Draco leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "No."

"Please?"

"NO."

"Pleeeeaaaaaase?"

"Granger, is it me did you turn it out to be more than annoying than you already were to begin with?"

Hermione pouted. "I am not annoying. I am merely persistent. Determined. Unrelenting."

"Yeah," he replied tersely. "Like the itch on my arse that just won't go away."

Hermione immediately brushed it aside. "This, Malfoy, is a chance in a lifetime," she told him, her voice quiet as if divulging the secrets of the universe. "The thing is, I know that you're guilty. Others know that you're guilty. It won't be too long before you'll end up behind prison bars in Azkaban. But here I am, willing to give you a chance to redeem yourself before that time comes. I can tell the world how you… really didn't mean it. This won't make you any less guilty, but it might earn you some compassion."

Uneasy silence came and went before Draco answered.

"Whatever made you think that I was in need of any compassion, Granger?" He ran his hand through his hair absent-mindedly, making it fall across his forehead. "You must have me mistaken for some pathetic mongrel."

Hermione stiffened at his words. "Well, the similarities were uncanny." She slid across the chair and stood up. "It was nice talking to you, Mister Malfoy," she said politely, holding out her hand.

Her eyes widened when she felt her hand enveloped in his warm one and with a small tug on his part, landed very ungracefully beside him.

Draco smiled when caught Hermione's glare.

"What?" he asked, feigning innocence.

Hermione frowned. "What is that?" She leaned down and sniffed his neck. "I know that smell…"

It was Draco's turn to 'stiffen' the moment her nose nuzzled his neck. "Stop it, Granger."

With one last sniff Hermione leaned back. "That's a Muggle perfume." There was an unmistakable awe in her voice. "See?" she said, as leaning in for one last whiff. "I remember because that's the perfume I gave Ron when we—"

Curious, Draco thought. "When you what?"

"When we… parted ways."

"Parted ways?"

She looked at Draco oddly. It felt different having him seem—interested. He was never interested in her in a good way. There were times at Hogwarts when she hoped that he found her the most uninteresting person alive just so he would stop tormenting her and calling her names. But now… it was disturbing. As if he sincerely wanted to hear what she had to say.

"We broke up," she confessed, her eyes downcast.

Draco was perplexed, to say the least. "You gave each other gifts when you broke up?"

"Well, you don't have to put it like that," she argued. "It was a symbol of our friendship. That even though it didn't work between us romantically, we would always be friends."

"And how is the Weasel now?"

Hermione smiled wistfully. "Engaged."

"Well, who would have thought…" Draco stopped in mid-sentence when he caught the warning look Hermione shot him. He cleared his throat. "And how is Potter doing? Still alive, I assume. Slaying dark lords all over the world? Saving mankind without breaking a sweat?"

"We're married and have four children."

"What?"

Hermione successfully kept a straight face. "What?"

"What?!"

"… What?"

Draco frowned and placed a finger on Hermione's lips. "You're not married. No wedding ring on your finger. Stop lying."

Hermione turned her head away, shaking off Draco's finger. "Your hand smells like the newspaper," she informed him. "And no, we're still the good friends that we were when we were in Hogwarts but we're not married. Harry, on the other hand, is married to the Ministry of Magic. Poor dear. Work is wearing him thin."

"Speak for yourself."

"I happen to love what I do. Journalists are the eyes of the people, you know," she cocked an eyebrow at him, almost challenging Draco to say otherwise.

"And therefore you can alter people's perception," he pointed out. "What happens when you're wrong? What if you misjudge someone? Make someone out to be the 'bad guy' when in reality, he really isn't? You aren't 'the eyes of the people.' The lot of you are vultures circling over their next prey."

Hermione gasped loudly before jumping out of her seat. "I know what you're doing, Malfoy! I'd be insane if I think, for even one moment, that you're not guilty. You're a… a… fraud. A… a… manipulative… arse… with a… a… Ferret!"

"Really, Granger. The ferret deal got old too fast," he drawled, not the slightest bit annoyed by her words. "And you're not really mad. You're just acting the way you think you're supposed to act. All affronted and whatnot even if you know that I was right. Even if just a little."

Hermione stared at him while trying to think of snappy comeback. But she couldn't come up with one. He was right. Well, not completely correct, but there were some journalists out there who were merely in it for the glory, the attention and, more often than not, the money. She couldn't deny the fact that journalists were some of best blackmailers around. How could they not be? They held the information, the power, the respect of the people. It would be so easy for them to destroy someone completely. Utterly. Without qualm or hesitation.

She sat back down. "You can stop gloating now…"

"I never began."

"Not all of us are like that, you know." She sighed tiredly.

"Right, not all of us are bad… manipulative arses," he joked, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Sometimes, people think the worst of us."

Draco nodded in understanding. "Misconceptions are a bloody nuisance to deal with."

"You can't always judge a tree by the fruit it bears."

"No, you can't," he readily agreed as he ran his finger across her hairline, gently brushing her brown curls away.

Hermione looked up at Draco, oblivious to his tender ministrations. "People should have to learn how not to expect too much."

"I agree," he breathed before pressing his lips against her temple.

"What did you just do?" she asked, her voice void of accusation.

"I kissed you," he replied simply.

"Why?"

"Because… you have… kissable temples."

Draco groaned inwardly. Just because he didn't know why he did it, didn't mean he had to give her some lame-ass excuse. He gave her a weak smile.

Hermione nodded and smiled back. "Draco," she said softly. "Why do you hate me so much?"

Draco couldn't answer for the simple reason that he had forgotten.

A/N:

This is definitely an odd chapter, as I had to deal with a jumble and mix of emotions. Sorry if some of the spelling and grammar is off. The story, so far, is unedited and unbeta-ed since I wanted to get this to you as soon as possible. Be rest assured that I will eventually edit the previous chapters.

Thank you to all who reviewed! They really mean a lot to me. ^__^ Come on! You can review some more!