When Draco arrived at Hermione's flat at six o'clock that evening, he was more than a little surprised to see her sitting on the floor, surrounded by half-packed boxes and wadded-up tissues.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, sinking next to her and wrapping his arms around her. "What happened? Did they fire you?"

"No," she sobbed into his shoulder. "I quit."

Draco stared at her, bewildered. "You—quit? But—that's great, Mya! You've been miserable the whole time here—this'll be so much better for you." He paused. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I gave up!" she wailed. "I've never given up at anything in my entire life! I've stuck to things, and they've always worked out in the end. But not now! No, now that I'm twenty-three years old, I'm having a mid-life crisis. I was having the best time of my life—in love, with a prestigious job—and I go and quit!"

He stared at her in amazement. "But you weren't happy, Mya," he reminded her. "The prestigious job was doing nothing. Why does it matter so much that you have the best job possible? Isn't it better to have a fulfilling life doing something you love, rather than one that's useless?"

She hiccupped miserably.

"Look," Draco said, trying to sound encouraging, "don't think of it as giving up. Think of it as trying to right a wrong."

"But—"

"Obviously by now you realize that it was a mistake to come here in the first place."

"I—well, I suppose so, but—"

"So now all you have to do it fix it."

"But I'm not good at fixing mistakes," she sniffled. "And anyways, what am I supposed to do now? Go back to London? Become a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Well," Draco said, choosing his words carefully, "you could come back to London and get a real job at St. Mungo's, and fix things with Harry and Ron."

Hermione gave a watery laugh. "Mungo's won't hire me. I just quit a job that I've had for two weeks, remember? Besides, you know how hard it is to get a flat at this time of year. I'm going to end up a homeless wreck." She smeared at her cheeks.

"They'll hire you," Draco said confidently, "don't worry. By the time the news gets out that you're back in London, you'll have places queuing up to hire you. And," he took a deep breath, "you could move in with me. If you want to."

Hermione stared at him.

"It was just an idea," he said hurriedly, "if you don't want to, I understand, don't feel pressured to or anything—"

"I'd love to."

"What? You—you'd—" He stared at her in amazement. "Really?"

Hermione smiled, the first genuine smile he'd seen since he arrived. "I'd love to move in with you," she repeated.

"You're not just saying that?"

Hermione threw her arms around him as a response and sighed contentedly. "I love you."

Draco had a blissful sort of unbelieving expression on his face. "I love you, too."

-           -           -

"Hurry up, we're going to be late."

"I'm coming, I'm coming—oh shit, we're going to miss it."

"No we won't, not if we—"

"We can't Apparate there, I've told you! There's no place safe to come out!"

"How about in the—"

"Not in the toilets, I've said it's not safe enough to—"

"We're going to be late!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Do you have the—"

"Yes."

"And the—"

"Yes."

Hermione stopped short and fixed Draco with a beady stare. "Are you positive we've got everything?"

"Yes," he said impatiently, "I did a Locating Charm, now we're going to be late!"

"I'm coming!"

They caught a cab to the airport, preferring Muggle transportation over a dubious-looking wizard chauffer who accosted them as they exited the apartment building. Draco stewed quietly the whole way there, apparently still miffed over the fact that Hermione had forgotten to set the alarm clock, they had woken up two hours later than planned, and hadn't had time to eat anything.

"We can get something to eat at the airport," Hermione offered timidly. He merely grunted in response, and Hermione gave up trying to pacify him. He kept glancing pointedly at his watch, and she chose to ignore him.

"We have half an hour until the plane leaves," he announced gruffly as the taxi pulled up to the airport. He seized the bags while Hermione paid the driver, grabbed her hand, and dragged her to the counter.

By the time they made it to the gate, all the other passengers had already boarded.

"At least we made it," Hermione panted as she followed Draco down the aisle, looking around for their seats. He grunted again, and forcibly gave her the window seat.

"Draco?" Hermione said hesitantly. "I'm sorry I forgot to set the alarm."

He shrugged. "I guess as long as we made it, it doesn't matter."

"Good," she said in relief. "Are we going to have as bad of a trip as we did on the way here?"

"I hope not."

"Me too."

Luckily it was overcast, and seeing nothing but gray outside the window made Draco a good deal happier than he had been all morning. They spent a pleasant trip chatting, laughing over the Muggle magazines Hermione had bought, and, in Draco's case, napping.

Hermione was far too excited to think of sleeping. She was going back home—and she was going to live with Draco. She smiled happily to herself, thinking of sun-drenched mornings with breakfast in bed, cooking together (or rather, Draco cooking for her—she had never been much in the kitchen), and being able to see him whenever she wanted. It was going to be wonderful.

Her mind drifted to the thought of Harry and Ron, and she squeezed her eyes shut in apprehension. She had already decided to go and see them as soon as they arrived in London, to tell them what was going on before the gossip columns got wind. It was not going to be a fun experience.

