Dictionary

'Courage n. ability to disregard fear; bravery/ courage of ones convictions – courage to act on one's beliefs. [Latin cor heart]'

Chapter Three

Courage was a funny thing. It came and went at the strangest times. Right now was one of those times where it had left Hermione. Standing in the middle of Diagon Alley, in the early morning Hermione looked at her shop. Her accumulation of months of work, sweat and courage was now before her in all its glory. She had received rave reviews about 'Dewpebbles', but the biggest test was about to come - showing it off to her friends. No they weren't her friends, they were her family and this was the reason her courage had left her. There was no bigger critic than your own family, except maybe yourself.

Taking a deep breath she pushed open the front door, spun round and turned the sign over. Open for business - well there was no going back now, she thought to herself.

The cracks were beginning to show beneath the surface now. All the doubt and worry coming together, forming an almighty fist to punch her in the stomach. No, punching was the wrong word for the feeling. It was pummelling her. She felt nervous, nauseous, excited. There was a sense of anticipation about the whole proceedings, a bit like the night before Christmas. All you could do is think of it arriving, the sweet joy it would bring, but because of that it took longer to get there. Stuffing her hands inside the pockets of her purple robe, she tried to hide the slight tremor that had begun to rattle them.

Hermione moved away from the door. It was time for her to put on a brave face and start the day as she meant to go on. A smile fixed itself in place. This was no longer the worried shopkeeper, but the confident and controlled saleswoman - she'd read that in a book somewhere. Apparently location was everything. Well, she thought, at least I have that if nothing else.

'Dewpebbles' was along one of the main roads in Diagon Alley. It was made from red bricks, which had been whitewashed over. The door was made of oak, which stood tall and demanding above the people arriving. Swinging from the top was a sign attached with chain. It read the name of the shop in magical blue letters. Months had been spent enchanting them to change shape when people looked at it – more so then actually collecting the books together. Next to the door was the window, which was laden with an inviting display of books to tempt all that passed.

Within the establishment, there was a mix of book shelves, tables, stools and large comfy seats. They were split into two sections with the refreshments to the left and books to the right. At the back of the shop lay the counter. That was Hermione's favourite place of all. Here she could hide away and maybe sneak a read of the latest Erin Erotica novel. Here she was in control of everything that happened around her. It was a safe haven to be in.

Smiling to herself at the thoughts of comfort, she looked over towards the staff entrance. Chatter rose through the silence signalling that her two assistants had arrived. They were both in their early fifties, with their children all grown up and left home, leaving them with nothing to do. Kind, knowledgeable and motherly, Hermione and instantly liked them both on sight and got on amazingly with them. They both reminded her slightly of Mrs Weasley in some ways.

'Morning dear,' Mrs Dempsey called over to Hermione. 'Nervous? Believe me, you don't know what nervous is until you have a toddler flying round the room brandishing a wand.'

Hermione smiled slightly. Mrs Dempsey was always talking like that - as if she didn't know anything because she'd never had children. To a certain extent she was right, but had it ever occurred to her that the shop was her child? Probably not.

Ms King smiled as she fiddled with the arrangement of wildflowers on a small table in the seating area.

'Leave that Mildred!' Mrs Dempsey commanded with a tone of authority. Her hand was in her nest of greying hair that was piled high on top of her head. 'All the leaves will fall off, then who'll have to go out and replace them. Me, that's who!'

Mrs King nodded and moved away from the small table. Hermione smiled at her kindly. 'Okay ladies, we haven't really got much to do until the customers arrive. So...erm...relax.'

It was a strange sensation being the one in control. At home there were her parents, at school the teachers, then at the Ministry there had been the bosses. Working at the Ministry had always seemed like her ideal job. She had dreamt of making things right and changing the corrupt system. Upon living the dream though, she realised that there was no freedom here. You did what you were told. Your opinion was of no concern to those in power – the invisible men who paid you for your services. Hermione had felt like her input had meant nothing. It was almost like prostituting her knowledge to the highest bidder. She was sure it was probably just her mind playing tricks on her, but she soon found herself handing in her resignation.

