8.1

A Rude Awakening

Early Saturday morning, Draco was awoken by a sucker-punch to the face.

"Bloody hell," he spluttered as he sat up, grasping at his nose. He could feel a warm wetness running over his hand. Was that blood? Was he bleeding? The room was dark, but he could just make out a figure looming over him. Pushing back toward his headboard, he reached with his free hand for his wand on the nightstand, only to realize that it was missing. Panic now rapidly rising in him, he did the first thing he could think of – he called for the help: "Spindle!"

He heard the faint *pop* of the house elf apparating and felt her appear next to him by the slight weight shift on the bed.

"Spindle is here, Mister Draco."

"Lights!" The wizard spat, which prompted the house-elf to huff and begin to protest.

"Spindle is not to be . . ."

"Lights, please, Spindle."

The now-delighted house-elf snapped her fingers. The room instantly brightened.

And Draco looked up to find a royally pissed off Ronald Weasley staring down at him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Halfway across London, a low buzzing filled a newly furnished bedroom. Harry opened one eye to take in a faint golden glow emanating from an amulet resting on his bedside table. Red would mean Malfoy tried to leave Grimmauld Place. Gold meant that someone without prior authorization had entered the premises.

Glancing over, he saw that the clock on the bedside table read 6:22 am.

The savior of the wizarding world growled and rolled out of bed. If Malfoy was having unauthorized guests before 7 am on a Saturday morning, Harry was going to eviscerate him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At her house in Southern London, Andromeda Tonks was in the process of feeding Teddy his breakfast oatmeal when her own amulet began to hum and glow. She waved a hand, causing both effects on her amulet to cease, before picking up the spoon and turning to her grandson.

"I'm sure whatever it is can wait until you have a full tummy, right?" She asked the currently purple-haired boy with a smirk.

Teddy just clapped his hands and squealed in response.

Yes, she was sure that her nephew would be fine for a little while longer.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco, on the other hand, wasn't so sure.

He was currently staring down a very angry Weasley, who still had one hand clenched in a fist while the other held tightly to Draco's wand – so tightly that the Malfoy heir was rather worried that it would break at any moment.

As intimidating a picture as the redhead was painting, though, that did not stop Draco's own indignation from flaring up.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at, Weasley?" He spat, while trying to stem a steady flow of blood from his nose with one hand. Spindle, in an attempt to help, summoned a box of tissues and began handing them to him one by one.

"Where is she?" the other wizard demanded.

Draco balled up several tissues and held them up to his nose. "What? Who?" He asked while waving off the house-elf, who was trying to cram more tissues in his hand.

Spindle paused and then tilted her head, as if listening to something. She disappeared with a *pop*, not that the two wizards noticed.

"Hermione," Weasley clarified before clenching his teeth. "Where is she?"

"How would I know where your girlfriend is, you big oaf?" Draco sneered as best he could with a bunch of bloody tissues lodged under his nose, "Maybe she finally wised up and left you."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, though, because the "big oaf" surged forward and grabbed the blond by the shirt front before raising the wand still clutched in his other hand.

Great. I'm going to die from the effects of one of Weasley's half-baked spells.

"Expelliarmus!" Rang out suddenly. Draco's wand shot out of Weasley's hand and soared across the room into the outstretched hand of one Harry Potter. At his heels stood Spindle, who had apparently apparated downstairs and then followed her master up.

Ah, so the golden boy finally deigns to show up. Draco thought.

"Ron, let him go" Potter said, taking a few steps forward.

Weasley shook his head. "Not until he tells me where Hermione is."

Draco watched as a confused expression overtook Potter's features. The raven-haired boy tried again. "Mate, what—"

"I know that he knows where she is." Weasley said, as the Malfoy heir felt his attacker's grip on his shirt tighten.

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" All eyes turned to Andromeda, who swept into the room with Teddy on her hip.

"That's what I would like to know." Draco said in exasperation. He was rapidly growing tired of being manhandled, especially without knowing why (and especially so early in the morning).

Teddy, meanwhile, took one look at the slytherin's bloody face and burst into wailing tears.

