"I can't believe you swore in front of an eight-year old," Hermione scolded, trying not to laugh and failing. She pulled the fleecy blanket tighter around herself and took a sip of tea from the large mug.

Draco shrugged. "I bet he forgot about it in half a minute." The situation was definitely looking up. Pansy had been shooed away, Hermione had been settled on the sofa with a Warming Charm, and he had gotten her to laugh again. "At least," he said, trying to sound optimistic, "it was him and not his sister."

"What's wrong with his sister?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Nosiest little twit I've ever met," Draco grimaced. "She's starting at Hogwarts next year. She'd have run to her parents in a moment."

Hermione took another sip. "Well, the boy won't exactly forget any time in the near future. Three times?" She let out a giggle. "I can't believe you."

"I wasn't thinking clearly," Draco said, trying to absolve himself. "I wanted to find you."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "I really am sorry."

"I know," Draco said quietly. "Me too. Here, I think we've covered all the apologizing. Lets do something fun."

"Like what?"

"Well," Draco looked at the clock, considering. "When do you have to get back?"

"I don't know," Hermione sighed. "Tomorrow morning, I guess."

"But you have today off?"

"Yes," Hermione said, after a barely-noticeable pause. Draco, however, had sharp eyes.

"What?"

"I—nothing." She stared down into her mug.

"Mya?"

"What?"

Draco leaned across the coffee table, took her hand, and began rubbing the knuckles. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me about work?"

Hermione opened her mouth but nothing came out. She closed it again, hesitated, and then the whole story poured out unbidden: how there was no organization whatsoever at the hospital; how she couldn't even find her way around; how she had nothing to do—

"—and now I don't know what to do," she told him honestly, "because I feel like if I quit that I'll be giving up, and I'll have wasted all the sacrifices I made to get there in the first place. And now there's all this gossip and rumors going around, and Harry and Ron hate me, and I—I just don't know what to do." She looked up at him. "What should I do, Draco?"

"Oh." He heaved a huge sigh and stared down at their clasped hands. "I don't know what to tell you, Mya."

"Anything?" she said hopefully. As he looked blanker, she tried another tack: "What if it were you?"

"If it were me," he said quietly. "Hmm." He thought a minute. "I would go talk to Jerome again, and explain exactly what my position was supposed to be, and say that I really felt useless where I was because my credentials weren't right for it." Hermione set down her mug and stared at him, sensing that more would come.

"And," he continued, shutting his eyes as if visualizing, "I would talk to Jenna. I would say that I know it isn't her fault that I'm stuck in her department, but that I really feel useless and I need something to do, even if it's just something like filing."

"But I'm bad at confronting people," Hermione whined, giving him puppy-dog eyes.

"Well, I'm not going to do it for you," he said firmly. "Oh—come on, don't look at me like that." Her lower lip slid out in an exaggerated pout. "No, stop it, you know I can't take that face," he begged. "C'mon, Mya, you know that I can't go in there for you. It'll make you look weak."

A tear trickled down Hermione's cheek and she let out a little whimper.

"Aagh," Draco said, looking anywhere but at her face, "stop it. Mya! How do you do that? Look, I am not going there. End of discussion." He crossed his arms and sat back, staring resolutely back at her. After about ten seconds, he let out an irritable exclamation, hurled himself bodily across the coffee table at her, and began poking her in the side.

"Oh, no, stop it," Hermione gasped as he began tickling her in earnest. "Not fair, not fair. Ooh, ha ha, stop, Draco!" She squealed, seized a pillow, and whacked him over the head with it. He retaliated with a fresh tickle attack.

A few minutes later, sweaty and disheveled, they called a cease-fire and looked at each other, breathing hard.

"I'm feeling a bit of déjà vu," said Hermione breathlessly. "Didn't we do this back before I left?"

Draco appeared to ponder this, scratching his chin. "Hmm . . . yes, I believe so, Miss Granger." His lips curved in an mischievous smile. "Would you care to know why I remember?"

"I don't know," Hermione said warily. "Why do you remember?"

"Because," he replied with a self-satisfied look, "the shirt you were wearing was huge on you. I could see down it the whole time." He grinned smugly as Hermione's jaw dropped and she mouthed wordlessly at him.

"You bigoted, chauvinistic pig!" she got out finally, smacking him in the face with the pillow. "I don't believe you, I really don't, I—mmm," she sighed as he pressed his lips firmly against hers.

