After Hermione left the shop, Malcolm was practically walking on air. He wasn't exactly sure what he should call their outing together. It was just a walk, so it couldn't be a date. Then again though, he didn't know much about this girl in general, other than her impeccable taste in books. So maybe she thought it was one.

He was hoping to run into her in the lobby on the way up to his flat, but she was nowhere to be seen on his walk home or in the lobby or elevator. He was at a complete loss, and hoped that she was still at work so that he wouldn't get stood up.

The hallway of their floor was empty and absolutely silent, as per usual. Malcolm didn't think much about it and wandered inside his flat to check his messages, or await a call from the girl he was going on a not-date with. Once he was settled in, he casually checked his messages not thinking anything of them. There was one from his mum reminding him of a family party that was happening that weekend, and his dentist asking him to reschedule an appointment he had made months ago. The last though was the only one he listened to consciously.

Her voice was cold and apologetic, but there was still a hint of the voice he had gotten to know in the shop underneath all she was trying mask it with. Malcolm sighed heavily and deleted the message, making mental notes to call back his dentist and mother the next morning.

"It's a shame the little minx couldn't meet up with you. She sounded cute, too."

Malcolm sighed again and without even turning around said, "Keenan, I do wish you'd use the door. Or wait until I get home before springing in on me like this." He turned around to find a tall, darkly dressed man sitting on his couch. He didn't particularly blend in with Malcolm's living room, but it had always been a gift of his stepbrother's to seemingly disappear within his surroundings.

"But that would take away from the fun." His smile was dark, and the longer Malcolm looked at his brother, the more he could tell that his living had not been easy. His long black hair was disheveled and sticking up in various places, and his black robes were trailing dirt all over the floors. The only thing about him that appeared to be clean were his piercing blue eyes. Although Malcolm knew that they had seen their fair share of dirty and dark things over the years.

"What even are you doing here in my part of town? I know how much you dislike my kind. Unless you need a favor. Oh this oughta be good. Mr. Magic needs assistance from his powerless baby brother."

"Well, yes and no. I do need a place to live, which is where you come in. But I also want to protect you."

"Protect me? What in god's name could you protect me from? You said that wizard you followed was dead now. Has been for five years, hasn't he?"

Keenan smiled at his little brother with a look Malcolm had never seen before in his eyes. "Well yes. But now I will be leading the Death Eaters into war against Harry Potter and that little minx that was just on the phone. Oh, you didn't know she was a witch, did you? Well five years ago she fought in the second Wizarding war, and before you know it, I will be bringing about the third. So I'd get that date with her in while you still can."

. . . . .

Before they parted, Hermione had warned Draco about coming in through the front door. He was almost offended that she thought he didn't know that much about Muggle society, but then he rethought it and kept his mouth shut. So before he left the manor, he organized it so that anything with visible pictures was either in the middle of his pile or inside his bag, and everything that didn't already have a silencing charm on it received one.

Apparating there wasn't hard, and it seemed as though the Muggles on the busy street were oblivious to him as he stepped out of the alleyway and into the building Hermione had said was hers. The lobby was empty, but just as he was getting into the elevator, a man with hair as Hermione described ran into it.

"Sorry about that, mate. I just didn't want to have to wait for the elevator if it was still there. Floor?"

Not wanting to give away that he was going to Hermione's just in case it was the neighbor she had mentioned to him, Draco decided to play dumb. "Ah well, you know I'm just visiting a colleague of mine and I can never remember what bloody floor he lives on. I think it's three but I can never be sure."

"Sorry, I can't help you there. I barely know the people on my own floor, let alone those on the other ones. Good luck finding him, though. I wish front desk was there more often sometimes. Blasted rotten security." The man hit the third floor button, and then thankfully right after hit the seventh floor button.

When the elevator reached the third floor, Draco gave the man a curt nod and proceeded to warily walk the hall to Hermione's door. All was quiet, as he had presumed. She enjoyed her quiet while she worked, so he assumed a silencing charm must have been encompassing the entire floor. Clever.

He knocked carefully and Hermione answered the door in the sweater he had allowed her to borrow. He hoped that the slight smile that appeared on his lips did not give him away, and instead made her think that he was just being polite. He could never tell what she noticed and didn't with him.

She brought out some wine and they quickly went to work. Everything he had brought had been carefully hidden in the manor, and with both of his parents out for dinner, it was easy for Draco to round all of the evidence up and hurry to Hermione's flat. His father, Lucius, had taken to keeping precious items of his hidden in his bedroom, to which this day he rarely left unless his wife persuaded him. He felt that by putting this incriminating evidence in the Gringotts vault the family shared, Draco would have a much easier time getting it out and into the public eye. Little did he know that his son was as sneaking and conniving as he had raised him to be.

They worked for what felt like hours, and it was then that Hermione suggested they take a break and relax their brains. They had hardly gone through a quarter of the material Draco had brought over, and more than half of what they had gone through hadn't even been looked through properly because of alcohol-induced brains.

"I think we need it," Draco mentioned as Hermione downed the remainder of her drink. She put her head on the coffee table, and it was then that Draco brought up the sweater.

"You, you can have it back if you really want." Her blush always made Draco feel uncomfortable, but in that way most people would call affection. He wasn't used to the feeling, but he couldn't stop himself from feeling it.