That's when 'Dewpebbles' had fallen into her lap. All she'd needed was a push in the right direction from her friends. They had encouraged her to follow her passion. They made her question what she really wanted from a life of work, and she had realised that she wanted to be happy. Books made her happy. Everything seemed to fit after that realisation.

Of course her new dream had cost significant amounts of money. A loan had to be taken out and money borrowed from those closest to her. That was her biggest fear. If everything fell down around her then how would she repay that debt? Her friends would probably become angered, as would the bank, and ties would be strained. There was no ways she was going to let that happen. So everything had been poured into her creation.

It would succeed.

The bell above the door tinkled softly in a welcoming fashion, drawing Hermione's attention from her thoughts. Her eyes flew to the door and a slight smile curled the corner of her mouth.

Framed by the doorway, that seemed far too small around his figure, was Fred Weasley. The early morning sun was peeking over the buildings, creating a golden haze around his figure. His red hair shone in a godlike fashion, making his face seem more masculine. The freckles dusting his nose seemed more prominent, making the chocolate brown of his eyes seem more intense then usual. As her eyes moved slowly down his body, she licked her dry lips absently. He was wearing a shirt and jeans – Muggle clothing. The shirt wasn't done all the way up, with a wisp of red hair peeking out the top, tempting her to stare. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and he was looking expectant.

Fred Weasley was looking at her. Hermione tore her eyes away, not wanting to be caught staring…again. 'Good morning Fred.'

'Hey you,' he said with a broad smile, which lit up his face. 'I hear there's this new book shop opening. Thought I'd come and take a peek. Apparently the woman who runs it is a friend of mine.'

Hermione giggled like a silly little girl. She hated it when he teased her like this. In fact she hated him being in such close proximity of her. It made her brain fuzzy, and her control fly out of the window. The woman she usually was suddenly became replaced by an adolescent teenager with a big crush.

The first time she'd noticed him in a new light, heat had flooded into her stomach. It had felt like melting and flying at the same time. Ever since her feelings had become more complex. She denied being in love with him – that word was far too strong to describe the way she felt. Instead she'd settled for lust. It was okay to have lustful thoughts about someone, just as long as they never found out. For a year now he'd been the main basis of her fantasies.

When she woke up she'd think about him being by her side. Fred would awaken her with feather like kisses on her face. She would roll into his embrace and that's the way they'd stay for hours on end. They would talk about anything and everything. It wouldn't matter because they were together and she'd have someone to share everything with. Then when she went to bed, they would take a more erotic note. It was safe to say that they were no where as calm as the morning dreams.

'So have you had many customers yet?' Fred asked as he moved among the shelves, glancing between the books. 'You have a good collection here. I shouldn't really be surprised though, seeing as it's you who chooses them.'

'You're my first,' she said with a slight blush. Maybe that was too much of a double meaning.

Fred laughed gently and gazed at her. 'Well that's an honour I'm sure a man has already had, 'Mione.'

Again she felt the blush creeping about her. Glancing away from him she spotted Ms King and Mrs Dempsey looking at her strangely. They were probably wondering what happened to their cool collected boss. Well, she was going to pull herself together. No man was going to make her act foolishly in front of her staff.

Picking up her mug, she took a calming sip of tea. It should be easy to ignore her feelings. At least for as long as it took for him to leave the shop.

'I'll have this,' he said in a gentle tone, leaning over the counter and giving her look that could melt ice. 'I've always wanted to be someone's first.'

Hermione choked on her tea, and put her cup down quickly. How had he moved so fast? Then again, she hadn't really been paying attention to him. Her mind had been on not noticing him or watching his every move. Now he was patting her on the back with one of his big, strong hands. He smelt slightly of aftershave.

'Better?' he asked with a grin.

She nodded. 'Thanks.'

'You're very welcome. I'm always trying to save damsels in distress.'