"Oy," Potter said as he stepped forward and took the child from his grandmother's arms, "Don't you mind him, little one. Malfoy has a scary face even on his good days."

"I heard that." Draco grumbled.

Now child-free, Andromeda stepped forward. "Ronald, release my nephew at once."

The redhead half-turned turned toward the woman, uncertainty in his eyes. "But . . . He . . . Hermione." He protested, albeit still with a bit of a growl.

"We will get to the bottom of this." Andromeda said with finality as she crossed her arms over her chest. "But I believe we can do so without any more bloodshed. Release him."

Draco looked up at his attacker. The other boy still hesitated to let go of his shirt. Weasley wasn't looking at him, but instead was staring down at the bed's quilt, a look of conflict on his face. If I didn't know any better, I would say he was deep in thought. Too bad he only has the intellectual depth of a teaspoon. The blond was just about to make a sneering comment voicing his thoughts when Potter spoke up.

"Do it, Ron. Let him go." The raven-haired boy said as he bounced his godson in his arms. Teddy had stopped crying and was now attempting to snatch Potter's glasses off of his face.

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the other boy finally released him and retreated a few paces. He noticed that the redhead was still glaring at him, though.

"Now, what –" Andromeda began, but Weasley cut her off.

"Hermione didn't come home last night." He practically yelled. "She was with them." He jerked his head toward Draco, who was now thoroughly confused.

What did Granger's apparent disappearance have to do with him? And who was the "them" that seemed to include himself? Him and the house-elves?

Apparently, everyone else in the room was also confused because there was suddenly an onslaught of questions.

"Hermione didn't come home?" Potter echoed.

"What do you mean? Where was she?" Andromeda asked.

"With them!" Weasley said, pointing at the blond in front of him.

Draco, now both confused and irritated, slapped at the hand pointing at him. "Granger wasn't bloody here yesterday, you ogre! What are you on about?"

"Yes, Ron, what do you mean?" Andromeda spoke up, her expression pensive.

Before Weasley could answer, though, Potter spoke up. " Hermione went to the Manor yesterday."

Both Draco and his aunt turned to look at the raven-haired boy.

"Malfoy Manor?" Andromeda raised an eyebrow.

Potter gave a single nod as he handed Teddy off to Spindle, instructing her to take him down to the drawing room.

Draco's eyebrows also lifted in surprise as a multitude of questions raced through his mind. The Manor? What was Granger doing there? Were his parents behind this? Why was he just now finding out about this?

"What was Granger doing at the Manor?" He demanded, settling on the most pertinent question for that moment.

Potter's eyes now held a degree of unease. "She was invited to tea, but that was early yesterday afternoon." The raven-haired boy turned his head slightly, so that he was looking directly at Weasley. "What do you mean she didn't return? Why didn't you owl me last night?"

The redhead, Draco noticed, was now blushing slightly and seemed to be actively trying to avoid the gazes of the room's other three occupants.

" - was out late. When I got home, I just crashed." The boy swallowed. "Didn't realize Hermione wasn't there until I woke up an hour or so ago."

"Where were you, Ron?" The Golden Boy's question was clipped, sharp.

"It was nothing. Just out for a few drinks with some blokes." Weasley turned and looked at his friend. He swallowed. "They wanted me to tell them about the battle against You-Know-Who"

"Blokes?" Potter repeated the word as his eyes narrowed. "So, you were out getting plastered again at the pub while telling glorified stories? Merlin, mate, what is that, the third time this week?"

"Unbelievable," Andromeda muttered, rolling her eyes to the ceiling.

Draco, meanwhile, was watching the entire scene play out from behind his wad of bloody tissues with piqued interest. It wasn't every day that he saw members of the golden trio go at each other, and watching Weasley squirm under Potter's disapproving stare was almost . . . dare he think it? . . . fun.

His musings were interrupted by his aunt. "Did you hear from your parents yesterday?" She asked, turning the attention of everyone in the room to him.

"No," he replied, irritated by the question. "We aren't exactly on the best of terms." His tone was biting, almost challenging.

Draco left unsaid that it was, after all, partially her fault that he was no longer on good terms with his parents. He chose not to dwell on his own part in creating his family discord.