Shaking his head, Draco said, "It looks good on you anyway. Keep it." He could feel his cheeks flushing, but he didn't care for once in his life. He was with a beautiful girl who couldn't stop staring at him, and it could have been the alcohol that made him do it, but he told her just that.

The compliment made his cheeks burn brighter, as it did hers, but her body was sliding closer to his—was he the one moving or her?—and his hands were reaching out to cup her cheeks. She wasn't stopping him. This was happening. Draco was lost in her eyes and when his palms connected to her cheeks, there was an electric charge surging between his fingers and buzzing down his arms.

Ever so slowly he lowered his lips to hers, and after an eternity of waiting their lips met and Hermione was melting into him. Her body was stiff at first but then felt as if every muscle disappeared from her physique and she was leaning slightly into him, her lips soft against his. Once he got the taste though, Draco wanted more. He ran his fingers through her hair feeling every soft curl and wave that he could get his hands on, and the feeling only intensified when one of her hands met his cheek.

The two were falling over one another even though they had barely moved from their original spots on the floor. Each kiss brought more hunger from Draco and small moans escaped his lips. He didn't want to go too fast with her, or push her in the slightest, but there was something about the way she kissed him that made him wish she would wake up in his bed that night.

He began to move one of his hands to her waist and slowly under her shirt up her side when she suddenly pulled away from him. Her brown eyes seemed to clear and she stood up and backed away from him. Draco stood and started fiddling with her hair, watching as she grabbed her forehead and moaned into the palms of her hands.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Hermione wouldn't answer him. She was muttering something to herself, but because of her hands blocking her mouth he couldn't understand any of it.

"Hermione, please tell me what's wrong."

She removed her hands from in front of her mouth and finally began speaking at an audible volume. "We can't do this. We most certainly can not be doing this."

She began to pace the room, walking back and forth in front of Draco who could do nothing but run his fingers through his hair and watch her. She was still wearing his sweater. She hadn't stopped him when he kissed her. Those had to be signs of something being there between them, even just confused rebound feelings from after the divorce. Draco didn't care what he was to her as long as he could see her, at least sometimes. He was sick of hiding these feelings, especially from himself. He didn't remember when he began thinking the pictures of her in the Prophet were cute and sexy. He just suddenly knew that she was, and that even one more kiss could be enough to satisfy himself.

"Draco. This is madness. We are colleagues now. The Wizarding world is in a shitload of trouble and we are doing, doing this." She finally stopped pacing and looked at him with fearful eyes. She hadn't been expecting the kiss, he knew, but she seemed more afraid of what she felt than what he had done. At least, that's what Draco hoped. But within seconds her eyes turned to anger and she marched towards him until her nose was inches from his.

"You HATED me, Draco Malfoy. Hated me for years and years at school. You called me a mudblood. You made fun of me endlessly at Hogwarts and for what? Are you going to go back to your friends and say 'I'm easy'? That after all these years someone 'cracked' the infamous, studious, pretentious mudblood Granger? Augh, this is so INFURIATING, Malfoy. And to think, for a second there I thought we would get along just fine without our past getting in the way—"

"Hold up just a second there. I would never, in a millions years manipulate someone's feelings in that way. Yes, I was a horrible person back at Hogwarts. But that last year everything changed for me. I didn't want to be a part of that any more. Why the hell do you think I've gone and told Potter about my fucking arm then if I hadn't changed? Potter saved my life, and my mother saved his. We're even now, and I would never do this to you for any other reason than the obvious."

For once, Hermione was without words. She still looked intensely at him, but the gaze was somewhat softer than before. "I'm sorry I accused you of that. It could be the alcohol letting my brain run wild. Why don't we call it a night."

"Do you want to at least discuss what happened just now? We can't let it hang there forever." Truth be told, Draco didn't want to leave just yet. Yes, for once in his life he wanted to talk through something, but it was only because he couldn't get inside her head.

"Tomorrow over breakfast, when our heads are little clearer. You're welcome to stay on the couch. I'm sorry I don't have a spare bed to give you." With that she bid him goodnight and wandered into a hallway. "Oh and Draco."

His head perked up some from where he was standing. He didn't know what he wanted to hear, but it certainly wasn't what she said next. "The bathroom is just down here if you need it." And then she was gone. Draco heard a door open and shut once more before there was absolute silence in the flat. There wasn't much he could do about the situation except organize the information they had gone through and make himself comfortable under the blanket that she had draped so carefully over the edge of the couch.

Author's Note:

Hey lovelies. Here's another update *gasp* ONE DAY AFTER THE LAST ONE. Whaaaaaat.

Anyway, I would like to congratulate Kallanit for guessing Malcolm's purpose in this story somewhat correctly. Or at least, how he would relate to the issue at hand. I want to know what you guys think of Keenan (whose name means sharp, by the way). I was sort of modeling him off of Benedict Cumberbatch's role as Khan in the newest Star Trek (or at least his voice ish. And slightly his appearance. *swoon*) but I want to see what you guys think of him as a character, how you initially picture him, etc.

In relation to Panic! at the Disco's new song and the end of this chapter, WHERE WILL YOU BE WAKING UP TOMORROW MORNING, OUT THE BACKDOOR GODDAMN BUT I LOVE HER ANYWAY.

Fangirling hardcore, as always,

Beadlebug3