Picking up the book he had placed on the counter, Hermione looked at the cover. It was one of her favourite biographies – Dumbledore. She smiled slightly at the familiar face. It had been a long time since she'd last spoken to her old headmaster. Every time she saw him though there was a sense of doom. He was older then old, and it worried her that soon he would be gone. No longer would he be part of her life. Never would he leave her memories though.

'I wouldn't have pinned this as your type of book,' Fred said suddenly. In his hand was Erica Erotica's latest novel. 'Isn't it a bit racy for a good girl like you?'

'It's not mine!' she screeched, making a grab for it but missing.

Fred held it away from her, with a sexy smile. 'Then why, Miss Granger is there a book mark in it?'

Her face was on fire, she could almost feel the colour beneath her skin. 'The suppliers sent it to us. They wanted to know whether we'd sell them here. So I thought I would read it to see if it was…erm…suitable…'

'Hmm,' he said in a teasing tone, and then opened it to the marked page. 'Well, what do we have here? "Connor undid her buttons one by one, whispering that he loved her all the way. Fiona sighed heavily and closed her eyes. Her heart was racing like a train, her pulse skipping a beat as his rugged hands dipped lower. His body was beautifully lean as it pressed against her fiery skin…" I couldn't imagine you doing this, let alone reading it.'

'Yes well, I think it's entirely unsuitable for this shop. I don't know why the supplier's even bothered,' Mrs Dempsey cut in, pulling the book out of his unresisting hands. 'Miss Granger is a saint to even attempt to read it.'

'That's our Hermione. She always was a good girl,' he winked at her knowingly. His hands reached back into his pocket and withdrew some coins. He laid them on the counter and picked up his book. 'Well if you ever need anything, I'll be across the road.'

With that Fred Weasley was gone, leaving a mortified Hermione behind him. Why was it that he had to be the one to see the chinks in her armour? She would have laughed if it had been anyone else but him. Now she just felt slightly sick. Surely he didn't think of her as that same innocent little girl that did her homework on town?

Maybe he was right. The last time she'd taken a lover it had been Neville. He hadn't exactly had the moves, so to speak, but she'd gotten what she wanted from him – a relationship she could rely on. Before that there had been Ron. The love making had been amazing, but they were too volatile together. Arguments had torn them apart. Since then she'd resigned herself to fantasies and stupid books, which questioned her intelligence all together.

'Don't worry dear,' Ms King said in her reedy voice. 'He'll see the error of his ways soon enough.'

Hermione nodded slightly. That's what she wished too.

xXx

'Just…let it all out…'

Draco was not happy.

It had all started well that morning. He'd woken with a sense of contentment. Ginny's radio was whining in the kitchen, with the lady in question humming along. There had been a smell of toast and butter wafting under his door. The heating was on, the sunshine was out and he had had a good night's sleep. All in all the morning had been a pleasurable experience.

Once he'd actually left the bed however, things had slowly begun to get worse.

As an investigator in the Ministry, it was his job to look into deaths and present evidence in court. Some of the work was simple enough, but there were times when things became complicated. The word Draco would have used was "politics". When there was politics involved, then it was often the case that the clues were not all pointing to the true killer or truth. Because of this, he worked long, hard hours, throwing himself into his work.

Everything had been put on hold. His life, family, friends and love, all discarded for a good pay cheque. It had been difficult at first – the perks of the job often outweighed the negatives. Now though he'd found it hard to separate everything. Sometimes everything was too much for him. His work had become him.

Today had been a particularly hard case. A witch had killed her abusive step-father by inflicting upon him small curses. Each one was not enough to kill, but compiled together it was a lethal spell. It had taken ten hours for him to die, and all the time she had been watching him suffer. There was no evidence to show signs of regret – the curses could have easily been reversed in time. No, it appeared to be a closed case from the minute he read it. Looks could be very deceiving though.

'Have you finished yet…?'

