For a long time, Draco had been used to having his work as a focus and purpose, even when everything else felt bleak. He almost couldn't remember the years after the war when he had drifted along without something meaningful with which to occupy his time.

The rest of the week following his suspension was the worst. Draco had awoken early as usual, and on the first day he was halfway through a scalding shower before he remembered he had nowhere to be.

Something like shame had held him back from reaching out to Hermione, although he longed to see her. He had sent her a few messages, but he didn't know how to face what had become his temporary reality.

He spent his days in his flat, unable to focus on anything―reading, brewing, spellcasting―until the white walls threatened his existence and he sought the outdoors.

Saturday in the late morning found him perched on his bench along the Thames near the Tower of London, drumming the tips of his fingers along his thigh as he scowled at the flow of the river, his mind drifting more erratically than the current.

It was his twenty-fourth birthday, and the anxious energy building within him all week had spurred him to leave the flat for the first time in days. Even so, he felt far from the celebratory spirit. He'd already ignored numerous owls from Theo on the matter.

Startling to the present at a movement in his periphery, Draco forced a thick swallow. Hermione slipped onto the bench beside him, her shoulders low and face meek. "Hi," she breathed, the word a little apologetic.

Draco stared at her for a long moment in an effort to rationalise why his heart thudded so fast at her sudden presence. At last he cleared his throat and drawled, "If I didn't know any better, I might think you were following me."

Some of the tension dissolved from her countenance, her lips twitching at the reference to one of their earliest meetings―the first time she had come across him on this very spot. "We're on neutral territory," she murmured.

He reached for her hand, tugging it between both of his. "It's nice to see you."

"I hope you don't mind the company," she said softly. "I considered checking your flat but didn't want to intrude. A lucky guess that you might be here, I suppose. It was a nice morning for a walk."

As she carried on, Draco eyed her sidelong, and realised she was nervous. A twinge of guilt darted through his gut and he brought the back of her hand to his lips. "I'm happy you joined me." Releasing a breath, he allowed himself to relax in her presence. "I've been rather out of sorts this week, I suppose."

Although he hadn't planned on drawing attention to his birthday―he didn't want her to feel obligated to do anything―it was a nice surprise to see her regardless.

"I know," she whispered, tucking a little closer into his side, and Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He took a deep breath of her curls, eyes fluttering shut. She had a way of calming him like he could never have imagined. "I haven't wanted to push, but I hope you know that I'm here. And that I'm not going anywhere."

Draco didn't care to reveal that he had questioned that very thing for days, especially not when she had gone out of her way to seek him out, but the reassurance meant more than he knew how to put into words.

"Okay," he murmured.

A late spring sun warmed the banks of the river, beaming down, and for several peaceful minutes, Draco simply tried to make sense of the fact that she was there, with him, despite all logic or reason.

That horrible voice that had been extra loud for days suggested it was only because she didn't really know.

"I was thinking," Hermione said at last, shifting from his hold to face him, propping one foot beneath herself on the bench. "I have the last of my exams this coming week."

Draco blinked in surprise; she hadn't been as manic about exams as he might have expected or as he could remember from their NEWT preparations. "That will be nice. Do you have some time off, then?"

"Yes. I'll have the summer off from school; I'll pick up some extra shifts at the cafe, though." She hesitated for a moment, her eyes tightening in consideration. "I suppose. Unless something changes."

He didn't have to ask what she meant; if she were, by some circumstance, able to pursue something else.

Swallowing, Draco managed a nod. "Of course."

"And I thought," she pressed on, averting her gaze, "maybe you would be able to teach me some more about your world. And if you have any interest, perhaps we might be able to spend some more time together?"

It wasn't where he had anticipated the conversation leading, but her words embedded something like hope inside of him. "Do you mean going somewhere?"

A dull hint of colour flooded her cheeks. "Maybe. Only if you wanted to, of course. I don't have a lot of extra money, but I've saved up a little, and―"

"I have money." He winced as the words left his lips. "I only meant that we could go somewhere, and money wouldn't be a concern."

Almost instantly, the idea latched on to some part of himself that still clung to the idea of her and him, of them together. "Besides, it isn't very expensive to travel by magical means. We could hire a Portkey."

A genuine smile curled her lips as she beamed at him. "I don't know what that is, but okay." The smile faltered, and she chewed her lower lip before adding, "I thought maybe you could help me get a wand?"

"I could do that." Draco eyed her for a moment, sifting through the idea. "Although if we do that in London, you'll attract a lot of attention you might not care for at the moment." A slow grin crawled across his face as the thought rooted itself firmly within him. "You might like to go a little further out."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "How far?"

