Draco had told himself so many times that he would never step foot in Azkaban again, yet here he was standing in front of Lucius's prison cell once more. He was careful to mask his discomfort and apprehension, but could feel his face grow pale at the distant screams of other inmates. He thanked the gods that at least the dementors were gone and unable to make the whole experience that much worse.

"Draco, what a surprise." His father's quiet voice drifted through the small window of his cell door. Lucius had been placed in a new cell without a window to prevent any further contact with the outside world, and Draco was thankful he couldn't see the effects the lack of sunlight surely had on him.

"Lucius," he greeted tersely. "I assume you know why I'm here."

He could hear Lucius scoff. "Did the Potter boy send you to ask me questions?" He sounded almost amused at the idea. "A pathetic attempt at interrogation, to have a son question his father."

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man truly behaved as if nothing had changed over the past few years; as though he wasn't locked in a cell for the rest of his life. Knowing it was best to get straight to the point he asked, "How did you acquire a pixie to use for communication?"

Lucius was quiet for a long moment, most likely startled by Draco's knowledge of the pixie. "I'm afraid that is information I am unable to share."

"What can you tell me?" he asked impatiently, though he immediately regretted it. It was never wise to allow Lucius to lead the conversation.

"You look as though you've seen some sun," Lucius observed with a drawl. "Have you been traveling?"

Draco remained silent. Even if Lucius knew where Draco had been, it wouldn't help to admit to his trip to Ireland.

"Very well, if you decide to remain uncharacteristically silent then I suppose I should take advantage of it. As I told you the last time you came to visit, I am working towards re-establishing the Old Families." Lucius tone of voice was authoritative, commanding Draco to listen as he did when he was a child. He used to admire that. "Unfortunately we will require help from contacts outside of the British families."

"Any death eater contacts you might have had have been arrested by magical law enforcement," Draco interrupted skeptically.

"I didn't say they were death eaters."

Draco waited impatiently for Lucius to continue but sighed quietly when he didn't. "Very well, then how will you get in touch with them if you're in Azkaban."

Lucius finally appeared in the small barred window of his cell door. His long, pale fingers gripped the bars on either side of his emaciated face. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, his lips cracked and pale. A twisted grin was spread across his face and gave him a maniacal look that Draco had never seen before. "That's why I need you, Draco."

He stared in horror at the shadow of a man his father had become. He looked eerily reminiscent of Bellatrix at her worst, an insane glint in his eyes that unsettled Draco so deeply it rendered him speechless.

Oblivious to Draco's fear, Lucius whispered, "We have contacts from Durmstrang that can help us. You have to meet with them for me seeing as I'm indisposed." He chuckled as if Azkaban were merely an inconvenience. "If you go to the school and meet with their Dark Arts professor, he will be able to arrange a meeting for you."

Draco stared blankly at his father for a moment longer before slowly nodding. "Thank you," he said slowly and stepped back from the door. Lucius continued to speak, something about pride and family, but Draco ignored him and swiftly made his way out of the prison. He took a moment outside to steady himself and apparated to his flat.

Of course it would be Durmstrang, he though cynically. Pacing his flat with swift, angry steps Draco mulled over the information. He would have to go on another trip with Potter, that much was certain. Although Potter wouldn't be much help in Durmstrang itself, he would need his political weight. He stopped walking and frowned; he would need to find out who the professor was first as well as any and all information on him. He glanced at the fireplace already dreading the idea of getting Blaise involved but knowing it would be necessary.

He glanced at his watch and frowned again. It was late afternoon which meant Blaise would already be out drinking and mostly useless. Draco decided to table the planning for now and find Blaise in the morning with a hangover potion. He penned Potter a quick owl to arrange a meeting in the morning and then apparated once more, this time to Hermione's flat.

The street looked far different in the daylight. At least, he hoped it was the right street. The last time he had been there was Halloween, and he hadn't been entirely sober.

He wandered down the street, hands shoved in his pockets and tried to push the conversation with his father further into the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about it, not while he was with Hermione. With each step he took, he could feel his inner walls going up and pushing the nagging worry and fear further and further from his mind. By the time he finally reached her flat there was a small smile on his face.