Ginny had been cautious about going with him. She hadn't been an investigator for long and found visiting Azkaban distressing. Draco didn't really blame her nervousness. The only reason he could stomach it was the fact he'd visited his father there in previous years. It was simple to forget where you were when you couldn't think straight.

They had decided to go after breakfast, and then return to the office to complete the paperwork. It was a simple enough plan, but what they hadn't been expecting was the arrival of Ron on her doorstep.

Ron didn't approve of his sister sharing a flat with a Malfoy. In fact he didn't approve of them working together. This bothered Draco somewhat. He didn't like the fact that Ron thought he had the right to come round and check on Ginny. He didn't like the implications his visits made. It was always calmer when he didn't have big brother lurking over his shoulder. So he and Ginny made a deal – when Ron arrived, Draco would suddenly have to leave. It normally worked, but this time he couldn't leave alone.

The normal things had occurred – Ron had threatened Draco whilst Ginny was making the coffee. Why on earth did Weasley think he wanted to corrupt his sister? It was a ridiculous idea, and Draco told him so. This then sparked an argument about why he didn't want to; wasn't Ginny good enough for him? Draco would try to explain that he wasn't attracted to skinny, dizzy, redheads, who thought he was the scum of the universe.

Bang. Another black eye for the books.

Ginny hadn't seemed too concerned that her brother had punched her boss and flatmate. Instead she had shooed him away, given Draco a smile and asked if he was ready to leave. He had growled, muttered about her caring nature and they had apparated to Azkaban.

Now he was the one tending to her as they stood in the wooden shack. His hand was fisted in her hair, holding it all away from her face. Her head was lowered over a toilet, her breathing shallow and fast. They were both kneeling on an earth floor, the wind whistling around them. The small space was filled with the stench of sick and sweat, which made Draco want to gag himself.

'I'm sorry,' Ginny whispered between breaths. 'I wasn't expecting that much…'

'Hush,' he said gently, as his hand rubbed her back in brisk circular motions. 'There's nothing wrong with being ill after that. It just shows that you're human enough to see what's in front of you.'

If he were to be honest he'd take that back. What was this woman doing in this job? Did she not realise that it would involve seeing things that weren't exactly rosy? Draco had witnessed this kind of desperation many times before. A woman driven to killing, alone and scared, with the only route out in a coffin made of cardboard – death began to look a little more appealing. It was just a shame Ginny had to find her hanging like an empty sack from the bunk bed rail.

First the tears and the lack of understanding came. Ginny considered that innocence was absolute until guilt was proven. It was probably one of the reasons she ignored her brother's whining about Draco. In this instance she had considered that there was some sort of justification in the killing. She believed that someone would help this witch. Not yet had she learnt the main lesson – there was no justifying a murder so drawn out and painful.

Then there'd been the anger. Her own innocence shone through as she told him there was no justice in this world. Who else would have punished the abusive step-father? It hadn't been fair to put this girl in here.

Lastly everything sank in. Death had been in that room and it left a nasty taste. Draco knew this, but had always had the control to not let his emotions rule his body. Ginny hadn't been able to keep it all down anymore.

It wasn't just her lack of self control that bothered him either. It was the vomit on his cloak. Why couldn't Ginny have held it back long enough to get to the toilet? Women were so weak when faced with a challenged.

He reconsidered this thought. No, there was something that bothered him more. Even in this wooden hut, with the wind whistling round him and his knees damp with mud, he wanted to kiss her. It didn't matter that she smelt vile and her hair was a matted mess. All he wanted was to push her up against the wall and become part of her.

'I think I'm okay now…' Ginny said moving away from him and sitting on the floor.

When she had been appointed to his office, he hadn't intended on becoming so dependant on her existence. It seemed like the only reason he kept working was so he could be near her. Just to sit in an office with her was enough. Living with her was an added bonus. With it though came the negatives.

The bathroom was next to his room, so when someone ran a bath he could hear the water running. He knew that she would be undressing, peeling away the work's grub, and slipping into a bath of water. Ginny was naked only a couple of meters away from him. It was a terrible thought that haunted him through most of his wakening hours.