His tongue darted out. "It depends. There are magical districts in many major European cities. Madrid. Berlin. Paris."

Although her eyes sparkled as they held his, she quickly shook her head. "Oh, I couldn't ask that of you. That's too much."

"It would be no different than travelling within England, honestly," he drawled. "We'd need a Portkey regardless." Then Draco remembered he wasn't particularly welcome at the Ministry at the moment and grimaced. "I could have Theo register it if you wanted to go."

Blowing out a breath, she shook her head a little as though the idea overwhelmed her. "It sounds expensive, and I certainly don't want to impose―"

"I am not saying this to be ostentatious," he said quietly, tilting his head back to observe the sky, "but we could tour the continent for three months, and the difference to my family's vaults would be negligible." When he cast her a glance, her expression was one of stifled shock. "Let me take you somewhere?"

She wrung her hands, pursing her lips. "Perhaps for a few days, then. I can have one of the other girls take over the yoga class next week."

A real smile―the first he'd felt in days―spread across his face. "Deal."

"And speaking of yoga..." Trailing off, she bit down on her lower lip. "Do you care to join the class today? I'll have to study for my exams tonight and tomorrow."

It was as good a way to spend his birthday as any.

His heart sank a little at the thought that he wouldn't see her for the rest of the weekend, and she'd likely be tied up with her exams all week. Even so, he was glad he hadn't told her, having learned how busy her upcoming week would be.

But the thought of going somewhere, just the two of them, was the best gift he could think of.

Once more, Draco pulled her hand into his, watching as their fingers entwined with one another's as though made to fit. "I'll come to yoga. And if you like, I can help you study after. It's not like I have anything else important to do."

"Okay," she said quietly, "that sounds nice."


As he suspected, most of Hermione's course material was both inane and irrelevant to him, who would never need a working knowledge of Muggle learning. Idly, he wondered if she intended to carry on with her university program now that she knew she was a witch, but he didn't want to bother her over the idea while she tried to prepare for her exams.

If nothing else, she had inferred something along those lines. It felt as though there was still so much to tell her about the wizarding world, and that didn't even include the seven years of magical education and training she had forgotten.

Draco could teach her the basics―magical history, brewing, rudimentary spellcasting―but there was no way he would be able to summarise their entire Hogwarts experience. Surely, she realised as much as well.

Maybe it was why she still intended to complete her year of Muggle schooling.

Without a working knowledge of magic, there would be few magical paths open to her. But he had underestimated Hermione Granger before, and he never intended to do so again.

Thankfully, she didn't need him to understand her course material in order to help her study. And after spending the rest of the weekend in her flat assisting her with preparations―in between mild, brief distractions wherein he could scarcely keep his hands off of her―Draco determined he had little interest in things like Muggle economics.

He awoke Monday morning in his own bed, within the quiet white walls of his flat, however, and reality crashed down upon him once more.

It had been easy enough to forget, while in Hermione's presence and with her laughter in his ear, that he was now bereft of the sense of purpose that had driven him for the last few years.

The first days after Draco's suspension began had been spent in a haze of self-loathing and brooding contemplation. But if he was going to spend a period of time away from work, he could at least attempt to make the most of it.

In that vein of thought, Draco spent several hours brewing in the second bedroom to replenish his stock of household potions.

He rearranged his bookshelf―and halfway through, he decided to revise the sorting method and started again.

The flat was nearly spotless, but he cast a series of cleaning charms anyway.

Pursing his lips, he sank into the sofa with a pot of tea and a book.

Draco attempted to Floo call Theo, but his friend―who was always at home―wasn't home. For some reason, the thought that Theo was doing something Draco didn't know about made him irritable. It seemed as though Potter knew more about Theo than he did these days―not that he could blame either of them for that, especially given the amount of time he had spent with Hermione.

He typed out a text.

I hope your exams today went well. Let me know when you're through? Frowning, he deleted the second half lest he looked desperate for something to do. Never mind that he was.

She had to work and study that evening―every evening that week, really―and he tried to content himself with the fact that she had agreed to go away with him for the weekend. He would need to arrange for an International Portkey, either through Theo or Potter.

Idly, he wondered how long the investigation and trial could actually take. Weeks, at best. The list of trials had taken months to get through after the war, but there had been dozens of Death Eaters and other dark supporters.

Surely, he wouldn't be away from the Ministry for months.

It would make sense for him to keep up his duelling training. The last thing he wanted was for the chance to return to the Auror's office to arise, and have his skills gone to rust. But something told him Theo wouldn't care for Draco to throw hexes at him for any length of time, and he didn't want to ask Potter to spend extra time training with him when he knew the man had been working on the investigation at Azkaban.