Hermione was genuinely surprised to see Draco on her doorstep. In her defense, his track record for following through on dates was less than stellar. She decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth which is how she ended up curled up on her couch in front of the fire with a glass of wine and her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you for cooking," he said and placed a kiss gently against her hair. "It was delicious."

"You're very welcome." She smiled up at him and hummed when he kissed her forehead. "I'm glad you were able to come over."

"I told you yesterday that I was all yours. I was worried I would have to steal you from work."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not always at work."

"Do you remember in school how everyone said you lived in the library?"

"What do you mean, everyone?" She asked indignantly.

Draco ignored her and went on, "You are in your shop even more than you were in the library."

Hermione set down her wine glass and turned to face him properly. "Excuse me for enjoying what I do."

He smiled at her and patted her knee consolingly. "It's alright, Hermione, you can admit to being a workaholic."

She felt a slight twinge of irritation at him calling her a workaholic - was being hardworking really such a bad thing? - but she pushed it aside and smirked at him. "I prefer dedicated."

"Of course you do."

She snuggled up against him again and gazed into the fire, enjoying the peace of the night. They both let themselves be, no work or family to worry about, just existing with each other on her couch before the fire; they're own little world bathed in flickering firelight and protected from the world.

After a while he felt himself growing tired, felt the world begin to creep back in, and finally said, "It's getting late."

"You could always stay the night?" It sounded more hesitant than she would have liked.

He smiled apologetically at her and stood from the couch. "I wish I could, you have you idea how badly I want to, but I have to meet with Harry first thing in the morning."

She frowned slightly and stood as well. "Is it about your father?"

"Unfortunately." He made to grab his coat but was stopped by her hand on his arm.

"Can you please tell me what's going on?"

He sighed at the pleading look in her eyes; he had hoped to avoid her asking about it altogether. "I can't, Hermione, not yet. I know it isn't fair to keep it from you, but we don't have anything solid yet, and the less people that know about it the better."

She stepped back and wrapped her arms around her waist. "Of course," she said quietly. "That's fine."

"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly. He knew the lack of information was frustrating her, but for her to just give in was unsettling.

She shrugged and gave him a small smile. "I just want to help."

"I know," he said and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. "And I appreciate it. But it's my problem to handle."

She shook her head and sighed quietly in frustration. "I feel as though we should be able to help each other, though. We are dating, aren't we?"

"We are, we absolutely are. I promise I'll explain everything as soon as I'm able." He walked to her flat door and leaned down to kiss her. The kiss was far shorter than he would have liked.

"It's getting late," she said quietly. "You should probably go."

He could almost physically feel her disappointment. It made him feel guilty and want to go back inside and tell her everything, but instead he simply asked, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

Theo prided himself in being the least prying Slytherin to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts, but today he had to make an exception. He glanced down at the note in his hand and winced slightly. He could already predict the explosive repercussions of the news it contained but believed it was a necessary evil that he deliver it. The phrase 'don't hex the messenger' floated through his mind and made him sigh again. Perhaps he should have just sent an owl.

The front door of Virago made his decision for him and opened to reveal Hermione.

"Good morning, Theo," she said enthusiastically. Of course she had to be in a good mood. Now he felt guilty for ruining it.

"Good morning, Hermione." He returned her smile with notably less enthusiasm and followed her into the shop. "I hope I'm not interrupting any appointments."

"Not at all, today is one of my cleaning and paperwork days so I'm appointment free. What brings you by?"

Theo winced and held out the note. "I received this from the Ministry today regarding a future Wizengamot meeting. I thought you should read it before the Prophet gets a hold of it."

Hermione gave him a confused look but took the paper from him and scanned it quickly. He watched as her confusion quickly morphed into rage. "They can't do this!" She shouted indignantly and crumpled the memo in her hand. "They have no legal grounds for such a thing."

Theo shook his head. "Unfortunately that doesn't matter. No one is going to fight them on it, so they can pass it regardless. The fear leftover from the Death Eaters and the War has made it easy for them to pass legislation just like this one." He gestured towards the paper now clutched tightly in her fist. "They're using dark marks to set a precedence that magical tattoos can be used for evil and should therefore be banned altogether. For the betterment of wizarding society of course," he added sarcastically.

