted him none the less. He promised.

Hermione slowly turned from the room and walked back downstairs to the kitchen where everyone was waiting around the table.

"So is he up there?" Harry asked.

"He was," Hermione said, her voice rather distant.

"Was?" Ginny asked with concern.

"He just left," Hermione said, looking down at her fingers.

"Where?" asked Ron, getting to his feet.

"I don't know…" Hermione said looking up at the group. "He just said he had business to take care of."

"What kind of business?" Harry asked with concern.

"I don't know," Hermione repeated, biting her lip.

"Hermione, what did he tell you exactly?" Charlie said, he with the rest of the table becoming more and more nervous.

"When I went upstairs he was dressed in a suit coat and dress shoes, his hair slicked smartly. I asked where he was going and he said he had business to take care of. I asked again and he said Gringotts, among other places," Hermione replied quietly.

"Among other places?" Ron asked heatedly. "He wouldn't tell you where?"

"No," Hermione said simply.

"The little prat," Ron growled.

"He knows better than to just go out like that," said Charlie. "Didn't he learn that yesterday?"

"Did he say when he'd be back?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"By four o'clock."

"Four o'clock?!" cried Ron. "Does he actually think he's going to live that long?"

"Shut up, Ron. Let's go find him," said Harry, getting to his feet.

"No," said Hermione, stunning the group. "He said he'd be okay… He promised."

"What?" asked Ginny.

"He promised he'd be okay. 'Just business,' he said. 'Très ennuyeux' – 'Very boring'"

"I'm going to Gringotts," insisted Charlie.

"He won't be there yet," said Hermione. "He has an appointment there at eleven. I was there with him yesterday when he made the appointment. He says it's just business, he promised he'd be okay, and he's going to be back by four… I trust him."

"Hermione, are you sure-?" Ron started.

"I know he wouldn't do anything wrong, if that's what you're thinking, Ron," Hermione interrupted.

"I wasn't actually," Ron said a little insulted. "I was going to ask if you were sure you don't want us to look for him."

"He's a smart person. He knows how the world sees him and the potential dangers out there. He promised me that he'd be alright which tells me that he's thought it all through. He wouldn't promise unless he could keep it. I trust him," Hermione proclaimed to herself as much as the family. "He'll be okay."

"Okay," said Harry.

Hermione nodded and took a seat at the table next to Ginny.

Not extremely eventful, but I hope you enjoyed it.

Please review! Please?