Andromeda clucked her tongue in disapproval at his tone and had just opened her mouth to retort when another voice spoke.

"What is going on here?"

Every eye in the room turned to find Hermione Granger standing in the doorway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione wasn't sure what to think. She had awoken not long before at her childhood home to her own amulet (which she kept tied around her neck) in full alarm mode and had rushed to Grimmauld place. Once she arrived, she had passed by Teddy, who was delightfully whacking a rattle on Spindle's head in the doorway to the drawing room and made her way upstairs, only to be greeted by the scene of an abashed Ron, an irritated Harry, and a bloodied Malfoy and stern Andromeda ready to dive into another spat with each other. And it wasn't even 7:15 in the morning.

"What is going on here?" She repeated, stepping into the room.

All of them just looked at her. And then they all began speaking at once.

"Hermione, where have you been?"

" 'Mione, thank Merlin you're safe."

"Bloody hell, Granger, what took you so long?"

They were all cut off by a commanding "Quiet!" from Andromeda, who currently stood at the center of the room. "Harry, dear." She delegated, "Could you please fill Hermione in on this morning's activities."

"Er, right." Harry said, running a hand over the back of his neck. "Ron woke up this morning and didn't know where you were, Hermione. So, he figured something may have happened to you at the Manor, and that Malfoy might have something to do with it."

"Of all the –" Of course Ron would jump to the worst possible conclusion where the Malfoys were concerned. "I went to my parents' house. I was reminiscing and I guess I fell asleep." She said, as she looked away absentmindedly. Images of the photographs from the night before flashed through her mind. "I didn't mean to sleep so long. I suppose I was tired."

Hermione looked up. She watched as Andromeda let out a breath of relief. Malfoy, on the other hand, was observing her with barely narrowed eyes, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind. Harry, like Andromeda, looked relieved, but Hermione knew from his expression that he had several questions on the tip of his tongue. Ron, however, beat him to it.

"Your parents' house!? What'd you go there for?" He asked, rounding the bed and approaching her. "I've been worried sick, Hermione! Why didn't you come home?"

Hermione stared at her boyfriend, irritated. She could see Harry's expression in her peripheral vision, and he seemed to be sporting a look that matched her own.

When she spoke, her voice was cutting. "Really, Ron, some of us have other memories we would like to relive beyond just the so-called glory of taking down Voldemort." She saw Malfoy flinch at the name of the dark wizard, but her attention remained trained on her boyfriend. Oh yes, it had not escaped her that Ron had only realized she was missing this very morning, and it wasn't a hard leap from there to figure out what exactly he had been doing the night before. It would not have been the first night in recent weeks that he had returned drunk from the pub and fell straight to sleep. And she hated to admit it to herself, but that realization hurt. If the Malfoys had actually done anything to me, she thought, they could have disposed of my body and eviscerated all evidence by now.

"What do you mean by that?" There was pain behind Ron's eyes as he spoke, but Hermione was not in the mood to placate his wounded ego.

"Ronald, go home."

"Hermione, what?"

"Go home – please," She struggled to keep the emotion out of her voice, but her boyfriend's behavior coupled with her ordeal at the Manor yesterday ensured that her efforts were not entirely successfully.

The young witch watched as Ron turned briefly to Harry and Andromeda for help. Finding sympathetic glances but no encouragement to stay, he sighed and pushed past her, slowly making his way out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Merlin, he looks like one of my father's hounds after it has been scolded for tracking mud inside the Manor. Draco thought as he watched the dejected redhead leave the room. Although, my father's hounds are probably more intelligent.

"And what, pray tell, is so amusing?" His aunt broke into his thoughts as she sat on the bed in front of him.

"Nothing." He said quickly, wiping the smirk he hadn't realized he had been sporting off his face. "Just thinking about my father's hounds."

Andromeda narrowed her eyes slightly. "I see." She pursed her lips in that disapproving manner she always had when she looked at him. "Tilt your head back. It won't do to get blood on the quilt."