Then at the office all he wanted to do was have her against the desk, the wall, the filing cabinet. It was torture to be in a room full of such lewd fantasies playing themselves out. Most of the time he would be away on business, which meant he didn't have to be so close to her. He had even found himself avoiding all contact with her in an attempt to forget.

'Malfoy…? Earth to Malfoy…?' Ginny said with a raised eyebrow. 'Hello?'

'What?' he snapped, ashamed of being interrupted fantasising about her.

'You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying, have you?' she laughed, pushing a hand through her hair. 'I was saying how we'd better get back to the office. Blaise will be wondering why we're not there to tell him what to do. In fact he's probably trying to work out how a phone works as we speak. It would be cruel to treat such a stupid creature in this manner.'

Ah, Draco thought, Zabini. There was the fly in his ointment. It was clear to him that Ginny had feelings for his partner. They had a chemistry that bounced off the walls. There was nothing stable or reliable when they were in the same room. Of course they fought all the time and bickered like five year olds, but even Zabini wouldn't deny the physical attraction that crashed when they were together. Draco was jealous of this mutual feeling. He didn't want Ginny to want Zabini and for it to be returned.

'Well we would have been back half an hour ago had you not been sick,' he drawled dryly.

If there was one thing he was that was a sore loser.

'Nice to see we're reverting back to being an arse now I'm not vomiting on you,' Ginny remarked with equal coldness. 'I should have known it wouldn't have lasted.'

'It's not my fault you can't handle the job,' Draco stated in defence. Not only was he defending himself, he was taking out his frustration out on her. 'And I should have known a Weasley would have been ungrateful of my help.'

'Why do you always bring family into it?!' she screeched with annoyance. 'MEN!'

Draco had never been sure why he wanted to have her so badly, but it wasn't the fighting. Ginny Weasley could, and would, make everything into a fight. It annoyed him somewhat that he couldn't have a reasonable conversation with him. The day she said he was right would probably be the day he died.

'Let's get back to Zabini. I know how much you miss him,' Draco said coolly, standing up.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Ginny fumed, also standing, so they were facing each other in a battle of the titans.

'I think you can work that one out for yourself. If you can't then I think you should consider other forms of employment.'

xXx

Tissues lay rejected on the floor, as the light of the television bounced light across the floor, the only light source in the room. They threw large, crumpled visions of monsters on the walls, each one peering into the centre of the room. Their silent watching was accompanied by the sounds of the TV, blaring out the old, familiar tunes.

Lavender sniffed loudly, shoved her spoon into the tub of ice cream and devoured the lump of icy dessert. Her face was stained by fresh tears with hints of old make up, varying the colour of her skin. The hair that had once lain in beautiful waves was now scraped back from her face. Her clothes had changed from smart to slob-like, depicting clearly the regression of her work to her life.

Beside her Cho sat, calm and crisp compared to her companion. She sat regally, with her feet tucked beneath her, in slouchy trousers and a v-necked t-shirt. Her eyes stared intently at the screen, as she popped a grape into her mouth and chewed attentively. There wasn't a tissue in her grasp, or a desperate tear about to leak from her lip. In fact a smile was beginning to curl the corner of her lip with hidden amusement.

A huge sob of grief left Lavender as the hero stepped on a landmine.

'Well that wasn't expected,' Cho remarked sarcastically. 'I've been waiting for him to die for the past two hours.'

'It's so sad!' Lavender whined, blowing her nose loudly into a tissue.

'No. You're looking at it all wrong. Now he's dead, the other men are saved because the helicopters will see the smoke and find them. Then that woman, what-ever-her-name-is, can move on with her life. Maybe she'll revert to lesbianism. You never know,' Cho said with an amused smile.

'You can be so heartless at times,' her friend said indignantly. 'He was the love of her life. They were meant to be together forever. It was fate.'

