Narcissa settled into her new room quite happily. It was the room she grew up in, in the Ancestral House of Blacks.

Upon arriving to the house, she promptly retired to her bedroom and cleaned up. She could not remember the last time she had the privilege of a hot shower.

Her living standards have really lowered.

"C'est la vie," she muttered to herself before she walked in to the bathroom.

Blaise was having a similar time settling in. Ron had been polite if not a little distant. He tried to make small talk with the man who he remembered being boyish and fun. All he got was polite one word replied.

Not that he particularly cared at the moment. All he wanted was a nice long bath.

"You've got any bubbles?" Blaise asked humorously. He already knew the answer. "It's alright. I can settle."

Ron nodded and walked away. Taking this as his cue, Blaise began to strip and turn on the taps. Just the smell of clean water, which he had never thought had a smell, was a small bliss for him.

He closed his eyes and sighed happily. Things were going to turn back up again, he could just feel it.

His eyes opened when he felt something soft and warm being shoved at him. Ron appeared before him with a towel and a few articles of clothing.

The redhead's gaze seemed to be even more distant than usual. Except his cheeks were tinged pink. Understanding dawned on Blaise and he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry about the… I was just about to jump in," Blaise explained.

"Yeah," Ron all but gulped but pushed she towel further into his arm and promptly turned around and slammed the door behind hm.

"Interesting fellow," Blaise spoke to himself.

As he soaked in the tub his mind wandered. He couldn't believe his luck, to be saved from that hellhole. By Ron Weasley. How… peculiar. He wondered if the redhead knew about his preferences. For men that is. He figured he should probably tell the man sometimes soon, but at a good time. He didn't want to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

Soon, his thoughts wandered into more enjoyable domains of shopping centers and rows and rows of beauty products.

It would be futile to hope that Draco Malfoy settled into the home of Hermione Granger peacefully. After all, the man seemed to live to infuriate her. Perhaps he'd still not forgiven her for the act of physical violence in third year, but she stands by the fact that he deserved it.

He was unreasonable and irritable. When Hermione tried to explain to him how the shower in his bathroom worked her shooed her out with, "Blood hell Granger, leave me be!"

Then minutes later he could be heard screaming, "This shower is cursed! Where is the warm water?!"

He would have known to turn the tap left and push down for warm water. But he never let her finish explaining. Instead he walked around the house, dragging his dirty and worn boots across her floor and walked straight into her bathroom. Which according to him, had a nice sink.

Hermione went to the kitchen to make something light for supper. Tomato soup and chicken salad. Nothing to heavy, since she didn't know what they fed him in the Hole, which she now used to refer to that horrid place.

She was suddenly hit with the smell of vanilla and strawberry. Her body wash, a gift from Lavender.

"You need better body wash," he told her boredly. "I can't use that girly shite."

She didn't reply but she wondered amusedly to herself why, if it was so girl, had he used so much of it.

"Malfoy," she warned him in a no nonsense voice. "Watch your language. There are sometimes children in the house."

"You've got a bastard?" he asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Hermione put down her cutting knife and turned to him with a fierce glare. "No. But you will do well not to use that word. Teddy Lupin is your cousin and a lovely child."

"Oh, the orphan," he noted rudely.

She did not deem it worthy of a reply. After all, he did nothing but vex her the more he spoke.

He sat at her kitchen table looking like a dripping wet and very alluring Adonis, but then he opened his mouth. What a pity, she amused herself with that thought.

"Would you please set the table?" she asked him.

"Do I look like a house elf?" he asked her mockingly.

She ignored him but after tossing the salad she set the table up herself.

As they ate, there was little to no conversation. Well little conversation would be a stretch. Draco spoke to her once to remark that the soup was bland and required salt. Hermione wanted to tear his pretty little blond head off.