Draco did as instructed, remembering this process from the time that he had glided into a tree on his practice broom at age 7 and the family healer had tended to his bloody nose. As his aunt worked, he eyed the figures of Potter and Granger, who were huddled on the other side of the room, talking quietly with each other. He strained to hear them, and could only make out fragments of their conversation. He heard when Potter asked if she was alright, and Granger seemed to answer in the affirmative, although the raven-haired boy's face still showed considerable concern and something about the young woman's eyes betrayed the mask she was wearing. The Malfoy heir frowned in confusion. What is the matter with you, Granger? He asked himself. Are my parents to blame for this? Or is it Weasley's doing?

"Something caught your attention, Draco?" His aunt asked, pulling him sharply from his musings.

His frown deepened. "No."

"Hm." Andromeda hummed, but didn't say anything more on the matter. She gently tilted his head back down and surveyed her work. "There. Do you want a bruise-relieving potion? You'll be sore for a while without it. Unfortunately, I'm only so gifted at the art of healing."

Draco reached up and tenderly felt his nose. It ached a little, but otherwise felt fine. "I'll be alright." He said. After a moment, he added, "Thank you."

"You are welcome." His aunt said as he started rolling one of the stray threads from his blanket beneath his fingers. He could feel her eyes on him and knew she was still waiting on an apology from him, but he wasn't ready to offer one up just yet.

Andromeda sighed. "Well, you definitely inherited that stubborn streak from our side of the family." She reached out and tucked a stray tress behind his ear, and her touch was delicate, like that of his mother.

He peered up at her from under his fringe. "Father isn't exactly known for being amenable either."

"No, I suppose he isn't." She admitted. She observed him for a long moment. "Do you aspire to be like your father, Draco?"

"Doesn't every boy aspire to be like his father?" He asked, a hint of bitterness lacing his words. He glanced quickly over at the pair still speaking softly on the other side of the room. They seemed deep in conversation and were paying no attention to him and Andromeda. Good. He wasn't sure he wanted this discussion overheard.

"Perhaps." Andromeda said, drawing his full attention back to her. "And yet, you are no longer a boy." She raised one eyebrow. "Or are you?".

With that, she stood and glided around the bed toward Potter and Granger.

Draco, for his part, watched her move away from him with an expression carefully schooled not to display any of the perplexity that her last statement had caused in him. Just last year at this time, he would have insisted that he was no longer a boy. He had taken the mark, after all. He had done what was necessary to protect his family. Now, though, in the wake of the war's end and his trial before the Wizengamot, he wasn't so quick to make that assertion. He certainly could no longer claim the innocence of childhood, but he still felt so incredibly young and out-of-place in his parents' world.

The Malfoy heir was pulled from his musings, though, by the appearance of a tawny owl - one that he recognized as a standard Ministry bird. The owl swooped in and landed on top of Draco's armoire, dropping the letter it carried into his aunt's outstretched hand. He watched as Andromeda cracked the seal and read the writing within.

"I must report to the Ministry at once about this incident." She said, casting her eyes on Draco for the briefest moment before turning to address Potter. "I trust I can leave Teddy in your care until I am finished?"

The raven-haired boy nodded, and for a moment Draco felt a pang of jealousy. Or was it envy? He quickly buried the emotion. He was used to people being jealous and envious of him - not the other way around - and he didn't much like this feeling.

A moment later, Granger had made her own excuses for leaving, and Potter was mumbling something about taking Teddy home as the two of them made their way out into the hall. Draco stood and sauntered over to the desk, on top of which Potter had deposited his wand. He retrieved the instrument and heard their footsteps on the stairs as he made his way back to the bed. Pointing the wand at his bedroom door, he muttered a closing spell before collapsing on his mattress.

For the first time that morning, he found himself alone with his thoughts.

Was he jealous of Potter?

Was he still really just a boy?

What about Granger? Had something happened to her at the Manor?

And why did he care if something had happened to Granger?