-           -           -

"Here we are," Draco announced, stepping through the door, flicking his wand to light the lamps, and dropping his bags heavily on the floor. "Home sweet home."

Hermione followed him in somewhat shyly. "I like the sound of that." She couldn't keep herself from looking around at everything, even though she had been there a million times before. But now it was hers, too.

"I guess we should wait for things like decorating until you get unpacked and settled in," Draco said.

"Mm," Hermione agreed, shrugging out of her sweatshirt. Like the gentleman he was, Draco took it from her and hung it up in the closet. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," he said easily. "Do you want anything? Water? Tea?"

Hermione shook her head. "I should go talk to Ron and Harry now, first thing."

He sighed. "Yeah, you probably should. You okay?"

Hermione nodded. He gave her an encouraging sort of look. "Go get 'em."

She gave a half-hearted smile, took a pinch of Floo powder, and stepped into the green flames.

They've redecorated, Hermione observed, stepping out of the fireplace into their living room. Instead of the stereotypical cluttered bachelor's pad it had been, the room now looked tasteful and neat. Just as Hermione was wondering what could have possibly made their masculine minds decide to clean up, the reason for the new decorations stepped around the corner and froze upon seeing Hermione.

"Who are you?" Hermione asked bluntly, sizing up the girl. She was tall and willowy with long, cascading auburn hair, and large, piercing blue eyes that were narrowed in confusion. She was beautiful and sophisticated and everything that Hermione was not.

"I'm Megara," she replied, crossing her arms, "and I think that I should be the one asking who you are."

Hermione racked her mind. Megara, Megara. Ah. Harry's girlfriend. The corners of her mouth quirked as she recalled the occasion upon which she had learned of Megara's existence.

"Are Harry and Ron here?" Hermione asked, taking a step forward. Megara moved quickly to block her path, with a kind of grace that Hermione could only dream of.

"No, they're at Quidditch," Megara said, looking Hermione up and down with a bit of a sneer. "I'll tell them you dropped by—who are you, anyways?"

They must really be furious with me, Hermione realized, if Harry's girlfriend doesn't even know who I am. Her heart sank.

"Um, I'm just a friend," she said, trying to sound nonchalant underneath Megara's condescending gaze. "I'll come back later, it's no problem."

"They'll probably be back in half an hour or so," Megara informed her. "I guess you can just wait in here if you want." She indicated the couch with a casual sweep of a slender, manicured hand.

"Um, all right." Hermione perched carefully on the edge of the couch. "Thank you."

"No problem," Megara said shortly. She spun on her stilettos, marched back into the kitchen, and began making clattering noises with pots and pans. Hermione gazed around the living room. It really hadn't changed that much, she realized. It just looked so different without spare pairs of robes, crumb-strewn plates, and various Quidditch paraphernalia cluttering up every available surface. She picked up a photograph of Harry and Megara and examined it. She looks like Ginny, Hermione thought, envying those select few women who could do something as unsophisticated as, say, compost a garden, and yet look stunning while doing so.

The irritated clicking of heels announced Megara's return.

"Will you at least tell me who you are?" she demanded, planting oven mitt-encased fists on her slender hips. "I would rather not be in there wondering if I've let a dormant Death Eater into the flat."

Hermione sighed. "My name is Hermione. I'm a friend of Ron and Harry's, from school."

The redhead's mouth dropped. "Hermione Granger?"

"Yes."

"I've read all about you in the paper." Megara's crimson lips curved in an unfriendly smile. "So nice to have you back in London. I sincerely hope that you aren't here to try to ensnare them again."

"What?"

"Oh, you know what I'm talking about." Megara's face was confidently condescending. "After they've finally gotten rid of you, too. Just please try not to get Harry too angry. We're going out tonight."

Hermione was sure that her jaw was touching the floor. "What are you talking about? That's just gossip. They haven't—they aren't—"

Megara sniffed in satisfaction. "Obviously you really aren't close anymore."

Hermione shot to her feet, completely fed up. "Listen, I only—"

"Hermione!" Ron's shocked exclamation echoed through the room. Hermione whirled around to see her best friends staring at her as if she were a ghost.

"Hello, Harry." Megara's voice was suddenly breathy and simpering, and she was hurriedly hiding the oven mitts behind her back. "Did you have a good—"

"Er, Meg, do you mind?" Harry's eyes were still fixed on Hermione, who was about as shocked at their sudden arrival as they were at her being in their flat. "I think we need to talk with Hermione."

Megara deflated visibly. She stomped back into the kitchen, slammed the door behind her, and resumed her clanking with the pots.

"Hello," Hermione said nervously. "Er—how've you been?"

"All right," Harry said, a bit awkwardly.

Ron shrugged. "Not bad." He was still staring at Hermione as if unsure of her existence.

"Er—sit down," Harry offered. Hermione complied, sitting back down on the edge of the couch as Harry and Ron took armchairs across from her.

"So," Ron said after a brief, awkward pause. "Why are you here?"

"To apologize," Hermione said with a long exhalation. "And to explain."

