A/N - For those of you that are fans of Hitchhiker's Guide, you'll be happy to see I referenced the book again. Yay!

There have been extra updates this week because my husband was out of town and so I did a lot of writing and relaxing. He's back now, but I'm hoping to keep up this momentum as things get more exciting between Draco and Hermione.


"You're attracted to Draco Malfoy. You find Draco Malfoy attractive. It's a natural response, given your proximity and the fact that he has been helping you. It's perfectly normal, and not at all insane." As much as she said it to herself in the mirror, she still didn't believe it. She must have really lost it if she thought any bit of this was normal. Not to mention the fact that she'd started talking to herself, or rather, her mirror. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the craziest of them all?" The mirror didn't answer, and that was a good thing.

'It's just sexual tension,' she told herself. Perfectly natural. It wasn't even her fault, really. If anything, chemicals were to blame. Plus hormones, pheromones, neurotransmitters - all guilty. Yeah, Malfoy was handsome, especially since he'd lost the slicked-back hair and all-black wardrobe. He was tall, and fit enough, and so biologically... it was normal. Evolution was on his side; he had good genes. Moreover, he looked good in jeans. And yeah, he was pretty funny, when he wasn't being a git, and sure, he seemed to have turned into a fairly decent adult. He was a good cook, and he took care of Astoria ('and you,' her conscience said, but she told it to shut up), and he was friends with Harry and Neville. So he couldn't be all that bad.

And that's why she'd let him touch her. Scratch that, that's why she'd asked him to touch her. Biology. Chemistry. That, and it had just felt so amazing to be touched again. It had been so long since she'd allowed herself to feel that, to really feel the way another person could affect her. It wasn't anything like the boy at the night club. It was... well, it had been brilliant.

But it couldn't happen again. That would be a bad choice, and since the war, Hermione was very careful not to make bad choices.

No matter what her libido wanted.

They didn't talk about it. Malfoy didn't tease her about it, but he did continue to give her looks, long, lingering ones that warmed her head to toe. But they didn't talk about it. When they did speak to one another, they talked about books, they talked about Astoria, they talked about things that wouldn't get them in trouble.

Days after the second incidence in the laboratory (Hermione thought it best to stay away from now on, given her history with the room), they were sitting down to lunch. When she first arrived at Grimmauld over two weeks ago, she made it a point to eat her lunch alone, and usually in her room. She didn't want to deal with the teasing or the arguments or the small talk, and more than that, she didn't want to seem like a bother. This was Draco's turf now, as strange as that was; he'd lived at Grimmauld for longer than her, after all, and it was (for the moment) his permanent residence. Even when her parents had been off in Australia, and she'd been Dark Arts study-girl, she had still thought of her childhood house as home. But Malfoy didn't have a childhood home anymore; the Manor was gone, and so were his parents. Astoria was his adopted family, and she lived here, in the ancestral Black home. And technically, this house was just as much Draco's birthright as it was Harry's; Sirius had been Harry's godfather, it was true, but Hermione wasn't sure if the house had really been Sirius' to give away as he pleased. It just wasn't the way with old pureblood families; since Narcissa and Bellatrix were both gone, as was Regulus, it seemed to Hermione that tradition would dictate the house fall to Draco Malfoy, the only living heir of the Black family. There was Andromeda, but as her name had been expunged from the family tree, she could no longer lay claim to the property in traditional pureblood eyes.

And so Hermione had done her best to walk the line of respecting Malfoy's right to live at Grimmauld Place while still keeping her distance from him. While occasionally insulting him to his face.

But sometime after her confrontation with Astoria and Ron (The day after? The one after that?), they'd begun to eat lunch together every day, she and Draco. It was strange, thinking of him as Draco instead of Malfoy. She wasn't sure when that had started either. She'd called him by his first name a few times, but usually relied on Malfoy, or Ferret, or (when she was feeling particularly saucy), Foul, Loathsome, Evil Little Cockroach. But in her head, when she thought about him (which happened more than she'd like to admit, even to herself), he was Draco. Draco, who could be a complete arse at times, but could be perfectly pleasant at others. Draco, who read just as much as she did, which was not an easy feat. Draco, who was an excellent cook, almost as good as Molly. That made sense, since he'd learned quite a bit from the Weasley matriarch. Apparently he'd sequestered himself in the kitchen during his various Burrow visits, as he was not exactly close friends with either Ron or George. Molly had gladly accepted his help and apprenticeship, eager to pass on her love of cooking (especially since all of her children had expressed just how uninterested they were in working in the kitchen). Astoria had told Hermione all of this, of course, and the younger girl was obviously pleased at how Mrs. Weasley and Draco had bonded. "It's just that he didn't grow up with that, you know? Neither did I. Purebloods don't cook for themselves, not really. That's servant work. Draco knew enough to keep himself fed if completely necessary, and he practiced a bit during our time in the cabin, but since he started learning from Molly... well, it's totally different. It's like an art, when he cooks. I think he took to it so easily since he's always been so great at Potions. It comes naturally to him. And Molly... she sees him like a son, just like she sees us all as family. Whether or not Ron or George get on with him, to Mrs. Weasley, he's just as good as blood."