At the same time, Narcissa was standing around a kitchen uselessly, staring as Harry and Ginny chopped, fried and boiled their meal in a nice and familial synchrony. She had never really helped out in the kitchen but was curious to watch. After all, after years of staring at a blank wall, her mind was easily amused and interested. Just being in the same room as other people made her feel better. Prison, and especially the very solitary one she had, drove people insane. And he had always been such a people person.

"It smells wonderful," she complimented after watching them for a few minutes.

"Thank you," Ginny smiled happily.

"It'll be ready in about… 10 minutes," Harry estimated as he looked at the pot. "Perhaps if you'd like, you could set up the table?"

The old Narcissa would have sneered at him or perhaps even hexed him. But Narcissa found that pride had no place when she was a charity case. And putting plates on the table was still preferable to standing there awkwardly.

"Of course,"

Blaise was at a loss of what to do. He was hungry but it didn't feel quite right to just go rummage in Ron's fridge. So he sat at the island table in his kitchen and stared around.

Ron who was a little lost in thought finally noticed his sitting there restlessly. Blaise was showered and… food! It dawned on him that food would probably be a good idea at the moment.

"Make yourself at home," he told Blaise. "There's usually food in the fridge. Mum, she thinks I'll starve if I cook for myself. Which I probably would."

As he said this Ron looked in his near empty fridge.

"Bollocks." He sighed. "We're getting pizza. And once you're feeling up to it, we're going to the Burrow to restock."

Blaise simply looked at the man with a sense of amusement. He was such a conundrum at times. One moment he was all stoic and distant and calm and collected, the next he was scavenging for food and speaking about his mother and pizza.

He also couldn't help but notice that the redhead had a very nice behind as he bent down to inspect the content of his fridge.

"Pizza?" Ron asked again pulling him out of his thought.

"Sure," he agreed readily. "Whatever you usually have. I'm not picky."

"Good," he grinned boyishly. ""Deep dish pepperoni pizza coming right up!"

He walked over to a muggle contraption, a telephone Blaise remembered from his brief Muggle Studies class. He spoke into it for a moment and hung up.

"You like with muggle technology?" he asked curiously.

"Yep," he concurred and watched carefully for any sign of contempt. There was none to be found. "Harry, Mione and I lived together in this flat for a while. But they all moved out. I kind of like the telly and well the phone is just for pizza."

"Telly?" Blaise rolled the word on his tongue as if trying to figure out if he liked it or not.

"Oh… you're in for a treat mate!" Ron told him excitedly. Then he regained composure and came to his senses. "That is if you feel up to it."

"Maybe tomorrow," Blaise agreed.

"Okay," he nodded and turned on the telly onto the news. He enjoyed the sound in his living room, it made his flat sound less empty.

In the Granger residence, Draco Malfoy tossed and turned in his new bed. It appears that years of sleeping on the cold hard ground has conditioned him to sleep only on cold hard ground. This new, warm and soft mattress was unsettling.

"I need to pee," he mumbled to himself. He headed to the washroom attached to his room.

As he walked into the dark room and forgoed turning on the lights, he could have sworn that there was a ghost there. Or something was moaning. Did Grange bring moaning Myrtle back with her? She would be the kind to take pity on that wreck.

But the sound continued even after he turned on the lights and it dawned on him that it must have been Hermione. What was she doing? Crying?

It sure sounded like it.

His first instinct was to do as he did in prison, simply shout at her to shut up. But he paused. This was Hermione Granger. She didn't cry. Did she?

It felt oddly like an invasion of privacy to hear her cry.

He groaned and flushed before heading back to bed. Perhaps she'd stop soon. But in his bedroom, with the bathroom door closed, he could not hear her.

"Thank Merlin for small favours," he sighed and stared at his ceiling.

He didn't like the idea of hearing of even thinking about hearing girls cry. He wasn't sadistic, well not really. He did like to act that way sometimes. Because… because it was fun to unsettle people.

A/N- short chapter. Just some first day stuff. Happy reading and look out for more updates within the coming days.

As always, please review and favourite if you like it.