They nodded in unison. Hermione was tempted to laugh, but had a strong feeling that it would undermine any credibility she had at the moment. She began talking, starting with her reasoning for leaving in the first place, assuring them that her decision was completely unrelated to her feelings for them; trying to make them understand what she had felt, what she had said wrong, what she had meant to tell them but hadn't managed to.

They were silent when she finished.

"Forgive me?" Hermione asked nervously.

They looked at each other with unreadable expressions.

"What about Malfoy?" Harry said eventually. "You left him out. How long have you been friends with him?"

"Since university," Hermione said. "He's different, he really is. He's a wonderful person. It just takes time to get him to open up, but underneath that mask he wears all the time—" She did her best impression of Draco's trademark sneer, and was rewarded with chuckles "—he's amazing. It's just—he grew up with a lot of prejudice, and it's hard for him to get over it," she tried to explain. "He's—changed, somehow."

Harry shrugged, looking at Ron. "What d'you think?"

Ron looked down at the floor, appearing to be pondering. "I suppose it isn't really up to us who you're friends with," he said, although it was with a great effort. "I mean, you're all grown up now, aren't you?" He cracked a grin, meeting her eyes again. "Harry and I shouldn't try to control you for the rest of your life," he said, almost as if to himself, in a moment of very un-Ronlike wisdom.

Hermione teared up. "Oh, Ron," she managed, smearing underneath her eyes, "thank you so much. They're happy tears, I promise," she said quickly, seeing the concerned look on his face. "Oh, I love both of you so much." She flung herself at each of them in turn for hugs of reconciliation.

"So," Harry said, breaking the awkward silence that ensued after Hermione returned to her seat, "where do you live now? Are you back for good?"

"Well," Hermione said slowly, dreading the inevitable, "I'm actually moving in with Draco."

Their mouths dropped simultaneously.

"What?!" Ron demanded.

"You're living with Malfoy?" Harry said incredulously.

"We've been dating," Hermione said hurriedly, trying to explain, "well, I suppose you can call it dating, I'm not sure exactly—but we've been kind of skirting around it ever since university, I think, and we finally decided to do something about it . . . oh, come on, stop it, you just accepted that we were friends, this is the same thing, just—bigger."

"It's kind of hard," Harry said through gritted teeth, "to accept the fact that one's best friend is going home every night to shag one's former archenemy."

Ron made a disgusted noise.

"But we aren't shagging," Hermione blurted out, then clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. "Oh Merlin . . . I cannot believe that I am having this conversation with you."

They were both gaping at her.

"Okay," Hermione said, burying her face in her hands, "as wrong as it is to talk about this with you, Draco and I have not shagged. I don't think we're planning to any time soon. So you don't have to worry about that."

"But—but why?" Ron asked in a hushed voice.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said, turning crimson. "Our relationship isn't really about physicality. It's—deeper, I guess. We don't need to be shagging to be in love."

They exchanged dubious looks.

"Please," Hermione said, her face turning redder, "can you forget about him as 'Malfoy' and think of him as a person? He's different. He isn't like you used to know him."

"I think," Harry said eventually, looking at Ron as if for confirmation, "the four of us should go out for dinner tonight and talk."

Hermione's mouth dropped and she stared hopelessly at their unrelenting faces.

"Oh, bloody hell," she said finally, throwing up her hands. "Fine."

-           -           -

And that's all you're getting for the next three weeks, because I am going on vacation. :-) Just promise not to forget about the story while I'm away, please.

A couple of comments to reviewers (I try not to get in the habit of doing this, but sometimes I'll get a really nice review beyond the standard "it's good!" or whatever that I feel need responses):

kirise: Yes, that would be ironic, but she kind of exploded at her boss, so I don't think they're going to be rehiring her any time soon. :-) Plus, now that I've finally written her out of there, I'm not going to stick her back in. There's only so much you can write when she's doing basically nothing from 9 to 5 every day. Thanks for reading!

foxxglove: Really? You thought she was soft around him? I was kind of trying to make her a little more subdued than usual, because they just made up, and she doesn't want to say anything to get them in another argument. I didn't want her to seem soft though. Hmm. Are you talking about the part right before she leaves? Well, I think that the way she's acting is kind of how I would act if I was leaving the guy I loved to go to a place I hated to quit my job. Soft, though. That's not supposed to happen. Um . . . could you try to explain a little more what you mean and where it's happening? You can email me if you want. Thanks for saying something, though, I honestly like it if people find something wrong and tell me. Because if the wrong message is coming across, I need to know that. Thank you. 

beachLEMON: I love you. :-)

snow-angel222: Hermione tends to be perfectionistic by nature, so she doesn't like to quit or give up. She has the mindset that if she tries hard enough, she can do whatever she wants, so now she's discovering that she really can't, and it's a big deal for her. She's a little overemotional right now. That's where Draco comes in. evil grin

Thank you everyone! Hugs to all!

-fallenpetal