Suddenly, he wished he wasn't alone. Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way downstairs. Maybe Spindle's incessant prattle would distract him from his thoughts.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione, after the eventful start of her day, found herself relaxing Saturday afternoon. That is, if one found reading an advanced arithmancy textbook in preparation for the coming school year relaxing – which Hermione absolutely did. She had spent the morning with Ron, who had been thoroughly abashed by his actions since the day before and had sought to make it up to her by cooking her breakfast. Ron wasn't the best cook, and the eggs and toast were both slightly burnt, but Hermione hadn't cared. His flaws made him, well, Ron, and at that moment, she had just been happy to be there with him – away from the ordeal at the Manor the previous day and away from her troubled musings on her parents' whereabouts. After breakfast, they had cuddled together on the sofa and been entertained by Crookshanks' and Pigwidgeon's hijinks before Ron had received a Patronus from Harry reminding him about Auror training.

Ron had left, muttering about picking something up to eat along the way (all while stuffing some biscuits in his mouth), and Hermione had set about tidying up the flat and then fixing herself some lunch. After eating, she had collapsed in her favorite armchair, delving into the arithmancy textbook while systematically taking notes and periodically sipping at her cup of tea.

She had been at it for a little over an hour when she heard tapping at the window. She looked over to find not one, but two owls perched there. One was a majestic eagle owl, while the other was smaller and grey with white speckles dotting its feathers. Vanishing her arithmancy work into a tidy pile on the coffee table, Hermione stood and opened the window. The smaller, grey owl fluttered in and dropped its letter into her outstretched hand before landing on the back of the armchair. The eagle owl, on the other hand, flapped twice and then soared straight to the desk on the far side of the room, where it deposited the letter it carried before landing with a little hop on the desktop. Crookshanks, who had been napping on the sofa while Hermione worked, opened a lazy eye to take in the owls, but was apparently too invested in his catnap to get up. From the mantle, Pigwidgeon hooted excitedly, but he did not make an attempt to approach the other birds.

Hermione crossed to the desk and opened the top drawer, fishing out two owl treats from the little box inside. She fed one to the eagle owl, which bowed its head once before taking flight back out the window.

Picking up the letter on the desktop, her eyes took in the neat scrawl on the front: Ms. Hermione Granger. Curious, she turned the letter over, only to be greeted by the sight of a wax seal with the Malfoy crest pressed into it. The handwriting did not match Narcissa's, and she did not believe Draco had access to the family seal, so that left just one possible author: Lucius Malfoy.

Sighing, and not quite ready to open Mr. Malfoy's letter yet, the young witch crossed to the armchair. She fed the grey owl the other treat, and it gave an appreciative hoot before exiting. The other letter bore the Hogwarts seal, and this one she broke open eagerly.

Inside, she found the updated book and supply list for 7th year. She scanned the items. Most of them were the same from the previous year's list that she had borrowed earlier in the summer from Parvati Patil, however, the materials for Defense Against the Dark Arts were entirely different, and she would also need a new Ancient Runes textbook.

Eyeing the clock on the mantle and confirming it was mid-afternoon (and so she had missed the lunch crowd), the young witch summoned her wallet and tote bag from her bedroom. She tucked the supply list and unopened letter inside the tote, and then - after giving Crookshanks a quick pat on the head – she departed via the floo for Diagon Alley.

The moment her feet hit the cobblestones of the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace, Hermione cast an augmented disillusionment charm on herself to make herself less noticeable to the shoppers and diners around her. As she made her way out of the pub and down Diagon Alley, she was pleased to see that there were relatively few people out shopping that day. A couple of children were gathered outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, eyeing the newest broom on display. Further down the street, a couple walked past Eeylops Owl Emporium, where several tawny and snowy owls hooted in the picture window.

As she neared Flourish and Blott's, though, the young witch was surprised to find Narcissa Malfoy standing several doors down, talking with an older witch Hermione did not recognize right outside of Madame Malkin's Robe shop.

Grateful for the partial concealment the augmented disillusionment charm provided, Hermione slipped inside the bookstore. As she entered, though, she almost ran headfirst into a midnight purple-robed wizard who was carrying a stack full of books.

"Oh, do excuse me, I didn't see you there," He said, before slipping past her and into the street. She watched for a moment as he looked toward the two women still conversing in front of the dress shop before making his way to a door on the far side, which Hermione assumed went to the lofts above the shops.