Hermione began pacing her office, a growl of frustration building in her chest. "I refuse to stand aside while they do this. The Wizengamot is using this as an excuse to try and gain public favor and look as if they're actually doing something to help the world recover. They're all so afraid of change that they're willing to get rid of anyone and everyone that opposes them." She gave Theo a fierce look and threw the crumpled memo in the fire. "They won't get rid of me so easily."

"What can you do?"

She went back to her desk and sat in her chair, her gaze focused on one of the photos in front of her. Theo remained quiet, knowing it was best not to interrupt her thinking. She tapped her finger tip rhythmically against her bottom lip, a light frown ticking at her eyebrows. To Theo there was something almost regal in her posture; she looked every bit the conflicted queen debating the issues of her kingdom.

Hermione finally looked back up at him with a sharpness in her eyes that reminded him of the power and experience she wielded. He shifted his weight to mask the chill that ran down his spine.

A small smirk worked it's way onto her lips. "I'll show them the error of their ways."

Hermione stared into her third cup of tea.

She had made two others but they had grown cold her in hands, too lost in her thoughts to drink them. It was a waste, but she kept telling herself tea would calm her nerves. She needed to think clearly.

Heaving a sigh, Hermione went into the kitchen to wash her mug. She rubbed her forehead tiredly and realized she'd been frowning for quite a while. Who could blame her, though? The life she had worked so hard to remake was being threatened by the exact same aristocracy that had made her life in the Wizarding World miserable for the very beginning. She had really thought she'd stayed out of their scrutiny.

She made her way back into her bedroom and felt her heart sink a little at the massive amount of law books strewn about the room. She had been at it for two days now and still hadn't found a solution to her troubles. It was overwhelming to say the least. Everything she had worked for, months and months of research, and effort, and dedication would be swept away from her without a second thought from anyone else. She felt just as she had when she'd left after the War: broken, empty, and abandoned.

Ginny and Luna had both stopped by yesterday to help, which meant making sure she was eating, but had agreed to stay at the shop and let her customers know what was going on. Hermione had temporarily closed the store for a few days so she could properly deal with the upcoming legislation battle.

Draco had sent her a few owls as well; he wanted to get lunch, then dinner, then to come over. She had felt guilty turning him down so many times, but he would only distract her.

Her brow creased again at that thought. Was it wrong to call him a distraction? Perhaps not, but she felt guilty thinking he wouldn't help because she knew he would without question. However, her independent spirit screamed at her to handle it herself. She nodded her head back and forth and chewed on her lip in indecision. It was unsettling her that she felt guilty, but she couldn't quite figure out the source. After all, he was the one who kept cancelling their plans and leaving her disappointed and with more questions than answers.

It couldn't just be that she was turning him down because she had done that before, and it wasn't as if they needed to spend every moment together. She squinted at her books. Was it because she didn't want his help? That couldn't be right; while she didn't enjoy asking for help she was certainly capable of it.

She grumbled quietly to herself and grabbed a towel off the back of her door. Maybe a shower would help her think.

Hermione went about her routine to get her shower ready all the while mulling over her growing anxiety. Their relationship had happened quickly, but not too quickly. If it had, her friends would have made sure to tell her, but Ginny and Luna had been nothing but supportive. Sure Miranda had seemed doubtful, but she hadn't raised any serious concerns except for -

She paused, her foot raised to step into the running water.

The secrets.

Her racing thoughts came to a screeching halt. Her slowly building anxiety, the need to handle her problems by herself, the anger that had be slowly building for weeks finally made sense. Like puzzle pieces clicking together to form the dark, looming castle of Azkaban, the rolling green hills of Ireland, and the face of the man who refused to tell her anything about his life. His job, his friends, even his own father were a mystery to her because he couldn't trust her. She had asked so many times, but he had always changed the subject and been so evasive, always preferring to talk about her life but never his.