Hermione had witnessed the bond just days before at the Burrow. It had been one of the strangest visits she'd had there, which was saying something. George and Luna weren't able to make it, and Ginny was still stuck in endless practices for her Quidditch team. Ron and Astoria were still keeping their distance from one another, relatively speaking. Molly had fawned over Hermione the entire time, calling her "the little lost lamb," which Hermione sort of really hated. She'd eaten so much she thought she'd pass out. It had felt like it usually did (in some regards) as well as nothing at all like she remembered.

So it was at lunch that Hermione was contemplating the various changes to her world, and how Draco Malfoy fit into it. Draco had noticed her silence, of course, and commented on it.

"Hmmm?" she asked.

"I said, what's got your attention? You look like you're trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe."

She waved him away. "No, nothing like that. Just thinking." (Anyway, she knew the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything. 42.)

"About?"

"Life." She shrugged. "Everything's just different, you know? I mean, one moment I'm at college trying to get through some of the most tedious classes I've ever had the pleasure of taking, and the next, I'm sick with some weird magical ailment. I'm here, and you're here, and Astoria's here, and it's... weird," she said flatly.

He nodded. "Lots of change."

"Yeah. I'm just trying to find the balance, I think. But I haven't seen my parents in weeks, and I feel like I'm missing something. I've been living in the Muggle world for two years, and then suddenly I'm back here. But I'm not doing magic, so it's like I'm still living in my parents' world, just stuck here. There's... I dunno, like a dissonance. I feel like my life is a scale and it's so far from level it's not funny."

"What do you think would even out the scales?"

She bit her lip. "I think I need to visit my folks. Talking on the phone, it's just not enough. I mean, I was away from them all throughout school, but it was always okay, because I knew I would be coming back over holiday. But now... I feel stuck in between two worlds. Like I can be here or there, but I have to choose. I think if I saw them, I'd feel unstuck. Like I was free to move back and forth between the gap." She sighed. "I have no idea why I'm telling you this." Honestly. She'd just opened her mouth and it had all poured out. It was disconcerting.

"Is it that difficult to talk to me?" he asked.

She thought about it for a while. "No, I guess not. It's just strange. I've always thought of you as this complete asshole."

"And now?"

She studied him with a smirk on her face. "Now you're just a partial asshole."

He laughed loudly and clapped his hands. "Oh, that's rich. If it changes anything, I've always thought of you as a stuck-up know-it-all with a stick up her arse."

"And now?"

"Verdict's still out," he said with a gleam in his eye.

"Prat."

He chewed his sandwich thoughtfully. "I bet Astoria would go with you to your parents if you asked her. She'll be home by six; you could go home for dinner."

She considered that, but then shook her head. "I want to go now. I could be back here by dinner. I just think I need to see them. Today."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," he said seriously. "You can't leave on your own. Just wait a few hours, Harry or Story can take you."

"I'm not a child, Malfoy, and I'm not a prisoner here. You can't keep me here against my will." What had just moments ago been a passing desire to leave had now flared to an insistent need. How dare he tell her what to do? She was an adult, perfectly capable of making her own choices. "I'm going. It's been weeks since I've seen them. They'll be worried about me, I just know it. They try not to show it, but I know they're concerned."

"Look, Granger, it's noon on a workday. They won't even be home."

"They will," she insisted. "They have Tuesdays off."

"Well we're still not going."

"You're right," she said. "We're not going. I'm an adult, and I can see my parents if I damn well please." She stood up and ran upstairs to gather a few things. Malfoy followed her, just as she'd expected.

"Come on Granger, stop being such a bloody drama queen. You can wait a few hours. I'm sure Story would love to go with you. You can talk about mascara or whateverthehell you women drone on about."

She turned around and stared at him, a hand on her keys. "I'm sure she would, but like I said, I'm going. Now." She tried to push past him but he took up the doorway and wouldn't budge. "Move, Ferret."

He threw up his hands. "Harry will kill me if I let you go off on your own. I know you're feeling better, but you're still not totally healthy. I won't... he wouldn't want me to risk it."

"Fine, then you'll come with me." She was desperate. She wasn't sure why she was so anxious to see her mum and dad, but she knew if she could just see them, just hug them, she'd feel like herself again. Plus, she wanted to get a few things from her room to bring back with her.