The thought of asking Hermione to practice with him was comical when he had been very cautious not to overload her with too much information at any given point in time.

He still worried about her reaction to going out in wizarding London for the first time. If anything was likely to be too much, that was it.

His phone vibrated on the table.

Exam went well I think. (I hope.) Working for a few hours then back home to study.

Draco thinned his lips into a grimace as he read the message. The timing was so far from ideal that she was busy when he had so much time. But still, he was more than capable of existing without thinking of her every waking moment.

At some point, he would need to visit his mother, but his stomach still churned at the thought.

His efforts to pass the time had been carefully designed around the fact that he couldn't bear to think of his mother, her magical core slowly dwindling to nothing―or his father, on trial to lose his very soul.

It was easier to fixate on the dissolution of his career.

Or the girl.

If nothing else, the girl made him smile.


Wednesday evening found Draco sipping a pot of Darjeeling in his favourite corner booth at Hermione's cafe. She had another exam that afternoon, but he hadn't wanted to be alone, and his flat was beginning to close in. Again.

At Theo's insistence, Draco had agreed to drinks later that evening. But he hadn't seen Hermione in days.

When Hermione eyed her other patrons and slipped into the other side of the booth, a gentle smile on her lips, his heart fluttered a little.

"Hi," she offered, a coy smile on her lips. "You haven't been to visit me here in a while."

Draco smirked, enjoying the easy comfort she provided. "I know. It felt overdue."

The bell over the front door tinkled, and she hopped up from her seat only to freeze short. Draco followed her gaze, lifting his brows when Theo and Potter slipped into the booth across from him. Theo glanced around a little before offering Draco an insincere smile; Muggle establishments made him nervous.

"Harry thought you might be here since you weren't home," he said. "Happy belated birthday. Are we still having drinks tonight?"

Potter looked around at the quiet shop and snickered. "Good party."

Draco scowled at him. "It isn't a party. I only wanted a cuppa." He turned back to Hermione's curious expression and offered, somewhat sheepishly, "It was my birthday Saturday." He watched the way her eyes widened in surprise.

"Draco!" she exclaimed, swatting him in the arm. "You didn't tell me that! I would have taken the night off. I can't believe I made you study with me on your birthday."

"It was fine," Draco assured her with a shrug, sipping from his teacup. "It isn't important. I never do anything to celebrate, anyway―I just thought you should know we're the same age now."

A teasing smile drew across her face. "For a few months, anyway. I think." Her face faltered with uncertainty. "Melody's identification said 19 September."

Thinking hard, Draco tried to recall whether he had ever known her birthday. All he could remember was a mention that it was early in the school year. "That might be right."

"It's right," Potter quipped. Rolling his eyes, he turned towards Hermione, who eyed the three of them with amusement. "Don't tell me he's been here moping all night."

"No, he's only just begun," she said with a snicker.

"Traitor," Draco muttered.

Her lips twitched, but before Draco could say anything more, she slipped back to the counter. As Potter and Theo made themselves comfortable in his booth, she returned with another pot of tea and two fresh cups before joining them once more at the table.

"I hear the two of you are going away," Potter announced, giving Draco a hard look. "That should be fun."

However, a genuine smile lingered on Hermione's face, and she pulled Draco's hand into hers. "Draco hasn't told me where we're going―something called a Portkey?"

At that, Theo reached into his pocket and slid a long, narrow box halfway across the table. Nodding, Draco dragged it the rest of the way and tucked it out of the way beside the window with a brief, "Thanks."

"Look," Potter said, while Draco caught the flicker of curiosity on Hermione's face, "if you're this hard up, mate, I can try talking to Kingsley. We could use you."

"Who's Kingsley?" Hermione asked, her gaze sliding between them.

Draco gave her hand a squeeze, grateful for her efforts. "He's the Minister for Magic."

Whatever she anticipated, that clearly wasn't it, as confusion darted across her face. "Why would Harry know him?"

Dull colour flooded Potter's cheeks, and he glanced away, sipping his tea. Theo elbowed him in the ribs, and Draco snickered at Potter's obvious discomfort.

"He's the fucking chosen one," Theo quipped, at last, mussing Potter's hair.

"Don't," Potter hissed.

"Everyone loves Potter," Draco drawled. "Famous, you could say." He nudged Hermione in the side. "So are you."

"None of you are making any sense," she breathed, dropping her face into a palm. "Is anyone going to elaborate on this?"

The three of them exchanged a glance, embarrassment still ripe on Potter's face. Theo broke the tension first with a flippant, "Probably not here. It isn't polite talk for Muggles."