Her stomach twisted horribly and had her grasping at the wall for something, anything to ground her. How could she have been so stupid? She knew she wasn't ready for dating, knew she wasn't ready to trust someone again, so why had she? Why had she let him in when she had lost so many people already? She let out a quiet moan and quickly stepped into the steaming water. She scrubbed at her face and her neck, squeezing her eyes tight against the heat of the water, the heat of the tears she fought to keep at bay.

She pressed her face against the cool tile and choked back a quiet sob. She had let him in, let him know her, and let him see even glimpses of the girl she kept locked away deep inside. How could she have ever believed he had changed?

She let herself cry, let the ache in her chest open up and swallow her with the steam and the water. Her breathing was ragged and made her throat burn; Each breath ripped from her lungs and left her feeling a little more empty inside. The hopelessness threatened to swallow her whole - hopelessness from the shop, from the Wizengamot, from Draco. She tried desperately to slow her breathing but was left feeling light headed and sank to the shower floor. The water running over her head had a soothing effect and finally lulled her thoughts to a quiet whisper in the back of her head.

She wasn't sure how long she sat in her shower floor, but eventually she found the strength to stand up and dry herself off. She went through her morning routine mindlessly, unaware of how much time passed before she was suddenly standing in her living room dressed for work. She blinked a few times, startled because she didn't quite remember getting dressed, but shook herself out of her thoughts once more. Maybe seeing Ginny and Luna would be good for her.

Hermione took a steadying breath and apparated to her office in Virago. She felt the wards brush her magic, verifying that she was allowed in, and allowed a small smile at the familiar feeling though it faded quickly. Her office was dark and empty. It made her feel just as alone and hollow as she did at home.

She made her way out of her office and into the dark shop. A quick tempus showed that it was still the early hours of the morning; Luna and Ginny wouldn't be in for a while yet. She stood for several moments in the middle of the store and gazed around her. The new Hermione she had worked so hard to build was all around her.

The artwork on the walls, the shop and everything it represented, it was a home she had made for herself. It was a manifestation of all the hard work and change she had gone through since the war, of all the progress she had made towards living her life for herself. Virago was Latin for 'female warrior', something that Jacob had insisted she was and something she was striving to be.

Hermione didn't feel like much of a warrior right now.

She wrapped her sweater tighter around herself and sighed. She had hoped Ginny or Luna would be here, or better yet both. The two women were sure to have sound advice on her inner turmoil and could possibly talk her out of the emotional hole she was crawling into. Making her way behind the counter, she waved her wand to light the shop lights and began flipping through one of her art books - a small part of her hoped for either a distraction or some sort of prophetic solution to her situation.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of knocking on her shop window. Her eyes quickly darted in that direction, and her heart began racing. It was Draco. She swallowed thickly and waved her hand for him to come inside.

She was always so happy to see Draco walk in her store, but today it made her chest ache. He seemed happy today. She supposed things were going well with work, but she didn't really know. She was startled to realize she knew next to nothing about his work. Did she really know this man at all?

He was speaking, she could see him lips moving as he made his way over to the counter, but the static in her ears made it impossible for her to hear him. The fear of the conversation to come rendered her immobile and mute.

She finally heard him when he got to the counter and realized he was talking about another date. He grabbed her date book, and she was finally able to find her voice. Had she forgotten how to breath? Was that why her chest ached?

"We can get dinner tomorrow, if you'd like." He wasn't looking at her but absent-mindedly flipping through her date book.

Hermione swallowed thickly and tried to calm her thundering heartbeat. "Draco," she said quietly. "I don't think we can."

Draco nodded, not hearing the melancholic tone of her voice. "You're right, we have too much on our plate right now. Maybe next week we can -"

"Draco."

He looked up at her and stilled. Her eyes were glittering with unshed tears.

"I... We can't..." her voice caught as she choked back her tears. She needed to say this. If she didn't say it now, she didn't think she ever could.

Draco stepped carefully towards her and gently placed his hands on her arms. "Hermione," his voice came out so softly it was almost a whisper. "What's wrong?"