His expression went blank. "I can't."

"And why's that, exactly?"

He busied himself with a loose string on his t-shirt. "I just can't."

"Ugh! You're impossible! You won't let me go on my own but you don't have the decency to go with me. I take back what I said. Complete asshole."

He sighed, exasperated. "Granger, haven't you noticed that I'm around a lot?"

"Yeah, I get it, you're my babysitter." She rolled her eyes.

"Well sort of, yeah, but that's not why I'm always here. There's a reason that Astoria gets the groceries and Neville brings me plants and potion supplies. I sort of haven't left the house in two years."

"That's preposterous. We went to the Burrow last weekend."

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I haven't been anywhere except here and the Burrow in two years." He was embarrassed at the admission, but not as much as he would have expected. It was sort of freeing, actually. He'd just assumed she known. He'd thought one of his many housemates would have told her by now. In fact, he was sort of flabbergasted that she hadn't realized it herself. She was supposed to be sharp.

"Excuse me? There's no way that can be true."

He shrugged. "I was on house arrest for six months, and after that, there was a lot of hostility aimed my way from former Death Eaters and regular witches and wizards alike. I defected, but I had still been part of Voldemort's army. There were very few people willing to give me the time of day, much less their understanding or compassion. I thought it best to lay low for a while, and I just sort of... have been doing that every since."

"So you just don't leave the house."

He nodded. "That's the long and short of it, yeah."

"But why? I mean, it's been years, surely people have found better gossip and other people to hate."

"I suppose it's the same reason you don't use magic." He looked at her seriously. "I'm fucking terrified." It felt good to admit it.

Hermione just blinked, unsure of what to say. He'd raged at her for not using magic, and he hadn't been able to leave the house in two years? And no, the Burrow didn't really count.

"I don't... know how to process that. You just stay here, then. You don't leave." It wasn't a question.

"Nope."

"But that's ridiculous."

"Yep."

"You need to get out of the house, Malfoy."

He nodded. "Probably."

She paced the room, unsure why she was so upset and confused over this piece of information. "So.. are you unable to leave the house other than going to the Burrow?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know. I mean, I've never had a panic attack or anything, so I don't think it's officially agoraphobia. I've read a lot about it; Merlin knows I've had enough time. I just can't seem to think of a good enough reason to risk leaving."

She thought hard for a moment. "Mongolian Beef."

"Umm... what?"

She nodded vigorously. "Mongolian Beef. It's perfect, actually. You're afraid to go out into the magical world, right? So we'll just bypass it. We'll go to my parents' house and we'll get take-away. Mongolian Beef. Have you had it before?" He shook his head. "It's brilliant, absolutely delicious. And there just happens to be the best Chinese restaurant in the world two blocks from my house."

"Granger, I don't know..." He looked uneasy, and Hermione had a sudden rush of compassion for him. He may be a git, but he was still a person, and a half-way decent one at that. "Come on, Draco, you'll be fine. If you want to leave, we'll leave. But you did say that you needed a reason, and this is it. You need to try Mongolian Beef. Ohh, and a white chocolate mocha. Or Irish Cream Mocha. I dunno, maybe both." She snapped her fingers excitedly. "Okay, it's settled. Get your stuff."

"What stuff is that, exactly?"

"I dunno, guy stuff. Don't you have stuff? Keys, wallet, that sort of thing?"

He shook his head. "Don't need keys to Grimmauld, you know that. Don't need a wallet, I don't have Muggle money."

"Alright then. Let's go."

He hesitated. "Look, Granger, even if I do agree to this nonsense... How exactly are we going to get there? I can't Apparate us; I don't have a single bloody idea where you live. And I am NOT going to take Muggle public transportation, you better believe that."

It was Hermione's turn to look uneasy. "Well... I suppose there's always the Floo network. I mean, Harry had my parents' house hooked up to it, didn't he? You don't think he took it off, do you?"

Draco shook his head slowly. "As far as I know, it's still hooked up. But your parents, they can't get through, Granger, they're not..."

"I know," she swallowed deeply, "they aren't magical. But I am. We could use the Floo."

"But that means..."

"I'd have to use magic, yeah." She bit her fingernail subconsciously. "It's not a lot of magic, though. I mean, it's not like I could hurt anyone."

"You don't have to convince me."

"Yeah." She stood still, feeling herself on the edge of the precipice. One wrong step and she'd fall. "Guess today is about facing our demons, eh Malfoy?"

"Guess so," he said, but he didn't sound exactly sure.

But it had been decided. Today was the day that things would change, for the both of them. She looked at the edge and took a step. And she prayed that someone would catch her if she fell.


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Well, I'll try.