'Well, clearly not.'

Lavender looked away from Cho and leaned forward to scoop up the remote from the floor. Pressing a button the machine began to make noises as it whirled and spun the tape. The room was pitch black for a second before the channel flicked to another, and light replenished the room.

'I liked it,' Cho said finally. 'The story was…watch able.'

'No you didn't. You thought it was stupid and sloppy,' Lavender said standing up and stretching her limbs temptingly. 'You're not very good at keeping still for two hours.'

'That's because I work hard,' she replied, her eyes taking in the curve of her assistant's hip. 'I only agreed to this because I thought it would widen my understanding of Muggle behaviour in a modern society.'

Cho leaned back in her chair and relaxed. The reason she'd really accepted to watch a film at Lavender's house, was simply because it was Lavender. It was nice to watch her unguarded body twitch with emotion. It had certainly been more entertaining then the film. Her regard of Muggle "fun" was of disdain. It was things like film which stopped them from really living.

'Do you want anything from the kitchen?' Lavender asked with a smile, her fingers pushing at her tear dry skin.

'Anyone would think you were trying to fatten me up,' Cho said with the hint of seduction to her tone.

'You're far too skinny for your own good. You will never attract a man if you don't have a bit more meat on you.'

That was where the comedy lay. Lavender seemed completely oblivious to what the rest of the world seemed to know. Even though Cho flirted and teased her unashamedly, this girl had not caught on to the fact that it wasn't men she wanted. It was probably wrong of her to not tell her the truth directly, but Cho had seen some women's reactions. As usual there would be an awkward atmosphere, denied only by the other person. In the end it determined the real friends from the others.

Cho regarded her leaving, allowing herself the perk of eyeing her behind. It wasn't like Lavender was a friend. She was a work colleague who spent time with her – that was probably why Cho lacked courage to tell her she was wrong. She didn't want to hurt her feelings. Anyway, the more ignorant she was the less guarded she would be. This allowed Cho to look as much as she liked.

'Are you sure you don't want anything?' Lavender called from the kitchen. 'I have some low fat yogurt here, if it's that you're worried about.'

'That's not…'

'Please? I feel bad if I eat and you don't,' she pleaded across the hallway.

'How could I refuse an offer like that?' Cho finally gave in reluctantly. 'Strawberry, if you have it.'

Lavender returned with the food and curled up into the corner of the couch. Her face was bright and airy, with a smile plastered across it. 'So who's the man in your life Cho? I want to know all the gossip.'

'There isn't a man in my life,' Cho said with a tight smile.

'And why not?! You're gorgeous!'

Cho laughed softly and pursed her lips. 'I'm just not…ready for anyone like that in my life right now. I find there are more important than someone to go home to and… Well I'm sure you catch my drift.'

'I wish I could be as dedicated to my work as you,' Lavender said thoughtfully, taking a bite of her banana. 'My problem is that I always see Draco Malfoy when I'm there. He was a horrid little boy at school, but now he's gorgeous! I just wish I could talk to him…'

'Why don't you then?' Cho asked coolly.

'He's just so…unattainable. I would make a fool of myself if I even tried to speak to him. You know what I mean?' she paused. 'It's like when your heart gets caught in your throat and the words don't come out as you meant.'

Thinking about it for a second, Cho decided that it wasn't something she had often experienced. 'I have never had a problem expressing myself Lavender. I normally just go for what I want.'

'Would you teach me?'

'Teach you what Lavender?'

'How to be cool and collected,' she said eagerly. 'Like you.'

'Believe me, you don't want to be like me,' Cho protested, shifting her weight on the couch uncomfortably. 'It's too much like hard work.'

'Please?'

Their eyes met for a couple of beats - intense blue meeting calming brown, in a moment of friendship. Was the possibility of something more too far from reality? Cho thought about it and reached a conclusion swiftly. A friend would help and she needed all the friends she could get.

'Okay,' Cho said softly. 'I'll help you get Draco Malfoy.'