With an apologetic grimace, Draco nodded. "He's right. I'll tell you, though, just not here." Turning towards Potter, he rolled his eyes. "Shacklebolt's the one pushing my suspension. And if it isn't directly from him, it's some old sods on the Wizengamot. He might not have a say in the matter any more than Robards does. Just do me a fucking favour and get this all wrapped up as soon as possible. I'm going to lose my mind if I don't get back to work soon."

Although Potter snickered, Draco could see something more genuine in his face. He wasn't ready to delve into the fact that the sooner the Auror's department moved on the matter, the faster Draco's father would see a courtroom.

And he might not walk away this time.

The sentiment obviously didn't miss Theo either, who kicked Draco's shin beneath the table.

"If it means that much to you," Hermione began quietly, "why don't you do an investigation of your own? It couldn't hurt the matter if you ended up helping the case."

Although Draco weighed her suggestion for a moment, he shook his head. The fact that she cared enough to suggest something, however, burrowed itself into his chest. "Robards would have my neck if I got in the way. Apparently, half the department thinks it's a conflict of interest if I'm involved in my father's trial. Not like I'll be able to influence the Wizengamot's decision either way."

Potter sipped his tea and stared hard at Draco. "I know your father was a right bastard and probably deserves what he's got coming," he said softly, "but could you live with yourself if you were the one to put him in the shackles?"

"Condemn family for the chance to bolster my career?" Draco asked wryly. The very thought burned and prickled along the surface of his skin. "I don't know, mate."

"Sounds like my father," Theo offered.

"I don't really know enough about the situation or the subtleties of any of this," Hermione said, leaning a little closer into his side. "So my opinion is obviously affected likewise. My only thought was... if you want your colleagues to believe you're one of them, yeah? Silence the ones who don't trust you by taking away their reasons to doubt you."

"You know," Potter said, eyeing her with a curious look on his face, "you've always had a bit of a vindictive streak. One day I'll tell you about the time you trapped a woman in a jar as a beetle."

Mortification and horror mingled on Hermione's face. "I didn't."

A grin spread across Draco's face.

"Or the time you allowed Umbridge to get carted off into the Forbidden Forest by centaurs," Potter went on mildly.

Theo threw his head back with a cackle. "Fucking hag had it coming, anyway. Don't worry about that, Granger. Although, colour me impressed."

"Same," Draco snickered.

"I didn't," she whispered again, colour flooding her cheeks.

"Don't even ask about the time you permanently hexed Marietta Edgecombe." Potter snorted, finishing his cup of tea as though he anticipated he would no longer be welcome in the cafe.

"I just liked the time she nearly broke Draco's nose." Theo's wistful smile swivelled in Hermione's direction.

Her brows knit with such a startled furrow that Draco took pity on her, ducking in to plant a kiss to her temple. "Ignore them," he muttered against her skin, "you're perfect." She gave his hand a squeeze, and some of the tension lessened from her face.

Draco could feel Theo's gaze lingering on him, a bit of a smirk playing on his friend's face when he glanced across the table. An uneasy sort of vulnerability crept through him.

"This is a shite start to a birthday party," Potter announced to the table at large. "We need some firewhisky. Hermione, when are you off your shift? You've got to come with us―he's a pain in the arse when you're not around."

Draco scowled at him.

She released a huff, as though with surprise at the rapid change in subject, but glanced at her watch all the same. "Half an hour." She gnawed her lower lip for a moment and added, "But you don't need to wait on me. I can come to Draco's after I'm through."

Theo's gaze landed on Audrey behind the counter, observing her fingernails. "Oy!" he shouted; she lifted a pair of slender, disdainful brows. "Hermione's leaving early, yeah?"

"Fine," the girl clipped. "Don't care. Have fun."

"There," Theo drawled. "You're off now."

Draco sipped his tea and eyed her as she sank back in her seat, eyelids falling shut as she released a long breath. "Fine. That's just... fine, then."

"Perfect," Potter quipped. "We'll continue this party at Malfoy's flat."

"We don't have to―" Draco began.

"You've got the best whisky," Theo said, "and don't even try to deny it."


A few hours later, the edges of Draco's vision felt a little blurred from a moderate consumption of whisky after Theo and Potter made their best efforts to obliterate Draco's fine liquor stash. Hermione tittered a little at his side, tipsy but not quite drunk from her first remembered experience with firewhisky, as Theo stumbled on the rug in Draco's sitting room.

He and Potter had decided to leave at a decent hour as Potter had to work the next morning. Lips twitching with a smirk, Draco pulled Hermione into his chest and kept his focus halfway on her face as Theo grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and threw it into the grate. With mounting horror, Hermione watched as the flames lit neon green, and a quiet scream fell from her lips when the other two stepped into the flames and vanished.