Shaking her head to get her mind back to her task, Hermione made her way to the upstairs area of the shop – where the 7th year textbooks were kept – and found what she needed. Returning back downstairs, the young witch approached the counter, and, after waiting a moment, cleared her throat. The clerk, who was standing right in front of her, jumped.

"Oh, I'm sorry Ms. Granger. I didn't see you there!" He said. "Gearing up for the new school year, eh?" He commented as he looked over her selections.

Hermione smiled and offered a soft "Yes, indeed," in response.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?"

She was about to shake her head no when a thought struck her. She closed her eyes and silently cursed to herself. "Better make it two of each," she said, which earned her a curious look from the shopkeeper.

It appeared that no matter how much she wanted to avoid the Malfoys today, that wouldn't be entirely possible.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Draco was busy working in the potions lab when he was alerted by Spindle that Granger had arrived and wanted to speak with him.

The lab was a bit rudimentary for his taste – cramped and ill-lit - but then again, not many modern wizard houses had potions labs nowadays, and he figured he should count himself lucky considering that he would likely need it to finish his advanced potions coursework for seventh year. He had received a letter from McGonagall shortly after Granger's meeting with her informing him that he would be allowed to complete his studies from Grimmauld place, and he wasn't about to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth.

Curious as to what Granger could possibly need with him after their debacle of a morning, the Malfoy heir politely instructed the house-elf to escort her down to the lab. He hadn't spent most of his morning and early afternoon working on this potion only for it to be derailed by the Gryffindor's sudden appearance.

A couple of minutes later, Granger poked her head into the small space. Draco glanced up and saw her eyes widen when she spotted the potion he had been working on.

"You're brewing something!?" She said, coming further into the closet of a room.

He quirked an irritated eyebrow at her as he picked up the ladle and began stirring the bubbling purple mixture before him. "What did you expect me to be doing in a potions lab? Writing poetry?

"No." She said, laying her tote bag down on the workbench and moving a bit closer. "I just didn't expect to find you doing schoolwork. Is that Dreamless Sleep?"

Draco nodded in response to her question, then, after a moment, looked up at her. "Can you honestly tell me, Granger, that you haven't already started your schoolwork for next term?"

The young witch blushed slightly at the inquiry. "Just a bit of Arithmancy," She admitted.

"Hm. And I'm guessing by 'a bit' you mean three-fourths of the textbook?" The Slytherin asked pointedly, gazing up at her from under his platinum-blond fringe.

The Gryffindor gave an irritated huff. "Only the first five chapters." She replied as she peered down at the potion he was stirring.

Draco gave a small smirk, but it was quickly replaced by a scowl when Granger suddenly pushed him out of the way and began stirring the mixture herself.

"You're stirring too slowly," she said as an explanation for her actions.

"I was stirring it just fine." He nearly growled in irritation, but he made no move to take the ladle back. Instead, he leaned his hip against the workbench and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her work. "What are you doing here, Granger? I take it you didn't come to oversee my potion-making skills?"

He watched as the young woman paused to add a sprinkle of powdered asphodel petals to the potion. "I came to bring you the new textbooks for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes." She said as she reached over and grabbed a bottle labeled 'Essence of Nettle'. "They're in my tote."

Looking over his shoulder, Draco spotted the bag on the workbench behind him. He turned and slid his hand inside, pulling out a copy of each of the textbooks she had mentioned. As he shuffled the books in his hands to read over the titles, something fell at his feet – and that something looked curiously like a letter.

Placing the textbooks down on the workbench, he reached down and snapped up the envelope, only to have his eyes open wide when he took in the Malfoy crest on the back and then his father's neat scrawl on the front.

Why is Father writing to Hermione Granger?

In his peripheral vision, he saw the young witch drop the ladle and begin moving toward him. "Malfoy, wait." She said as she reached for the envelope in his hand. Sensing her actions, he held the letter up over his head, clearly out of her reach.

"That's my personal property. Give it back." She demanded, holding out her hand.

"What happened yesterday at the Manor?" He said, issuing his own demand.

"Nothing."

"If it was nothing, Granger, my father wouldn't be writing to you. So. What. Happened?" He overenunciated every syllable of the final three words, a tactic he supposed he had picked up from Snape.