The caring tone of his voice made her hurt even more. She wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and forget she had ever had any doubts, but the pain couldn't erase the conclusions she had come to the night before. She closed her eyes, took a steadying breath, and stepped back from him. His arms fell loosely to his sides, a sense of dread beginning to settle in his gut.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I've tried so hard to make this work, to make us work, but..." Hermione could feel her throat constricting from the effort to hold back her tears. "I think we missed our chance."

"Hermione." Draco started shaking his head to try and stop her.

"Our lives are too different now, Draco. They're going in completely different directions."

"They don't have to," he said quickly. His mind was reeling with every word she said. The dread in his stomach expanded and filled his lungs. He couldn't breath, his hands were shaking. This couldn't be happening.

She shook her head and looked past him, unable to meet his eyes. "But they are. Maybe when we were younger this could've worked. Maybe if we weren't who we are, or if we had simpler lives, but we don't. We've tried, Draco, but there's been a new obstacle at every turn."

"And we've overcome them."

Hermione my his gaze and immediately wished she hadn't. The look in his eyes, the hurt and betrayal, it was too much. She could feel her heart breaking. Those silver eyes that had looked on her with so much affection, admiration, and maybe even love were now clouded with a pain that made her ache to reach out and touch him. A pain she was causing.

"Have we, though? There's too much in the distance between us and too much we can't communicate about. So many responsibilities take up our time, and it isn't fair to either of us to constantly put our relationship on hold," she said firmly, as if to convince herself as much as him. "Your father, my work, the entire investigation. We have to prioritize, and if everything else is constantly being placed first? It's not fair to keep hitting pause, to keep putting off dates and - and fighting to find time together. We've worked too hard to get to where we are, and if being together is going to cause us to backslide or - or miss opportunities..." Hermione ran her fingers restlessly through her hair and squeezed her eyes shut. "It might be best if we just..." her voice trailed off at a whisper. She couldn't even say it. Saying it would fully break her heart. Saying it would speak into existence what she'd been fighting against.

"Please, Hermione," his sounded so broken, so defeated. His heart was beating so loudly in his ears he could barely hear himself speak. "Please don't do this."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered. Her tears flowed freely down her cheeks and blurred her vision. "But I've fought so hard." She begged him with her eyes to understand, to see how much it pained her to say it. "I can't give up everything I've done, everything I've fought for, no matter how much I love you. I can't force you to choose between me and your family, it wouldn't -"

"So what?" he asked angrily. "So you just take that choice from me altogether?" He swiped angrily at his eyes to get rid of the tears blurring his vision. "Or you just make that choice for me?"

"No," she shook her head emphatically. "No, I'm making the choice so you don't have to."

Draco stared at her in disbelief. She had already made her mind up, he could tell. At some point she had decided that there was a need to choose between her job and him, and she had chosen. Hermione hadn't chosen him. He felt a shard of ice stab into his heart and swiftly spread through his body. Hermione didn't want him.

She saw the change almost immediately. His face slackened with a look of shock before it hardened. His eyes sparked with anger before they faded to a dull, emotionless grey. Her heart cried out as she watched him close himself off from her. She watched him straighten his shoulders, erase any expression from his face, and revert back to a cold demeanor she hadn't seen in so long. Hermione watched as she lost Draco completely, and she could feel her heart shatter.

"Very well," he said coldly. "Good luck with your business, Miss Granger." There was a soft 'pop', and he was gone.

Hermione fell to her knees, sobs wracking her body as she felt the gravity of what she had done. The weight of losing another person after so much loss already was too much and the levee broke. She tried to remind herself that it was the right choice. The right decision. It was, wasn't it?

AN: Don't throw your rocks yet!

I promise this isn't the end! Not even close, I have SO MUCH planned for this story guys. But Hermione and Draco have a bit of growing and work to do to get where they need to be.

And I'm sorry for the small break between chapters! Unfortunately for my writing, my job is still open during all this quarantine madness so I haven't had much time to write. But I made this one a little longer to make up for it! As always, please leave a review! Even if it's just an emoji or a sup, I love hearing from you guys whether it's compliments or constructive criticism. I also wrote this on like three hours of sleep and it's 1AM so it may need some help. Love to you all!