Her eyes, comically large, slid to Draco, tinged with panic.

"That," he muttered, "is the Floo."

Chest heaving a little with rapid breaths, she stared once more at the grate as the green flames fell away once more. "What?" she whispered, shaking her head. "Does it hurt?"

"No. It can be a little nausea-inducing if you aren't used to it," he drawled, "but so can Apparition. The fireplace is connected to the Floo Network, which means it can provide access to any likewise unlocked grates on the network."

"Seems a bizarre way to travel," she breathed. But then she turned back to peer up at him. "Happy sort of birthday, Draco. Did you have a nice night?"

A smile pulled at his lips as he stared at her. "I did, though I didn't need or want a party. That's why I didn't mention it." A frisson of guilt darted through him as he recalled she had another exam the following day. "Do you want me to take you home, or are you going to stay over?

"I thought I might stay if that's alright with you," she said, stifling a yawn behind her hand. "I'll have to get up early to go home before my exam, of course, but I don't think I want to take the underground this late."

Draco scoffed. "I don't want you taking the underground this late. I'd Apparate you home if you wanted." He eyed her for a moment, pondering his thoughts. "I'm surprised you wanted to come over at all. I recall you being more fanatically studious than this."

Avoiding his gaze, she gave a noncommittal shrug. "I am, really. But I just suppose that ever since I found out there's another world that I could be a part of... well, my classes have felt a little less important." She gnawed on her lip as she hesitated. "I recognise that I'll likely never be able to get a job if I don't remember anything, but I thought maybe I could borrow some of your books on magic to study?"

"I understand," he mused, "and of course you can. Whatever you want." Darting his tongue out, he eyed the sparkle in her gaze, dragging the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone. "I'll take you to see the manor library some time."

A breath hitched in her throat, her face falling serious. "Your manor has a library?"

"It does." He ducked in, capturing her lips with a kiss. "It has three levels. You can see it if you like."

Sinking a little into the kiss, she slid a hand around to the nape of his neck. "And why didn't you tell me about this before?"

Draco grinned, nipping at her lower lip. "It felt like an unfair advantage." Although he felt himself responding to her touches, the way her chocolate eyes seared through him, he drew back. "You'd better get some sleep."

Still, she kissed him again when he tugged her to her feet, and Draco melted into her as his blood flared below the surface of his skin. He backed her into the wall, flush against him as he skimmed her sides with his hands. Her soft, indolent kisses spurred a tight coil of arousal in his stomach as her tongue teased his, hands coursing along the panes of his back and tugging at his hair.

He knew it wasn't the right time, but he'd had just enough whisky to indulge a little longer. Dragging his teeth along the delicate line of her jaw, Draco sucked at the sensitive skin of her throat, basking in the way she arched into him, squirming at his heated touches.

"Draco," she breathed; his name from her lips was temptation and music as one. "I want you."

He froze with another kiss to her throat. Palmed her breast, grazing her peaked nipple with his thumb. "We've been drinking."

"Not that much," she whispered, toying with the buttons of his shirt.

"You have an exam in the morning." She didn't respond, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. Biting his lip on a groan, Draco muttered, "You're going to be the death of me."

As she idly began to release the buttons of his shirt, blatant heat in her stare, Draco gazed at her.

"So here's the thing," he drawled, propping a hand to the wall beside her head. He ducked in closer, snagging her earlobe between his teeth, and breathed, "I really want to take my time with you." She paused, her body tensing. "And I can't do that tonight."

A heavy exhale fell from her lips. "Okay."

Draco shifted back enough to meet her stare, to rove the flush in her cheeks. "If you're amenable, that is."

"I am," she obliged, her breathing a little shallow. "So... not tonight."

"Not tonight."

Her fingers grazed a silvery line of scar tissue along the exposed skin of his chest, and Draco swallowed at the feel of it. He didn't think he needed to remind her that they would be going away together that weekend; he could read the implicit acknowledgement in her eyes.

But every part of her tempted his fleeting will.

"Come on," he muttered, "I'll find you something to wear." On the way to his bedroom, he snagged a vial from his freshly brewed potion stock and planted it into her palm. "Hangover draught. Take this when you wake up, and you'll feel fine in the morning."

She gaped at him for a moment before a smile lifted her lips. "Magic is quite something, isn't it?"

He cracked a grin. "You do catch on fast."


Author's Note: Thanks so much, as always, for reading! Your comments always make me so happy. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Alpha and beta credit, as always, to Kyonomiko and FaeOrabel, respectively.