"Oh for Merlin's sake. Nothing happened." She insisted, rolling her eyes.

He met her scowl with one of his own. "I don't believe that."

"Believe what you –" The Gryffindor began, only to cut off as a distinct sound of bubbling filled the room. She turned quickly to the cauldron behind her, and Draco's gaze followed hers. One look told him that the bubbling mixture was mere seconds from exploding.

He reached for his wand at the same time that Granger reached for hers, and at that moment the potion exploded, dousing them both with a hearty dose of the mixture.

Draco's eyes began to glaze as he saw Granger fall to the floor, and a moment later he crashed down beside her, falling into a deep slumber himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione's eyelids felt heavy. In fact, her entire body felt leaden, like she was being weighed down to – wait, where was she again? She could feel a stony coolness under her cheek, and a faint glow of lantern-light danced through her eyelids. Opening her eyes, she first took in the stone floor on which she appeared to have been sleeping. Her gaze travelled upward, to the cauldron that still displayed the vestiges of the exploded potion and then to the workbench beside it, finally settling on the distinct form of Draco Malfoy. He was staring down at her as he leaned against the bench, arms crossed. Well, "staring" wasn't quite the right word – "glowering" would likely be the more apt term. In his right hand he held the letter – the clearly opened letter - from Lucius Malfoy.

"Malfoy," Hermione began as she slowly got on her feet, intent on reprimanding him for opening her mail. But her tongue felt heavy in her mouth.

He cut her off. "We need to talk." He pushed past her and made his way toward the door. He paused in the entryway. "Now."

She followed, her body still feeling like it was filled with lead weights, though her drowsiness was quickly being overtaken by an irritation that began to fuel her movements. She was annoyed by the fact that Malfoy had awoken before her – although she supposed his size compared to hers and his further distance from the cauldron had something to do with that – and she was aggravated that he had taken it upon himself to open her letter.

She was also downright irritated that this was the second time in roughly 24 hours that she had awoken from an involuntary state of unconsciousness, both times in the presence of a Malfoy.

He led her into the drawing room and then waved his wand once, causing the door to snap shut behind them. He rounded on her, and they stared at each other for a long moment.

Hermione, for her part, was impatiently waiting for the wizard in front of her to get on with whatever it was he had brought her up here to discuss, while Malfoy had that same face he had pulled that morning – as if she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

The blond glanced down at the letter still held in his hand and then back up at her. "Do you have any idea what this letter contains, Granger?"

Yes, Malfoy, I've developed a technique that allows me to read letters without opening them - the snarky response leapt to her lips, but she bit her tongue at the serious look that had overtaken his visage.

"I would guess some veiled threats warning me never to return to the Manor and some politely-worded jabs at muggle-borns," She said.

To her surprise, Malfoy snorted, amusement clear on his face. "Yes, I expected the same when I opened it." He licked his lips, his expression turning somber once more.

"My father is a proud man, Granger. I can count on one hand the number of times I have heard him apologize in my life, and most of those occurred while he was groveling at the Dark Lord's feet."

Hermione did not miss the bitterness that had crept into the young wizard's tone when he mentioned Voldemort.

"And yet here," He continued, cocking his head to the side as he held up the letter, "I find him not only apologizing to you – a muggle-born – for some unnamed action, but also offering reparations." He stressed the final two words as he tossed the letter down onto the coffee table next to him. He turned and settled himself on one of the sofas while Hermione reached forward and picked up the letter, quickly perusing the contents for herself. Finding everything that Malfoy had said to be true, she looked up at him.

"Tell me what happened at the Manor yesterday." He said, and for once, it didn't sound like a demand.

"Why do you care?" Hermione thought she saw a glimpse of a blush rise on his face, but a moment later it was gone.

"I'm bored." He said, gesturing to the space around them, as if his answer should have been obvious. "And what happened at the Manor involves my family, so I would like to know."

The witch sighed. She supposed there was no real harm in telling him. "Fine. But it was really nothing."

She saw a small smirk rise on Malfoy's lips.

"I'll be the judge of that."