They pulled apart for air minutes later, and Hermione smiled up at him. "You sure know how to shut me up."

- - -

"I don't want to go back."

"You've got to go back."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Ye—oh, this is ridiculous," Draco expostulated. "Just go."

"I can't." Hermione clung to him.

"If you don't go now," he said patiently, "you'll get too tired to be able to Apparate at all. I'm letting you do this against my better judgement as it is. Plus, you need to fix your job, remember? You like challenges. This is just another challenge."

"Okay," Hermione said reluctantly. "I guess you're right." She released him, but quickly grabbed on again. "Can I come back tomorrow evening?"

"No," Draco said firmly, but upon her look of pleading he wavered. "Well—how about I go to your place instead."

"Okay," Hermione agreed happily. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." She shut her eyes, preparing to Apparate. Draco was staring at her with a content sort of look on his face when her eyes suddenly snapped open.

"Draco?"

"What?" he asked, concerned. "Is something wrong? Are you too tired? I don't want you to splinch yourself or—"

"Draco."

"What?"

Hermione stepped forward shyly and, taking his hands, put his arms around her body. She snuggled against him and sighed as he squeezed gently.

"I love you," she whispered into his shoulder. He pulled back suddenly and stared at her.

"What?" she asked, looking worried.

"Oh, Mya," he whispered, beginning to laugh. "I love you too."

Their lips met in a crushing kiss, heady and searing.

"Mm," Draco protested as Hermione undid the top button of his shirt. He pulled away from her, breathing heavily. "You have to go. It's really late."

"But I don't want to go," Hermione said, pouting attractively. "And I don't think you want me to go, either." She wiggled her eyebrows playfully.

He groaned. "No, I don't want you to go, but you have to." She stuck out her lower lip. "Don't do that. Go. Now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Fine," she gave in, backing away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye."

"Bye."

She disappeared.

- - -

"So you see, Mr. Hutchins," Hermione finished nervously, wringing her hands, "I've been feeling useless ever since I started working here. I think it's wasteful to the hospital to have me working in Spell Damage. I would like to have the job that I applied for, please."

"Well, Hermione," Jerome said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach, "I see where you're coming from."

"Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Unfortunately," he continued, "the reason there was an opening in the Research department was because one of the workers was on maternity leave, and we weren't sure if she'd return. She decided to come back recently . . . so you see, that job really isn't available anymore."

Hermione gaped at him, open-mouthed. "But—I—what—"

"So," Jerome continued, lighting a cigar, "either you stay in Spell Damage, or I'm going to have to let you go."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"What do you want to do?" he asked, puffing away.

"Can I have some time to think about it?" Hermione asked, coughing as the smoke wafted towards her.

Jerome shrugged. "Get back to me by the end of the day. Like you said, it's wasteful to the hospital to have you working in Spell Damage. Tell me what you think. Good day."

Hermione's mouth dropped, and she began protesting at the unfairness of it all, but Jerome merely waved a fleshy hand at her, shooing her away as if she were a fly. Hermione stormed out and slammed the door behind herself. She leaned against the wall, gripping handfuls of her hair and staring up at the ceiling.

"What should I do?" she muttered to herself. "Can I really just quit? Would it look like I was giving up?" She was preparing to go back upstairs to Jenna's office and beg for a real job when the unfairness of the situation hit her again.

"If there's one thing I can't stand," she told herself, standing upright, "it's injustice." Ever since the days of S.P.E.W., she had prided herself on her sense of morality and how she wouldn't let people walk all over her. And what had she been doing ever since she had arrived in New York? Her blood boiling, she marched right back into Jerome's office.

"Okay," she said heatedly, slamming the door, "you want to know what I think? I think this is the most dysfunctional, unorganized, incompetent workplace I have seen in my life. No, you wait a minute," she said as he opened his mouth to talk. "You asked for my opinion, and I'm going to give it to you.

"On the first day, I was shocked when you told me what I was going to have to do. But I thought, okay, well, he says I can get into it as soon as possible, so everything will be fine." She gave a short laugh. "Everything has not been fine. I have spent the past two weeks doing absolutely nothing.

"Let me tell you something, Jerome," she said, planting her hands on the edge of his desk. "I didn't come all the way from London to do nothing. So I'm finally going to do something: the first useful thing I'm actually doing in this place, ironically."

She stared straight at his shocked face, took a deep breath, and declared, "I quit."

Then she turned on her polished heel and marched out.

- - -